“I’m all right, Nathan.” She managed to stop laughing long enough to speak quietly. Gracious, the man seemed truly upset.
“But you’re all wet.”
She laughed again. “Since when did a little water harm a person? I’m fine. Actually, the water feels quite pleasant.”
Nathan looked her up and down as if to assure himself that, yes, she was unharmed. “You’re sure?” He took a step closer, so close that the heat from his body radiated over her. She drew in a breath of salt and water and him. That uniqueness of fragrance that was Nathan Evans to the core. She inhaled again, savoring.
“I’ve never felt better in my life,” she whispered.
If he took half a step closer, he’d be pressed right against her. Close enough for her to twine her arms around his waist, bury her nose into the side of his neck. So incredibly, painfully close.
His gaze bored into hers for a second longer.
Then he stepped away and steadied the raft.
“We’d better get back to shore if we want to have our picnic.” He held the raft steady as she climbed aboard, her skirt sloshing around her.
She wiped a hand across her face, clearing the water. Then focused on the shoreline, coming ever closer. Not on Nathan, taking even, careful strides, all to keep her safe.
The shoreline. Focus on the shoreline.
Not on him.
As long as Nathan drew breath, he doubted he’d be able to erase from his mind the sight of Lily Montgomery, lady of fashion, with her bodice plastered to her skin, her wet hair straggling from beneath that hat, attention fixated on him.
She wasn’t like most of those deathly thin socialites who looked as if they’d never eaten a day in their lives. She had curves. Blast it all!
He gave the silver coffeepot an extra hard rub. If only he could scour away his thoughts as easily.
She’d looked so completely beautiful, even with her unruly hair and ruined dress. And as they stood together, close, too close, he’d breathed in that rose fragrance that could turn his mind to useless mush in half an instant.
The rest of the afternoon had been pure, unadulterated sweetness. She’d dried off with his jacket, and lay in the sun, staring up at the sky while he assembled their picnic lunch. They’d dined on cold chicken and potato salad, followed by a frosted birthday cake. Nathan had ordered the whole thing prepared at a local café and picked it up earlier in the day. The cake had sure been pretty, all that white frosting and fondant pink roses. He’d lit a single candle and announced she must make a wish. His heart had hammered in his chest as she closed her eyes and gave a blissful smile then blew out the candle. He hadn’t asked what her wish had been. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Now, a day later, Nathan occupied himself in a way that would please Osbourne—polishing the silver with just the right amount of shine. It always drove Nathan crazy with irritation when Osbourne performed his usual inspection of the task, holding up a piece and craning his neck to see if his reflection was visible.
As if on cue, Osbourne entered the room.
“All finished, Evans?”
Nathan nodded, watching as Osbourne picked up one piece then another. He trained his gaze on the butler’s pantry window, waiting until the man finished.
“Very good.” As usual, he bit out the compliment as if the giving of it physically pained him. He turned but stopped at the door and swiveled back around.
“You’re a good lad, Evans. A hard worker and a respectful young man.” The almost congenial tone issuing from Osbourne’s lips sounded nothing like the usually cantankerous butler. Nor the way he rested his meaty hand on Nathan’s shoulder.
Nathan stiffened under the man’s touch. What was this all about?
“Thank you, sir,” he answered. “I appreciate the opportunity to continue my employment.”
“I know you do. But there are certain circumstances, occasions, where a man tends to doubt another man’s loyalty. May I be quite frank with you?”
Nathan resisted the urge to squirm under the man’s hand. “Please do.”
“I know Mrs. Montgomery’s behavior toward you has been a bit…shall we say, unorthodox. Caring for you as she did after your operation. You see, Evans, in a position such as mine, one tends to see everything. Note things that a casual observer might miss. After over forty years in service, I notice more than most. Just keep in mind, lad, I’m always watching. And if…certain behaviors continue to occur…well, I need a man I can trust. Implicitly, with everything and everyone in this house. Don’t fail me.” He gave Nathan’s shoulder a weighty clap.
