by Lavinia Kent
He didn’t answer, his face emotionless, but Lily could see his throat clench as he, too, remembered the quiet, mischievous girl she had been. Sometimes Lily had been trapped for hours, hidden flat beneath a sofa as her mother chatted with the ladies, or played a hand of whist. It hadn’t mattered, all that mattered was that she’d been able to stick close.
Because of this, she’d seen the gentlemen woo her mother, the soft kisses they’d laid upon her palms, the way their eyes had caressed her curves. Her mother would laugh and charm, and then go upstairs alone. Maybe not always alone, but Lily didn’t like to think about those times.
Simon stirred against her breast, indicating his desires. She brushed her fingers over his fuzzy hair, glad of the comfort, and gave him her thumb to suck. Momentarily comforted, he became still.
She peeked back at Arthur, who still stood above her, his eyes dazed. He stared at Simon’s tiny wiggling feet.
“I’ll call Nanny to help you. I need to go.” Arthur gasped the words out. Then, with carefully measured his steps, he left the room.
Lily bent her head to nuzzle her son. She refused to feel deserted. She was no longer that little child, in need of reassurance.
A sudden dampness staining her lap drew Lily’s attention, and she picked up the bell and rang. Arthur, in his unusual emotional state, must have forgotten to call Nanny. Lily would have liked to care for Simon herself, but she couldn’t even get him back to his cradle; anything more was out of the question. She stoked Simon under the chin, amazed as always by his perfection. Maybe she could finally persuade Nanny to teach her how to change him.
She glanced up at the sudden stomp of feet in the hall. Muffled voices whispered, but after a moment she returned her attention to Simon. A sudden rap at the door startled her.
“Yes.”
“I am sorry, my lady, but there are several men asking for you.” Jeffers spoke with cool formality.
“Men asking for me?” Lily’s stomach dropped a foot.
“Yes, they are asking for Lady Worthington. Normally I’d direct them to his grace first, but he’s still out and Lady Smythe-Burke has gone into the village.”
“Oh.” Lily swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “Should I receive them? Who are they?”
Jeffers reddened, looking slightly abashed. “Well, one of them says he’s Sir Drake, the new magistrate.” He hesitated, and then added, “Lord Dudley St. Aubin is with them.”
Lily felt her gorge rising. Was this to be her comeuppance? Forcing herself to display a calm she did not feel, she rose stiffly.
“I’d better see them, then. If you would have Nanny come and take Simon first, I’ll see them. Thank you, Jeffers.”
She wrapped her shawl tightly about her shoulders as a sudden chill shook her. She straightened her shoulders back like the lady she been trained to be, and with her most practiced smile, waited to meet the foe.
Three men entered and stood uncomfortably amid the feminine appointments of the room. St. Aubin stood at the back. His expression hesitant.
“Gentlemen, I understand you’re asking for me.”
“Yes, my lady,” the shortest of the men answered. “I wanted to assure myself of your safety after the tragedy that befell your husband. I am Sir Drake, newly appointed magistrate.”
“As you can see, I am well. I suffered no grave injury. Was that all?” Lily tucked her hand behind her, pressing the back of the chair for support.
The short man shifted, and his eyes darted under her polite glance. He shot a look at St. Aubin before speaking.
“Actually, my lady, I need to ask that you come with us. There are some questions that need answering. I understand there’s a young child, also. St. Aubin, his uncle and guardian, has offered to care for him for whatever time the questions take.”
Lily shifted in her chair, her back ramrod straight. Not by any movement would she betray the anxiety that threatened her composure.
“Surely, any questions can be asked here. I am sure his grace would be happy to accommodate any needs you might have. Should I ring for tea?” She hoped they couldn’t detect the tightening of her voice as she fought her fear.
“No, I am afraid I’ll have to insist that you come.”
She widened her eyes. “I am quite afraid I don’t understand.”
