by Lauren Smith
Snap! He froze at the sound of a twig breaking and turned to look behind him. There she stood, staring at him, blue eyes wide and dark as a northern sea.
“You…” he whispered, knowing he sounded foolish. “It’s really you.”
Her hands fisted into her skirts, and she started to retreat. The silver netting shimmered like clouds shot through with condensed moonlight.
“No! Please, don’t go. I didn’t mean to scare you.” It sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t care. If she disappeared again, who knew if he’d find her a third time?
He raised his hands in the air to show he didn’t mean to hurt her. “Please. I’m just happy to see you are well.”
She looked around and slowly let go of her skirts, her eyes softening.
“My name is Charles. Charles Humphrey. Do you remember me, from the other night at Lewis Street? It’s Lily, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yes. How could I forget my savior?” Her breathy voice was just as he’d remembered.
“I was so worried after you vanished. I only wished to see you safely home.”
“I know.” She paused. “But I was ashamed that…”
“You kissed me?” Charles finished, smiling a little. It had been one of the best kisses of his life, the kind that changed a man down to his very bones, the kind that etched itself onto one’s soul.
“Yes.” Lily smiled a little. The expression stirred something deep within him, a shadow of a memory, but he couldn’t quite bring it into the light. All he knew was that winning a smile from her was a reward unlike anything else.
“Never be ashamed of a kiss, not one such as that.” He flashed a grin that’d had many a woman rushing into his arms with weak knees and starry eyes. Lily, however, tilted her head and eyed him with curiosity.
“May I escort you back inside?” He had seen her shiver. She wasn’t wearing a cloak and had to be freezing.
“I suppose you may.”
“Excellent—”
“Lily!” A voice carried through the gardens, one Charles recognized. Emily was calling for her? How on earth did she know her while he did not?
“Over here!” Lily called out. A moment later Emily joined them within the labyrinth.
“Charles!” Emily beamed at him. “I see you’ve met my cousin. I’m so glad.”
“Cousin?” He almost choked on the word. No, hellfire and damnation, this could not be the widowed cousin looking for a husband, could it?
“Yes. My cousin by marriage, Mrs. Wycliff.”
He blinked, suddenly dazed. His mysterious angel was a quaint little widow from the country?
“It’s a pleasure to…officially meet you, Mrs. Wycliff.” Charles made a courtly bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Lonsdale,” Lily replied. Charles studied her curiously. Unless she was an avid reader of gossip columns, she would not necessarily know he was the Earl of Lonsdale. Lily smiled. “Emily has told me much about you and your friends.”
“Why don’t we go back inside?” Emily said. “I’m afraid I’ll catch a chill out here.”
Charles nodded and turned to Lily. “Of course. Mrs. Wycliff, do you have any dances open on your card?”
Lily opened her mouth, but no words came out. Emily answered for her. “I’m afraid she’s quite full. Not a single dance is free. Even if you had arrived on time.” Emily gave him a disapproving look that would have made his mother proud.
“Right. Well… Perhaps I shall have a bit of luck later this evening.” He caught Lily’s hand and turned the tiny card up in the moonlight, peering at the list of names, recognizing most of them. He bit his lip to hide a smile as he escorted them back inside. Emily steered Lily away from him, seeking to protect her cousin from his bad influence, no doubt.
As she should, I suppose. She needs a proper husband. And that isn’t me.
Then something Godric had said came back to him. Lily had only just arrived in London today. Yet he had seen her two days ago. There was more to this woman than perhaps even Emily knew. Perhaps Godric meant she had only called upon them today. She may have stayed elsewhere before that.
The mystery behind her lingered, just as the kiss they had shared on Lewis Street. He might not be husband material, but his curiosity about her was too strong to be denied. Tonight he would uncover Lily Wycliff’s secrets.
But first he had to knock a few men off her dance card.
“That went rather well, wouldn’t you agree?” Emily whispered to Lily as they walked away from Charles.
