by Lauren Smith
The young florist smiled and touched his gloved hand. “Secret love…and the sender of gardenias is lonely.” The woman’s gaze drifted to the flowers, and he realized she must be lonely as well. Loneliness was so tragic in such a shop such as this.
“Is it that obvious that I’m lonely?” Charles asked.
“It’s in your eyes and how you speak about your love.”
Charles chuckled wryly. “Perhaps not much longer. How much for the bouquet?”
“Five shillings.” The florist carefully tied the bouquet with a blue satin ribbon and removed it from the vase, then handed it to him.
Charles handed her ten pounds.
“From one gardenia sender to another.” He gave her a grateful smile before he left the shop and returned to his coach.
He felt like a silly fool sitting in his coach with a massive bouquet in his hands, but he couldn’t think of any other way to show Lily he wanted to be a proper gentleman toward her. Thanks to Emily, his reputation no doubt preceded him.
As the coach stopped in front of Godric’s townhouse, a swarm of butterflies flapped madly inside his stomach. He checked his pocket watch yet again and sighed with relief. Almost eleven. Finally. Surely if he went up and knocked, Godric would let him in, even if he was a tad early.
His hand shook as he lifted the knocker and rapped on the door. When Godric’s butler, Simkins, answered, Charles grinned.
“Simkins, you old devil! Still alive, are we?” He slapped the man on the shoulder.
Simkins smiled indulgently. “No thanks to you. You are expected. I should warn you that all beverages have been put out of your reach. Should you be thirsty, I will bring you whatever you require—in a very small glass.”
“Then you’ll simply need to bring many of them.”
The butler’s gaze dropped to the massive bouquet. “Flowers? Well, now, you must be serious about this one,” Simpkins teased.
“I certainly am,” Charles admitted.
“God have mercy upon her. The ladies are in the morning room. Let me announce your arrival.” Simpkins left him standing in the foyer.
“Charles?” Godric’s booming laugh made him cringe. “Good Lord, are those flowers?” He came down the stairs, green eyes bright with humor.
“Not one more bloody word,” Charles warned. “I’ve had enough of that from your butler. Why hasn’t he retired yet?”
“He fears the day my rugs are left undefended from one of your visits. It’s what keeps him going.”
“Lord Lonsdale, the ladies will see you now,” Simkins announced as he returned to the hall.
Charles squared his shoulders and headed for the morning room. Godric stood at attention and gave a mock salute as he passed, then trailed behind him. Charles shot him a questioning look.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” said Godric.
Charles cursed under his breath and opened the door, prepared to face Emily as their chaperone and Lily, the woman fast stealing his heart.
16
The morning room’s peach-colored walls glowed with the bright winter sunlight flooding the room through the tall windows. Emily was seated on a chair by a crackling fire, a book in her hands. She beamed at him as he entered, then nodded toward Lily, who was on a couch by the window, also reading. No doubt Emily had wanted them to be seen in this exact way when he entered.
Charles cleared his throat, and Lily glanced up, the gaze of her blue eyes caressing him. He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless behind the curtains. But no, indulging in brief meaningless passions was what the other Charles would do. He had to be more than that for her.
Lily’s eyes widened when she saw what he held. Feeling like a bloody fool, he thrust the bouquet out awkwardly.
“Here.” It was the only word he could get out at first. His heart was hammering so loudly he could barely think.
Lily blinked. “Pardon?”
Charles heard Godric snort behind him. Emily put a hand to her face, trying to hide her smile.
Oh God, he would never hear the end of this, would he?
“These are for you,” he said correctly.
Lily set the book aside and took the bouquet. She buried her face in the brightly colored flowers. Charles’s breath caught as the sunlight illuminated her. She was simply the most exquisite woman he’d ever met. The beauty inside her shone in the merry twinkle of her eyes as she slowly raised her gaze to his as she basked in the sheer feminine delight of her brushing her face against the petals. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. He was lost in Lily, this beautiful stranger who yet seemed so familiar. Could a man love a woman at first sight? He felt as though it was possible, when she looked at him the way she was doing now, as though he’d answered some silent, secret prayer she’d held deep within her heart.
