Passionate

by Anthea Lawson

  —Lily Strathmore

  His fist closed around the paper. “What has she done?” He rounded on his guests. “What in blazes has she done?”

  “Mind your language, young man,” Mrs. Hodges said, “And be assured, Lily is well and safe. She has gone to Brookdale.”

  “Why?” A hot rage flashed through him. If Reggie…

  “That’s what we’ve come to tell you, isn’t it?” Mrs. Hodges fixed him with a mind-your-manners glare.

  “Please, sit. I am sorry for my poor hospitality. Mrs. Hodges, allow me.” He drew out a wingback chair, the faded upholstery barely noticeable in the gaslight.

  “That’s better.” She settled herself and removed a ball of yarn from her bag.

  He turned to Isabelle, perched on the edge of her chair. “What happened?”

  “Lily left London just this afternoon.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Lord Buckley proposed and she refused him! She has been wonderfully brave. I’m sure her mother is in a state right now with all her plans in tatters.”

  “I thought she had already accepted him—that they were engaged and had only to set the date of the wedding.”

  “No,” Isabelle said. “Lily’s parents forbade her to paint unless she married—and married well. You know what not painting would do to her. At any rate, Lord Buckley was courting her, but…”

  Not everyone has the luxury to do what they wish with their lives. He recalled his uncle’s words from the other night. Had Lily found herself in a similar trap, forced by social expectation and duty to her family to marry a man she did not love?

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” The crackling flames in the fireplace echoed his rising emotions. This could change everything.

  Isabelle’s clear green eyes rested on him. “Lily didn’t speak much about it to anyone, and mother told us not to bring it up, that it was altogether too depressing and would only serve to make Lily miserable. Then, after she came back Lily was like a different person. I never saw her open a sketchbook the whole journey home from Tunisia. And after you stayed behind, well, it did not seem to concern you anymore.”

  He swallowed a curse.

  She smiled at him. “I think, though, that now it definitely does concern you. That’s why we brought the letter straightaway. You may not catch her on the road, but you’ll arrive at Brookdale only a few hours behind her. You will go after her?”

  He gave a short nod. “Immediately.”

  Mrs. Hodges tucked her knitting away and stood. “Then it’s settled. Proceed to Brookdale with all speed. Come along, Isabelle. We have another matter to attend to.”

  “Let me fetch you a cab.” He started for the door.

  “We’ll be fine,” Isabelle said, “But you had best hurry.”

  James watched the two women leave, then snatched up his coat. Lily had been pressured to marry, but she had refused Buckley’s suit. She had refused it!

  He must see her. There were so many things that needed to be said.

  Lord Reginald rapped the head of his walking stick sharply against the carriage wall. The vehicle dipped as his driver swung down and in a moment the man appeared at the window.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “What’s the blasted delay, Jenks? Why are we stopped in the middle of the street?”

  The man swallowed. “Your lordship, there’s some to-do ahead, blocking the way. An old gel with a parasol. The cabs ahead of us can’t move, neither.”

  “Then deal with it, you idiot. Drive around or over—I shouldn’t have to tell you how to perform your duties. Especially if you want to continue doing them.”

  “Yes, your lordship.” The man bobbed his head and scuttled back to his perch.

  Reginald tapped his long fingers against the carriage seat. Competent help was impossible to find. His staff had grown lazy while he had been away enduring the hardships of Tunisia.

  What an utter waste of time that had been. He curled his hand into a fist. Even the letters he had taken from his cousin’s tent had proven useless.

  Although the whole wretched pursuit had given him a new leverage point against James. Namely one Miss Lily Strathmore. He couldn’t imagine what his cousin saw in the chit; however, it was satisfying to see her slip through his cousin’s fingers. And using her to take Somergate from James was the sweetest revenge on both James and his father—the two people who most deserved it.

  The carriage jolted and Reginald leaned forward. Why weren’t they moving? He raised his cane again, but before he could land a thwack against the wall, the carriage door was flung open and a woman climbed inside. Golden hair, a flurry of lavender skirts, an impossibly wide hat, and fire in her bright green eyes.

  “Isabelle Strathmore. How unexpected.” For once he was at a loss.

  Isabelle plumped down on the seat opposite and adjusted her hat, for all the world like she was about to take tea with the Queen. She had spirit, he had to admit that. It had been amusing, watching her stand up to her family for all the wrong reasons. It was a pity he had not had the time or opportunity to make other use of her.

  “Lord Huntington, your actions have compelled me to seek you out.”

  “Really? Still flinging yourself at me? I assure you, my dear, I have moved on to other pastimes. You would do well to follow suit.”

  Her gaze locked with his. “I assure you that I have not the slightest interest in renewing our acquaintance. I am here on my cousin’s behalf.”

  Interesting. His conversation with Miss Lily seemed to have borne fruit in unforeseen ways.

  “Then I assume it is the redoubtable Mrs. Hodges out there menacing traffic with her parasol? The woman is a loose cannon. You’d best go and see to her before she gets trampled under some impatient lord’s carriage wheels.”

  “Meaning your own?” Isabelle gave a sniff. “In good time, sir. I have some things to say to you.”