Lily’s heart was still pounding. Standing before him now, as close to her true self as she’d ever been, she’d felt incredibly vulnerable.
“At least he did not recognize me,” said Lily. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Yes, I was worried that if he spent too much time with you, he might see through the ruse. You spoke differently around him, I noticed.”
“It’s a tone I’ve heard ladies in the ton use around men,” Lily said.
“It is something of a fashion,” Emily noted. “It may serve you well tonight.”
She smoothed her hands down her gown and peered around at the guests in the ballroom.
“Must I really dance with all these strangers?” she whispered back to Emily. She was supposed to find a way to dance with was Charles, yet when she’d seen him spot her in the ballroom she’d fled to the gardens, hoping he wouldn’t follow.
“Well, I thought it would be good for you to meet some eligible bachelors. The Sandersons only invite the very best gentlemen.”
“Does that include Lord Lonsdale?” Lily inquired with half a smile. “We both know his reputation.”
Emily laughed. “Yes, well, he is still a gentleman, and quite sought after. But we both know he is not likely to settle down. I mean, you worked as his valet. You’ve no doubt seen sides of him that would make me blush crimson. Besides, I’m sure you’d never be interested in a man you’d spent so long serving.”
Lily wanted to disagree. Being Charles’s valet had never felt like servitude. It had been more about companionship. Charles was lonely, despite his roguish ways and the ladies he bedded. And when the opportunity arose, she was going to have to use that against him.
“Lord Kerrigan is your first partner for the waltz,” Emily announced with a hint of excitement. “He’s a bit wicked, but I think he’s quite wonderful.” As if on cue, a tall blond man strode toward them, a thunderous expression clouding his sky-blue eyes. His entire front, however, was dripping with ratafia. His clothes were ruined.
Emily smiled. “Ah, Lord Kerrigan, I was just about to… Good Lord, what happened?”
“Your Grace.” Kerrigan bowed before Emily, then turned to Lily, doing his best to hide his frustration. “Mrs. Wycliff, I must apologize. There was an incident at the refreshment table. I cannot ask you to dance with me, not when there is a chance I may damage such a lovely gown. I’m afraid I must return home at once and remove these clothes before my valet curses me for all eternity.” Kerrigan bent over Lily’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“We will have that waltz another time,” Lily assured him.
“I hope so. Don’t fall in love with anyone else until then.” He winked at her and took his leave of his hosts.
Lily sighed, somewhat disappointed. It would have been a delight to dance with a tall charming man like Lord Kerrigan. But it did open a slot on her card, and with it, an opportunity.
“Drat!” Emily slapped her silk fan closed. “I was so hoping you would have a chance to dance with him. I wonder what happened?”
I have my suspicions. Lily glanced at the refreshment table and saw Charles there watching her. He held a nearly empty goblet of ratafia to his lips, and with it, the most wicked smile she’d ever seen. He raised his glass to her in a silent toast. It was exactly what she expected Charles to do if his goal was to find a way onto her dance card. Without even meaning to, she smiled and giggled.
“So, no Lord Kerri
gan then.” Emily tapped her fan into one palm like a military general would a riding crop.
Lily kept one eye on Charles. “Perhaps I can find another to take his place?”
Emily shook her head. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be appropriate. When a gentleman and lady do not end up dancing, one cannot replace one’s intended partner for another. Silly, I know. Besides, they’ve already begun the dance.”
“The next is a quadrille,” Lily observed, studying the card attached to her wrist by a string. The name Mr. MacGuire was written beneath her dance number.
“Oh, excellent. Mr. MacGuire is a handsome and wealthy banker from Drummonds and a close friend of Ashton’s. There he is—oh, for heaven’s sake…” Again Emily’s hopeful tone soured. A handsome red-haired man crossed the ballroom toward them, limping heavily.
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace.” Mr. MacGuire’s rich brogue was as captivating as his green eyes, but all Lily could think of was Charles, and she wondered what he had done to the poor Scotsman.