I feel the same way. She is the answer to my loneliness.
“These are lovely.” Lily glanced at Emily, her cheeks reddening as she displayed the flowers to her cousin with embarrassed pride.
“They are indeed.” Emily smiled at them and then stood to leave. She gave Charles a slow, meaningful look, but he wasn’t quite sure what she was telling him. Be on his best behavior? Couldn’t she tell he was trying?
“Excuse me. I shall return in a moment with a vase.” Emily joined Godric in the hallway and closed the door.
She’d left him alone with Lily. That was unexpected. Either she trusted him to be a gentleman, which was unlikely, or she was expecting him to be himself and seduce Lily, which he might very well do if he had the chance.
He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, his heart still racing, his palms sweating. He’d never felt nervous around a woman like he did now. Yet he was also full of a tranquility that he’d never believed possible. Something about all this, as frightening and alien as it was to him, felt right.
Lily sighed dreamily. “Gardenias. My favorite.” She rubbed her cheek against the petals and looked up at him. Her dark-gold lashes shimmered, and the soft pink of her lips were slightly parted, and all he could think of was covering those lips with his.
“Gardenias are your favorite?” He struggled past the lust of his thoughts and focused on their conversation. He wanted to know her as much as he wanted to kiss her.
“Yes, and the calla lilies too, probably because of my name.” She laughed. “My mother used to put small gardenias in her hair before balls. They looked so stunning, and the aroma… She had vases of them and freesia everywhere. My mother adored flowers. I do as well, but I haven’t thought about them in years.”
That sorrow he’d noticed before was in her eyes again. He slowly reached for her free hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. He marveled at how calming it was to hold her hand, with no expectations of more to come. He turned her hand over, examining the fine lines. There were several small calluses along the tops of her palm, just below the base of her fingers. He explored the calluses, wondering what events in life had led her to working with her hands.
“I’m sorry.” Lily tried to pull her hand away in embarrassment, but he didn’t let her. He raised it slowly to his lips, brushing his mouth gently, reverently over her knuckles. Her breath caught and his blood hummed in response.
“There is no need to apologize,” Charles said. “There is no shame in hands that have seen work. Quite the opposite. I want to know everything about you. Would you tell me?”
“I can tell you some things,” she said. “But not everything.”
Charles smirked. “A woman of secrets, eh?”
“A woman of caution.”
Charles hesitated, wondering if he could ask the question that was uppermost in his mind, knowing she likely wouldn’t answer. “Very well. What were you doing alone in Vauxhall and how did find yourself kidnapped and taken to Lewis Street?”
“I had decided to arrive in London sooner than my cousin was expecting me. I did not wish to impose upon Emily’s kindness more than I had to, so I took to exploring the city
on my own. She had written to me about the gardens before, and I had hoped to see them myself. She had not warned me of the dangers, however.”
Charles nodded. “I suppose no place in London is truly safe, which is why no woman should walk the streets alone, especially in the evening.”
Her gaze grew distant for a moment. “It is a mistake I will not make again.” Then she looked down at her book. “Next question, my lord.”
Well, he’d tried. Perhaps a more circuitous route was required to win her trust. “What book are you reading?” He nodded at the tome she’d set aside.
“Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations.”
“Truly?” He blinked at her. Most men he knew couldn’t finish that book, and he’d never given much thought to whether a woman would read it. Not that he didn’t think a woman could manage it, just that it was so bloody boring…
“Yes, it’s a bit belabored on some of the more specific economic points, but the general discussion is rather fascinating, don’t you agree?”
Charles laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I tried to read it for one of my classes at Cambridge, and every time I opened the book, I would wake up hours later, my face planted on the pages. It was so bad I started using it for a pillow.”
“You didn’t!” Lily giggled.
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But doesn’t it make a good story?”