“You need to come with us now. Once all my questions are asked and I am satisfied with your answers, you can return. Concerns have been raised about your late husband’s death, and I would like your views on the matter.” Sir Drake glanced at St. Aubin. “Should I have the baby fetched?”
Lily fought hard to keep from shaking, so great was her terror. Her mind emptied of all but one thought. She could not let them get Simon. She wrapped her hands in her skirts so that her trembling would not betray her.
“I am afraid I still don’t understand. You expect me to go with you? With three men? I don’t see how I could possibly do that.” She injected every bit of haughtiness she could into her tone. “Also, as you can see,” she gestured at her wrapped ankle, “I am injured and unable to be moved.”
St. Aubin stepped forward. “I tried to dissuade them, dear Sister. It only met them by chance on my way to pay you a call. I certainly do not believe a word of what they say, but to be here to lend my support and watch out for my small nephew.” St. Aubin spoke sweetly as he moved to stand over the settee.
“I thank you for your efforts,” Lily articulated, letting her words drag out, “dear Brother. But, I do think it best to wait here for Westlake’s return.”
For the first time the men looked uncomfortable. Their eyes darted back and forth as they searched for response. How does one remove a lady who refuses to budge?
“Please, my lady, if you’ll just come, we can avoid any unpleasantness.” Sir Drake stepped towards her, hand outstretched.
St. Aubin placed a light hand upon her shoulder. “Yes, we don’t want any unpleasantness, do we? I am sure that if you just go with these gentlemen everything will be straightened out quickly. And I will be pleased to care for my gentle nephew in the meanwhile. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to assist you in such a way.”
Lily felt her hopes die with each word. How could she fight against such reasonableness? It did not help that she knew the truth, knew she probably deserved to face their judgment. She had to try though. “But I don’t feel at all unpleasant. In fact, I am remarkably at ease right here. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some tea?” She was going to faint at any moment. She wasn’t sure she’d drawn a breath during the entire interview.
The third man strode forward, adding his body to the already overwhelming wall of men. “Come now, we really must insist. Our witness made it very clear that there are questions that need asking. He’s been most pleasant, but is deserving of answers.”
Lily felt herself begin to sway. “Then ask. I don’t understand what’s stopping you. Why can you not ask your questions here?”
Glances shot from man to man. It was like following the ball in a game of billiards.
“It would be better if you came with us, my lady,” the third man spoke again.
“I do not see why. I am much more comfortable here. Do you propose to forcibly remove a guest of the Duke of Westlake?” Lily spoke with a calmness she did not feel.
“You force me to be blunt.” It was Sir Drake who spoke up. You were seen running down towards the cliffs with your husband.”
Lily met his gaze and looked away. “I have said I do not remember the events of the night clearly, but I have never said I was not there. I believe my own bruises spoke of my own attack.”
Sir Drake cleared his throat. “The thing is – the witness didn’t see anybody else. He saw you and your husband head down to the cliffs and only you returned.”
Chapter Eight
Arthur’s mind spun like the ripples on the ornamental fishpond before him. He leaned unsteadily against a willow overhanging the carefully graded pool. The golden carp swam lazily
in ever widening circles. He tracked one as it swished through the water, slow and languid under the hot noon sun.
After being rebuffed by Lady Julia and betrayed by his admired father, there had been no reason to ignore the full-figured charms of Clottie, the new dairy maid. He let her pull him into the stables and burrowed with her in the hay. He still blushed when he remembered her nimble fingers and his own clumsiness. He was so overcome by her eagerness and her lavish body that all thoughts of Lady Julia vanished in an instant.
And then, from outside, he heard his father’s voice raised in ire. The duke made it a policy never to let emotion so move him that it was necessary to raise his voice, but on that occasion his voice rang shrill. Arthur quickly fastened his breeches and brushed the straw from his hair before running out into the stable yard. The stench hit him first. His father, ever elegant and smoothly attired, stood dripping with slops. For a moment that was all Arthur focused on, the unimaginable picture of his father red-faced with fury, bellowing at the creature huddled at his feet.
