Little White Lies

by Sara Ackerman

  Tavis was dumbfounded. Elated, to be sure, that she loved him in return, but dumbstruck. With no indication of his own feelings for her, she was brave enough to admit what she felt. What a precious gift she had given him. What an amazing woman he had found!

  He must have looked terrified, or at the very least shocked, because she laughed and patted his arm. “It’s okay, Tavis. You don’t have to say it in return. I just wanted you to know how I feel. One day, I hope, you will feel the same about me.”

  Feel the same about her? he thought foggily with the part of his brain that had just been blown away by her declaration, while the remaining part of his mind, the part that still had some sense, screamed, We do! We do love her! Tell her now!

  No matter how he tried, the words he longed to tell her did not come. Instead he crushed her to him, reveling in the familiar comfort of her embrace. “I need to love you, lass,” he rasped, his deep brogue thickening as emotion overtook him. “I need to feel you around me.”

  He loved her in the waning afternoon sunlight as the apple blossoms danced and twirled overhead, weaving their perfumed fragrance around the two lovers. How long he loved her, he couldn’t say. Time seemed to lose all meaning in the sheltering protection of Amelia’s arms. He wanted to love her all night, to show his wife in actions what he felt in his heart. Yet when she trembled on the verge of release and her passion-filled voice cried out, “I love you!” Tavis let go, knowing that, after years of searching for his place in the world, he had finally come home.

  Chapter 19

  Tavis drummed his fingers on the side of his leg and snuck longing glances out the window, wishing he were anywhere but here.

  Wickes is a lucky bastard.

  If Tavis hadn’t had plans, he could be with him right now, on his way to town, instead of in his sitting room with these two visitors who had unexpectedly arrived about an hour past.

  But no. I had to stay home because I decided to tell Amelia today that I love her. Almost a week had passed since their magical picnic in the woods and Amelia’s surprising profession of love. Since then, he had wrestled with his own feelings and how best to share them with his wife. He’d asked Wickes, who laughed and suggested Tavis tell her while they were making love. Tavis didn’t think that was quite right, especially since Wickes was a confirmed bachelor and had never been in love. He wanted it to be special, something she would remember always, so he gathered his butler and his footmen and even the stable hands into the kitchen to ask them what to do. After some awkward foot shuffling and embarrassed throat clearing, young William spoke.

  “I haven’t had a special lass yet, my lord, but my ma always liked it when Da brought her flowers.” William scratched his head and shrugged. “Pick a bouquet for her and tell her how you feel.”

  “No, that won’t do,” Luke, his upstairs footman, interjected. “You have to buy her something, my lord.” Luke thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Buy her a fancy bauble. Women love shiny things. It will make her feel pretty and loved, knowing you spent your hard-earned coin on her happiness.”

  “You boys know nothing,” Gerard, the butler, said with asperity. “Women want to feel special. You must first feed her senses by creating an atmosphere of elegant simplicity. Arrange her favorite room with flowers from the garden. Light hundreds of candles to create a romantic atmosphere, and there should be gentle music playing. Perhaps a violin? Have Cook prepare her favorite dishes to tantalize her taste buds. When she is sated from food and wine, then you tell her.”

  “Ha!” Mrs. Dowling snorted from her place by the fire where she was peeling potatoes for the night’s meal.

  “Do you have something to say?” Gerard demanded. “What does a crabby old spinster possibly know about love?”

  Mrs. Dowling wiped her hands on her apron and waddled over to the huddled group of men. With wooden spoon in hand, she tapped Gerard on his chest. “I know a sight more than an old decrepit fart like you.”

  While Gerard huffed and rubbed his chest, Mrs. Dowling turned to address Tavis. “You love her, my lord, and she loves you, aye?”

  Tavis nodded warily, not liking how his cook was waving that spoon in front of his face.

  “Then tell her. Everyone else knows how you feel about her. It’s about time she does too.”

  In the end, Tavis was so nervous he took all of their advice, spending the better part of a week arranging everything to be perfect for Amelia.