Nathan stood, unflinching.
“Now, you’d better get back to work.” He moved toward the door. Then turned once again, a smile on his lips. The type of gleeful smile Nathan imagined villains in his favorite adventure stories would don right before abducting the beautiful princess. “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d like to know Mr. Kingsley has returned. No doubt, he’ll continue his attentions toward Mrs. Montgomery.” And with that, Osbourne left.
Both palms flat against the table, Nathan lowered his head. So Osbourne suspected. The wily codger had probably put two and two together when both he and Lily returned looking less presentable than when they’d left. Of course, the man would stick like a barnacle to his promise. If anything suspicious occurred between Nathan and Lily, he’d be sacked on the spot. Probably some excuse would be made up to tell Lily about her disreputable chauffeur. Would she believe whatever crime story the butler concocted? Would she care, or would she just forge a friendship with her new chauffeur, as she had with Nathan?
A weighty sigh heaved his chest. No doubt she’d marry Kingsley within the year, move to his house, be driven around by whatever lackey he employed.
Lord, help me to make sense of the mess I’m in. I don’t know why You’ve allowed me to care about Lily, when she’ll never be more to me than the lady who authorizes my paycheck. I don’t understand. Give me clarity. Give me peace. And thank You in advance for Your help.
He stood to his full height, some of the heaviness easing from his chest. He’d given the matter to the Lord. The One who promised peace and wisdom.
The One who always knew best.
Chapter 7
Contrasting this picnic with the one she’d been on with Nathan was like comparing black against white. Or a Worth gown versus a linen smock.
Lily couldn’t be sure which she preferred. Worth gowns were pretty, as was this picnic. Liveried footmen ferried crystal serving dishes from table to table, and a three-piece orchestra strummed out a Haydn sonata. Every lady wore an elaborate hat and pastel dress, men light summer suits and bowler hats.
But linen smocks were more comfortable—like her picnic with Nathan. There she hadn’t felt a bit self-conscious, even when her dress hung on her like a waterlogged burlap bag. There she’d let herself eat her fill of that amazingly delicious cake, without worrying what anyone might think. There…well, what did it matter? She wasn’t there anymore, but here.
Mr. Kingsley had returned, profusions of “I’ve missed you” on his lips and a volume of Shakespeare in his hand. A belated birthday gift, he said.
How sweet he was—to think of her amid his busyness.
“Enjoying yourself?” He accepted another helping of foie gras from a waiter. The hostess of the picnic, Mrs. Livingston-Hockley, had an obsession for all things French and planned her menu accordingly. She had a passion for all things Versailles and Marie Antoinette, too, though after what had happened to that sorry royal, Lily couldn’t understand why.
“Immensely.” She nibbled on a baguette slice.
“How are your party plans coming?”
“Pretty well.” A footman held out a tray of pear and peach tartlets. My, those did look tempting. All golden brown and sprinkled with crystalized sugar. Though what would Mr. Kingsley think if she gave in to her urge to take two? Best not test it. She daintily accepted one—the tiniest pear piece she could find—and plated it. “
It’s to be a costume ball, you know.”
“And who are you posing as?”
She watched as he also took one small pear tart.
“I’m not telling.” An impish smile lifted her lips. She’d decided to dress as an English shepherdess, but she certainly wasn’t letting him know that. It would be a surprise, one she hoped he’d be pleased with.
“What color is your dress then? That way I’ll know what sort of flowers to bring.”
“Blue. But you won’t hear another word about it.” Her attention was diverted by Mrs. Livingston-Hockley’s young daughter, Amy. Though children were generally neither seen nor heard at gatherings such as these, a few mothers had decked their young ones in enormous hair bows and sailor suits and brought them along. Amy’s hair bow had gone crooked, and fat tears dripped down the seven-year-old’s cheeks.
Mrs. Livingston-Hockley stood on the opposite side of the lawn, giving directions to the orchestra and not paying a whit of attention to her daughter.
