Lily returned to her chair, sat and put her fork and knife to good use. On Carbury’s orders, Elanna and her mother were served their breakfast by the footman. The ladies remained in their seats, as Carbury rattled on about God knew what.
Lily ate her breakfast with silent dedication. Aware of Julian’s eyes on her, she listened to a polite discussion between Elanna and her suitor. They did not agree on politics or horses, flowers or colors best to complement her complexion. He liked Bach. She preferred Chopin. He liked Ivanhoe. She loved Frankenstein. It was as if they dueled and bloodying the other was the only way to survive the morning meal.
Lily had seen arguments between her parents, but nothing as contrary as this. Elanna meant to wound him. Carbury meant to dominate her.
Julian frowned at the discourse. “I wonder, Elanna, if you’d like to learn how to play poker?”
“Poker?” She looked as startled as if he’d saved her from drowning. “Why?”
He leveled an appraising eye at her. “Miss Hanniford is about to teach me. I thought you’d enjoy it. After you finish your eggs. What do you say?”
“I was hoping,” Lord Carbury said to Julian, “Lady Elanna would consent to talk with me in the salon.”
“Oh, I see. Well, Elanna, your choice.” Julian emphasized that last.
The duchess cleared her throat.
But Elanna snapped her gaze from her mother to her brother. With a flutter of gratitude, she shook her head. “Thank you. Another time, perhaps. I thought I’d go talk with Lord Carbury, you understand.”
“I do,” Julian said with some grace and much disappointment in his voice.
“A fine choice,” said the duchess as she picked at the bits on her plate.
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, my lord, but the Duke of Seton has arrived.”
Carbury beamed, put down his napkin and got to his feet. “Delightful! Please tell him I wish to speak with him. Say, an hour.”
“I will, my lord. Please know, too, we have another visitor who has arrived in his own carriage. Mister Killian Hanniford.”
“Show him to his room,” said Carbury.
“Yes, sir.” The butler turned to Julian. “Lord Chelton, your father, His Grace, asks to see you in the library.”
Julian frowned. Bad timing and a foretaste of ill omens whenever his father appeared at a country party. “Really? But very well. Excuse me, won’t you? And Miss Hanniford, I’m afraid our card party will have to wait.”
Lily took the news of her father’s arrival with pleasure. But something about the Duke of Seton’s appearance disturbed Julian.
“I’ll take a walk in the garden instead,” she said. “Perhaps this afternoon will be a better time to play.”
Julian gave her a compassionate smile. “It will.”
Chapter Nine
“You arrive and immediately demand to see me?” Julian confronted his father as he crossed the threshold of Carbury’s library. “Rude, to say the least. What is the matter?”
The Duke of Seton was a man who loved his precedence in society, his noble name too. Once he had loved his wealth, but that was gone and so the other powers were ones he used often. Even at a gathering like this one which he had always detested for the forced intimacy of strangers. “I’ve had a meeting of some importance to our future.”
Julian stepped forward into the musty library. He disliked this room, dark and dusty, needing a good swipe with vinegar and soap. The rest of the house seemed bright and spanking clean, so this dingy room was out of character. He often wondered why. “Tell me what it is.”
“Hanniford has made a better offer for the shipping company.”
“How wonderful. Did you take it?”
“No.”
“I see.” Julian swung himself down into a high-backed Chippendale chair and examined his nails. “Well, then. Since you have taken over the negotiations, why tell me?”
“I need your help.”
Julian glanced up. “How so?”
“I want you to argue him higher.”
“I withdrew my presence from this discussion. It is yours now.”
Seton flared his nostrils. “Absurd!”
“No.” In the past few years, Julian often had refused his father’s demands. It had become easier each time. As their fortunes declined, he’d done what he could to soften the financial blows. He’d curtailed his own spending, even cut back on gambling playing only against those from whom he knew he could win. Too bad his winnings from those friends were meager. To boot, he’d ended his relationship with his mistress. He’d cut staff to four at his own residence here in Kent. He’d also advised his father on how to trim staff at Broadmore, but of course, the old man had rejected his advice. Julian had learned to keep his own council and do for himself.
Now he had reason to do more. Since last night, Julian had pondered what his future might hold. His fascination with Lily was a living breathing being, far more vital than any dalliance he’d ever fancied with another woman. Their midnight ride and their enchanting entanglement had aroused more in him than he ever anticipated. He wished to protect her. From himself. But he also wished to possess her. For himself alone. That meant more kisses and more caresses. Her compliance, her need of him too, meant he could not walk away from her.
Furthermore, he would not hurt her feelings or her reputation. Nor would he collude with his father to persuade hers to do anything concerning their business dealings. He wanted Lily Hanniford. Efficiently. Totally unconnected to her father, his own and any business dealings they might or might not conclude.
He meant to pursue her, too. Learn if her lust for him—for that was what last night was—might be the kernel of a more tender emotion. Learn if his own was irrational longing, some idealized imagining of her as charming and daring, wild and carefree.
He’d not meddle in his father’s affairs.
He had too much interest in settling his own.
“I say, boy, you refuse me this?”