  Of course now that he and everything else was ready, his wife was nowhere to be found, and he had visitors, visitors who would undoubtedly take offense if he were to whisk his wife away for a day of carnal pleasures.

  Not to mention their presence is an unwelcome distraction from the more important task of locating Meeks.

  Both Tavis and Wickes agreed that the sooner they found Meeks the better. Not only was he a traitor and a rapist, but they needed to question him about his activities with Lord Westby. Without him, they had no case against Westby, but if Meeks testified, they could use his statement to implicate and try Westby for treason. Of course that was assuming Meeks complied, which, given Meeks’s loyalty to Westby, Tavis thought unlikely. It was a frustrating endeavor, to say the least, and one Tavis wanted to end.

  He sighed, the large gust of air breaking the silence of the still room, and then smiled weakly when his guests narrowed their eyes at him in displeasure, an expression that hadn’t altered much since their arrival. Not that he blamed them. What parents looked fondly on the man who stole their daughter from under their noses?

  Lady Westby shifted again in her seat and sniffed, a noise he had not grown accustomed to despite the frequency of its occurrence since the good lady’s arrival. Apparently nothing pleased Lady Westby, especially not him. With her pert nose raised in the air sniffing her disdain, she took great pleasure in telling Tavis how much she disliked him, his home, and his god-awful country. Contrarily, Lord Westby remained silent, only speaking once to grunt a greeting to Tavis when he welcomed them to Ballywith. Between the stony glares, the obnoxious sniffing from Lady Westby, and the mute hostility from Lord Westby, Tavis was ready to make his escape and damn the consequences.

  The door swung open, and Tavis prayed it was his butler coming to summon him away on some urgent business, but it was Amelia. As happy as he was to see her, he was now well and truly stuck.

  “Father! Mother!” Amelia said in stunned surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is that any way to greet your parents, Amelia?” sniffed her mother. “After we rushed from home and traveled for days, on insufferable roads, in a cramped carriage, only to arrive in Scotland, of all places.” She paused to wrinkle her nose and sniff disapprovingly at Tavis. “And all you have to ask is what we are doing here?”

  “Yes,” Amelia replied as she sank into a vacant spot next to Tavis. “Only two days ago I sent you a letter with Mr. Coombes, my husband’s solicitor, explaining everything, but it can’t have reached London yet. How did you know where to find me?”

  Noting her shaking hands and pale complexion, Tavis handed her a cup of tea, which she took with a grateful smile. Perversely, he felt better knowing she was as affected by her parents’ unannounced visit as he was.

  Lady Westby’s teacup rattled in its saucer as it hit the side table with more force than necessary, and she turned her flashing eyes to Amelia. “Your sister Beatrice told me, after I spent weeks worrying whether you were alive or dead. So, yes, we are here because I needed to see for myself you were safe.”

  Pointing an elegant finger at her daughter, she said, “You run away and elope, not even leaving us a note of your whereabouts, only for us to find out you’ve married and are living in Scotland!” Lady Westby’s cheeks bloomed with the deep red of irritation as she turned the full force of her anger onto Tavis’s wife.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Amelia stammered, having obviously taken note of her mother’s heightened color and agitated state of mind. “Had I been thinking clearly
, I should have left you a letter.”

  “Humph!” Lady Westby snorted, a pleasant change from her incessant sniffing, and crossed her arms over her chest. “It would have been nice to know if you were well or not, Amelia.” Lady Westby speared Tavis with a hostile glare. “Now that I see who you were with, this lying Scotsman, I wonder at how safe you really have been all this time.”

  Tavis stiffened, not liking the implication he was not only a liar but incapable of protecting his wife. True, he hadn’t told the entire truth when last he spoke with Lord and Lady Westby, but that didn’t make him a liar. “I beg your pardon, madam—”

  “Now, Anne,” Lord Westby soothed, breaking his silence with the interruption. “You know this is the match we had hoped for between Amelia and Lord Stanton. Maybe it didn’t happen in the manner in which we had envisioned; however, the outcome is the same. Be happy for them, my dear,” he said. “It’s obvious the two are deeply in love with each other and have found their own happiness together.”