It took Arthur a moment to recognize that creature, Julia’s daughter, the little minx who slid behind curtains and underneath furniture. The girl lay sprawled on the cobbles at his father’s feet, the slop bucket empty beside her. Again he saw his father raise the crop, his intentions clear – the duke who always knew instinctively the appropriate response, filled with fury beyond reason. Arthur found himself reacting, running, reaching, catching that suddenly cruel hand before it could descend. Even as Arthur took action, Lady Julia came flying out of the house to throw herself over her daughter’s prostrate form.
The duke turned and locked eyes with Arthur – fury-filled blue glare colliding with fury-filled blue glare. Arthur released his father’s arm quickly, even as the duke let it fall to his side. Their gazes remained frozen for an instant before the duke turned on Lady Julia.
“I want you gone. I want your child gone. I don’t want to see you here or anywhere. You are no longer a friend of my wife’s and you have made it abundantly clear that you have no desire to be a friend to me. You have raised an unmannered whelp, and if I see you or your child about in town, I will cut you dead and let everyone know what I think of your behavior. You’ve had your chance. Now I know you for a whore and will treat you as such.”
The duke uttered each word with care and perfect diction. Despite his still obvious resentment, the duke was in control again. Arthur could actually observe his father removing himself from the situation. Ice and distance radiated from his features. Assume command — be calm — remain wholly detached. Without a further glance, the duke turned and left, situation dismissed.
Lady Julia paled and looked stricken for a moment. Then she forced a smile. She helped her daughter to her feet.
“Are you alright, Lilibet?” she asked softly. “What happened?”
“Yes, Mama. I couldn’t let him hurt Arthur again.” Her huge, deep blue eyes turned to Arthur. He’d never concerned himself with the child before, and now he felt swallowed by an all-knowing gaze.
Still keeping her eye on him, the girl, Lilibet, continued, “I didn’t mean to spill the whole bucket. I thought if I got just a little . . . I didn’t want him to find Arthur. He’d get mad again.”
Clearly Lady Julia did not understand her daughter’s ramblings, but she drew a gentle hand across her brow. “Well, there’s no help for it now, love. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, just a little scared. And Arthur rescued me just like I knew he would.” Those deep eyes flickered with fire, bringing out the amethyst shine in their depths.
Lady Julia seemed even more flustered by her daughter’s response, but quickly recovered that wide, easy smile. “Well, love, I think I’d better go tell the maids to pack and make my apologies to Clara. The sooner we are gone, the better. I wonder where we should go now?”
The last question was softly spoken and addressed to herself, not her daughter. Dusting off her skirts, she rose and, with a last hug for her daughter, left to make preparations.
For a moment, Lilibet stayed where she’d been left, before running towards Arthur and flinging herself into his arms. He stood still, stunned. He wasn’t used to casual touching, and didn’t know how to respond to the small, soft body pressed eagerly against his own. His arms stayed flush to his sides, unsure whether to set her away, or crush her to him. There was something precious in her innocent enthusiasm.
“You saved me. I knew you would. I just couldn’t let him hurt you again. I was under the table. He didn’t see me. He was just mad because Mama wouldn’t let him kiss her. I wanted to stop him when he whipped you, but I was scared. I promised I’d never let being scared stop me again – never ever.”
Arthur met this torrent of words only with a dumbfounded gaze, holding the little girl at arm’s length.
“I tried to stay up all night outside your door,” she continued, “but Nanny heard me crying and made me go to bed. I couldn’t let him find you with Clottie. I knew he wouldn’t like it. What were you doing? I didn’t think boys were supposed to touch under the chemise. Those are for babies.”
Finally she stopped for a breath, her small hands still crinkling at his shirt. She continued to stare at him with great seriousness despite her childish speech.
Something caught in Arthur’s throat as he met the intensity of her gaze. “What do you mean you stopped him? You saw me with Clottie?” Arthur wasn’t sure which was more appalling.