With a quick word to Mr. Kingsley, Lily pushed back her chair, hurried across the lawn, and knelt down beside the little girl. Of course, the grass would probably stain her pale lilac skirt, but the sadness in the child’s eyes was far more important than any mere item of clothing.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” She brushed her fingertips across Amy’s cheeks, wishing she’d brought her reticule so she could offer a handkerchief.
Amy’s lower lip trembled, her pudgy face red and flushed. “Mary Sue said I’m as…as fat as her mama’s pug dog. She says I’d better not eat anything for the next ten years, else I won’t be able to get a handsome prince like Cinderella did. I…really, really want a prince like Cinderella.” She burst into another round of blubbers.
Lily drew in a breath and smiled at the girl. “First of all, Amy, you are a beautiful young lady. No matter what Mary Sue or anyone says to you, it doesn’t change the truth. And handsome princes, if they are truly good men, will look past our outward appearance and see the people we are inside.” She pointed to her heart. “And I know you are very beautiful there, too.”
“You mean a handsome prince will love me even if I do look like a pug dog?” Amy had ceased crying and regarded Lily with wide, interested eyes.
“A true prince will love you always. He won’t care whether you’re as rich as the Vanderbilts, or poor like Cinderella. It won’t matter to him if your nose gets all red when you cry or if your teeth are a little crooked.” She opened her mouth to show Amy her slightly crooked bottom teeth. “A true prince will always care for you, no matter what. But it’s your job to recognize the true princes from the villains who might look like princes. And never, ever give your heart away until you’re absolutely sure.”
Amy sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “Mary Sue isn’t as smart as you. She doesn’t know about true princes. Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Lily smiled, pulling the girl into a gentle hug. Amy nestled into her embrace, wrapping both arms around Lily’s waist. She inhaled the scent of soap and chocolate, reveling in the sensation of holding this sweet child. What a wonder it would be to experience this joy every day. Imparting wisdom to, loving, a little girl of her own.
An ache swelled in her chest.
“Now, you go find Mary Sue and tell her what I just told you.” She released the girl and reached to straighten her pink hair ribbon.
“I will!” Giving her one last happy smile, Amy scampered across the lawn.
Lily turned. Mr. Kingsley stood a few feet away, leaning against a tree, watching her. She got to her feet, smoothed the front of her dress, and crossed to where he stood.
“What was that all about?” He offered her his arm and led her back to their table.
“Just giving some womanly advice.” She smiled up at him, liking the way her hand rested on his arm. As if it had been there for years and would continue to remain so.
“You left that little girl smiling. You do that, Lily Montgomery. Make people smile. Bring joy into their lives.” He pulled out her chair and pushed it in once she sat down.
“You really think so?” The compliment warmed her heart the way the sun warmed her skin. She could easily grow used to hearing such words every day, a balm to the scars left by her marriage to Jackson.
“I know so. And what’s more, I want to…hope very much to…” He looked down at his plate. Despite the chatter and laughter of the nearby guests, a sense of intimacy lingered between them.
What was he going to say? Did he care for her? Did she, for him? What was love, anyway? Was this it? Her only prior experience had been with Jackson, and she realized now that her feelings for him had been no more than girlish dreams and fantasies, as light and void of substance as the cream puffs that sat in the center of the table. Did a true prince lie in her future, as she’d promised Amy? Was he to be found in the man before her?
Mr. Kingsley seemed to hesitate. “Never mind. There’ll be time enough to say what I wish later.” He lifted his glass of lemonade, as if to make a toast.
“Indeed.” But the smile he gave her made her believe he wished later came sooner instead.
There was a time when one had to quit holding on to hope. Admit defeat, let the best man win.
Nathan had come to that point in his feelings toward Lily Montgomery.
