Hint of Desire (The Desire Series)

by Lavinia Kent

  For the first time in days, Arthur found himself wanting to laugh out loud. How could she go from such seriousness to such nonsense in only a moment? But, looking down into her small, still face, he realized it wasn’t foolishness to her.

  “I think if you’re queen you can hit whomever you want, as long as the king likes you. If he doesn’t like you . . . well that’s another subject.” He squatted beside her and looked straight into her endless eyes. “And if you were queen I think the king would like you very much.”

  The blush which had begun to fade sprang up on her cheeks again.

  “What about a duke?” Then as if sensing she’d said too much, she pulled out of his light embrace. A look of worry crossed her face. “I’d better go help Mama. I didn’t mean to get her in trouble, too. I know she’s always worried about where we’ll stay. She wants me to grow up to be a lady, a proper lady. I think she worries that she’s not proper and that bad things happen because of it. But, I don’t really want to –

  be proper that is. I’d rather be an explorer like your uncle, Lord Ramsey. He went to India. Nanny told me all about his adventures. I think that’s what I’ll do. If you meet me in ten years I’ll be famous. I wish we didn’t have to go now. I like being here and watching you. I’d better make sure Mama isn’t planning on going to see Aunt Ernestine. I don’t like her. She always knows when I sneak out of the nursery. I want to go someplace with horses. I am too big for a pony now.”

  She stopped abruptly and just stared at him. “We really are leaving, aren’t we? I’ll probably never see you again. I didn’t even think about that. Promise you’ll remember me. I think I’ll be fine as long as I know you remember me.”

  Her childish words tore at Arthur. She may have forced her own departure, but somehow he felt it was really the fault of his own youthful carelessness.

  “Yes, I’ll remember you.” He said it to be comforting, but even as he spoke the words, he sensed their truth. He would not soon forget this large-eyed child who had been so quiet – until she started to talk. Now she only stared at him for a moment, as if her eyes could say words her mouth could not utter, and then she turned and, with a most childlike hop, was off.

  He hadn’t forgotten her, at least not right away.

  Almost a year later somebody remarked what a pity it was about Lady Julia. A casual inquiry brought the information that she’d died suddenly, in a riding accident. He questioned further, only to be told that the child must have gone to her uncle, the Marquess of Sperrow. That was all anybody knew.

  He’d been brought up to duty and responsibility. He had never been casual about what it meant to be Westlake. But that little wisp had given him a sight of something more. Doing the right thing wasn’t mere duty to her, but a calling. Although he sensed that she’d acted on hero-worship, he didn’t doubt her insistence that she would have done the same for anyone.

  What turned the child who knew she would be famous into the frightened young woman now abiding in his house? It startled him that he had not recognized her instantly. The body might have matured, the face may have filled out, but those eyes that could look into his soul were the same as ever. Why had he not seen it?

  Her selfless act and quiet words had changed something deep within him. He still followed his father’s precepts, he’d seen how quickly pain followed emotion, but his observance was tempered with a desire to do right, simply because it was right. Yet changed as he was, he had never inquired further after her.

  And his life had been busy after his father’s apoplexy and death. Actually running the estates was far different from learning to run them, and then there had been his mother’s slow fading. Still, how much trouble could it have been to ask about one small girl, regardless of the surprise that inquiry might excite? But who would have dared to question him? He’d known her uncle was the Marquess of Sperrow. It would have been a simple thing to ask more over the years.

  Arthur picked up a handful of small stones and started to toss them randomly into the pond. Did he owe her anything now, he wondered? Did he want to owe her anything?

  His aunt’s earlier conversation returned to him. He’d unwittingly been seeking a reason to act in her interest. Could this be it? A slow smile spread across his face. It could. This changed everything. He was Westlake. He had only to say it, and it would be so.

  “What nonsense. Do you think the poor girl attacked herself? Of course, there was somebody else there.” Lady Smythe-Burke entered the room at full sail. Lily’s heart fell to the bottom of her stomach. She did not want to lie, but she would do what she must.

