by HELEN HARDT
“God forgive me for being so ignorant! I don’t know how to prevent pregnancy. You told me you did. I trusted you!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I should have broken that over your head!”
Daniel wanted to grab her and pull her to him. To kiss her and give her comfort. Seeing her tears nearly destroyed him.
“I can’t do anything that I wanted to do now,” she sobbed. “I can’t go to the Louvre and paint the Mona Lisa like your mother did. I can’t climb a mountain, I can’t travel to the Orient, and I… Oh, I can’t bear this!” She pulled at her braids, tugging strings of hair loose.
“You can still do all of that.” He strode toward her hesitantly. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I always meant that.”
“No,” she cried quietly. “No, I can’t. Not if I’m with child.”
“You won’t be with child forever.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still don’t want to marry. I-I hereby release you from all responsibility for me and my child.”
“Our child, Lily.”
For a moment she seemed to soften, and he went toward her quickly. He put his arms around her and held her head to his shoulder. Her body relaxed, if only a bit, in his arms, one hand touching his hair, the other on his forearm. He held her gently, stroking her back, kissing her hair, saying nothing. After a few moments, she broke away.
“I’m not marrying you. You can’t force me.”
“Your father and I have reached an agreement.”
“Yes, of course, the business agreement to make me your live-in whore. I don’t think so. I won’t be part of your band of strumpets, Daniel. I won’t! You’re nothing but a scoundrel.”
Daniel had been called that name more times than he could remember, but never had it felt like an arrow in his heart. He went to her, held out his arms to her. Her skin was burning with fiery redness, her lips the color of the wine they had shared. God, how he wanted her. She was like a malady from which he couldn’t recover. A drug that his body craved. He would take her, and he would love her until she screamed. He would make her want him.
But she cowered before him, refusing to come back into his embrace. “No. Once you force me into this marriage, I won’t be able to stop you. But until then, you will maintain your distance.”
Daniel’s cock hardened under his dressing robe, aching for the sweet release that only she could give him. He rammed his fist onto the wall, tearing the wallpaper and denting the panel underneath. Blood oozed from his knuckles, but in his angry passion he felt no pain. “For God’s sake, Lily, do you have any idea how many women have tried to marry me over the years? I’m willing to give you what I’ve never even considered giving another!”
“Don’t you dare include me in the troop of doxies who’ve tried to trap you. I’m not one of them. I never was. I will not marry you!”
“Oh yes, you will.” She would be his, no matter what. “I will obtain a special license and we will be married at the end of next week, when the house party ends. Our betrothal will be announced at the ball tonight, after which we will share the first dance. Wear something appropriate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed. I have business to attend to.”
He guided her out the door and shut it in her face.
* * *
Her fists still clenched, Lily strode toward her chamber. Appropriate? Ha! Appropriate attire to join his band of strumpets, no doubt. She would show him. She changed her route abruptly and went downstairs to find Crawford.
“I need a modiste brought in from Bath,” she said to the butler. “Time is of the essence. I need a gown for the ball tonight.”
“For tonight? I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Make it possible, Crawford. Pay whatever is necessary to get her here and have the job done by tonight. Charge it to His Grace.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. He’ll pay for it. Trust me, he won’t even flinch. I’ll be in my chamber when she arrives.”
Lily flew up the double staircase to her chamber. Thankfully Rose was out. Lily paced around the room, agitated, her teeth clenched and her nostrils flaring. Damn Daniel for forcing his will on her. If only she hadn’t stayed with him that first time. If only she had never gone to his bedchamber to see the Vermeer.
But seeing the Vermeer…and sharing it with him—someone who appreciated it as much as she did, enough to hang it in his bedchamber so he could gaze at it whenever he liked—had been a dream. Letting him love her had also been a dream. She had never imagined such passion and tenderness could exist between two people.
Of course she had no experience. Perhaps making love was like that for everyone.
Why did she still want him? Her heart still raced and her nipples still tightened when she thought of his hands caressing her body, his tongue tasting her, his cock penetrating her. She had refused him this morning to hurt him, but she had denied herself what she desired most.
She sat down on her bed ran her fingers over her belly, wondering if Daniel’s child slumbered inside. She had been a fool to trust him, and his actions, or rather his inactions, were unforgivable. Yet she had gone willingly. She should have been more prepared with knowledge before embarking on such an affair. She would never let ignorance get the best of her again.
Somehow, though, the thought of having Daniel’s baby wasn’t nearly as distasteful as she had told him it was. True, she didn’t want to be with child. There was too much she wanted to do first. But a child. A little part of Daniel and a little part of her, linking them for all time. She smiled faintly as she stroked her belly, and for a moment she imagined a bright eyed baby boy with silky blond hair and sparkling green eyes, bouncing on her knee and smiling up at her, loving her.
Yes, loving her.
Love.
Daniel didn’t love her. He was only marrying her out of some misguided sense of responsibility for possibly getting her with child. She was an acceptable breeder for his heir.
Maybe, though, if Daniel loved their child, he could grow to love her as well. Maybe, someday, he wouldn’t need his strumpets and mistresses.
