by Alice Gaines
“I don’t think octopi wail,” Anna said.
“Ours could,” Lily said. “It would all be so dreadful and bloody and wonderful.”
“I don’t know that pirate ships have harpoons, either,” Bess said.
“Swords, then. Daggers. Whatever it takes, Nell will find a way to save the ship,” Lily said. “And then she and Walter could live happily ever after.”
“Foul Walter’s not the heroic sort,” Bess said. “He won’t suddenly become Amiable Walter or Upstanding Walter.”
“With the love of a good woman, he will,” Lily said.
Of course she would think that. Young, pretty, and rich, Lily could have her choice of husbands. She wouldn’t learn the realities of marriage until the first blush of romance faded. By then, she might have written half a dozen or more books that ended with men saved from their own baser natures. Happy endings all around until she floated back to earth as a wife.
“May I write the passages and show them to you?” Lily asked. “If my ideas don’t work, we can try something else.”
“Why not?” Bess said. “Just take care that no one discovers what you’re about.”
“Good. I’ll write some tonight and bring the pages the next time we meet,” Lily said.
“My lady.” Upton appeared at her side in that mysterious way that good butlers always did. He bent and extended a silver salver to her. In the center lay one calling card.
Bess picked it up and read the print there. “The vicar.”
“He’s inside and would like to see you,” the butler said.
She rose. “I’ll go immediately.”
“No need,” another male voice said. The young clergyman stood a short distance away. “I’m happy to come to you.”
“Is something wrong?” Bess asked. “The parish needs my help in some way?”
“Not at all.” The young man’s skin colored. Such a shy fellow, he never visited without an invitation.
“Are you here to save my soul, then?” she asked.
Now, his face turned a deep pink. “I’m sure your soul is in fine condition.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain about that, but you’re welcome.” She turned to Upton. “Have an extra chair brought out, and tell cook we’ll have tea here.”
“My lady.” Upton bowed and went about being an excellent butler.
The vicar shifted from one foot to the other. “I wondered, actually, if Miss Northcross would care to—”
At the sound of her name, Lily gave him a radiate smile. “Of course I would.”
“Splendid,” the vicar said. Neither of them had mentioned what Miss Northcross would welcome or agree to, but that hardly seemed to matter to either of them. Lily got up from her chair and went to stand only a few feet from him.
“Why don’t you two have a stroll around the garden while we wait for tea?” Bess said.
“Splendid,” he repeated, although he didn’t budge from where he stood until Lily took a few steps to move away. Then, he came out of his trance and followed. Soon, they were walking together, maintaining a discreet distance between them. The vicar kept his hands behind his back. All very proper and quite enchanting.
“Well,” Anna said. “Did you suspect?”
“Not a whit,” Bess said.
“I think they’re lovely together,” Rose said.
“Trouble, possibly,” Bess said. “I don’t think the captain has a vicar in mind as Lily’s husband.”
“Oh, pooh,” Rose declared. “Who cares what he wants?”
“As she doesn’t have a father, her brothers will decide who she marries,” Bess said.
“If they love her, they’ll settle on the man who makes her happy, as my father did,” Rose said.
“Was it really like that for you?” Anna asked.
Rose stared over the lawn to where the vicar bent to pick a flower. Perhaps no more than clover, but Lily took it from him the way another woman might accept a jewel. After a moment, he said a few words that didn’t carry clearly back to where they sat, but Lily responded with laughter as clear as a bell.
“They’re exactly how Edward and I were. The moment he set foot in my father’s house, I knew he was the one,” Rose said.
Then the man had gone off to India and gotten himself killed. That could very well be worse than never knowing romance at all. Who could say with matters of the heart?
“She’ll probably keep that flower, whatever it is,” Rose went on. “Edward and I had a stone.”
“A stone?” Anna said.
“Yes. It tripped me when I stepped on it. I fell against Edward’s chest.” Rose sat silently for a moment. “That was the first time he kissed me.”
Bess reached over and squeezed Rose’s hand. She might not have had the same breathless romance with Bert, but they’d both lost a husband.
“He kept that stone and gave it to me on our wedding day,” Rose said. “I have it still.”
None of them spoke. What would they say? After a moment, Lily laughed again, and this time, the vicar’s voice joined hers. They made such a lovely scene—him tall and straight, handsome in his clerical collar, Lily petite and with a pleasant blush to her cheeks.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll throw some water on my face.” Rose got up from her chair.
Bess caught her arm. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’m fine.” Rose smiled down at her. “I’ll be down for tea.”
Anna sat, her hands folded together in her lap, for a moment. “Romance must be a very powerful thing.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Bess answered.
“Are you sure of that?”
“Bert and I never engaged in it.”
“I wasn’t speaking of your husband,” Anna said.
Of course she wasn’t. They both knew who she meant, though none of them had spoken the man’s name until just now when discussing his sister. She’d managed to not only avoid the man himself but also discussing him or thinking about him. All right, she hadn’t accomplished that last part yet, but she would.