  Reginald folded his arms and leaned back. “Have your say then and be gone. I hardly have time to indulge the whims of a spoiled child.”

  There, that earned a response. Her jade-colored eyes narrowed. “This is not a whim, any more than your threats against my cousin are. I have come to inform you that if you damage Lily’s reputation in any way, I will tell everything I know about your misdeeds in Tunisia.”

  “And what do you imagine those might be? Taking in the Mediterranean sights? Showing kindness to a misguided young woman? Do enlighten me.”

  A spark of fury blazed in her eyes. “Did you honestly think I would not recognize you that night at the camp? I know you were responsible for that bandit raid and the injuries to my father. I know it was you beneath the trees, disguised as a native.”

  Reginald shrugged, concealing the tension rising in him. “There is no evidence to indicate I was ever there.”

  “Isn’t there?” She leaned forward. “What about the information I so foolishly provided you about the expedition’s plans? And your note?”

  “A love note forged by an overly romantic young woman? I’m afraid that story has been heard too many times, my dear. Allow me to point out that your own involvement will be made clear, and I do not believe your reputation could withstand the scrutiny.”

  A curious smile curved her lips. “No, I suppose it would not. But if you must be the ruin of someone, I am far more deserving of that ruin than Lily. If exposing you means my downfall, then so be it.”

  Alarm shot through him. The girl was annoyingly tenacious, and her words rang with conviction. It was just possible that she could carry it off. It was past time for him to take the initiative.

  “My dear Isabelle.” He made the name a caress, leaning forward until their faces were only a few inches apart. “I think you have forgotten what a very compromising position you have put yourself in just now. Your reputation can be easily ruined, yes, but I don’t think we need to bring Tunisia into it. You are alone with me in my carriage, after all.”

  Her eyes widened, but she held her ground. �
��You do not frighten me, sir. In fact, if I were to scream, I’m certain we could draw many interested witnesses. There would be only one course open to you.”

  Despite himself, Reginald slid away from her. “Are you suggesting—”

  “Marriage. Your family would force you to do the right thing. We would be shackled together for life—and I would spend every moment of it making you regret it. You caused my father grave injury. I would not forget to pay you back during the course of our unhappy union.”

  Damn the chit. She was not bluffing, it was clear in the determined set of her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched around the handle of her parasol. And even though a part of him wondered what it would be like to try to tame her anger, to break it and turn it to his advantage, the thought of being forced to marry this willful, spiteful girl was more than he could imagine.

  “It wouldn’t take much effort on your part. I don’t think I could endure a future with such a foolish, naïve girl.” He all but flung open the carriage door. “Do us both the favor of taking your leave before I have my driver throw you out.”

  “Not until we come to an understanding.” Isabelle continued giving him her frank, clear-eyed stare.

  A cold fury gripped him. The audacity. “What sort of understanding could we possibly arrive at?”

  “That you cease blackmailing Lily and James and comport yourself like a gentleman where my cousin is concerned—and that you never speak of Tunisia again.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “If you refuse, then I will scream.”

  Reginald glanced out the half-open door. There were enough casual strollers that Isabelle’s tactic would draw a great deal of unwanted attention.

  His unwelcome guest gave him a tight smile. “And if you agree now, but later Lily’s reputation is tarnished, then I will tell everything I know and present the court with that note written in your hand. You do recall it, don’t you? It begins Dearest Isabelle…”

  Blast her.

  “Your logic is unassailable. It appears I have no choice. However,” Reginald leaned forward, “if we are keeping secrets, one more will do us no harm.” Before she could react he drew her to him, taking her dewy lips in a hard, demanding kiss.

  When he released her there were tears shining in her eyes. She gathered her skirts and reached for the door, her voice unsteady when she spoke.

  “To think I loved you.”

  His gaze found hers and held, mocking both of them. She had taken her revenge on him, but she would not escape unwounded.

  “To think I did not.”

  Chapter 26

  Sweat lathered the bay’s shoulders and James could feel his mount’s sides heaving. He needed to slow down, to walk the beast. They both had been pushing hard. Reining in, he swung his leg over the side and slid to the ground.

  The quiet country night descended around them. Crickets creaked in the hedgerows and above him the sky was laced with stars. James threw his head back and took a deep breath of the clean air, willing his racing heart to calm. Brookdale lay just ahead.

  Lily. Could it be different between them now after everything that had happened? He wanted her safe, protected from Reggie, from anyone who would harm her or use her to their own ends. But more than that. He wanted her for his own. Would she refuse him? Would he be able to bare his heart to her scorn and rejection?

  He honestly did not know and that frightened him most of all.

  James re-mounted the bay, letting him walk. As they crested a rise in the road, he could just make out the sheen of starlight on the glass panes of Brookdale’s conservatory a mile ahead. Lights showed in a few windows, both upstairs and down. He urged the bay on.

  They clattered into the stable yard some minutes later. James swung down and was met by a groom who took the reins, sparing him only a curious glance before leading the horse away.