“I was following you. I like to do that. I think you’re just like King Arthur. He was from Cornwall, too. That’s why I call you Arthur in my head. I know I’m supposed call you by your title, Dormond, but you’re just like Arthur. I don’t know why you were with Clottie. I don’t think she’s very smart, but sometimes she’s kind. She gave me a sugarbun her mum made. Do you like kissing?”
She slipped away from him, but grasped his hand in her own. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never had much to do with children, and this child was clearly something beyond the ordinary. He rubbed at his still half-closed eye.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes . . . yes. Not as badly now, but my sight is still something of a blur.”
A small hand stretched and trailed gently over his wounded cheek. “I was so sad when he did it. I didn’t want you to be hurt. That’s why I stopped him this time. I should have stopped him last time.”
Again, something caught in Arthur’s throat. His whole life people had done things for him because he was Dormond, heir to Westlake, but this time he had been favored for himself alone.
His voice came out harder than he intended. “It’s good that you did not. He is my father; I owe him my honor and obedience despite his actions.”
Her eyes grew large and she stared at him, aghast.
Blast, he hadn’t meant to upset her. He gentled his tone. “How did you stop him? Why?”
“Why?” The girl chewed on her thin lips, with overly large new teeth. “What do you mean? What else would I do? I couldn’t let him hurt you. I would do anything to stop it.”
The child’s sincerity moved him. He didn’t doubt that she meant every word she uttered.
“But, what did you do to stop him?” Arthur’s voice sounded gruff to his own ears. The idea of this pintsized savior taking on the noble Duke of Westlake was preposterous. Yet, it had happened.
“Why, I spilled the slops on him. The bucket was outside the kitchen. I’d gone back to wait by the stable door. It was getting boring watching you do that to Clottie. It didn’t look like much fun. Was it? And then, I saw him come round the house. He had his crop so I knew he was going to the stable. And I knew he’d be angry when he found you with Clottie. I thought maybe, I could just spill a little on his boots and he’d go back to get them cleaned. How much time does he spend on his clothes? But, the bucket was heavier than I thought, and then I tripped and it splattered all over him. I was so frightened. Nobody’s ever hit me before. Does it hurt?” Her tiny hand stroked his cheek again. “I
had a nanny once who thought I needed discipline, but Mama wouldn’t let her.”
Lilibet ended with a great sigh. She continued to gaze up at him with those huge eyes, her serious features tight with anxiety. Against his will he found his hand coming up to stroke her back. He could feel the light shivers that still wore through her thin frame.
“Nobody should ever hit a little thing like you. Your Mama is right. Father would never have considered it if he’d been thinking clearly. I am sure he wouldn’t have actually hit you, even if I hadn’t been there.”
“But, he struck you.”
Arthur didn’t know what to say. How could he explain the endlessly complex relationship that existed between his father and himself, the constant battle for approval and love? Why should he even want to try? Something about her solemnity seemed misplaced in one so young. It made him want to learn all her secrets and tell her his. She had acted to save him with no thought for herself.
“I am still not sure why you stopped my father. Surely you understood what could happen to you?”
For the first time she turned her head from him and stared at her toes, outlined in her thin leather shoes. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot. Finally, as if collecting herself, she looked back up at him. Her eyes looked moist and luminous and he wondered what would prompt tears now.
“I didn’t really think about it. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was making sure you were safe.”
“Why?”
“I don’t understand what you mean. What else could I have done? He would have hurt you again.”
“But why would you care about that? It shouldn’t have been your concern.”
“I still don’t understand what you are asking. What else should I have done? I couldn’t just let somebody get hurt if I could stop it.”
“Somebody, or me?” Arthur didn’t know what prompted him to ask the question.
A slow red burn rose over pale skin. “Well . . . you, but . . . I think I would have done it for any person. It just wasn’t right, hitting you when he knew you couldn’t hit back. It doesn’t matter who it is, you should always help people if you can. You can’t hit a duke, can you? Maybe if you’re a king you can. But I can’t be a king – maybe a queen. Can you hit a duke if you’re a queen?”