Julian stood. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Even at the cost of Elanna’s future—”
How dare you. “You gave her until June.” His father was a right bastard. Especially since the estate began to lose thousands of pounds at the turn of the decade. “I expect you to honor that.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll help Elanna run away.”
“Don’t be foolish, boy.”
“Don’t be unprincipled, father.”
Seton flared his nostrils. “We are at an impasse.”
Julian nodded and headed for the door. “Right you are.”
Worried about Elanna, he headed straight for the main salon. But the doors were open and no one was inside. Whatever the conversation was that Carbury had intended with her, they had finished.
Julian turned for the stairs and strode to his sister’s bedroom door. He knocked—and knocked again. With his hand to the knob, he was ready to enter, when the door fell open. Facing him was Elanna’s maid, her tiny eyes circled white with fright.
“What’s the matter, Bess? Where is—?” But he saw Elanna in silhouette beyond her sitting room, standing before the window in her bedroom. She stood deathly still, her hands clasped before her but her posture sagged, so unlike his elegant little sister.
“Go away, Julian.” Her voice was a rasp.
“I wish to talk with you.”
“I don’t wish it. Please leave.”
He checked Bess’ stance. The servant assumed the posture of an animal on guard, terrified.
“What’s happened?” he asked Bess.
But the gray-haired woman bit her lip.
“Elanna?”
She stiffened, defiance in every line of her body. “Go away, Julian.”
“Let me help you.”
“You can’t. I love that you’ve tried. But you must let me go now.”
What does that mean? “Did something happen in the salon? Tell me.”
“No. Meet Miss Hannifo
rd in the garden.”
“I must know—”
“No, you will not. Seize happiness for yourself, Julian. Do it. For me.” And then she turned to one side and walked out of his vision.
Roiled, defeated, exhausted, he made his way downstairs and out to Carbury’s orangery.
When Julian caught sight of Lily again, she was bent over a camellia bush in the huge glass house filled with sunlight and plants of every size and shape and fragrance. The sun shone on her hair, turning her dark tresses to glistening midnight.
And when she raised her face to welcome him, her countenance was aglow with an emotion so tender, he wished he had a portrait of her as she was in that moment when he knew—yes, he knew—he must have her as his wife.
But she searched his expression. “What’s wrong?”
He took her hands.
“Tell me if you wish. I won’t pry.”
He led her away from the door of the glass edifice where tall evergreens obscured the view from the house and anyone who might look out upon the splendid wealth of the gardens. At a white wrought iron bench, he urged her down.
Still holding her hands, he smiled briefly, painfully. “I worry about Elanna.”
“She wasn’t happy to talk with Lord Carbury.”
“You can see she doesn’t care for him.”
“Yes.” Lily nodded. “And that he is—well, not as charming a suitor as one might hope for.”
Julian lifted her hands, turned them over and kissed each one in the center of her palm. “How sweet you are.”
At his touch, she gave a little frisson. “I am honest, as we said we would be.”
He pulled her hands so that she circled his waist. So close, she smelled of lilacs. So near, she gazed up at him with admiration that he hoped one day to merit.
He wrapped his arms around her and brushed his lips on hers. “What should I do if I find myself addicted to your kisses and you are not near me?”
Her blue eyes veiled with sadness. “Don’t kiss another.”
“Never.” He sent the tip of his tongue along the fullness of her lower lip. “I must have you or no one.” He seized her mouth, the power to claim her going to his head. She came against him, trusting and eager, her lips opening to his beseeching tongue. She inched closer, a small moan marking her desire to match him.
He broke away, his hand to her cheek. The need to have her here on this bench was a violent fire that spread to his blood. “I must stop. Tonight, you’ll meet me?”
“At the stable doors?” The rapture he saw on her face told him she would come to him anywhere, any time. How wonderful. How dangerous. “Yes.”
He stood, pushing her hands to her lap. “After dinner. When all are abed.”
“I’ll teach you how to play poker some other day then?” Hope and disappointment mingled in her features.
“Many other days. I promise. Forgive me, but I must leave you.”
“Propriety calls, does it?” she teased him.
“That,” he said with a sad smile, “and I have urgent family matters.”
* * * *
Dinner was a nightmare. Carbury was an animated host, his attention on Elanna nigh unto oppressive. Julian’s father was either surly or pleasant beyond bearing. His mother seemed radiant. Elanna who had once more refused to see Julian that afternoon played the part of a featherbrained debutante and flirted with the three eligible men. The two eligible women cast disapproving eyes at her, to no avail. The three men appeared to love the attention. Killian Hanniford and his niece Marianne Roland attempted their part with lively introductions of subjects, which fell to Lily and him to take up. Meanwhile, Carbury’s older female guests chatted on, filling in the numerous holes of the conversation.
Julian frowned at his soup.
His plans for the day had become mincemeat. No talk with Elanna about Carbury or any other matter. A warning that Father was getting itchy. Hours pondering his own finances to divine if he might afford…yes, a wife. A wife. This wife for himself.
He sat back, his appetite gone.