  James ghosted up the stairs to the front entrance. If it were locked there were plenty of other ways to enter, but as he expected, the latch lifted and the door swung silently open. He slipped inside and just as quietly closed it behind him. It was best if he attracted as little attention as possible. There would be more than enough speculation about Lily’s arrival without his appearance adding to it.

  Soft-footed he made his way up the stairs to the bedroom wing. He did not know which room was hers, but there, partway down the corridor, a line of light showed from beneath a door. Reaching it, he hesitated and rested his hand on the knob. There was no sound from within.

  He took a breath and pushed the door open.

  Lily was sitting before the fire, chin resting in her hand as she stared into the flames. The thin cotton of her nightdress was almost transparent, backlit by the ruddy light. Her unbound hair spilled in dark curls down her back.

  The door snicked shut behind him and she glanced up.

  “James?” she whispered, her hand going to her throat. She sat immobile for a moment longer, then leapt to her feet and snatched an embroidered oriental robe from the foot of her bed. She thrust her arms into the sleeves. “What are you doing here?”

  He could not take his eyes from her, the way the green silk clung to her curves, the defiant expression on her face. She was magnificent. “Gods, Lily. I could ask the same of you. What have you done?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she tugged the sash tight around her waist. “It must have been Isabelle—the post could never have gotten to you so quickly. Well, it won’t work. I refuse to return to London to play the pawn in the plans and schemes everyone has for me. Please, leave my bedroom at once. Leave me in peace.”

  “You think it’s as simple as that? That Reggie will not follow through on his promise to ruin you if you leave town?” He took a step closer to her. “Why the devil didn’t you accept Buckley?”

  She lifted her chin. “I know you thought us quite well-matched. I’m sorry to disappoint you—and my mother will be happy to commiserate. There is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. In fact, you can just get back on your horse and ride away—you excel at that sort of thing. You have followed me here to no purpose.”

  “On the contrary.” His blood was pounding. He stepped forward until he was standing before her. She stood her ground, glaring at him, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. He reached out and stroked her cheek lightly with one finger. The softness of her skin nearly intoxicated him. Her lips parted at his touch, but she made no protest. “I have every purpose.”

  He could not stand it any longer. He leaned over her and brushed his mouth against hers. She gasped. Desire flared through him and he reached for her, his hands closing over her silk-clad hips and drawing her close. Her body molded to his, the hiss of silk against the rougher cotton of his coat loud in the stillness. She fitted against him so perfectly. The smell of her, the taste of her…

  The crack of her hand across his face stung like the devil. “Lily! What—”

  “I see.” She pulled roughly away. Her tone was bitter. “Now that Lord Buckley has no more claim on me, you think I am easy prey. I will not be your wanton or your mistress, Mr. Huntington. Please go now.” Her voice broke on the last words and she turned away from him, arms tightly folded across her body. “Just go.”

  “Lily,” he made his voice gentle, “I did not come for that. It is time, past time, for us to be honest with one another. Look at me.” She had to listen to him.

  He let out his breath when she finally turned back to him and raised her head. “Have your say, then.”

  He swallowed, and then slipped to his knees before her. His cheek throbbed where she had slapped him. Courage was in knowing fear and facing it. She had to know how he felt, no matter the consequences.

  She stared at him, the firelight leaving half her face in shadow, picking glints of flame from her hair.

  “I lied to you.” The words rasped from his throat. “I lied when I offered for you in Tunisia. It was not out of obligation. From the beginning of our journey, from the first time I
met you, there was something that drew me to you. When I told you I despised you, that was a lie. I despised myself for having nothing to give you. I had hoped by recovering the journals that I would inherit an estate and have some chance of winning your family’s favor.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, but he held up his hand. “You are more precious to me than breath, or light, or journals, or even one small, undiscovered flower. Lily, I love you. I always have.”

  With a sob, she came to stand before him. “James…”

  He held out his hands, palms up, and could not suppress a shiver when she placed her own above them. Heat spiraled out from where they touched. He closed his eyes, then opened them and sought her gaze. “I have no fortune. No title or lands. All I have to offer is myself. The strength of my hands and body, my mind and spirit. And my love. A love that will remain true to you, cherish you until my dying day—whatever answer you give me here tonight.”

  Her eyes were wide and dark with emotion. The hands clasped over his tightened.

  James drew in a shuddering breath. “Lily, is love enough? Will you marry me?”

  She remained silent for a heartbeat. Two. He was steeling himself to rise, to somehow find his way out of the house and back to London.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Then, more strongly, “Yes.” She knelt beside him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I love you, James.”

  He was breaking apart. His heart did not know how to contain so much joy.

  “Lily,” he breathed, and drew her into his arms. With a soft sigh, she leaned into him and slid her hands up to his shoulders.

  Their lips met and it was as though the weeks of self-doubt and recrimination had never been. Her touch made him whole. He moved his mouth gently over hers, re-learning the warm contours. It was she who pressed forward, parting her lips, coaxing his mouth open and exchanging her breath for his.

  He spread his hands across her back and pulled her against him, yearning to feel each curve of her body imprinted on his. The silk robe slid beneath his palms and her unbound hair brushed softly over his hands. The feeling was achingly familiar. He could swear he scented the heavy richness of orange blossoms.