“What are you going to do about the captain?” Anna said, as if she’d been reading Bess’s mind.
“There’s nothing to do,” she answered. “He’s going to marry another woman.”
“I didn’t mean marriage.”
She could protest that Anna couldn’t mean anything else, but that wouldn’t fool either of them.
“If he hasn’t declared himself to some virgin or other, you’re both free people,” Anna said. “If you practiced discretion . . .”
“You want me to have an affair.”
“We’re both practical women.” Anna gave her a sly smile. “I’d like to see you enjoy yourself.”
“What about you?”
Anna lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps someday I’ll find the right man.”
Upton appeared with another chair, followed by maids with the tea service, cups, and various dishes cook had prepared. All the clatter caught the attention of the young couple in the distance, and they turned back toward the rest of the party. Even Rose emerged from the house, appearing refreshed.
“Just remember,” Anna said before the others rejoined them. “Captain Northcross doesn’t have to get his sister a husband. She’s taken care of that herself.”
Chapter Twelve
Jason should have guessed that he couldn’t escape his sister’s keen sense telling her when he was planning to do something that would displease her. She took one look at him descending the stairs and stood her ground, blocking his way.
“Where are you going wearing your uniform?” she demanded.
“I don’t see that that’s any of your concern,” he answered.
“You’re planning to do something honorable, aren’t you?”
“I hope I always behave honorably.” The Almighty ought to smite him for that lie, but Lily couldn’t have realized exactly how he’d passed that night with Bess. No one would have taught her about that. Perhaps Grace wou
ld just before Lily’s wedding day. He wouldn’t know the details. The mere idea of Lily and sex didn’t bear examination.
“Honor is all well and good,” she said. “But you don’t need a uniform at a country house unless you plan to do something exceedingly stupid.”
He descended to her and bent to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I survived India. I think I can survive Helmshire.”
“You won’t if you come away with the wrong wife.”
“You’ll have to let me decide who I should marry.”
He took her by the shoulders and gently set her aside, but when he attempted to go past her, she grabbed his arm.
“Will you let me decide who I want to marry?” she said.
“That’s a very different issue.”
“I don’t see why. They both involve ’til death do us part.’”
“You’re young. You wouldn’t understand.” He shook free of her and headed toward the music room, where he had a very good idea he’d find Miss Swan. She’d been making herself available for a private talk by removing herself from the others at convenient times. No doubt her parents had told her to expect a proposal. If he put it off any longer, she’d feel ill used, and he’d have to have another conversation with her father. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Curse you, Jason, I will not excuse you.”
“Lily, your language.”
“Blast it, I don’t care.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I will not let you marry Alice Swan.”
“Keep your voice down.”
She came to within a foot of him and stuck her nose up into his face. “You’re in love with someone else.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Now in high dudgeon, Lily poked her finger into his chest. “I’ve seen how you look at Lady Rushford. I’d have to be blind to miss it.”
“Lady Rushford and I are friends.” With luck, Lily would never find out just how intimate their friendship had become.
“I think she loves you, too,” Lily said. “Although I can’t imagine why.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“Heaven knows you’re handsome enough,” she said. “But sometimes you’re so pig-headed you can’t see past the end of your nose.”
“Can we discuss my shortcomings another time? I have other things to do.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I’m appealing to a higher authority.” At that, she grasped his hand and tugged him away from his destination toward the sitting room. Without a by-your-leave, she pulled him inside and closed the door.
“Thomas,” she said. “Make him behave himself.”
His brother looked up from where he’d been scribbling notes in the margin of one of his books. Grace sat nearby embroidering some baby thing or other.
“I say,” Thomas said. “What’s he done now?”
“Just look at him.” Lily pointed an accusatory finger toward Jason.
Thomas scanned Jason and then turned toward his wife. “Do you understand what she’s talking about?”
“I can’t say I do,” Grace answered.
“It’s obvious,” Lily said. “He’s dressed like that to propose marriage to someone, probably Miss Swan.”
“Do we know a Miss Swan, my dear?” Thomas said.
“She’s the one you call fluff-headed,” Grace answered.
“That’s exactly what she is,” Lily said. “You can’t let him marry her.”
“Don’t I have any say in the matter?” Jason said.
“Not if you’re going to say something stupid,” Lily said.
Thomas’s brow furrowed. “Are you really thinking of her, Jason?”
“I am. And Lily’s right. I was on my way to make my intentions known to her.”
Thomas turned to Grace again. “Are you certain I called her fluff-headed?”
“She’s the one, dear,” Grace said. “Remember? She has dark eyes and an upturned nose.”
Between the two of them, his brother and sister-in-law had described Alice Swan perfectly. She had her own appeal, in a girlish, simple sort of way. One could hardly expect to have a discussion of literature or the French Enlightenment with her, but he wasn’t marrying her for her brain. To tell the truth, he didn’t have much to say on those subjects himself.
“Well,” Thomas said. “She’s a pleasant enough young thing. Unless you’re planning to bring your wife and live with us, I don’t see that it’s any of my business who you marry.”
