by Gaelen Foley
Lily stared at him, not knowing what to say. Indeed, she could not even speak, taken off guard by the thoughtfulness of his desire to help her find out more about the land that had claimed her father.
It was such a kind-hearted gesture that she could not answer, startled into silence by the realization that he genuinely cared about her feelings.
She cast her chaperone a lost look.
Mrs. Clearwell took charge with a queenly nod. “We’d be honored to meet Lady Griffith, Major, if she is well enough to see us.”
“Excellent news. Matthew, are you done with your ice cream? Are you ready to go home to your mother?”
Matthew nodded eagerly, thrust his empty cup and spoon into Derek’s hands, and climbed up into the carriage.
“Someone needs a nap,” Mrs. Clearwell sagely observed.
Lily kept her head down, her hands folded in her lap. Seeing the inside of Lord and Lady Griffith’s Town mansion or even meeting Derek’s sister at the moment was entirely secondary.
He cared about her.
She had never felt like this before.
As Derek finally took his seat across from her in the carriage, Lily’s heart raced; her very soul seemed to tremble.
Heaven help me, she thought, barely daring to breathe.
She was actually starting to trust him.
In another moment, Mrs. Clearwell’s driver maneuvered the barouche out of busy Berkley Square and headed toward the opulent environs of Green Park, where the Marquess of Griffith lived in splendor.
The carriage traveled several blocks, and all the while Mrs. Clearwell engaged the young lordling in amused conversation.
Meanwhile, for as long as she could, Lily kept her gaze shyly downcast, trying to mask her powerful reaction to Derek’s generosity.
But when she finally dared to peek in his direction, she found him watching her, his cheek resting on his fist, one elbow propped on the edge of the carriage.
She felt the force, the thrill, the heat of his gaze all the way down to her toes.
Edward never looked at her like that.
She was routed: blushing, blanching, maybe both. She was flustered, to be sure. She tried to look away but couldn’t do it.
Derek sent her an unthreatening smile.
The smolder in his eyes turned soothing, and Lily remembered to inhale.
This is foolishness, she thought.
I’m not going to hurt you, his gaze reassured her.
The unspoken promise of his gentle, undemanding approach shook her.
And yet, by slow, wary degrees, the clenched muscles of her chest and shoulders began to relax.
Dear Lord, if he could have such effects on her body without even touching her…
Lily swallowed hard and thrust her attention toward the fine view of Green Park as they went rolling past.
CHAPTER
TEN
“There’s my house!” Matthew cried, pointing to a tall, stately townhouse faced in light Portland stone, its front door and shutters painted striking burgundy.
Lily sat up with renewed interest.
They turned the corner ahead, rounding the park, and in another moment, Derek bade Mrs. Clearwell’s driver to stop at the front door. He got out first, helped Matthew jump down, then smiled, assisting the ladies as his nephew went barreling homeward.
The door opened before the young master even had to knock and there stood a short, balding, portly butler who beamed at the boy like a kindly old elf.
“Mr. Tooke!” Matthew cried, running toward him.
“Good day, Lord Aylesworth. Major.” Mr. Tooke opened the door wider in welcome as Derek ushered Lily and Mrs. Clearwell toward the entrance.
“Matthew and I found some strays on our adventures today,” he greeted the butler with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. “These are my friends, Mrs. Clearwell and Miss Balfour. Is my sister receiving? I should so love to introduce everyone.”
“I believe she may be, sir, though I am not certain. Ladies, won’t you come in, and I will inquire?” His face wreathed in smiles, he gestured them into a soaring marble entrance hall, and at once, Lily’s eyes widened as she stepped inside.
The restrained elegance of the exterior had not prepared her for the sheer opulence within.
It was a palace.
Twin colonnades flanked the entrance hall in Corinthian splendor, striding down to the spectacular double staircase that swept up to the main floor seemingly miles ahead. She recalled the holes in the roof at Balfour Manor with a sinking feeling while Mr. Tooke closed the door behind them.