“It does,” she agreed. “Why don’t you tell me a true story?”
“About me?” He wanted to hear more about her, but if she wanted to hear him talk, he would do whatever she asked. “Well, let’s see…”
“Would you tell me about the swans in Vauxhall?”
He shot an angry glare toward the door. “Emily! Lord, that woman. Now she’s enlisting relatives to try to learn that story?” He relaxed a little and rolled his eyes. This time he was the one avoiding an answer. “No swans. Next question.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Then tell me about your parents,” she suggested. “Your family.”
“My family…” He trailed his fingertips along her palm, tracing the fine lines in her skin. “Where to begin? My mother, Violet, is a lovely woman, and I mean that. Inside and out. She and my father had been friends long before they married. She always told me marriages based upon friendship last longer than those born of lust.”
Lily nodded, her eyes searching his face. “And your father?”
“Guy Humphrey was a wonderful father, a loving and warmhearted man. It has only ever been my desire to be as good a man as he was.”
“And are you?” Lily asked.
Charles wanted to smile, but found he couldn’t. “I seem to be woefully short of succeeding in that goal. But I continue to try.”
Lily reached up to cup his cheek. “I think that says more than you realize.” She spoke with such conviction that he almost believed her.
“Lily… May I call you Lily?” She nodded and pressed her lips together, as though this step forward had excited her. “I feel as though I know you, even though we’ve only just met. Does that sound strange to you?”
“Not at all,” she assured him.
He smiled bashfully, feeling like a boy again. “I cannot get you out of my head, and yet I feel like I have no one I can talk to about how I feel now.”
“No one? What about your friends?”
Charles chuckled. “I fear that is not possible. I have been somewhat…mocking toward them whenever they spoke about love and romance. If I were to ask them their advice now, they would no doubt have their revenge upon me.”
“Oh my,” Lily said, feigning shock.
“It’s all in good jest, I assure you,” Charles added. “Still, it must be said I have burned many a bridge this past year.”
“That is a shame,” said Lily. “Men often keep their feelings to themselves, and that simply cannot be healthy. You truly have no one to talk to?”
Charles thought about it. “Well, perhaps my valet.”
“Your valet?”
“Yes, I trust my valet as much as I would any of my friends.”
“He must be quite the valet. Would you tell him about the swans at Vauxhall?” Lily teased, gently nudging him in the ribs with a finger.
“Lord, why does every lady I meet want to know about the bloody swans?” He let out a groan and settled back on the couch, shifting her closer to him in the process, but only just. She didn’t pull away, and he crowed inwardly at his small victory. Her fingers were still dancing along his skin. He was lost in her, in the swell of her breasts as she breathed and the pulse beating in her throat and faint floral aroma that clung to her skin since she’d buried her face in the bouquet. He wanted to kiss her so badly that his entire body ached with the primal need to taste her. He knew that if he took her into his arms, captured her mouth with his, that he would feel her heartbeat against his lips and he would be truly lost forever.
“Because the tale of the swans is legendary,” she answered. “Just as you are legendary, my lord.”
Her amused smirk made him want to laugh out loud. It was such a familiar thing, as though he’d known this woman for years. Which was impossible, of course.
“You must call me Charles. ’Tis only fair.”
Her blue eyes darkened with solemnity as she gazed at his lips. “Charles.” The way she spoke his name sent a strange thrill through him, and his blood hummed in excitement.
“Lily, may I kiss you?” He half expected her to blush, then slap him for his presumption. At best he thought she might say it was too soon, or not appropriate upon their first formal meeting. Instead, she nodded eagerly.
“Yes, you may.” Lily’s lashes fluttered down, and her lips parted. Charles felt as though he were standing at the gates of heaven as he leaned in. Their lips brushed in a gentle burning prelude. He dug his nails into his palms, the sharp edge of pain keeping his control in check as he nudged her nose with his. Her lips parted, a draft of breath on his lower lip preceding a small moan that sailed from her throat and straight into his bones. A shudder tore through him, even as the pain in his palms receded to be replaced by lust. Fire raced between their bodies, even though he wasn’t holding her in his arms the way he desperately wanted to. Lights flashed behind his closed eyes as he grew drunk on the sweet taste of her mouth—
The morning room door burst open.