  “Is this witness trustworthy? I am sure my maid said something about drink. I really think we should just do away with the stuff. I am sure everyone would be happy with tea and lemonade, perhaps the occasional glass of chocolate in the morning. Ale, brandy, port – all fowl. I am sure there must be a better way. I never did understand men and their need to drink, now maybe a little sherry every now and then – I don’t want to seem like an old fashioned puritan. Sherry is lovely stuff. Have you ever had it with cucumber sandwiches, Sir Drake?”

  Sir Drake gaped at Lady Smythe-Burke opened mouthed. This clearly was not part of his plan.

  Lily exhaled. Lady Smythe-Burke was staring at Lily with more understanding than her words would indicate. Had she come to an unlikely rescue?

  “Lady Smythe-Burke, it has been too long.” St. Aubin’s sugared tones quavered at the end.

  “St. Aubin, it can never be too long.” Lady Smythe-Burke replied.

  St. Aubin paused. A red flush spread up his cheeks, convincing her that he fought an internal conflict. “You are, of course, correct, my lady. Drink causes confusion. Perhaps Sir Drake should look into this matter further before distressing my dear sister. I did try to persuade him of that earlier. He should find out all the secrets before pushing his inquires. We do all have secrets, after all.” He turned and faced Lily so that only saw his hand drop to his jacket pocket – the pocket from which he had previously withdrawn her wedding ring. His words spoke of reassurance, but what did his action mean?

  Feeling unexpectedly reassured by Lady Smythe-Burke’s presence, Lily suppressed her anxiety and raised her eyes to meet his squarely. “Maybe some secrets have been kept long enough.”

  St. Aubin replied in dulcet tones. “Be careful what you wish for, Sister. It may come back to haunt you.”

  “What are you whispering about, St. Aubin? Horrendous lack of manners in the young.” Lady Smythe-Burke slipped around him, placing herself before Lily.

  “I was just reassuring my dear sister that she has nothing to worry about. I appreciate her precarious situation. I understand how misconceptions can arise. I am sure this can all be straightened out shortly.”

  Lady Smythe-Burke drew herself up stiffly, but did not answer. Lily leaned forward and wrapped her arms awkwardly about herself.

  Sir Drake drew himself up as far as his stature would allow and attempted to take control of the situation. “My dear Lady Smythe-Burke and Lady Worthington, I do understand your reticence on the subject, but I assure you that this can all be cleared up shortly. I simply wish to question Lady Worthington about her husband’s death and then I will return her to her home at Marclyffe. St. Aubin has graciously agreed to take responsibility for her and her son until this matter can be resolved. And once Lady Worthington,” Sir Drake let the name play out, “is back where she belongs I am sure Westlake will be reminded of his situation as a duke and be grateful to have been relieved of this bother.”

  Lady Smythe-Burke opened her mouth to answer, but it was a far deeper voice that interrupted.

  “I am so glad you are concerned with my gratitude and my situation – as a duke.” There was no extra emphasis placed on the last words, but they echoed around the room.

  Everyone’s head whipped around to stare at the imposing figure standing straight and still in the doorway. Power whipped around him like a summer storm. His hair lay immaculate upon his head, and e
ach crisp line of his coat told its cost. Despite his stillness, the long, lean muscles of hips and thighs were clearly defined and pulsed with their own strength.

  Yet, it was none of this that sent the power surging. Rather, it was the aura of complete authority that surrounded him. He stepped forward softly, but the gentle tread of his boot hit Sir Drake with the power of a broadside.

  Before Lily’s startled eyes, the magistrate seemed to shrivel. His hands clenched once and then started to fidget. He turned towards Arthur with evident trepidation.

  Arthur paused just inside the doorway. For a moment he said not another word. Lily could feel his eyes as they raked over her shivering body. His lips tightened cruelly.

  Then he spoke in that perfect diction that screamed his station and his influence, without any change in pitch. “And why do you want to take my wife-to-be from my home?”

