by Carla Kelly
‘A hearty greeting to you on this merriest of mornings.’ Lily’s beautiful voice broke through the cloud of Gregor’s ire.
A deep red dress of velvet trimmed with blue ribbon wavered around her legs as she approached from the other end of the hallway. The bright fabric set off the whiteness of her neck and the delicate décolletage just visible beneath her snow-white fichu. For a brief moment Gregor forgot the letter and everything but the memory of her lips against his last night.
‘Good morning, my queen.’ He dropped into a bow, noting the slight furrow of her brow as he rose.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve received tidings from my mother and they aren’t of great joy. I’m afraid I must remain behind from church to see to it my tenants receive the good wishes intended for them, the ones my mother is thoughtlessly denying them.’ He didn’t mention the rest of the missive, or the aspersions his mother threw on Lily’s family. The reminder of every cold and lonely holiday he’d ever known at home was already dimming the warmth of last night and the cheerfulness of the day.
‘But you’ll be here when we return and you’ll attend the ball?’
Her eagerness to be with him brought back a measure of the happiness with which he’d first greeted the morning. ‘Most definitely.’
‘Then I’ll leave you to your work and see you very soon.’
He peered up one side of the hall and down the other to make sure no one was about. Then he took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her soft flesh, rubbing one finger against her palm and enjoying the shiver it sent racing through her to make her skin pebble against his. What he wouldn’t give to draw her into his room, close the door and forget his problems with her in the deepest of embraces. He couldn’t, and with his mother’s letter acting like a ballast stone on his mood he let go of Lily and straightened.
* * *
Lily rubbed her hand in disappointment as Gregor quickly retreated into his room and closed the door, leaving her in the hall, confused. Despite the heady press of his lips and his teasing caress, it was as if the Lord of Misrule had abandoned him completely and he couldn’t be free of her fast enough. Was it just the letter troubling him or was it something more, something to do with seeing Lily? Maybe he regretted being so open and intimate with her last night and this morning was an attempt to make clear to her there could be no more between them than a Christmas Eve kiss.
Lily’s stomach tightened with worry, and the shame she’d experienced when he’d turned from her on the dance floor swept in to blot out the excitement from last night until she forced it back. Surely whatever was distracting him this morning had nothing to do with her. He’d told her so and she’d seen it in his face when he’d mentioned his mother and the troubles at home.
Lily raised her hand, tempted to knock and offer him some of the comfort she felt he needed, but didn’t. Her parents might be lenient with many things, but even they would look askance at a single young lady alone in the bedroom of an unmarried gentleman.
She wandered off down the hall towards the stairs, knowing she must wait until later for Gregor to look to her for support, assuming he decided to do such a thing. Despite the kiss last night, there was no promise of more between them and no reason why she should expect further confidence and intimacy than what they’d already shared.
Ahead of her, Rose’s bedroom door was cracked open and she could hear her and Petunia talking inside. She headed for Rose’s room, eager to join them and forget her worries, when Petunia’s voice made her freeze.
‘You shouldn’t encourage her with Lord Marbrook.’
Lily leaned towards the opening to listen, careful not to call attention to her presence.
‘Why not? I think it’d be an excellent match. They’re very much alike in temperament,’ Rose countered. ‘And imagine Lily as a viscountess.’
‘It isn’t likely to happen.’ Petunia sniffed.
‘Afraid our little sister will outrank you?’ Rose teased.
‘I’m afraid she’ll be humiliated again. It’s troubling enough Mother allowed him to come here at all, but for him to show Lily special attention is beyond the pale, especially since everyone knows a Marbrook, no matter how amiable he is to our family, is never going to disgrace his own grand name by marrying so far beneath him.’
‘I think you’ve misjudged Lord Marbrook. His brother might have been arrogant, but I’ve seen no such tendency in him, at least not now.’
‘But what about four years ago?’
‘He was a boy then, and Lily just a girl. They’ve both matured a great deal since.’
‘Perhaps, but I’ve heard rumours his mother is pushing him to marry Viscount Daunton’s daughter. Most people expected an announcement last Season.’
‘If he didn’t ask her last Season, he probably won’t. Beside, Lord Marbrook doesn’t strike me as a man to be pushed into a marriage he doesn’t want, especially not by his mother.’
‘Nor is he the kind to rush into anything. He might play the fool at the servants’ ball, but he won’t do so in London, especially not with Lily,’ Petunia insisted.
Lily’s chest constricted and panic surged through her. Last night, in the dark of her room, when the moon was high and reflecting off the small arches of snow snug in the corners of the window panes, she’d allowed herself to believe there might be something more between her and Gregor. Hearing Petunia state the truth so plainly, she realised there wasn’t. Petunia was right, it was one thing to make merry in the country and quite another in the stately homes of London.