“I found a vase!” Emily announced. Her violet eyes glinted as she added, “As I proclaimed loudly, several times, from the corridor just now.”
Charles and Lily jerked away from each other. He shot Emily a frustrated scowl as the sweet lust in his veins changed into heated embarrassment.
Emily came over and took the bouquet from Lily. The flowers had fallen to her lap and were in clear danger of toppling to the floor. Emily slid the flower stems into the water-filled glass.
“There.” She set the vase down on the table. “Don’t they look absolutely lovely? What a perfect bouquet, Charles. Well done.” Then she tilted her head to the side, as she pretended to hear Godric calling for her. “Oh, I’d best go see what my husband needs!” She stepped into the hall. “Darling? What did you need?”
“Need? What are you calling me for? I didn’t say anything.” Godric’s voice, clearly startled, made Charles laugh.
Emily hushed him, and he next heard a masculine grunt, no doubt Godric being jabbed in the ribs by the dainty duchess. Then the door to the room closed.
Charles waited until she was gone before he turned back to Lily. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, and a wanton hunger still gleamed in her eyes. He still struggled to play the gentleman he knew he had to be. Dragging her beneath him on the couch was what the old Charles would have done, and this woman deserved better.
“She’s a terrible chaperone, but I suppose she understands that you aren’t an innocent young maiden lacking knowledge of the ways of the world.”
Lily’s face shadowed with worry. “Does that bother you?”
“Does what bother me?” he asked, still lost in daydream
s of possessing her lips with his.
“That I’ve been…married before?”
Her fear of his answer was plain on her face. He winced. He was making such a mess of this.
“No, not at all. I’m more worried that I won’t measure up to your husband. He must have been your first love.” He didn’t want to think of her loving another. He wasn’t the jealous sort, but knowing he wouldn’t be first in a woman’s heart, that there had been another before him was unnerving. What if he never measured up to her first husband?
Lily looked away. He cursed himself for reminding her of her pain. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
“He wasn’t my first love. I cared about him deeply, of course, but in truth I was never in love with him.”
“But you chose to marry him?” Charles asked, curious. He tried not to rejoice in the thought that he might still be the first man to win this fascinating, beautiful, and intelligent woman’s heart.
Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Not everyone marries for love alone, you know. In fact, it’s quite rare.”
“I know. But I suppose I’ve always hoped that marriage for love would become the more expected practice.” He meant it. Marriage without love sounded like torture for everyone involved. A life of commitment should be built on a positive force like love, not just a legal contract.
Lily laughed, and he swore he heard bells ringing. “You are a romantic.”
“I suppose I am.” He glanced at the doorway again, half expecting Emily to burst in with another distraction. He needed to hold Lily in his arms, and while he fully expected that she wouldn’t let him, it was damned well worth a try.
“Stay there.” He got up and dragged an armchair in front of the door, careful to butt it up against the handle. Once he was satisfied the furniture would prevent them from being interrupted, he returned to the couch. Her gaze was eager too. He saw a little thrill in her eyes as she looked at him.
“My, my, aren’t we the wicked one?” Lily chuckled, and the sound went straight to his groin. Charles couldn’t wait another second.
He cupped her face in his palms and captured her lips. He tried to be gentle, was gentle at first, but her sweet taste went straight to his head like brandy. He feathered his lips against hers, coaxing her mouth open and slipping his tongue inside, only to find hers already searching for his. His hands framed her face and slid down her body, eliciting shivers and moans as he dragged his palms across her breasts and down to her waist and then the slopes of her hips as he pulled her closer to him. Then he lifted her in one fluid motion so that she sat across his lap, which brought her closer for his kiss.
