Mine, Forever and Always: Historical Romance Novella

by Tammy L. Bailey

  Henry sliced a glance toward Lily, whose dark eyebrows rose over her flashing green eyes.

  “Please do not worry yourself, Mr. Waverley,” she said, her gentle hand on his sleeve. “I took your words as a compliment. Since it is most likely that Mr. Dalton here is unfamiliar with providing such praise, it is evident that he did not recognize it for what it was.”

  Waverley, this time, nodded his head at a vigorous rate. “Oh, oh very well, then, I…I suppose.”

  “Oh, lovely, what are we all talking about?” Jane said, springing up behind them.

  Still annoyed at his sister, Henry sent her a warning glance. She only smiled and focused her full attention on Waverley.

  “I apologize, but I must steal your partner from you, sir, is that all right?”

  “Well…I’m—”

  “Very well,” she said, smiling wide enough to crinkle the delicate skin around her blue eyes.

  His patience worn, Henry caught his sister by the elbow and pulled her back to whisper into her right ear. “What are you plotting, Jane?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug and whispered back to him. “You must keep on your toes, dear brother, for there is a surprise waiting around every corner.”

  Chapter Five

  Lily lay in bed the next morning, after talking way past midnight to Jane about the night’s events. Lily thought it curious how her friend didn’t ask about the letter or mention Mr. Waverley at all in their conversation. She only wanted to know what Lily thought of Henry.

  Pompous. Unnerving. Impossible. Insufferable.

  Since then, Lily’s mind had remained in turmoil over her heart’s reignited feelings for Jane’s brother. How she’d remained so in love with him for so long, she didn’t know. Maybe she’d clung to his vow to avoid growing up and accepting the responsibilities placed before her. Since seeing him again and having more than a one-word conversation—or, more accurately, a stuttered nervous greeting—she realized he had not only said their wedding vows in jest but also continued to mock their acquaintance at every turn. Miss Prescott, indeed.

  Heartbroken, she let the tears fall from her eyes to wet the hair at her temples. “I do not love you,” she said, hiccupping the last word. Soon, she’d marry as her parents had done, for convenience, and carry on as her mother had done, bearing children and plotting ways to marry them off.

  Her thoughts then turned to Mr. Gibbons. She’d met him only three times, each one revealing a new truth about his character. Though handsome, he possessed a quick temper and a love of Port. She wondered, however, if she had not given him a fair chance, always comparing him to Henry, the boy she’d married on a blistering day in August.

  Reconciled to accepting what fate handed her, Lily lifted out of bed and dressed, determined to treat Henry Dalton with as much triviality as he’d treated her.

  ****

  Henry tried not to glance up at the drawing room entranceway every time he heard a soft footstep. Lily had yet to show herself, and Miss Appleton’s constant whining about the warmth in the elaborate space was testing his civility toward her.

  “Since it looks like rain,” his sister said, “I have decided we need another parlor game to keep us occupied.”

  The room clapped in agreement, and Henry smiled. The corner of his mouth lifted higher when he saw Lily in the doorway, dark tendrils framing her bright face, her light green empire gown bringing out the olive tone of her skin. When his pulse quickened, he realized the kiss they shared had done nothing but stir his blood, so that the craving to kiss her again consumed him.

  On a discreet exhale, he stood to welcome her approach, with Miss Appleton attached.

  “Miss Scott.”

  Her gaze lifted to his eyes before dropping down to his mouth. His heart kicked against his ribs, stealing a breath.

  He didn’t know how long they stared at each other before Miss Appleton nudged him and asked, “Are you unwell, sir?”

  “No. I’m quite well,” he answered without saying anything more.

  The woman harrumphed and swung away from him.

  His heart continued to pound until Jane brought over a black velvet bag and rattled it close to Lily’s chest.

  “It’s the ladies turn to pick their partner,” she said, smiling.

  He didn’t miss the subtle shake of Lily’s head or the new sadness in her eyes. He wondered what had happened between their last conversation and now. He believed he didn’t have to wonder long, not with Jane plotting to bring them back together.