He knew the answer. Of course, he did. He didn’t have to put ink to paper. He’d examined his ledgers over and over again. He’d already cut staff at Willowreach. Months ago, he’d reined in his spending on tailors and wines. He’d given up his small house in Paris last autumn, the need for it gone along with the dismissal of his kind but unexciting French mistress. With frugality, and even without acquiring any dowry from Lily, he could afford to feed her. But clothe her? Hire a maid for her? Allow her parties and at homes? No. There would be no cash for any of that. And he loathed the idea that she’d do without all those niceties she so obviously enjoyed.
How could he ask her to marry him and do without the comforts she deserved?
He’d be a cad. Perhaps not as bad as Randolph Churchill, the duke of Marlborough’s younger son, who had met, fallen in love and proposed marriage to the American heiress Jenny Jerome within two weeks, only to find that her small dowry of two thousand pounds per year would be all he’d have to live on. The difference between Churchill and him was that he wished not to take any of Killian Hanniford’s money. None at all. He would not be beholden to him. And not so connected that Hanniford might wish to use him as a negotiator with his father, the duke. Certainly Lily’s father would grant her a dowry. Any father of title or wealth had done so in England for centuries. But poor and needy as he was, it belittled Julian to take it. If he married an English girl, she’d come with money. Chances were she’d come with even less than Lily, but before he’d ever set eyes on Lily, he’d intended no marriage for many years, anyway. Not until he’d improved his lot, shored up his pride with some achievement and solvency. And he’d never expected a woman to fund his life, either. He’d expected her to provide an heir and organization of his house, period.
He wanted just Lily. Unencumbered with her wealth or her father’s influence. Only one matter stood like a wall between them.
He did not wish to be purchased. Not by her. Not by her father. He’d lived his whole life holding his head above the crowd because his parents were notorious gamblers and libertines, caught in their cups more than once.
He’d told himself he’d never allow himself to become a laughing stock, too. There was deplorable behavior among his parents, but he’d remained discreet. Not a drinker or a known gambler or a debaucher, he’d been an unremarkable aristo. But married to a wealthy American girl who’d come lugging her dollars in a carpetbag? ‘The Dollar Girls’, the scandal sheets called them. Could he bear the slurs without cringing?
Still he had to reconcile his fear with his need and his desire. His conundrum was that he wanted her more than he despised what she represented.
Across the expanse of the table, she caught his gaze and solace warmed in her clear blue eyes. Was her sweet regard not worth more than money or scandal or shame?
“I have a toast to make,” his father said and raised his wineglass. “It is with pride that I announce the engagement of my daughter, Elanna, to our good friend and neighbor, Lord Carbury.”
Gasps of suitable delight went up from the assembled guests. Congratulations followed with much consumption of wine. Carbury beamed as he grasped Elanna’s hand and squeezed it so that her blood drained the skin white.
What in hell?
“Elanna accepted him this afternoon,” the duchess declared.
This is why Elanna had avoided him earlier. The earl had proposed and she, trapped by time and looming poverty, had accepted.
She’d been sold.
He fisted his hands. That would destroy any woman or man’s composure. The worst had happened to her. She’d taken a man she did not want.
He shot a look at Lily. But she was offering up her own blessings to the match and drank with the others to health and welfare of the new couple.
Fear stabbed Julian like a knife.
Would Hanniford sell his daughter to a man she did not want? The American had no reason to. But when a man was ruth
less, it was possible. Would she agree?
Julian doubted it.
But then, he could not take the chance.
* * * *
The moon glowed brightly as Julian stood before the stable doors, the two horses already saddled. Across the yard, he examined the path from the house. Anyone who gazed out of the windows at the right time and the right place could see her cross.
He patted the noses of the restless animals. “She’ll arrive soon. Be assured.”
A flash in the dark caught his eye. He spied her dashing toward him. His survey of the windows showed him no need for alarm. No one stood there.
“Hello.” She ran right up to him, breathless. Tonight she wore her riding jacket and her usual hip-hugging man’s pants, but no hat. Her hair curled over her shoulders in rich dark waves. “Have you waited long?”
Eternities. “I occupied myself and prepared the horses. No need to call Colin tonight, I thought. Come. Mount up.” He wished to be alone with her. Away from here and the turmoils of the day. He helped her up on the mare. “Those trousers of yours are certainly an aid to riding.”
“Not good for a lady’s reputation, however.” She watched him climb up and directed her horse toward the far lane and the woods where they’d gone last night.
“I won’t tell.”
“I know you won’t.” She narrowed her gaze into the road ahead. “Others would. Many would rejoice to ridicule me or Marianne and especially my father.”
“For profit, yes, I know.” All too well.
“So much of your society is built on propriety and yet so many hide their foibles. Even your Prince of Wales carries on with women at house parties.”
Julian sighed. His horse kept pace with hers. “Those parties are arranged by many who wish to curry his favor. It’s disgraceful on everyone’s part.”
“You wouldn’t ever do that,” she said with conviction.
“No. I wouldn’t. I cultivate other aspirations. Some new, others older and not so well accomplished.”
“I like a man with ambitions. Tell me about them.”
“I’d improve the yield of our farms on the estates. Though I’m no farmer. I’d like to see my tenants better fed and healthier. Though I’m no expert on diseases.”
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 13
