A Summons From His Grace (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 4)

by Kelly, Olivia

  “Well, because, you know…you are a married to Viscount Heathfield now. You are a lady of the realm, and I am but a commoner,” Lily said, uncomfortable with the slightly pitying expressions on the younger women’s faces. Didn’t they see that this changed everything? It was the way society worked.

  The twins exchanged another look, and Isabel leaned forward impatiently.

  “That’s rubbish. You would never have thought of it if it weren’t for my dolt of a cousin making a mess of things with you. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you have never considered either Em or me as anything other than friends, and we will not allow you to start now.” Isabel set down her tea cup and stood in preparation to leave. “We expect to see you tomorrow evening at the duke’s annual Christmas Ball, and we will accept no excuses.”

  “But– ” Lily began.

  Isabel pierced her with a formidable stare. “And I am sending a dress ‘round later, which you will wear, Lily Beaumont.”

  Taken aback by her friend’s sudden show of steel, Lily only nodded. Isabel’s expression softened and she leaned forward to hug Lily. She held Isabel tightly for a moment, touched by the twins’ obvious concern and thoughtfulness. Emma hugged Lily too and started to follow her twin out of the parlor, but paused in the doorway.

  The new viscountess looked at Lily with a small smile.

  “He’s absolutely miserable, you know.”

  Lily did not pretend to misunderstand her friend. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She stared back in silence, until she remembered there was something to say.

  “He lied to me. And he left, and has not been back since.”

  “I understand.” Emma nodded. “And I did not say you shouldn’t make him suffer for it. But, perhaps you could consider that he is hurting as well. He misses you Lily. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Lily nodded tightly, not offering more than that, and Emma turned to go. She spun back before taking a step. “He is staying. Grandpapa has offered him stewardship of several of the un-entailed estates, the ones which were originally meant to go to him anyway. I think he may accept, but something seems to be holding him back. What do you think he could be waiting for, Lily?”

  With that and another soft smile, the very clever Emma Heathfield left her friend standing in the middle of her drawing room. Hope rose in Lily’s chest like the dawning sun.

  ~ 9 ~

  Harry sighed and slouched against the wall, staring out at the couples waltzing on the marble dance floor. It was past midnight and it seemed quite obvious Lily wasn’t going to make an appearance. He still wasn’t even sure how he had gotten roped into attending the damn ball in the first place. His cousins were crafty and sly masters at playing the innocent while tying a man up in guilt and confusion. Isabel and Emma had become like the sisters he never had, always underfoot and never content to leave him sulking in a corner or brooding in the conservatory. They prodded and poked and teased…and chattered until his ears rang.

  He adored them.

  Not that he would let them know that, it would only make them worse. He narrowed his eyes at Isabel as she twirled by, giving him a wide smile. God knew the pair didn’t need any boost in confidence.

  A clap on the shoulder knocked him a step forwards and a drink was placed in his hand. Harry glanced sideways to see Emma’s new husband, Viscount Heathfield, standing next to him. The two men just stood for a moment, watching the dancers laughing and twirling. Harry threw back the wine in one long swallow and looked around for somewhere to put his glass. He settled for the potted miniature orange tree next to him. Heathfield raised one eyebrow, patently amused.

  “All right, Connelly, spit it out. What’s got you so twisted up?” When Harry said nothing, the viscount merely turned back to survey the room. “Emma’s convinced its Miss Beaumont, the local vicar’s daughter. She believes that you carry a tendre for the woman. Is this true?”

  “A tendre? Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever speak like you English.” Harry grinned, momentarily shaken out of his black mood.

  He liked Heathfield and was glad Emma had married him. The man would be good for her. He’d keep her grounded, as his cousin had a tendency to formulate improbable plans that invariably seemed to get her into trouble. The scheme she had concocted to bring Heathfield to the castle was a perfect example. “I like Miss Beaumont, yes. I may even love her. I don’t know if it makes any difference, however, because she made it pretty clear she wants nothing to do with me.”

