That surprised and pleased him. She was no faint miss without a thought in her head save ribbons and silks. “I wager you do?”
“I do.”
He was gratified by that. Could he predict that dinner conversation with her would never consist of a litany of the latest gossip about society’s scoundrels and ne’er-do-wells? “And what of your days in Texas?”
“I didn’t ever do needlepoint.”
“Terrible at it?” he asked with delight tickling him.
“Hideous.”
“Instead, you did what?”
She pursed her lips as she considered the trail ahead.
He wished he could commission a portrait of her in silhouette as she pondered a problem. In this, as in much else, she was exquisite. A beauty whose hair might gray, and whose eyes might dim, but whose dynamism would sparkle through. “Tell me. I don’t bite.”
“Hmm. You’re sure?”
“I might have been too forward at the opera, but I have learned my lesson.”
She turned the most distressing face to him. All large sad eyes, lax mouth and miserable longing.
Dear God. Did she value his advance? Even though she warned him away? Why?
What to do now?
He had no idea what to say. Apologize? Repeat himself?
The woman confounded him.
“Lily—” He watched her swallow hard on embarrassment and turn forward. “Lily.” Dear woman. “Tell me, what you did at home.”
Her mouth worked at words. “I—I herded cattle. Trained the sheep dogs, too. And when I got cleaned up and shed my trousers, I’d ride into town with Marianne to help nurse the sick who live along the docks.”
He was aghast.
She waved a hand, gleeful, chuckling. “I know. You’re astonished. No lady does that. No lady needs to do that.”
“Dear me,” he said, considering the sterling luster of her character. “We pale beside you.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. I’m stunned. You and Marianne nurse the poor?”
“She more than I. And she’s much more knowledgeable than I. During our war between the States, she nursed Confederate wounded. What she knows about gun shots and diseases, no woman or man should ever have to learn.”
“This must seem so mundane to both of you. The teas. The balls. This house party. Do you like any of it?”
She bit her lip and considered him beneath her lashes.
He chuckled. “All right. Just tell me.”
“I appreciate good conversation. I enjoy tea and I love to dance.”
“All good to know.”
“But—”
“Yes?”
She rolled a shoulder. “I don’t like being pursued.”
Her bluntness delighted him. The fact that other men paid attendance to her did not. “I understand.”
“Do you? Have you ever been? Pursued, that is?”
“Oh, I have. Last Season.”
Eyes wide, she looked appalled. “Oh, come now. You cannot stop there. Who pursued you? Why? I must know the details. It’s so rarely that a man is courted.”
“I was not courted. I was hunted.”
She rocked in her saddle with laughter. “But—but you escaped!”
He gave in to the admission with a grin. “I did. Don’t ask me how.”
“Oh, I know how. I see it in you. I have seen you do it here. Hilda Berghoff has an interest in you. And Priscilla Van de Putte.”
“You are observant.” She had been watching him? Intriguing.
“You have a mask. An expression of polite indifference.”
“Do I?” I’m not indifferent to you.
Their mounts stopped at the edge of a shallow ravine, their hooves stomping the earth.
Her blue gaze locked on his. “I don’t see it now.”
“No, you don’t.” This close, he couldn’t hide his interest in her. She was too perceptive, in any case. Little good it would do her. Or him, for that matter. He wouldn’t marry any woman solely for her money. He certainly had never even considered marrying Killian Hanniford’s girl for her wealth. His pride was too great to take a woman to his home and not want her physically, at the least. But his desire for Lily gnawed at him with growing hunger. He shifted in his saddle. Was his pride too big to bow to his father’s wish to marry someone soon? Could he rid himself of his enjoyment of Lily’s company? If he kept his distance, might he control his longing to possess her?
He spurred his horse to walk on.
She fell in beside him. The sun rose higher and she closed her eyes, her face to the sky. “I’m glad spring has arrived. I’ve been cold.”
The weather. He could discuss it without danger to his heart. “Do you like it here in England?”
“I’m used to warmer weather in Texas and Maryland. Even Paris seemed less forbidding.”
“Yet you’ll consider staying here, living here, despite the temperature?”
“If I’m given good reason, yes.”
“A husband?”
She fiddled with the scarf around her throat. “My father would like that, yes.”
“Have you found any man you favor?” Torrington, perhaps? Pinkhurst, God forbid?
She smiled with tremulous hesitancy “You want me to be blunt again?”
“I’m hoping for an honest answer.”
She examined him at length. “All right. I haven’t been here long enough to appreciate any one man’s character.”
“Does that mean you don’t believe in hasty passions?”
“I’ve never experienced one, so I have no way to judge if I believe or not.” She pushed aside a branch. “One thing I do know is that I will not stay in England solely to please my father.”
“Good for you.”
“I will remain only as long as…”
He didn’t like the way she’d paused. “As long as what?”
“I’m amused or intrigued or…or I begin to believe in hasty passion.”
He sent her a smile. “Smart. Is your father the kind of man who will allow his daughter to choose her own path?”
“Given good argument, yes.”
He looked askance. “That sounds ominous.”