  Absolute silence remained.

  Chapter Nine

  “Wife-to-be?” It came out as a soft, sweet, feminine squeak. Nobody else spoke a word.

  “Yes.”

  The weight with which he invested the monosyllable bespoke his seriousness. Arthur strode across the room to take one of Lily’s cold, bloodless hands into his own.

  He watched a slow flush of color spread over her face. Her pallid lips suddenly turned rosy. Huge eyes, the pupils darkening the entire dusky blue iris, gaped up at him from a face immobilized with shock. He rubbed her fingers impatiently between his own, trying to warm them, to restore life to their corpselike stillness.

  “But, you can’t mean it. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” The loud, but garbled words came from across the room.

  As Arthur turned back to face St. Aubin, he drew his quizzing glass from a pocket. For a moment, looking at Lily and hoping to remove that lost look from her face, he had forgotten the others. Now, rising to his full height he drew his strength around him and slowly perused the other men.

  “I can’t?” It was impossible to mistake the chill in those dry words.

  St. Aubin stepped back as if hit with a physical force. Sir Drake swallowed and stared at his shoes. He looked up nervously and glanced between Lily and Arthur.

  “Well, I meant to say, why would you?” St. Aubin garbled the words.

  “Are you doubting my judgment?”

  “No, of course not. My dear sister is clearly a fine woman. I spoke without thought from surprise. It is simply so sudden.”

  Lily started to speak, to express her confusion, but then Arthur turned his glass on her, silencing her with a single ducal eyebrow. She reclined back in her chair, her small, pearly teeth worrying at her full lower lip. She turned to Lady Smythe-Burke as if seeking assistance in the midst of this maelstrom, but Lady Smythe-Burke stood, her eyes deep with consideration, betraying no sign of dismay.

  Arthur turned back to Sir Drake and stepped forward. The magistrate stepped back. Arthur resisted the urge to smile like a large cat. “Now, unless you plan to remove my fiancé from my home and my protection against my wishes, I suggest you speak plainly. I should be most displeased to be deprived of the pleasure of my betrothed’s company.”

  Lily gripped the bottom of the chair, overcome with the power and determination that suffused Arthur’s demeanor.

  Now, Sir Drake trembled. “I’ve been away. I would never have dreamed of . . . if I’d known. I am sure everything can be cleared up here. We just wanted her ladyship’s account of the night her – late – husband died.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So, er . . . if she could just tell us what happened, I am sure we can be on our way.”

  Arthur walked back to Lily and took her hand in his, gave a gentle squeeze. He could see how the discussion of that night distressed her. “Her ladyship has only the vaguest memories of that night. She cannot give you any information,”

  “But, we need to know –.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. My lady has no answers for you. She suffered a great trauma that evening. Do you doubt my word or my knowledge of her affairs?”

  Sir Drake backed towards the door. “Of course not. If your grace says her ladyship doesn’t remember, then – of course – she doesn’t remember. Perhaps we can speak to her later, when more time has passed.” Sir Drake tried to scurry around St. Aubin, eager to make his escape.

  Arthur stalked the man like a wolf after a plump goose. “I’ll let you know if and when I feel her ladyship is ready to speak. If you have no further questions I’ll see that you are escorted out. You don’t have further questions, do you?”

  “No.” The sound popped out from between Sir Drake’s florid lips.

  St. Aubin wavered, but stood firm. “There is still the matter of the child, my brother’s heir.”

  “What of him?” Arthur’s voice was disdainful.

  “I would be more comfortable if he resided with me until this matter is settled. I do worry for him.”

  “You worry while he is my care?” Arthur wished it were possible to actually stab with words.

  “Of course not, your grace, but I am his guardian. I only desire to fulfill my brother’s last wishes.”