“Oh, dear. What happened, Mr. MacGuire? Are you hurt?” Emily held out a hand to him, but he waved her off.
“I’m fine, just a wee accident. I tripped and hit one of the steps from the terrace. I’m afraid I won’t be much fun to dance with tonight.” He looked to Lily apologetically. “Next time, Mrs. Wycliff?”
“Yes, of course. Please feel better, Mr. MacGuire.” Lily let him press a kiss to her hand as well. She looked toward the French doors leading to the terrace and saw Charles leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and a smug smile on his lips.
Of course.
Surely he didn’t plan on maiming everyone at the ball tonight? What was his goal here? As Emily had said, it wasn’t appropriate to accept a new offer, even if a partner had to bow out. Did he wish to shame her by forcing her to sit out all the dances, or was he simply sending her a message of his interest in her? At this point she feared she would have no partners and no dances. And that fear was fully realized a few minutes later when the rest of her dance partners filed up to her and Emily one by one, each with an excuse for leaving the dance. Charles, damn him, was still by the refreshment table, smirking.
“I think I shall sit down. It seems I won’t be dancing for a while.” Lily walked toward a group of chairs by the wall, where a number of frightened wallflowers timidly watched the proceedings. Lily eased into a chair in their midst. These poor girls lacked any confidence, it seemed, which was why they had remained without dance partners.
“You’re Mrs. Wycliff, aren’t you?” one of the ladies asked.
Lily nodded glumly. On the one hand, Charles’s interference was a good thing. It showed he was interested in her, which would make her task all the easier to complete.
And that was the problem. She didn’t want to.
This was almost as bad as the night Charles had insisted she accompany him as Tom to a gambling hell. He’d found himself a woman for the night, and when Lily had found him, Charles had shoved a coin purse into her chest and told her to bed a woman as well.
He’d meant it as a kindness, she supposed. Charles had often remarked on how Tom still had a ways to go before reaching manhood. But all she could see was Charles with another woman, trying to buy her off for some privacy.
I suppose I loved him even then.
It hadn’t started that way. At first she was simply supposed to watch the movements of Charles and his friends at the gentlemen’s club they frequented. Then he’d taken pity on her and made her his valet, just as Hugo had hoped. Most of the spies within the League’s households had obtained their positions because Hugo knew how each of them thought, what qualities they sought, and the weaknesses they had.
Guilt and generosity were Charles’s weaknesses.
She’d tried to keep her distance from Charles at first, to keep their relationship professional, but she soon realized that he did not need a valet—he needed a friend. And she had been that for him, even though it pained her. It pained her because she feared she might develop feelings for him. And she had.
How could she not? He was perfect. Perfectly handsome, perfectly amusing, perfectly adventurous. He was everything a woman could want—he was everything she wanted.
“Is Lord Lonsdale yours?” the girl to her left asked.
Lily stared at her, confused. “I beg your pardon?”
The girl blushed. “Well, we’ve been watching him stare at you all night, and it seems he’s managed to keep some of the most handsome men here from dancing with you. Do you have an understanding with him?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Before she could say more, the girls around her gasped as Charles appeared from nowhere, as if he’d been summoned.
“Ladies.” He smiled, and each of the shy girls looked ready to faint, but thankfully they were all seated in chairs.
“My lord,” the garden of wallflowers murmured back to him.
“Mrs. Wycliff, it would seem you have a few dances open. May I?” He held out a hand, and Lily almost leapt to her feet, but resisted the urge. She could not seem too eager. That had been one of Miss Mirabeau’s first lessons. The French courtesan had once worked for Hugo, training women in the art of seduction. “If you wish to stoke a flame into a raging fire, you cannot give it all the fuel it wants at once. You must make it work a little, yes?”
“Well?” Charles curled his fingers in invitation, his gray eyes sparkling. Suddenly Lily had a stroke of genius, though it required a touch of lying.