But did she love Daniel? She cared deeply for him, more than she wanted to. And she certainly desired him. She had lied to him when she said she was only after education and experience. She had lied to herself as well. She had convinced herself at first that sleeping with him would be a valuable experience for her writing, but the truth was much more simple than that. She wanted him, and she had gone back to him because she wanted to be with him. She enjoyed his company. She liked talking with him, spending time with him, making love with him. She hadn’t been able to stay away from him.
But was that love? Especially given the fact that they had spent all of three days together?
Even if it was love, she didn’t want to marry him. He could never be faithful to one woman, given his reputation, and if she were going to marry at all, she at least deserved her husband’s fidelity.
She rose from her bed, grabbed one of her empty canvases, set up her portable easel, and fetched the oil paint set. She took out the mixing palette, chose various tubes, and began mixing the paints with a small knife. She started with a bright green and added some blue. It made a nice turquoise, but that didn’t suit her. She started with blue next, adding violet, and then went back to the green and mixed in a hint of black. Beautiful. Now a tiny smidgen of violet and dark blue. Gorgeous. She took a brush and stroked color onto the canvas, trying some of the different techniques she had read about. The hue was rich and lustrous, but it still wasn’t quite right. She started again— Drat! She was trying to recreate the color of Daniel’s eyes.
Why couldn’t she control her thoughts of him? Her desire for him?
She took the tube of black paint and squirted it on the canvas, annihilating the green, and then fell onto her bed, refusing to let the tears come.
Chapter 12
Lily ordered a lunch tray in her chamber but barely touched it, unable to erase the memories of t
he morning.
Rose came in later. “I thought you would be with His Grace,” she said.
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“You said you were going to see him when you left Thomas and me, and then you didn’t come down for lunch, so I just assumed…”
Lily snorted. “You just assumed I jumped in his bed, didn’t you?”
“Well, I don’t mean to offend you…”
“No offense taken, dear. I’ve certainly done nothing in the past few days to indicate that I would have acted any differently.” She sighed. “For God’s sake, why didn’t you stop me?”
“Lily…”
“No, don’t answer that. You couldn’t have stopped me. No one could have. Oh, if only I’d had more sense!”
“Lily, if there’s anything you want to talk about—”
A knock on the door interrupted Rose, and Lily rose to answer it. Two footmen stood in the hallway, along with several packages.
“From His Grace, milady,” one of them said. “Where should we put them?”
“Put them back wherever you found them,” Lily said. “I don’t want them.”
“Sorry, milady, we have our orders. We’ll just stack them over there by the dressing room.” They piled the packages neatly. “Do you require anything else, milady?”
“Yes.” Lily stood with her hands on her hips. “Take them back out of here.”
“Sorry, milady.” He grinned, and the two left the room.
Lily eyed the pile before her.
“Aren’t you going to open them?” Rose asked.
“Good heavens, no. I don’t want his bribes.”
“Come on. Your curiosity must be killing you. I know mine is.”
“No.”
“Just one.”
“You want to open them? Go ahead. I’ll sit over here.” She plopped down on her bed.
Rose giggled. “Maybe just one.” She chose a box the size of a dinner plate and ripped off the brown wrapping. Inside was a leather case that snapped open. Rose lifted the lid and gasped. “Lily, look!” She hurried to her sister. Nestled on velvet was a diamond-and-ruby necklace with matching ear bobs, set in gold. “These are flawless. This must have cost a fortune!”
“They likely cost him nothing, Rose. They’re probably part of the Lybrook collection.” Lily shook her head, though she couldn’t help admiring the jewels.
“They’ll be lovely on you,” Rose said. “Perfect for your coloring. I could never wear rubies. My blond hair and peachy pale skin would clash horrendously. But on you, why, they’ll be exquisite.” She sighed.
“I suppose they’re…nice.”
“Nice? They’re amazing. May I open another one?”
“Open as many as you like.”
Rose chose another small box in which she found a pearl choker with earrings to match. “How gorgeous!” She brought them to Lily.
Lily hated to admit it, but Daniel did have impeccable taste. “Oh, go ahead,” she said to Rose. “Open the rest of them. You can start with that hat box. I detest hats. He doesn’t know me at all.”
Rose picked up the box and held it. “This hat box seems to be whimpering.” She lifted the lid and squealed, holding up the small brown puppy from the day before. “Oh, she’s adorable, and look, she has a leather strip around her neck with a tag. It says Brandy, Lily. He remembered that you said her color reminded you of Papa’s brandy!”
Lily’s heart began to melt. “Bring her here.” She stroked Brandy’s soft fur, while the small puppy nuzzled her breast. “Oh, you are a sweet thing.”
“I’m going for the next one.” Rose quickly tore open a small package and produced a book bound in rich red leather. “It’s Mr. Dickens’s Oliver Twist.” She opened the front cover. “And it’s signed!”
“Give that to me,” Lily said. She ran her fingers over the soft leather, inhaling its robust scent. Inside was Mr. Dickens’s signature in a crisp penmanship, dated 1839. “This is too much. I can’t accept all of these gifts.”