  “You must, dear. If you don’t play, it will be uneven,” Jane said.

  Henry waited until Lily reached in and pulled out the card with his name on one side.

  “I…I have Mr. Waverley.”

  “What?” Henry exclaimed, causing everyone to glance in his direction. He shook his head and dismissed them with a scowl and a wave of his hand. He stepped toward his sister to protest when Miss Appleton reached her hand into the accursed bag, pulled out the parchment, and projected his name across the great room.

  He halted, glancing toward Lily whose fine features were pulled into soft, perplexed lines. Damn. Henry had no idea whether one should protest the outcome of the cards. He remained silent, nonetheless, while the other two women continued to pull names from the bag and Waverly sauntered up to Lily, a wide grin on his face.

  “Would you like to play a game of cards, Mr. Dalton?” In a polite manner, Henry unwrapped himself from Miss Appleton’s ensnarling hands and stalked to confront Jane. “Why did you have Miss Scott receive Waverley’s name and not mine?” He’d known for years the game wasn’t as random as Jane had everyone believe.

  His sister sighed. “Because, dear brother, the last time you were matched with Miss Scott, I was scolded thoroughly for it. Besides, Mr. Waverley is enamored with her, and I could not let a good game go to waste.”

  “Waverley is enamored with anything with an ample bosom,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you took time to look at Miss Scott’s ample—”

  “There was a time, Jane when I was resigned not to think about her, much less look at the woman at all.”

  “Mr. Dalton?”

  Henry rotated around to find Miss Appleton pouting. “Have I done something to upset you, sir?”

  Henry let out an irritated sigh. “No, Miss Appleton. I was just clarifying something with my sister. Shall we?” He offered the woman his arm and led her to an empty settee near the dreary, rain-soaked window.

  Around him, conversations hummed, with Miss Putnam casting seductive glances at him when William Naughton wasn’t looking. There was also Miss Carrington, who always seemed to pull Harry Bentley’s card, a trick his sister had perfected over the years. Henry had no doubt they would be married within the fortnight.

  While the women were all handsome, Henry’s gaze kept wandering to Lily, who appeared at ease with Waverley, even with him peering shamelessly at her chest every time she inhaled.

  “The devil,” Henry swore under his breath.

  “I beg your pardon?” Miss Appleton said.

  Henry shook his head, drawing from her an indignant lungful of air.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Dalton,” she said, hesitating, he supposed, to see if he’d stop her.

  He bowed and she sighed, twisting away from him. Across the room, he found Lily, reading a collection of prose, alone. He didn’t go to her right away, taking his time so as not to attract any more attention to them. She curtsied on his subtle approach.

  “How are you finding Mr. Waverley’s company, madam?” Henry asked, wishing he’d thought to inquire about the weather instead.

  “Obliging,” she said, her mouth lifting slightly at the corners.

  He stared down at her. “Well, that sounds dull.”

  “On the contrary, Mr. Dalton.” Her smile widened, and he wondered how he’d been able to stay away from her for so many years. After leaving Hadley, he’d allowed the spark of curiosity and interest t
o remain lit, believing time and distance would allow his love for her to snuff itself out. He had been mistaken. Seeing her again, kissing her again, he wondered how much more he could take before that growing spark formed into a ravenous fire.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder the answer. Miss Appleton, in dramatic fashion, returned with a book clasped in her hands.

  Beside him, Lily made a small strangling sound that caused him to glance in her direction. Her face, once pink and healthy, was drained of so much color that he thought he might have to save her from dropping dead away from a faint.

  “Miss Dalton, I just happened upon this book of romantic plays. How about we act out a few of them?”

  As the crowd clapped their approval, Jane lifted her gaze in Lily’s direction, the two women staring at each other for a frantic moment.

  “I…uhm…”

  Henry witnessed the peculiar exchange with heightened awareness. Was the compilation his sister’s or Lily’s? If it did belong to one of them, neither made an attempt to take it back into their possession.