“I’m afraid only my very last dance is free, but it seems none of these ladies have partners. If you wish to dance with me for the final waltz, then you will do me a kindness and dance with my new friends.”
The wallflowers chittered like a flock of cream-colored songbirds. Charles’s eyes narrowed, as if trying to understand her game, and then he gave a slow nod.
“I would be honored. Ladies, who is to be first?” He took charge of the timid ladies and chose the most frightened one first, leading her out to the group of dancers lining up. Charles only looked at Lily once before the music started, and then he became an enchanting dancer, engrossed in the company of his young partner.
The girl next to Lily sighed and bumped her shoulder against Lily’s. “He really is smitten with you. I don’t think any rake would dance with so many just for one waltz.”
“He’s not a rake, he’s a rogue.” Lily laughed to herself, but she couldn’t deny the warmth she felt in her chest as she watched him take on dance after dance, making each young lady stand out and shine. The other gentlemen in the room couldn’t help but notice them now. By the final dance, each of the wallflowers had been asked by several young men to step out on the floor with them as well.
Charles joined her by the now empty rows of chairs. “So, was that your wicked scheme all along?”
Lily feigned shock. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I think I may have single-handedly made no less than several matches for those wallflowers tonight, thanks to you.” Charles grinned like a proud peacock.
Lily smiled at the crowd. “They were all so wretched here, but now look at them. Smiles on every face.” She peeped up at him from beneath her lashes. “You did that.”
“I did.” He crossed his arms and watched the dancers with some small satisfaction. “Now, have I earned my waltz?”
“Indeed you have.” She held out a hand, and he escorted her to the floor.
Her breath caught as he pulled her close. It felt wonderful to be in his arms. She’d never been held by him before. They had wrestled, sparred, even splashed in a lake before, but he’d never held her, never danced with her. Her mother had often told her before she’d passed that if a man could dance like an angel, Lily ought to marry him. “The man who dances well loves even better.”
Lily stared up into Charles’s face as he slid an arm around her waist and the waltz began.
“I can feel how tense you are,” he said.
“How could I not be around someone like you?
” she answered coyly. Charles enjoyed being toyed with in verbal banter. It made him try harder. But he didn’t reply with a witty retort like she’d expected.
“Whatever worries you carry, let them go,” Charles whispered. “Dance with me and let everything else fade.”
If only it were so easy…
How she longed to really let go of the past and her fear of the future. She wished only to shine a light upon the darkness inside her. For just one dance, she didn’t want to let anything destroy their moment.
They danced in perfect rhythm. She was taller than most ladies, and her legs kept up easily with Charles’s longer strides. His fingers on her waist crept down to her lower back. His eyes never left hers, except when they lowered to her lips. And just like that she was lost in dreams of him kissing her again. For a moment, she really did let go.
He held her close in his arms. Her skirts swirled around her ankles in whispers of satin, and the light from the chandeliers seem to make the world glow in an unimaginable way, like the gates to their own private heaven had opened up and she and Charles were dancing through the clouds.
When the orchestra faded into silence, the crowd in the ballroom broke into applause. Why did it have to end? But Charles kept hold of her, his eyes halfway closed as he released a slow, shaky breath that mirrored her own.
“I don’t wish to let you go,” he confessed.
“I’m afraid you must,” Lily said. “The music has ended.”
His gray eyes clung to hers. “I’m afraid if I do, you’ll vanish again.”
All these years she’d heard other ladies whisper of love and how it consumed one’s soul. Now she truly understood it.
“I won’t go anywhere,” she promised him. “I’m staying with Emily, remember?”
“If I arrive at Godric’s tomorrow, you will be there? You will agree to see me?” His face lowered as though he intended to kiss her. They were in the middle of the ballroom and they couldn’t, but he seemed oblivious to this fact and stopped just inches from her lips. She glanced to the side and already saw guests staring at them, talking amongst themselves.