  Lord Westby knew how to appease his wife, for Lady Westby softened at his words, finally lowering her crossed arms to her sides. “A girl shouldn’t keep secrets from her mother, Howard. I should have known where she was and what she was doing.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I’m her mother.”

  “Don’t take it too hard, Annie-girl. I imagine they were too overcome with love for each other to think much about anyone else.” His expression when he looked over at them ordered the two to agree.

  “Oh, yes, Mother,” Amelia reassured. “Once I met Tavis, I could think of nothing else.” She smiled dreamily at her husband who had taken her hand between his own to bestow a tender kiss upon her knuckles.

  “I, too, was captivated from the moment I first met your daughter, Lady Westby. I thought of nothing else save her.” Though he spoke to Lady Westby, his words were for Amelia alone.

  “You were very naughty, though, Lord Stanton,” Lady Westby said with a trace of her old, sly smile returning to her lovely face. “You never once let on that you had already met Amelia when we conversed in the ballroom.”

  Tavis flashed Lady Westby his most charming smile, the one Amelia told him made her weak in the knees. “I did not know who she was, Lady Westby. We met by chance out under the stars. At first I didn’t even know if she was a real flesh-and-blood woman or an otherworldly goddess sent to tempt me with visions of a delightful dream I thought I could never have.” He looked at Amelia with all the love he felt in his heart, too full of joy to contain his emotions any longer.

  His eyes held Amelia’s as he continued to weave his tale of accidental meeting to Lady Westby. “We shared an enchanted dance out under the stars, and like the mythical goddess I believed she was, she disappeared once our dance was over. As she left I called out desperately, ‘Who are you, my lady? Please gift me with your name.’ I needed to know what name I should whisper when I begged the gods to return one of their own to Earth for me.”

  Tavis turned and looked at Lady Westby, who was watching the two of them with starry eyes and clasped hands. “I thought she hadn’t heard me, you see, for it was quiet so long after my cry into the darkness. Then I heard it. A faint sound carried on the wings of a warm breeze reached my ears and filled my heart with hope. ‘Lady Amelia Westby,’ it sighed. I tell you I hoped, Lady Westby, because I knew her then to be a woman of flesh and not the ethereal dream that would forever be out of reach.”

  “Why then did you say nothing when we met, Lord Stanton?” Lady Westby asked.

  “Yes, do explain, Lord Stanton,” Lord Westby asked, a hard, assessing glint in his eyes. “Why, upon realizing you had met our daughter, did you not inform us of this acquaintance?”

  With a silent curse, Tavis returned Westby’s hard look with a genial smile of his own. Westby knew Tavis was painting a pretty picture for his wife to lessen the hurt of Amelia’s elopement. Instead of staying quiet and allowing his wife to believe what she would, he insisted on poking holes in his explanation, damn him.

  Deciding his options were to either punch his new father-in-law across the jaw, an act sure to bring disapproval from his wife, or ignore the man, Tavis chose the latter (in spite of the former’s definite appeal). Ignoring Lord Westby and his question, Tavis continued his story and addressed Lady Westby. “I was reeling from meeting your daughter, Lady Westby, too overcome with emotion to describe what had happened.”

  “Now really, Stanton,” Lord Westby protested.

  “Shh!” Lady Westby admonished her husband. “Let him finish.” Turning back to sweetly smile at Tavis, she said, “Go on, Lord Stanton.”

  “After leaving the ballroom, I was understandably distraught at having missed our formal introduction, and so I prepared to depart. Imagine my surprise to find Amelia wandering outside looking for me. It was as if Cupid himself blessed our union. I stole her from you, I know, and for that I should apologize.” He took a breath and squeezed Amelia’s hand in his own. “But I can’t because to do so would make it seem I regret my actions, and I don’t.”

  Lady Westby drew in a sharp breath, and he could see her becoming angry again. Tavis hurried to conclude, lest she begin yelling or crying again.