“He’s going to be your husband, Lily. Of course you can accept them. I’m going to open this bigger one next.” Rose removed the lid that had been loosened from a wooden crate and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Château Beychevelle, 1831. This must be from France.”
“Yes, it’s a Bordeaux. It’s delicious, actually.” Lily’s eyes misted. “Daniel…that is, His Grace and I shared this wine. We… Oh, Rose, what am I going to do?”
“This is a whole case. Twelve bottles.”
“Goodness.”
“This wine has meaning for you?”
“I’m afraid so.” Lily kissed Brandy’s soft muzzle.
“Don’t go getting all misty now. Remember, you don’t want to get married.” Rose smiled. “I’m going for the next wooden crate.” She pulled out sketching paper and charcoal pencils. Pastels and water colors. Oil paints in more colors than her original set. Art books and a new journal. “Don’t tell me this doesn’t excite you.”
Lily didn’t answer. How could Daniel know her so well after only three days? So far every gift had gone straight to her heart, even the jewelry, because they had been chosen so expressly for her, to enhance her features.
Rose picked up a tin. “This is probably a confection of some sort.” She lifted the lid. “I’m right, of course. It’s bonbons.” She brought them to Lily.
“They’re truffles, dark chocolate from Belgium. Why is he doing this to me?”
“Yes, he is horrid, isn’t he? Showering you with gifts that have meaning to you. Trying to make you happy. What a cad!” Rose laughed. “Lily, if you don’t fall in love with him, I just might! Tell me the story of the chocolates.”
“We shared them together, with the wine.” She closed her eyes. “Then he kissed me and we shared the flavors. Dear Lord, what have I done?”
“You’ve fallen in love.”
“No.”
“Yes, it’s obvious,” Rose said. “Why can’t you say it?”
“Because he doesn’t love me, Rose. He’s marrying me for all the wrong reasons. He feels an obligation because he compromised me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m fairly certain.” Very certain, actually, but Rose didn’t know about the possible pregnancy, and Lily didn’t want to divulge that little tidbit quite yet. “But enough about that. Try one of the truffles. They’re sinfully delicious.”
Rose took a small bite. “That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Next to Evan’s tongue, of course.” Rose giggled.
Lily cracked a smile. “I can’t believe you just said that. Here, let’s open a bottle of the wine. You won’t believe how wonderfully it goes with the chocolate.”
“Lily, it’s three in the afternoon.”
“Who cares? I’m getting married. Don’t you want to toast me?”
“Oh, all right,” Rose relented. “Let’s be a bit wicked this afternoon.”
Lily opened the door to summon a servant to uncork one of the bottles and found a housemaid ready to knock. “The modiste is here, my lady.”
“I forgot all about her,” Lily said. “Set her up in an extra chamber, and come fetch me when she’s ready, will you?”
“Yes, milady.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our little celebration,” she said to Rose. “I’m having a gown fitted for the ball.”
“How wonderful!”
“Would you like a new gown? Come with me.”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“Of course you could. I’m almost a duchess, after all.”
“No, Lily. I’ll wait here for you, and we can drink wine and eat chocolate when you get back. But for now, there’s one more gift to open.”
Lily stared at the large gift covered in brown paper wrapping. “Don’t let me stop you,” she said.
Rose carefully removed the wrapping. Lily gasped bringing one hand to her cheek and squeezing Brandy with the other until the puppy squealed.
<
br /> “Lily, this isn’t…”
Lily nodded.
“The Vermeer? Oh my,” Rose said, staring. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“I can’t accept it. It’s too much. In fact, I can’t accept any of this.” Brandy squirmed in her arms. “I’ll keep one.” She stroked the puppy’s sleek head. “I’ll keep Brandy. Daniel said she’s too little to be a hunting dog. What will become of her if I don’t care for her?” She looked around at the gifts. “And I’m keeping the art supplies. But that’s it. Well, the chocolates. They’ll just go bad anyway.” She fingered the diamond-and-ruby necklace, and then the Dickens novel. “Oh… But I can’t. I’m just keeping Brandy.”
Rose’s lips curved upward. “It seems he knows you a little better than you think.”
A knock on the door signaled that the modiste was ready. “I’ll only be an hour or so,” Lily said to Rose. “Would you keep an eye on Brandy for me?”
“I’d love to. May I take her outside?”
“Of course, she’ll love that. Take her to visit her brothers and sisters. But be back here in an hour, and we’ll have our wine and chocolates.”
Lily left the room and followed a maid to the chamber where the modiste had set up shop. “Good afternoon,” she said to a pleasantly plump red-haired woman.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” the modiste said in a clearly contrived French accent. “I am Madame LeRou. I understand you wish a gown for a ball this evening?”
“Yes. I’m terribly sorry for the short notice, but rest assured that my…intended will see that you are compensated at whatever rate you wish. Our betrothal is going to be announced tonight.”
“How very wonderful for you, my dear. And your intended is?”
Lily cleared her throat. “The Duke of Lybrook.”
“The duke? Splendide! How lucky you are. If I were twenty years younger, I would marry him myself. This calls for a special gown.”
“Yes, I would like something…frivolous and compelling. Something that stands out in a crowd.”