  The viscount nodded sympathetically, and they stood for another moment in contemplative silence.

  “Royally messed up, did you?” Heathfield asked idly, scanning the room for his wife. Spotting her at the dessert table, he caught her eye and sent her a melting smile. She turned bright red and promptly knocked over a tier of little iced cakes. Harry rolled his eyes.

  Newlyweds.

  “I neglected to tell her that I’m the grandson of the duke who employs her father, and I then almost seduced her. I’d say, yes, I messed up pretty badly. If I had a chance to do it all over again, I don’t think I would have left the vicarage without her.” Harry scratched his chin, and slumped against the wall again. How soon he might make his escape? Perhaps it wasn’t too cold to go for a ride tonight –say, about four miles.

  “Well, Connelly, it looks as though tonight is your lucky night. Miss Beaumont has just arrived. Perhaps you might get your second chance after all.”

  Harry jerked upright, his gaze flashing to the entrance of the ballroom.

  ~ * ~

  Lily took a deep breath. She clutched her reticule like a lifeline and looked around the crowded ballroom.

  It was a maze of colored satins and velvets, jewels flashing in the light of what must have been hundreds of candles. The air was warm and fragrant with beeswax and the cloying sweetness from the masses of hothouse flowers covering every available surface. Everywhere she looked there were people –clustered in groups, talking and laughing, or dancing energetically. Off to the side there were two long tables groaning under the weight of the trays and platters of food. There was everything from duck and beef to sweets. She only wished her stomach wasn’t roiling with tension.

  Emma stood next to the table furtively kicking some tiny cakes under the lacy tablecloth with her foot. The new viscountess glanced up, spotted Lily, and began making odd gestures with her hands, tipping her head to the side and rolling her eyes.

  What was she doing?

  Lily stared at her bemusedly. Did Emma realize how mad she looked? Her friend’s eyes widened, and suddenly Lily felt a warm presence behind her.

  Lily’s closed her eyes briefly, knowing who stood there even before she looked. She plastered a cool smile on her face and turned to face Harry.

  “Lily. You look lovely tonight.” Harry took her hand and pressed his lips to the top of her oyster colored glove.

  Lily had worn the creation that Isabel had sent over for her, despite her misgivings. Even suspecting that the girl had never worn it herself, and that it was much too expensive and fine for Lily, the dress was entirely too perfect to pass up. The snug, long-sleeved bodice and sweeping skirt were made out of deep sapphire velvet, and trimmed with seed pearls and jet beads. It fit as perfectly as Isabel had predicted, and Lily knew she looked her very best, which was some comfort. She drew herself up straight, resolutely squared her shoulders, and continued to smile serenely, even as her heart thumped madly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Connelly. I hope you are well.”

  His eyes narrowed at her formal tone.

  She refused to let him see that her heart was breaking, seeing him standing there looking so fine and right in the lush elegance of the ballroom. His hair was trimmed and swept off his forehead, and his clothes were epitome of genteel distinction. He looked every inch the grandson of a duke in that moment. Lily only wanted to escape. She gave her hand a little tug and was surprised when he refused to let go.

  “Oh, no, my lovely Miss Beaumont. I’
ve got you now, and this time I’m keeping you.”

  Lily looked at him in alarm, as he leaned in close, flashing a grin. Her stomach did a little flip and her palms grew damp inside the silk gloves. He looked so dangerous when he smiled like that! Her breath hitched as his eyes gleamed, and she gave a harder tug on her hand, but he just tucked it under his arm and pulled her close enough that their hips bumped.

  “Come, angel, there is someone I would like to speak with.”

  “You can do it without me, then. Let go of my arm, Mr. Connelly, people are staring,” Lily hissed out of the side of her mouth, nodding and smiling graciously at the curious onlookers as Harry towed her along with him.