  “I believe a play would be a marvelous change,” Waverley interjected, receiving a happy smile from Miss Appleton.

  “Who’s in favor?”

  Everyone except for Jane and Lily said “aye.”

  “It is unanimous,” Miss Appleton quipped.

  Outnumbered, Jane selected the scene the “actors” would perform, proceeding to call out the cast of characters. There were in fact only two. “There is a Miss Gravehart who appears to be in love with a Mr. Mortimer.”

  Henry shifted his gaze to Lily, finding her eyes closed and her hands clasped together at her waist. He felt compelled to engage her once again, this time, drawing close enough so their bodies almost touched. “Do you like plays, Miss Scott?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and exhaled before spinning around to blink her large eyes at him. He smiled down at her, his gaze wandering to her moist, plump, and slightly parted lips. He had to chuckle to himself. He’d yet to find the recipient of her amorous letter, and now he was enveloped in another mystery.

  As if on cue, Miss Appleton summarized the play from twelve feet away. His gaze never left Lily’s face the entire time.

  “It appears our heroine has had her heart broken by the gentleman and believes one kiss will either unbreak her heart or make it easier for her to break his.”

  “How very trite, don’t you agree, Miss Scott?”

  Lily inhaled and then let out a quick, impatient breath. “I agree that you are one of the most cynical men I’ve ever met,” she whispered back at him.

  Once enamored with him, or so he’d thought, now she seemed to struggle to tolerate him. Still, even when they were arguing, he believed there was no other place he’d rather be than with her.

  “I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but I’m neither cynical nor heartbroken. I am, however, disenchanted enough to believe love is not some fairytale.” He paused to lean in closer to her right ear. “Nor is it a whimsical play made up by a woman who would rather bring two fictional characters together than pursue a love of her own.”

  Chapter Six

  Lily squeezed her hands into fists. How she ever thought herself in love with Mr. Henry Dalton, she didn’t know. “You are so sure that a woman wrote it, sir?”

  His eyebrows lifted over his steel-gray eyes, unnerving her further. She could only wait in furious silence for his reply.

  “Yes. Men don’t believe in trapping themselves, and if they did, they surely wouldn’t write a play, giving a woman the idea of how to go about doing it.”

  She scoffed, distracted from the mortification of having her compilation read out loud to a group of men and women, some of whom she’d only just met. “Please, Mr. Dalton, must you voice everything you think aloud? It’s quite depressing.”

  His mouth opened, but he only managed to stare down at her until she twisted around, determined to ignore him. Since Henry had come to stand close to her, she’d been unable to concentrate, much less comprehend how Miss Appleton had found her plays. For the sake of remaining anonymous, however, she had to keep quiet and composed.

  “I believe I should play Miss Gravehart and Mr. Dalton should play Mr. Mortimer,” Miss Appleton pronounced across the room.

  “Oh, dear God,” Henry mumbled behind Lily’s back. If she hadn’t been so ready to faint, she might have laughed.

  Jane, to Lily’s relief, rose to salvage the disastrous turn of events. “I dare say, Miss Appleton, you are too bold in your requests. Since I am the hostess here, I shall make up the rules, and I say there will be a drawing to see who plays Miss Gravehart and Mr. Mortimer. Are there any objections?”

  Lily glanced around, along with everyone else.

  “Very well. I shall write ‘Miss Gravehart’ on one piece of paper and ‘Mr. Mortimer’ on another. The rest shall remain blank. Whoever draws the two characters will rehearse and then perform before my guests.”

  Of the men, Henry alone refused to draw a card. The winner, of sorts, turned out to be Mr. Waverley. Lily thought of refusing to draw, as well, until she began to fear Henry would assume she wasn’t playing because he wasn’t playing. Pompous.

  So, she pulled the card and bent her head, finding the familiar name scribbled on the front.

  “It’s all right, Lily,” Jane assured her with a smile. Lily didn’t know what to think of her friend’s relationship with Mr. Waverley anymore. It appeared not even to exist.

  “Is this what you’ve hoped for, Miss Scott? To play Mr. Waverley’s lover?” Henry leaned down to whisper.