Since Kingsley’s return, he and Lily had been as inseparable as before. And as they grew closer, Nathan sensed his own distance with Lily lengthening. Like a rope, stretched tighter and tighter, tested further and further, until it reached the breaking point. They had only two weeks left in the Newport season. And if Nathan didn’t miss his guess, Lily and Kingsley would announce their engagement before the end of it.
Never mind her care of him after his operation. Never mind their conversation, the smiles passed between them. Never mind their picnic—standing next to her in the water, two seconds away from kissing her senseless.
In Lily’s eyes, it meant nothing.
What did matter, though, was ascertaining one thing. He’d prayed about it and felt the Lord’s peace about pursuing the truth.
He had to make sure Kingsley would treat Lily as she deserved. There was no way his own life could hold any remaining speck of joy if he heard of Lily’s later unhappiness.
So he’d investigate Kingsley. Ascertain that the man’s motives were as honorable as first impressions would have one believe. All it would take was a telephone call to New York, to the office of a lawyer, a man Nathan had met while serving as footman during a house party on the Hudson River. The man would help him; Nathan had little doubt of that.
One telephone call.
Then he could give her up and hope and pray for his heart to follow.
Nathan got the answer to his telephone inquiries a week later.
He opened and read the hastily penned note.
A howling anxiety whirred through his mind.
Chapter 8
With the ball only hours away, a heady rush of excitement swirled through Lily, making it difficult to concentrate on much of anything. The house hustled and bustled as a crew of decorators transformed the immense ballroom into a veritable feast for the eyes. Flowers in abundance. Potted ferns. Every chandelier had been polished until it glittered and gleamed, the floor waxed and scrubbed.
The evening promised to be a success.
And maybe, just maybe, Mr. Kingsley would finally tell her what he’d been hinting at all week. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but a lady could hope, couldn’t she?
Hope that he might confess his feelings. Hope that they might…well, get married and begin a life together. She didn’t truly love him, that much she could be sure of. But love was for schoolgirl romances and fanciful novels. A genuine liking could—would—be more than enough. For her, at least. Why couldn’t it be?
Because she sensed the…more in all of it. The more of teasing and laughing, passion-filled kisses and wanting to belong to one heart and one alone. But mor
e wasn’t always realistic.
It was time for her to become a realist.
She fiddled with her fountain pen, propping one elbow atop her writing desk. Morning sunlight floated through the parlor window.
A knock sounded on the closed door.
“Come in.” She put aside her pen and turned.
Nathan stepped inside. He wore his footman uniform and a dark expression in his eyes.
“Good morning, again.” She’d seen him an hour ago at breakfast, when he served. Was he announcing callers at this early hour?
He didn’t return her smile. In one hand, he grasped a folded piece of paper.
Curiouser and curiouser…
“Do you have something for me?”
“Yes.” He made a move to pass her the paper, but at the last second, drew his hand back. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Of course.” He seemed so grave. Was something wrong? Was he ill again? Did he need leave to visit a family member? She’d give it to him, of course. He could depart straightaway, before the ball even.
“It’s about Roland Kingsley.” He gritted out the name as if it were a bad taste he wanted to spit out.
Her nerves tensed. What accusation did he have against Mr. Kingsley? For Nathan obviously wasn’t in here to tell her the man had come to call.
“I did some checking…into Mr. Kingsley. His family, finances, and so forth.”
A hot, heavy rage doused her. Her servant had investigated the man she planned to marry. How could he…? Why would he…? How dare he!
As if oblivious to the swirl of anger inside her, Nathan continued. “I’d spare you, if I could, but I must tell you the truth. He’s almost bankrupt. It’s a secret. Nobody really knows it. But my friend, a lawyer, ferreted out the information.”
Bankrupt? Her brain caught onto that single word and turned it over and over and over.
Dear Lord…
“Why? Why would you do this?” The words rasped from her lips.
In two strides, he crossed the room. The expression in his eyes was one of intensity and raw earnestness. Grasping her by both shoulders, he pulled her from the chair. His arms wrapped around her waist, shocking her with their strength.
The Secret Admirer Romance Collection Page 5