  She stumbled, trying to keep up with him, and he slowed fractionally, but did not stop until they stood in front of a small group of ornate chairs facing the dance floor. Lily paled when she realized that the duke occupied one of the chairs, and she tried to make herself as small as possible. Why, oh why, had she come? She had let herself be persuaded by hope, and the twins’ encouragement. Now that she was here she could see just how impossible it was for her and Harry.

  Couldn’t he see it as well?

  “Your Grace, may I have a moment of your attention?” Harry smoothly diverted the duke from the elderly woman with whom he was conversing. Lily wished the marble floor would open up and swallow her as the duke’s dark eyes swept over her. She braced herself, sure the man would dismiss her out of hand or cut her to the quick with his legendary, biting wit.

  “Grandfather, this is the woman I have been telling you about. I believe you are acquainted with her father, Vicar Beaumont of Little Danby. May I present to you Miss Lily Beaumont?”

  Lily’s face was hot as she dropped into a nervous curtsy.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured, her eyes on the floor in front of her.

  “Miss Beaumont, yes, yes, of course, I remember you. You’re a friend to my granddaughters. They could use a good influence, the minxes. You look well this evening.”

  Lily rose and nodded mutely, slightly shocked that the duke had even noticed, much less remembered her. She bit her lip, standing stiff and correct, as the duke raised his pince nez and examined her closely.

  “My grandson tells me that he’s made an ass out of himself and you won’t forgive him. Is this true?” A ring of scandalized silence fell around them at the duke’s testy pronouncement.

  Lily looked frantically up at Harry, amazed to see that he was choking on his laughter, his eyes dancing. He waved his hand as if to say “Go ahead.”

  She wrenched her arm out of his and stepped away, her fledgling feelings of softening towards Harry evaporating like mist in the morning sun.

  “I…well, I…yes, it is true.” Lily lifted her chin and looked the duke right in the eye. If she was going to be slaughtered in battle, at least she wasn’t going down without a fight. She heard a few gasps from their fascinated audience, but was emboldened by the glint of amusement in the duke’s eyes.

  “He lied to me.”

  “Well, now hold on a minute. I never lied –I withheld. Not the same thing at all.”

  “He withheld certain truths from me. I cannot abide a liar. Oh, excuse me, Mr. Connelly a –withholder” Lily said disdainfully. Harry had the nerve to chuckle again. She kept her focus on the duke, ignoring the large, warm presence next to her.

  Harry reached out to play with the ribbon dangling from her sleeve, and Lily promptly swatted his fingers with her fan. The duke broke out in a delighted grin and hooted with laughter. His companions looked at him in shock, murmuring behind their hands and open fans.

  The duke shook his gnarled finger at his grandson.

  “I like this one, Harry; she’s got fire under that cool shell. And she’s probably more intelligent than you and me combined. I can see it in her eyes. Better hold on tight.” His Grace waved them away, still chuckling, much to Lily’s chagrin.

  “I intend to. I intend to hold on and never let go,” Harry murmured in her ear. Then taking her by the hand, he pulled her straight out the terrace doors behind them.

  “No, Harry! What are you thinking?” Lily protested, still absorbed with the scene that had just played out with his grandfather. She must be mistaken, because it had sounded very much like the duke had given them his blessing. His eldest grandson and the vicar’s daughter? Even though Harry wasn’t the heir to the dukedom, it was practically unheard of.

  “I’m thinking that it’s time to stop you from thinking so hard.” With that, Harry halted abruptly and pressed her back against the cold stone balustrade, sliding his arms around her. Before Lily fully realized his intention, his lips were on hers, hot and hungry. He devoured her mouth as if he was starving, taking it in little licks and nips until she was moaning, her fingers clenched in his hair.

  “God, Lily, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” Harry groaned, pulling her head back and feasting on her neck.

  As she drew in a deep breath of cold air, Lily came to her senses. They were on the terrace, in full view of anyone who might step out of the ballroom. She struggled away from him, shoving with all her strength.