Mother would have been drooling if she could see this place, Lily thought, and yet, amid all this grandeur, incongruously, an ice-cream-covered little boy was pounding through the pristine hall, running to meet the spotted puppy that came bounding out to greet him. The dog’s yips and Matthew’s shouts of joy reverberated through the great space.
“Who’s making all that ruckus down there?” a deep, mellifluous voice boomed from the top of the great staircase.
Lily looked up in surprise; Matthew did the same.
“Grandpapa!” the boy cried.
Marching down the stairs came a tall, robust, indeed, a kingly gentleman in his sixties, gray-haired but still quite fit, all handsome dignity and twinkling blue eyes. “Come here to me, you little scamp!”
Matthew ran to him and was swept up in his arms.
Derek shepherded the ladies toward the gentleman.
“Father,” he greeted him in an easy tone.
Derek’s father?
The older man looked over absently, holding Matthew in his arms. “Hullo, son.”
“I did not expect to find you still here.”
“I didn’t think I would still be here, either, but you know how we all get to talking.”
Lily did not know why she was so astonished to learn that this impressive personage was Derek’s sire, but what had she expected? He might look like a demigod, but he had hardly sprung full-blown from the head of Zeus.
Equal surprise registered in the elder Knight’s blue eyes when he turned his attention to the ladies who had arrived with his second son.
Derek quickly introduced them to his father, Lord Arthur Knight, the younger brother to the previous Duke of Hawkscliffe. Setting Matthew down and sending him back to his dog with a fond pat on the head, Lord Arthur bowed to the ladies.
“Where’s Mama?” Matthew asked Lord Arthur, tugging on his billowy white sleeve, for he had removed his jacket and was in his casual at-home attire.
“In the blue parlor,” he informed the boy.
“Do you think she’d be up to a visit?” Derek inquired.
His father looked at him intently. “Why don’t you go and ask her?”
“I will. Come on, Matt. Let’s go see your mama. Back in a moment,” he said with a smile to the ladies.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Balfour,” Lord Arthur addressed her after the pair had gone. “You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to Viscount Balfour, I suppose? He was an old friend of mine ages ago.”
She stared at him. “Do you mean Noah Balfour, my lord?”
“Yes, Noah! Are you his kin?”
“He was my grandfather!” she cried in amazement.
“Your grandfather?” he exclaimed. “By Jove, it has been years since I have seen him! Good old Balfy! We used to play cards together at White’s before I moved away from England and sailed off to seek my fortune in India.”
She could only stare at him incredulously.
Balfy?
They all laughed over this most unexpected discovery of their common acquaintance, but then Lord Arthur asked the obvious question.
“So, how is the old devil these days, anyway?”
Sadness crept across Lily’s face. “Oh, Lord Arthur.” She faltered, barely able to imagine her gruff old grandsire in his youth playing cards at White’s with rakish cronies who called him Balfy. “I am sorry to say he passed away these two months ago.”
/> “No.” His face fell. “Oh, dear. I am so sorry to hear it. What a loss.”
She nodded. Mrs. Clearwell patted her shoulder, but Derek’s return to the entrance hall chased away the lump that had risen in her throat.
“Good news!” he announced as he came striding back, full of vigor. Lily could not help letting her gaze sweep over his magnificent form in admiration as he approached. “Georgie’s well enough at least for a quick visit.”
“Are you sure, Major? We do not wish to disturb Lady Griffith—”
“No, she really wants to meet you! Believe me, Mrs. Clearwell, if my sister wasn’t feeling up to it, she’d say so.”
“That is true,” Lord Arthur agreed with a sigh. “That daughter of mine was never one to shrink from speaking her mind.”
“Except for when she fell in love with Griff,” Derek drawled. “They’d have never got together if it wasn’t for me.”
“Is that true?” Lily asked, unsure if he was jesting as they all followed Derek toward the “blue parlor,” where the young marchioness was waiting.