  “Then you should come and take the boy.” Arthur watched Lily as he spoke. She looked ready to faint. He continued anyway. This was the time to take his stand, state his claim. “Yes, that is what you should do. Surely, if you are correct, any one of these good men, officers of the law, would help you – never mind that he is still the tiniest infant, surely in need of his mother. If you are correct, they would feel honor bound to help you . . . despite knowing how great would be my displeasure, that they might face the wrath of Westlake. Yes, I am sure that knowing you are the legal guardian, they would not waste a moment in insisting I place the boy in your eager hands.”

  St. Aubin paused and then let his head drop. Arthur lifted his quizzing glass to his eye and looked down at the other gentlemen.

  “Well, do you request that I call for the child, my wife’s son?” Lily did not know how the words could be so flat, yet so chilling.

  “Oh no, your grace, obviously the child should stay with his mother. We would never dream of taking him from . . . her.” Sir Drake attempted again to reach the door. This time he was allowed to pass.

  “I was clearly not thinking straight. Of course, the boy should stay with his mother.” St. Aubin looked at Lily in apology. “I am merely still distraught over the manner of my brother’s passing and seek the comfort of his son’s company.”

  “I am glad you feel that way,” Arthur’s voice trailed after him. “I would hate to have to post letters inquiring if anyone wishes to take the child I have brought into my house, to raise the matter at the House of Lords. Although, I am sure they’d take proper action . . . even knowing my feelings on the matter. Don’t you agree?”

  Arthur then turned his attention away from the departing visitors, eyeing Lily. He rested a hand upon her shoulder and rubbed at a tight muscle. “My dear, I can see this visit has taxed you grievously. I suggest you retire for a rest. We will talk later.”

  Lily sank all the way back into her chair. She shifted uncomfortably and looked as if she wanted to vanish from the room. She couldn’t believe what was happening about her. She collapsed as Sir Drake and St. Aubin left, for only her tension had kept her upright. If it had not been for Arthur’s hands, wrapped lightly about her shoulders, she might have embarrassed herself by falling from the chair.

  Instead, she became even more aware of that soothing touch. For just a moment she closed her eyes and concentrated on nothing but the delicious feel of his strong fingers kneading her taut muscles. It was a sliver of heaven in an afternoon of hell. She let herself relax into the touch, reveling in the release and the pleasure. The silence that held them, for once, felt comforting rather than forbidding.

  “Thank you.” Lily’s voice wavered with exhaustion. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t appeared. I can’t think what made you say it, nor again what made Sir Drake believe you, but
thank you,” she tittered – what an idiotic sound, betraying her nerves. “Such a ridiculous idea!”

  “Ridiculous?” Arthur lifted and eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Why? Well . . . I’ve known since childhood I wasn’t the kind of wife you would choose. I am sure there are hundreds of debutantes who’d be more than happy to be your wife.”

  “You are talking nonsense, girl.” Lady Smythe-Burke strode to the center of the room. “If Westlake said it, he meant it. About time, too. And if you’d ever seen him with all those silly young chits you wouldn’t be raising such ridiculous points.”

  “You are as always correct, Aunt,” Arthur rejoined, “but do you doubt my ability to speak for myself?”

  “Never have before, but it took you long enough. I didn’t know how to make it any clearer,” Lady Smythe-Burke shot back.

  “I wasn’t aware that there was a clock going?” Arthur returned the volley.

  “I should think six weeks will be sufficient time.” Lady Smythe-Burke moved to the door.

  “What?” Lily was completely lost. They were quoting from a book she’d never seen.

  “I was thinking you could be married in six weeks,” Lady Smythe-Burke explained. “It’s long enough not to be scandalous, but soon enough to keep Sir Drake off his guard. Plenty of time to have the bans read. Now I’ll leave you two alone. Door open, of course. You have plenty to discuss.”

  Lily was still a step behind. “Six weeks?”

  “Is there a problem with that, Lily?” Arthur asked, his voice dangerously soft.

  She was startled to hear him pronounce her given name. She’d told him to use it once before, but this was the first time she’d noticed him doing so. Her mind was shifting so quickly from one thing to another that it was hard to maintain linear thought. But one thing was clear.