Lily balled her hands and pressed them against her forehead. She’d been weak and foolish with Gregor, granting him favours no young lady should give a man of such slight acquaintance. Then to further lower herself, she’d told him about her troubles with her family, pouring out her heart like the lonely drunk in the public house she’d once read about in a novel. For all she knew, she’d been dallying with a man on the verge of a betrothal and the letter from his mother had something to do with Viscount Daunton’s daughter and not Marbrook Manor. It would certainly explain his quick retreat from her at his door, the memory of which made the shame sting even more.
‘What are you doing skulking around doorways?’ Laurus’s voice rang out from behind her.
Lily pushed away from the wall and, catching her brother by the arm, pulled him to the stairs.
‘Do you ever speak softly?’ she hissed.
‘No more than anyone else in this family.’ He stopped at the top of the stairs to study her, concern furrowing his brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
She twisted her hands in front of her, wanting to confide in the one sibling who understood her, but she hardly knew where to begin, or if she wanted to reveal her humiliation and confusion. Everything Petunia had said was right, she knew it, yet it contradicted everything she’d come to feel about Gregor last night. Surely he wasn’t the man Petunia described, though the one who’d greeted her this morning was so different from the one she’d kissed, confusing her more than her father’s Latin names for his plants.
‘Lily?’ Laurus prodded as she struggled to bring her thoughts under control like she always did at her easel, when everything around her was a whirlwind of noise and motion.
‘Nothing’s wrong, only we must go down for breakfast. If we don’t eat soon we’ll be late for church and you know how Father is about Christmas service.’
As Lily began to descend, she glanced back at her sister’s room to catch Rose standing in the doorway. Petunia watched anxiously over her shoulder, the pity in her expression as irksome as the worry drawing Rose’s lips thin.
Lily hurried down the stairs, refusing to give them any hint she’d heard their conversation, though it was plain to all she had. She gripped the banister tight as she descended, trying to fight back the panic and not let
it trip her on the stairs. She’d made yet another mistake trusting Gregor, one which would heap more derision on her if it was ever made known. She might not mention it, not even to Laurus, but what might Gregor say to his friends or at his club in London? He might laugh and talk about Lily’s morals being as clumsy as her dance steps. Such a story would ruin her reputation for good. She’d worried last night about Daisy’s behaviour reflecting badly on the Rutherfords. Her father had been right to scold her for it, especially since it was Lily’s behaviour which risked tainting them now.
* * *
Overhead, grey clouds began to blot out the blue sky which had greeted them this morning. There would be snowfall by this evening, nature’s decoration for the Rutherford ball. For now, ice clung to the bare branches of the trees and the top of the portico balustrade. Gregor paced back and forth across the cold stone, his boots crushing the ice as he moved, his leg a touch stiff this morning because of the cold and his exuberant dancing last night. Pygmalion sat inside at the window watching him, willing to remain his constant companion, but not loyal enough to wander too far from the hearth. Gregor didn’t blame the little creature. If he possessed any sense, he’d be inside too with a cup of tea instead of torturing himself out here in the frost.
The distant bells of the church began to toll, bringing Gregor to a halt. Church was over and soon the family would return to the house and their Christmas celebration. Their happiness would help lift the dreariness which had descended over him while he’d composed a letter to his estate manager, instructing the man to distribute the beef as Gregor had promised his tenants. Then, it’d taken time for the Rutherford’s butler to find a man willing to travel so far to deliver the missive on this festive day. A few pounds from Gregor’s pocket had at last persuaded a local farmer with no family to ride south to Marbrook Manor and undo the damage of Gregor’s absence.
Turning to make his way back across the portico, he vowed some day to see the kind of joy he experienced at Helkirk Place light up the halls of Marbrook Manor. There would be children to laugh and run through the halls like the ones did here, sons and daughters he would raise up to care for one another without fear of expressing it. They’d be kind to those around them and as full of life and love as a woman like Lily. He stopped at the far end, the image of Lily as a mother as startling as the scratch of Pygmalion’s paws against the glass urging him to come back inside. Gregor hadn’t come to Yorkshire with the intention of finding a wife, only forgiveness, yet the thought of pursuing the young lady with the eyes like coal and an open, welcoming nature warmed him more than his thick redingote. In the eagerness of her kisses he’d tasted her passion not for the Viscount Marbrook, but for Gregor, the soldier and the second son, and he didn’t want to let it go.
The image of her troubled face as he’d closed the bedroom door on her this morning rose up to disturb him. He wanted to enjoy again the lively woman from last night, the one who’d danced and laughed with him as he’d shrugged off the shadows of the last few years. He’d never experienced such freedom and mirth with anyone. He paused to take in the white-and-grey garden, wondering how different the last few years might have been if he’d defied his father, helped Lily to her feet, then stood beside her in her embarrassment and furthered the friendship they’d started.
As beautiful a fantasy as it was, he knew it would never have come to pass. His father would have seen to its end, one way or another, and at the time there was no way of knowing if he would survive France. Nor could he have imagined inheriting the title and the freedom it offered. With both in his possession, he was determined to not let the next few years slip away without Lily in his life.