“Of course, it’s true!” he exclaimed. “I gave him the idea to marry her.”
“Now he’s exaggerating,” Lord Arthur said. “You have to watch this one, ladies.”
Derek laughed. “You wait, Father. One of these days I might just summon my matchmaking skills again to locate a lady for you.”
Recalling what Derek had said about his mother dying when he was a child, she was nonetheless startled by the sly look the major cast Mrs. Clearwell. To Lily’s extreme amusement, her chaperone looked at him in amazement and then turned bright red.
Lord Arthur hadn’t noticed, bringing up the rear of their small party. “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, son,” he answered sardonically. “But first you might consider finding some nice young lady for yourself. Ahem!”
Now it was Lily’s turn to blush. Obviously, Lord Arthur did not know she was nearly engaged to someone else.
Derek made no comment. He walked through a door ahead and waited as the rest of them filed in.
Lady Griffith’s choice of the blue parlor in which to receive them spoke volumes about the woman, Lily mused when they arrived at the simple, cozy salon at the back of the first floor, bypassing all those glittering staterooms.
Her first glimpse of Derek’s sister was of a black-haired beauty with porcelain skin. She was holding Matthew on her lap. “You’re all sticky,” she chided affectionately as Matthew rubbed noses with her. The boy’s arms were draped around her, and behind Lady Griffith, her handsome husband stood in a casual pose, his elbows resting on the back of her chair.
He was watching her with his son with a besotted look on his patrician face, but he glanced over with a cordial smile when they walked in.
Their easy introductions were soon made, but when Derek presented Lily to his sister, she could not fail to notice the mystified look that Georgiana gave her brother. It seemed that his bringing a female to meet the family was no ordinary event.
Lily couldn’t help but feel pleased.
“We shan’t stay long,” Mrs. Clearwell was saying. “We just wanted to express our compliments at what a fine boy you have. We so enjoyed Lord Aylesworth’s company today.”
“Did you?” Lady Griffith was visibly pleased by the praise as she petted Matthew’s head. “I wished I could’ve gone out with them today, myself. Oh, I am not usually so tired. It’s just, well,” she said, blushing, “we are expecting a blessed event.” She reached up to touch her husband’s hand where it rested on her shoulder.
As they congratulated the beaming couple, Lily saw the private squeeze that Lord Griffith gave his wife’s hand and felt her heart clench.
A true marriage.
Not a sham like she would have with Edward.
“Has it been difficult for you, my lady?” Mrs. Clearwell asked in her comforting way.
“Oh, I’ve been perfectly miserable!” she admitted with a rueful laugh. “My physician vows it will pass within a few more weeks.” She shook her head. “Not soon enough for me.”
Indeed, now that she mentioned it, Lily thought, the woman did look a bit green around the gills, though her blue, high-waisted gown hid any signs of her early pregnancy. Her form was still slender, full of a lithe, willowy strength. But on the little drum-table beside her sat the telltale cup of peppermint-and-ginger tea, along with some half-eaten dry toast.
The poor woman.
At least she had her husband looking after her. Lord Griffith was practically hovering, clearly attentive to her every need with the utmost solicitude.
“But no matter,” Georgiana said stoutly. “It’ll be worth all my suffering to get our prize at the end, won’t it, darling?”
“Hear, hear,” he agreed with quiet intensity, and pressed a heartfelt kiss to her hand.
Moved by the beauty of their devotion to each other, Lily’s gaze was drawn inexplicably to Derek.
She found him watching her once again. This time, the magnetic force of his stare took her breath away.
As they held each other’s gaze, she was fairly sure that the same wild thoughts that were going through her head were also running through his. For one fleeting moment, it seemed possible to dream that they, too, might find that kind of bond—with each other.
He looked away.
Lily lowered her head, unsettled by the glimpse of a happiness she had never seen before, let alone aspired to.
But obviously this was naught but a foolish fantasy. How could she possibly share a bond like that with Derek Knight when the only way they could be together was if they both gave up what they held most dear?