“Not really. He promises not to force me to wed anyone.”
Good to know. “An interesting man.”
“Thoroughly American,” she said.
“So then you’re here to enjoy yourself. The house parties? The rounds of calls? The balls?”
“All of it.” She indicated the scenery as she patted the neck of her mount. “But, actually, that’s a lie.”
“Why?”
“I don’t enjoy it all.”
“No?”
“I hate riding side-saddle.”
He gave her a rueful grin. A memory of the London cartoon of her on horseback flashed through his mind. “You don’t look uncomfortable.” You look delicious in that midnight-blue riding coat and white stock.
“I prefer my western saddle. How does a woman ever ride to hounds like this? She’d be hanging over the side like a ham in a smokehouse.”
“I cannot tell you,” he said, her humor tickling him. “I’ve never done it.”
“Men should. They’d have more compassion for the weaker sex.”
“You’re not weak,” he said with conviction.
She eyed him for a long moment then faced forward. “I’m getting stronger every day.”
“Bravo. I think you should ride as you wish.”
That brought her around to him, surprise and delight curving her lovely lips. “Here?”
“Why not?”
She snorted. “I’d be a scandal.”
“You’d be a woman to reckon with.”
“One to avoid.”
“Try it.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t. There’s no place. Not in London in the middle of Rotten Row in broad daylight.”
She’d look splendid in moonlight. “Ride at night.”
“That’s not—”
“Possible?” he objected. “Of course, it is.”
“Oh, no. I can’t take the chance. Not here. Carbury’s stable boys would talk. Or his butler. I’d be the brunt of more cartoons. I hated that. So, no, thank you.”
“Ride with me then.”
She frowned at him with such incredulity he was sure she questioned his sanity.
“My estate is through those trees.” He inclined his head toward the east. “My stable, too. And I have a stable hand who would never breathe a word about a lady’s riding habits.”
She shook her head. “You’re serious?”
“Quite.”
She bit her lower lip. “Why?”
Because I long to see you with stars in your eyes, your hair down around your shoulders, naked. He inhaled. She should spur that horse to a gallop. Run far away. Now. “I’d like to please you. Make you smile.”
For a fraction of a second, her blue eyes softened. But she blinked. “If I were discovered, I’d be ruined.”
“I’d guard against that.”
“Your intentions would be—”
“Honorable? Of course, they would.” He shifted in his saddle, his animal intentions totally shameful. He had only to look at her and he was entranced by her eyes. He had only to speak with her and he applauded her forthrightness. Her spontaneity, her humor undid him. The closer he got to her, the more she refreshed him.
“How do I know? What assurances would I have?”
“That I not touch you?” How could I not?
“That you wouldn’t spread rumors about me.”
“Why would I?” When I want you for myself. “I’d suffer no gain if I’d be known to have hurt you.”
“So we’d be house guests who ride together?”
“Friends who ride together,” he corrected her.
“Conspirators,” she breathed, her face alight with devilry. “Oh, superb. How could we do this?”
Chapter Seven
Would the afternoon and evening never end?
Lily sighed, accepting a glass of sherry from a footman as they awaited the bells to go into dinner. Pinkie stood beside her, having maneuvered his way to her to discuss horses.
She liked him, tall and blond and full of life. Gay, too. But becoming a bit of a bore now that she had a chance to enjoy Julian’s company.
“I should like to invite you to view my Arabian,” he said in his clipped British accent. He had a habit to speak so rapidly that she had to concentrate to understand him. “A house party.”
“House party?” she asked, like a loon.
“You’d like his looks.”
“Whose?” She was searching for Julian. Where was he?
“My prize horse.”
“Horse. Arabian. Right. I know cutting horses, my lord. You’d have to tell me what to appreciate in him.”
“I would educate you, never fear. I say, are you well? You’re squinting at me.”
Oh, blast your rapid fire, sir. “Very well. Fine. Perfectly. Thank you. Do go on.”
She spotted Julian enter across the room, his dark eyes sadder than a wet hound dog’s as Hilda Berghoff presented herself at his elbow. Stifling a laugh, Lily focused on Pinkie who rambled on about his “superb creature” who would win him races and purses.
Lily could care less. She preferred to dream of riding with Julian. The dangers were many and could be disastrous, even enduring. Still she yearned for the excitement of it. More minutes with him. Alone. And to ride freely. Of course.
But the crux of her anticipation was that she trusted him to keep their secret—and she had no evidence she should. He’d been so casual about the offer, it shocked her. Would he offer such an escapade to an English lady? Or was she ripe for tricking? Mocking? He was a man of his class with all its foibles, and as such, he could disregard society’s rules and live to tell about it. Could she trust her instinct that with her, he might be honorable?
Julian’s gaze met hers and the small smile curving his lips had her pulse beating faster. He’d been quick to name the arrangements for their ride. One hour after everyone had retired, he would meet her at the far end of Carbury’s stables. Julian would escort her to his own stable block where he would have instructed his groom to saddle two horses for them. And hers would bear a man’s saddle.