  He stumbled back, panting, his eyes bemused.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “Harry, we can’t do this. I’m not the woman you need.” Lily braced her back against the railing, her fingers biting into the cold stone. She felt the tears burning in her throat, but she had to be sensible. Better he realize how inappropriate a choice she was now, than after they married.

  “You are exactly the woman I need.” Harry reached out for her, but she evaded his touch, backing away. He looked stunned.

  “Is it me? Do you not want to be with me?”

  Lily couldn’t bear the look on his face.

  “Yes! Of course I do, but I can’t. I don’t know what your grandfather was thinking. I’m only a vicar’s daughter. You are the grandson of a duke. A duke, Harry!” He looked unimpressed with her reasoning and crossed his arms over his chest, looking frustrated.

  “Is that all?”

  “Is that…is that all? Isn’t it enough?” Lily asked in disbelief.

  He was slowly shaking his head back and forth, his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and she stumbled back.

  “No, I don’t think so. I wasn’t raised here, Lily, and I’m not part of all that.” He waved his arm towards the ballroom, the noise and light muted by the terrace doors.

  Lily shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Harry immediately shrugged out of his coat and pulled it around her shoulders. Even as she sank into the warmth provided by the extra layer, still heated from his body, Lily shook her head and turned away.

  “You are part of that –and always will be. You should have a highborn bride, who can direct your servants and throw house parties…and be an asset to you. That is not me.” She blinked back tears, staring out over the frozen landscape, the snow glittering in the moonlight. She stilled as his arms slipped around her and he pulled her back against his hard chest.

  “You are an asset to me, angel. You’re warm, and sweet, and you make me laugh. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone else. These past few days without you have been hell, and I don’t ever want to repeat the experience.” He turned her and gazed down at her. Lily’s breath left her body at the look in his eyes, tender and loving and hot all at the same time. “I think everything I have survived has been worth it, because it brought me to you. The loneliness, the loss, the back-breaking work –even the horrifying battles in which I fought. I’d do it all again, if I knew I would end up here, on this terrace, with you in my arms.”

  Lily raised a wondering hand to his face and cradled his cheek. He turned his lips in to her hand and kissed her palm.

  “I’m not perfect, and I’ve done things in my past that I need to tell you, but not now, not here. I thought these things would make you turn from me in disgust, and it made me think we could never have a future. Lily, I’m willing to trust you and take a chance. Can you not d
o the same? Can you not trust me?”

  “I do, but…I’m afraid,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “I don’t want to shame you, by not being enough.”

  “You could never shame me, and you will always be enough.” Harry touched his lips to hers as she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of him pressed against her. “My grandfather has asked me to manage some of his estates. I already told him I’d stay because I can’t walk away from you.”

  He nuzzled her ear, and she shivered with pleasure. “Most of the properties are within a day’s drive of the village so you could visit your father frequently, or he can come live with us.”

  Lily opened her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. How did she get so lucky?

  “I want this challenge, to help bring these estates up to working order and productivity. I think I’ll be good at it, and I’m eager to find out just what I can make of myself, given the chance. But I’ll need your help, Lily, and your advice. I don’t just need a wife, but a partner I can trust and count on –and that could only be you.”

  There was nothing on earth that could drag her from his arms in this moment. She let out a small laugh –full of joy, and watched as his face lit up with a reflection of the love and happiness in her own expression.

  “Then, yes, Harry, I will marry you. We will make a blazing success of your estates and cause all your cousins to turn green with envy. We will love each other and make a beautiful family, and you will know peace and never have to suffer loneliness again, I swear it.” Lily wrapped her arms around him, holding on. He tucked her close and kissed the top of her hair.

  “You are my peace, angel, and my greatest love. As long as I have you, I have everything,” Harry murmured, holding her. They stood together in the cold, watching the stars wink out one by one as the warm fingers of dawn streaked across the horizon. It was a new day.

  Dedication

  I want to dedicate this story to my historical critique group. You ladies inspire me and keep me writing. Thanks for being my friend!