“Thomas, how could you?” Lily shouted. “He’s in love with someone else.”
“Well now, that’s a different story.” Thomas glanced up at Jason. “Who is the lady?”
“Lily’s imagination,” Jason said.
“Lady Rushford, of course,” Lily said.
“Really?” Thomas said. “Did we know about this, Grace?”
Grace smiled as she stared at her embroidery. “Lily’s seen them together more than I have.”
“He can’t take his eyes off her when they’re together,” Lily said. “He ran out into a storm to save her.”
“You did stare at her bosom the night we dined at Carlton House,” Thomas said.
“Thomas!” Grace said.
“Well, he did.”
“You see?” Lily crowed. “That proves it.”
Jason put his hand on her shoulder. “There are reasons men stare at women’s bosoms that have nothing to do with love.”
“You wouldn’t know about that, Lily, ” Thomas said. “At least, I hope you don’t.”
She’d have to learn if she were ever going to have children of her own, but that needn’t happen for some time, and the man in question would have to deserve her. In fact, he’d have to be a duke, and therein lay the whole point of this exercise. Of course, if he told her that, she’d only dig her heels in further.
“Well, now that we’re all in agreement, I’m off to find Miss Swan,” he said.
“We haven’t agreed at all.” Lily pointed at him. “Thomas, forbid him to do this.”
“She’s a nice girl from a good family. If he wants her, he can have her,” Thomas said.
“But he doesn’t want her,” Lily wailed. “Grace, do something.”
“I’m afraid it’s not my decision,” Grace said.
“Oh,” Lily declared. “The lot of you are useless.”
Jason took his sister’s chin in his hand. “It’s for the best, pet. And I expect you to behave civilly to her.”
“I’ll be nice enough,” Lily said. “It’s not her fault my brother’s fluff-headed.”
“Right you are.” Thomas stuck his nose back into his book and Lily stormed from the room. When Jason glanced at Grace, she merely shrugged and resumed her stitching.
Now with his family’s permission—more or less—Jason turned to his quest for the fair Alice Swan’s hand in marriage. As he made his way down the hall toward the music room, the sound of a piano came to him softly from the open doorway. When he stepped inside, he found her seated at the keyboard, apparently concentrating on the sheet music in front of her. She did indeed have a pert nose, slightly upturned at the end. It made her appear too young for marriage, especially the physical aspects. Her slight figure didn’t help matters. Such a contrast with Bess’s body, with its plump curves.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.
“Captain Northcross.” She stopped playing and placed her hand at her throat, although she didn’t seem entirely surprised to see him. No mystery there. She’d been waiting for him, but they’d both stick to the predetermined steps of this dance.
“I’d like to have a word alone with you, if you don’t mind,” he said.
She rose from the piano bench and folded her hands in front of her. Everything about her was pleasant—her smile, her dress, the way she met his gaze easily. She knew what to expect, and yet she seemed to give the matter no more weight than what dress to put on in the morning. He’d scarcely touched her—certainly no
more than a chance brush of his hand as they walked together. Hell, he’d hardly spoken to her as they’d never met without her parents present or some crowd surrounding them. He had no idea what she thought about art or politics or if she ever thought about them at all. How in God’s name would he ever make conversation with her, let alone spend the rest of his life with her?
“I’ve spoken to your father,” he said.
That, at least, brought some animation to her expression, her dark eyes sparkling. “He told me.”
“Then you know of my growing admiration for you.” The word love would come later, when it wouldn’t be an enormous lie.
She didn’t answer, but stood smiling at him as if admiration were no more than her due. Heaven knew she had every reason to expect it as a prime example of noble English upbringing. If only he did admire her the way she deserved.
“I’m young and healthy. I have a decent fortune.” Rather an understatement there, but he’d let it stand. “I’d make you a good husband if you’d do me the honor of marrying me.”
She curtseyed. “I will, Captain Northcross.”
He found himself bowing. A natural reaction to a lady’s gesture of courtesy, but bowing? Shouldn’t he be catching her up in his arms and covering her face with kisses? Shouldn’t they be pledging undying love while clinging to each other? Shouldn’t they be planning a short engagement so that they wouldn’t have to put off the ultimate knowledge of each other? Romance and rubbish, and he knew it. So why did this feel so wrong?
“I’m happy,” he said. “How about you?”
“Oh, very.” She stood there, not taking a step toward him, not declaring her joy, not doing much of anything. Surely young girls became more excited than this at a marriage proposal worthy of their acceptance.
“Good, then.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we’d better . . .”
She continued smiling at him. Fluff-headed. Thanks to his brother, he’d never get that out of his mind.
“I imagine a kiss is in order,” he said. “It’s rather expected.”
“Oh, yes.”
At least, that came out with some enthusiasm. She still didn’t fly into his arms or do anything else that might muss her hair. Instead, he walked toward her, took her hand, and brought it to his lips. In response, she tipped her head, raising her face to his in invitation. The time had come.