With a resounding thrill singing through her veins, she found herself staring like a loon into the eyes of Elanna Ash who had approached her and Pinkie. By her side was a doting Carbury.
“Horses?” said their host. “Don’t care to know much of them. You, Elanna?”
“No, my lord. I prefer tamer pleasures. Art, for one.” She faced Lily. “Have you visited the South Kensington Museum since you’ve been here, Miss Hanniford?”
The young lady’s words held notes of desperation in them and Lily feared she knew what caused them. “I’m sorry to say I have not. Do you enjoy it?”
“I do very much.” Elanna trained her gaze on her with hot intensity as if to hold Lily’s interest by force of will.
Lord Carbury stood, frowning into his wine. He’d acquired a pettishness whenever Elanna gave her attentions to someone else.
Had Elanna been too much pursued by Lord Carbury?
Lily was happy to offer diversion. “I like museums. Please tell me about the exhibits.”
Elanna went on about the collection of furniture of recent periods. “Textiles from all over the world are displayed. I adore the Chinese silks, embroidered in threads of vibrant shades.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Lily smiled at her. “Perhaps after we return to town, we could all visit the museum together?”
“I’d like that very much,” Elanna said and turned to Julian who had entered their circle. “What do you say? Would you attend us?”
“I’d be delighted to offer my escort.”
Elanna leaned toward Lily. “Chelton is modest. He knows more about the Chinese silks than I, and he’s always eager to share his knowledge.”
And there it was, another reason to be in Lord Chelton’s company. An offer that sent a ripple of glee through Lily. She was becoming quite a goose about how well she liked the man.
She caught his eye. “How is it you have an understanding of Chinese fabric?”
“For more than three decades, our family traded in Shanghai. Our principle export was silk fabric and silk worms to England and France until recent peasant revolts near the ports cut off our supply and our factories were burned.”
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Lord Carbury lean toward Elanna. “My dear, would you care for more wine? The footman stands ready to—”
Elanna grew flustered by Carbury’s intrusion into the conversation. She stared at him, then at his footman and found her voice. “No. Thank you. I wish no more.”
The butler appeared at the doorway and announced the service.
“We should go in,” Carbury said to her in a low voice that brooked no argument. “Would you lead the way?”
“My lord,” Lily heard Elanna whisper to him, “it is not my place.”
His lips thinned. Anger glistened in his eyes. “It could be.”
“As the ranking woman here, my mother should have your arm, sir,” she responded.
He glared at her.
A tingle of foreboding electrified Lily. What was the man about? The glint in his eye—of possession—was fiery. One that set Elanna back on her heels. One that had Lily fretting.
Carbury excused himself and went for the duchess. Throughout dinner, the man said barely a word. If others noticed, no one seemed to let the conversation lag.
At last, the six courses were ended and the women departed to the drawing room for tea, while the men remained for their brandy and cigars. That too, was short as the duchess and Elanna made their excuses to retire early.
Eager to escape upstairs and change her clothes, Lily grinned at Marianne as they hooked arms and made their way up the staircase.
“Yo
u’re chipper,” Marianne said. “Had a good time gazing down the table at a certain gentleman, did you?”
“Shhh.” Lily made big eyes at her.
“No one hears,” whispered Marianne, “except the footmen who are supposed to be deaf. Blind, too, I hear. So tell me. What’s going on between our host and lovely Lady E, hmmm?”
“Unrequited feelings?”
“I’ll say.”
“I didn’t detect a mean streak in him when we first met him,” Marianne said.
“No. Still.” Lily worried. “He does intend to ask for her.”
“Fool’s errand that will be. She won’t be accepting him,” Marianne whispered.
“Or maybe she will.” Lily had to tell Julian. He’d want to know that Carbury might not be the perfect gentleman.
As they reached Lily’s door, Marianne stopped. “Tired? Come to my room?”
“No. I can’t.”
Marianne tipped her head in question.
Lily hoped no sign of her coming escapade played in her expression. “I’m done in.”
“All right,” she said with some misgiving in her voice. “Good night, then.”
“Sleep well.”
* * * *
The night air was brisk, the wind sharp as it rustled through the treetops and cut into the wool of Lily’s riding jacket. She’d escaped the house easily, shooing her maid off to bed. She’d dressed haphazardly, tucking her hair up in a net under her pert little hat and then running down the back servants’ stairs and out into the yard. She’d donned her trousers that she’d brought with her from Texas. The ones she usually wore on the ranch in south Texas fit her like a second skin, the wool tailored to her curves by her seamstress in Corpus Christi. She was far from fashionable but only Julian would see her. Somehow, she didn’t mind that. Despite the fact he was so high born, he seemed accepting of her American idiosyncrasies.
She strode across the pebbled yard toward the stables, pleased that the moon was bright enough to pick her way easily.
No one, thank goodness, was about. The lights from the house were few. Most of the guests had gone to their beds and she hoped that Marianne was among them. Lily had no desire to meet her cousin in the hall upon her return. She welcomed the secrecy of her rendezvous, treasured it even.
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 10