  She turned and blinked at him for a good moment. If she allowed herself to, she might think him jealous. She inhaled and smiled. “Yes, sir. Since I met your friend, less than twenty-four hours ago, I’ve had visions of entrapping him in a loveless marriage where we should aspire to have thirteen children, most of them boys, one of whom we are sure to name after you!”

  They glared at each other, her heart pounding with frustration and from the warmth of his breath glancing across her skin. Then, she curtsied and left him to join Mr. Waverley.

  ****

  Henry’s gaze followed Lily’s soft gait while his mind contemplated a dozen ways to get her alone. He still hadn’t guessed the person to whom she had written the letter, though he’d agonized over the recipient’s identity the entire night. Although she’d tried to distract him from guessing Waverley, Henry still was not convinced his friend had nothing to do with the damn thing.

  My Love,

  You may have thought of me only once or twice; yet, I have thought of you for what seems all my life. With one slight gaze in your direction, I am lost. I know it seems impossible for me to confess such things, to express an affection that has been unrequited. However, you must know, I have loved you and only you.

  Perhaps, he thought, if a kiss was used to retrieve the letter, a kiss might be needed to reveal to whom the letter was written. He just had to know the man who inspired such passion, such ardent feelings.

  “Oh, but Mr. Dalton, I wanted us to play the two characters.” Miss Appleton suddenly appeared to drone next to his left elbow.

  He shook his head. “Why?”

  To Henry’s satisfaction, the woman remained struck by his question, her speechlessness making him smile.

  “As I thought.” He nodded a dismissal. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m in need of a good drink.”

  He took his time to go and pour himself a generous amount of brandy before falling in behind a row of chairs beside the mantelpiece, glaring at the couple rehearsing across the drawing room.

  “I don’t believe I like the idea of Lily kissing Mr. Waverley.”

  This time it was Jane who had approached without Henry noticing. “He seems overcome by her to the point that he may indeed ask for her hand before we have finished supper.”

  Henry withdrew the glass from his lips and glanced down at his sister, her mouth pulled tight with anxiety.

  �
��Waverley is irrational, but he’s not a fool.” He meant to set his sister at ease with those words. He meant to set himself at ease, as well.

  But Jane sucked in a lungful of air. “Are you saying one would have to be a fool to marry Miss Scott? No wonder she had nothing good to say about you last night.”

  His sister stepped to walk away when he took hold of her upper arm and gently pulled her back toward him. “What did she say about me?”

  Jane made a face and rolled her cornflower-blue eyes. “Let’s see, I believe pompous, impossible, insufferable, and…” She paused to tap her chin with her index finger. “Well, I can’t remember the other one, but it wasn’t enjoyable or amiable. Of that, I’m quite sure.”

  He drew back, the vein in his temple beginning to throb at how many unpleasant things Lily had said about him while he lay in bed, reliving every moment in her company.

  “She doesn’t deserve your ire, Henry. Whoever you’re angry with, I would suggest you address it with her instead of taking it out on Miss Scott.”

  Jane sashayed away, leaving Henry to want to quit the entire place altogether. He twisted toward the door when his motion gained Miss Appleton’s attention. Before a few days ago, he’d had no intention of seeing her again. Their brief affair had ended months ago. Still, he wanted, or rather, needed a recreational diversion. So far, she’d done nothing but annoy him. Of course, that wasn’t her fault. His diversions, he found, lay elsewhere and with someone else.

  “Oh, Mr. Dalton, I cannot tell you how disappointed I am that we are not the ones rehearsing at this very moment.”

  “So you’ve said. So, let us count our blessings. It could be you and Mr. Waverley and me and Miss Scott.”

  As he expected, Miss Appleton wrinkled her pert nose. “You and Miss Scott? Why, surely, you would have protested such a fate?”

  His eyes narrowed, pushing the woman back a pace. Since he’d been less than cordial to her for the past day or so, he didn’t know if she was acting desperate, oblivious, or both. “Whatever do you mean?”