  “I don’t regret taking her, Lady Westby, because running off with your daughter meant I got to know this incredible woman that much sooner. It meant I finally met the person who has become my partner and friend for life.” He looked down at Amelia and smiled into his wife’s shining eyes. “It meant I finally found the woman I love.”

  “You love me?” Amelia whispered, those brilliant green eyes searching his own for proof he spoke the truth.

  “Aye, lass,” he said as he placed his forehead on her own. “I love you. I think I have been waiting for you to love my whole life.” His words, almost the exact ones Amelia had used to describe her feelings for him, spread peace throughout his being. For a man who had always thought love was a weak, unnecessary emotion, he finally understood its power. It centered him and gave him strength; it filled the gaping hole of emptiness in him with all the goodness and light Amelia brought into his life.

  “I love you too, Tavis,” Amelia said. “More than I ever thought possible.” He gathered her into his arms, loving the feel of her within his embrace. When they separated, he was surprised to find tears streaking down his face. She wiped them away with her fingers and gave a happy, watery laugh when he did the same to her.

  Enfolding her into another embrace, he kissed her and once again addressed her parents. “So you see, my lady, I have no regrets, for how can I regret a decision which has brought me such happiness?”

  Lord Westby, who had watched this display of affection between Amelia and Tavis without speaking, spoke. “You love her?”

  Tavis was seized by the urgency of Westby’s question and wondered at the lines of tension bracketing Westby’s mouth and eyes. The man sat on the edge of the settee as if Tavis’s answer were of the utmost importance. Tavis was under the impression Lord Westby was an indifferent parent, much like his own had been, but this intensity about him and his affections for Amelia told a different story. It showed him a father who had strong emotions for his child. Despite their past, Tavis had to respect the man’s concern for his daughter’s welfare.

  “With my body and soul, I love her, my lord,” Tavis responded.

  Those tight lines of tension on his face eased, and Westby’s body sagged. “Then I give you my blessing, Lord Stanton, and wish the two of you well.”

  Lady Westby’s voice wobbled, “It’s all well and good for you to give them your blessing, Howard, and for you to regret nothing, Lord Stanton, but I will always regret not being there for Amelia on her special day, even if it was an elopement.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Amelia cried, rising from her seat to rush over to her mother’s embrace. “I wish you could have been there, too.” When they parted, tears streaked down both women’s cheeks. Mother and daughter laughed and embraced again.

  Westby rose, as did Tavis. The two
stared at each other over the bent heads of their wives, and Tavis knew that in spite of Westby’s blessing on their elopement his day of reckoning was soon at hand. He nodded his understanding and went to his wife. Putting his arm around her and his mother-in-law, he asked, “Perhaps when we are in Town in a month we could have a wedding celebration at your home? Maybe such an entertainment would put to rest some of the gossip surrounding our elopement.”

  “Can we, Tavis?” Amelia asked him with shining eyes full of excitement.

  “What a grand idea!” Lady Westby squealed, clapping her hands.

  Lord Westby joined the little circle and placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “Why don’t you and Amelia sit down and discuss the details.” Lady Stanton nodded, and he leaned to press a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Tavis,” he said, “I’m in need of something a little stronger than tea. What do you say, Stanton?”

  “Of course, sir,” he replied, clapping Westby on the back. “Let me show you what I have in my study.” Opening the door for Westby, Tavis ushered him out and led him down the hallway to his private study. Westby entered and wandered around the room, looking at the furnishings and the paintings on the walls before settling in a comfortable chair near the fire.

  Tavis poured each of them a glass of whisky and then sank warily into a chair opposite Westby, who raised his glass in salute. “To you and Amelia!” He tilted his glass and drained the contents in one swallow. Still Tavis waited, his glass untouched, for the moment when Westby flew at him in a rage.

  Westby must have seen the look of apprehension on his face because he threw back his head and laughed. “I’m not going to kill you, Stanton, no matter if you did break our deal.” He clunked his glass down on the table and leaned toward Tavis, waggling a finger in front of his face. “And you stole my horses, too.”

  “Those horses were mine, and you know it. Besides, I explained to you what happened, Westby, with me and Amelia.”