If she married a handsome half-pay officer, she would probably have to abandon her hope of keeping Balfour Manor. Yes, the Knight clan possessed a great fortune, but she had not failed to notice that Lord Arthur’s statement downstairs had summed up the family’s ethic for younger sons. As a young man, the second-born Arthur Knight had had to go to India to seek his own fortune, and no doubt Derek would be expected to do the same.
Lily had no intention of going there with him. In order for him to be with her, Derek would have to be willing to stay in England, and clearly, he was not.
Give up his role as the glorious cavalry hero? Become a civilian, just a regular chap? She seriously doubted he would be willing to make the sacrifice.
“Derek,” Lord Griffith spoke up. “Have you given any thought to that new post we talked about last week?” he inquired in a casual tone.
“Griff, my mind’s made,” Derek said. “It’s a good offer, but I am not prepared to take a bullet for any hen-witted politician. On the whole, they aren’t worth it—present company excepted, of course.”
“We’re doing all we can to try to keep my brother in England,” Georgiana said archly to the ladies. “Ian’s been trying to lure him into accepting a plum post connected to the Foreign Office. He would be providing diplomatic security for visiting dignitaries to the Court of St. James.”
“I see,” Mrs. Clearwell murmured, nodding, but Derek snorted.
“They’d have me lounging ’round the palace like some sort of overfed poodle. Hardly.”
“Maybe you can help us persuade him, Miss Balfour.”
“She’s certainly welcome to try,” he drawled, sliding Lily a grin.
“Derek!” his sister exclaimed, covering Matthew’s ears with her hands. “Not in front of the boy, with your roguery! For shame, I apologize for my brother, Miss Balfour. He has always fancied himself the jester of the family. Maybe the Court of St. James could use a new fool, hm?”
“I beg your pardon,” he protested, scowling, but Lily smiled sweetly, not about to be embarrassed by the rogue in front of his kin.
“Actually, my lady, I think you’re onto something. He would look perfect in a harlequin cap.” She sent a pointed smile in his direction, while his father and sister laughed heartily.
“You see what I have to put up with?” he exclaimed, feigning outrag
e. “And they wonder why I’m going back to India.”
Lily chuckled, shaking her head at him.
“Well,” Mrs. Clearwell concluded at length, “we really should be going.”
Lily nodded, for they did not wish to tire out their hostess.
“I’m leaving, too,” Derek announced. “I’ll walk down with you, ladies.” He bent and kissed his sister on the cheek, rumpled his nephew’s hair, took leave of his father and brother-in-law, then escorted Lily and her chaperone back downstairs. Once more passing through the vast, columned hall, they were soon back outside, where he went toward the street to hail a hackney.
When they asked why, he explained that he had come on foot, but Mrs. Clearwell insisted on giving him a lift.
“Where are you headed, Major?”
“Home. I live at the Althorpe.”
“Then you must let us drop you there.”
“I don’t wish to impose—”
“Not at all—Piccadilly, isn’t it? Just as I thought. It’s right on our way.”
“Oh! Well, then.” He agreed to the offer with cheerful thanks, and soon the barouche was under way again.
He pointed out Knight House on the far end of Green Park, a magnificent Town palace that nearly dwarfed Lord Griffith’s elegant home.
That, Derek said, was the official Knight family headquarters, where his cousin, the head of their clan, Robert Knight, the Duke of Hawkscliffe, resided, as had his father before him, and his father’s father, and so on for several generations.
Listening to his amiable discourse, Lily reflected on all the fun they’d had today and wondered when she might get to spend time with him again. For that matter, she wondered what she would tell Edward if word traveled back to him about her being seen around London today with his handsome new friend.
Nothing even close to improper had happened, but still, she didn’t think Edward would like it. Strangely, however, she felt not the slightest bit guilty.
Noticing that the barouche had begun to slow, Lily glanced down the road and saw that the intersection some fifty yards ahead was jammed with a row of carriages that had been forced to a halt.