The crunch of carriage wheels on gravel and the jangle of equipage carried through the chill air, announcing the return of the Rutherfords. Gregor stepped inside, pausing before the fire to warm his hands as he considered what to do next. Pygmalion watched him from his place on the hearthrug, the small bells on his collar tinkling each time he moved. Gregor could hardly rush down the hallway to greet Lily, not with her whole family watching. Perhaps she could be tempted out to the greenhouse and he might taste again her sweet lips. Or they could walk down the snow-covered lawn and engage in the lively sport which had sent her laughing over the garden path yesterday. Her bright smile and glittering eyes would drive back the blackness brought on by his mother’s callousness.
The twins’ voices filled the hall, joined by the noise of the adults and the patter of the dogs’ feet as they hurried down the stairs to meet their mistress. Gregor wanted to rush with them, but with measured steps made his way to the entrance hall, Pygmalion jingling at his side.
He spied Lily before she noticed him, watching in amazement as she pushed the red-velvet hood of her cloak off her hair. She adjusted a couple of pins holding the luscious mahogany curls against the back of her head, then turned, catching his eye from across the room. She didn’t smile as she had this morning, but appeared troubled, as if something had happened between their parting and this meeting. He thought of last night at dinner and wondered if someone had said something to her to dull the excitement of the morning.
Gregor exchanged Merry Christmas greetings with the other ladies and gentlemen as he pressed through the Rutherfords to reach her. She watched him with more anxiety than anticipation, and the gut feeling it was he and not her family which had brought about the change in her mood began to creep in beneath his desire to be near her. Then she flicked a glance at her second-eldest sister, the one Gregor knew the least. He dared to follow the line of her gaze, noting the wariness in Lady Winford’s eyes before the demands of her small daughter drew her attention away. When Gregor looked back, Lily was gone. He hurried to the front door to see her walking quickly down the drive and he dashed out into the chill to follow her.
‘Lily,’ he called when they were some way from the house.
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. He came to stand in front of her, the cloud of their breaths mingling in the crisp air between them. ‘What’s wrong?’
She drew the hood back over her hair, settling it just above her forehead so it framed her face. ‘Nothing is wrong, only the carriage was so crowded, I needed some fresh air.’
‘Then allow me to escort you in your walk.’
‘No.’ She looked back at the house, twisting her gloved hands in front of her before fixing him with a wan smile. ‘I’ll only be out here a moment. Father always likes me to help him oversee the last arrangements for the ball. He says I have a mind for organising things.’
Gregor laid one hand over hers, squeezing it gently. It was a bold move, especially here in the open where anyone upstairs might see them, but he couldn’t let her get away, not with such worry shadowing her. ‘Lily, please tell me what’s troubling you.’
She pressed her lips tight together, studying his face as though debating whether to trust him with her concerns. Then the hesitation fled, replaced by irritation, and she pulled away her hand. ‘Don’t be so intimate with me. Have you no care for my reputation?’
‘I care very much for it and you.’
‘If you did, then you wouldn’t have taken such liberties, not last night and not this morning.’ She stomped off down the drive and Gregor rushed to fall into step beside her, not caring for the cold or the way it cut through his coat.
‘Did someone see us? Did someone say something to you?’ he pressed, trying to get to the heart of what was vexing her.
‘No, but I overheard my sisters talking.’
At once he understood the change in her attitude. ‘They don’t approve.’
‘Rose does, but not Petunia.’
‘And you agree with her?’
They walked in silence, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Around them a few birds twittered, making the bare tree limbs rub together as they took off from their perches. At last Lily took a deep breath and spoke with measured w
ords. ‘I think our freedom with one another last night was a mistake. I was foolish to forget myself with you when I know I’m nothing more to you than a mere country dalliance.’
Her words stung as much as the cold air in his lungs. ‘You’re very mistaken.’
She whirled to face him. ‘Am I? You already cut me once and everyone who hungered after your family’s approval or based their behaviour on their opinion followed suit. Why do you think I haven’t returned to London? I couldn’t face the whispers, the derisive looks.’
Gregor toed the snow at his feet, uncovering a clump of brown weeds. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Of course not. Like all Marbrooks, you only think of yourself.’
His head jerked up to meet hers. ‘Don’t lump me in with my family. I’m nothing like them. I never will be.’
‘You have been once already. I won’t let you make a fool of me again.’
The remark hurt like a slap. There’d been so little time for him to show her his true self, but he thought she’d recognised it and understood—he was beginning to suspect he was wrong. ‘Have you heard nothing of what I’ve said to you about my past, my life or these last four years?’
‘I have, if I hadn’t I never would have accepted your apology.’
‘Yet you haven’t, not really, or you wouldn’t doubt my sincerity, integrity and my concern for you.’
‘I trusted you once and you let me down.’
‘And you’ll always hold it against me, no matter what I say or do.’
