Chapter Seven
Would the afternoon and evening never end?
Lily sighed, accepting a glass of sherry from a footman as they awaited the bells to go into dinner. Pinkie stood beside her, having maneuvered his way to her to discuss horses.
She liked him, tall and blond and full of life. Gay, too. But becoming a bit of a bore now that she had a chance to enjoy Julian’s company.
“I should like to invite you to view my Arabian,” he said in his clipped British accent. He had a habit to speak so rapidly that she had to concentrate to understand him. “A house party.”
“House party?” she asked, like a loon.
“You’d like his looks.”
“Whose?” She was searching for Julian. Where was he?
“My prize horse.”
“Horse. Arabian. Right. I know cutting horses, my lord. You’d have to tell me what to appreciate in him.”
“I would educate you, never fear. I say, are you well? You’re squinting at me.”
Oh, blast your rapid fire, sir. “Very well. Fine. Perfectly. Thank you. Do go on.”
She spotted Julian enter across the room, his dark eyes sadder than a wet hound dog’s as Hilda Berghoff presented herself at his elbow. Stifling a laugh, Lily focused on Pinkie who rambled on about his “superb creature” who would win him races and purses.
Lily could care less. She preferred to dream of riding with Julian. The dangers were many and could be disastrous, even enduring. Still she yearned for the excitement of it. More minutes with him. Alone. And to ride freely. Of course.
But the crux of her anticipation was that she trusted him to keep their secret—and she had no evidence she should. He’d been so casual about the offer, it shocked her. Would he offer such an escapade to an English lady? Or was she ripe for tricking? Mocking? He was a man of his class with all its foibles, and as such, he could disregard society’s rules and live to tell about it. Could she trust her instinct that with her, he might be honorable?
Julian’s gaze met hers and the small smile curving his lips had her pulse beating faster. He’d been quick to name the arrangements for their ride. One hour after everyone had retired, he would meet her at the far end of Carbury’s stables. Julian would escort her to his own stable block where he would have instructed his groom to saddle two horses for them. And hers would bear a man’s saddle.
With a resounding thrill singing through her veins, she found herself staring like a loon into the eyes of Elanna Ash who had approached her and Pinkie. By her side was a doting Carbury.
“Horses?” said their host. “Don’t care to know much of them. You, Elanna?”
“No, my lord. I prefer tamer pleasures. Art, for one.” She faced Lily. “Have you visited the South Kensington Museum since you’ve been here, Miss Hanniford?”
The young lady’s words held notes of desperation in them and Lily feared she knew what caused them. “I’m sorry to say I have not. Do you enjoy it?”
“I do very much.” Elanna trained her gaze on her with hot intensity as if to hold Lily’s interest by force of will.
Lord Carbury stood, frowning into his wine. He’d acquired a pettishness whenever Elanna gave her attentions to someone else.
Had Elanna been too much pursued by Lord Carbury?
Lily was happy to offer diversion. “I like museums. Please tell me about the exhibits.”
Elanna went on about the collection of furniture of recent periods. “Textiles from all over the world are displayed. I adore the Chinese silks, embroidered in threads of vibrant shades.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Lily smiled at her. “Perhaps after we return to town, we could all visit the museum together?”
“I’d like that very much,” Elanna said and turned to Julian who had entered their circle. “What do you say? Would you attend us?”
“I’d be delighted to offer my escort.”
Elanna leaned toward Lily. “Chelton is modest. He knows more about the Chinese silks than I, and he’s always eager to share his knowledge.”
And there it was, another reason to be in Lord Chelton’s company. An offer that sent a ripple of glee through Lily. She was becoming quite a goose about how well she liked the man.
She caught his eye. “How is it you have an understanding of Chinese fabric?”
“For more than three decades, our family traded in Shanghai. Our principle export was silk fabric and silk worms to England and France until recent peasant revolts near the ports cut off our supply and our factories were burned.”
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Lord Carbury lean toward Elanna. “My dear, would you care for more wine? The footman stands ready to—”
Elanna grew flustered by Carbury’s intrusion into the conversation. She stared at him, then at his footman and found her voice. “No. Thank you. I wish no more.”
The butler appeared at the doorway and announced the service.
“We should go in,” Carbury said to her in a low voice that brooked no argument. “Would you lead the way?”
“My lord,” Lily heard Elanna whisper to him, “it is not my place.”
His lips thinned. Anger glistened in his eyes. “It could be.”
“As the ranking woman here, my mother should have your arm, sir,” she responded.
He glared at her.
A tingle of foreboding electrified Lily. What was the man about? The glint in his eye—of possession—was fiery. One that set Elanna back on her heels. One that had Lily fretting.
Carbury excused himself and went for the duchess. Throughout dinner, the man said barely a word. If others noticed, no one seemed to let the conversation lag.
At last, the six courses were ended and the women departed to the drawing room for tea, while the men remained for their brandy and cigars. That too, was short as the duchess and Elanna made their excuses to retire early.
Eager to escape upstairs and change her clothes, Lily grinned at Marianne as they hooked arms and made their way up the staircase.
“You’re chipper,” Marianne said. “Had a good time gazing down the table at a certain gentleman, did you?”
“Shhh.” Lily made big eyes at her.
“No one hears,” whispered Marianne, “except the footmen who are supposed to be deaf. Blind, too, I hear. So tell me. What’s going on between our host and lovely Lady E, hmmm?”
“Unrequited feelings?”
“I’ll say.”
“I didn’t detect a mean streak in him when we first met him,” Marianne said.
“No. Still.” Lily worried. “He does intend to ask for her.”
“Fool’s errand that will be. She won’t be accepting him,” Marianne whispered.
“Or maybe she will.” Lily had to tell Julian. He’d want to know that Carbury might not be the perfect gentleman.
As they reached Lily’s door, Marianne stopped. “Tired? Come to my room?”
“No. I can’t.”
Marianne tipped her head in question.
Lily hoped no sign of her coming escapade played in her expression. “I’m done in.”
“All right,” she said with some misgiving in her voice. “Good night, then.”
“Sleep well.”
* * * *
The night air was brisk, the wind sharp as it rustled through the treetops and cut into the wool of Lily’s riding jacket. She’d escaped the house easily, shooing her maid off to bed. She’d dressed haphazardly, tucking her hair up in a net under her pert little hat and then running down the back servants’ stairs and out into the yard. She’d donned her trousers that she’d brought with her from Texas. The ones she usually wore on the ranch in south Texas fit her like a second skin, the wool tailored to her curves by her seamstress in Corpus Christi. She was far from fashionable but only Julian would see her. Somehow, she didn’t mind that. Despite the fact he was so high born, he seemed accepting of her American idiosyncrasies.
She strode across the pebbled yard toward the stables, pleased that the moon was bright enough to pick her way easily.
No one, thank goodness, was about. The lights from the house were few. Most of the guests had gone to their beds and she hoped that Marianne was among them. Lily had no desire to meet her cousin in the hall upon her return. She welcomed the secrecy of her rendezvous, treasured it even.
The stable was swathed in pale light and she heard only the flutterings of small creatures in the tall grasses beyond. There at the far corner of the stable was an irregular shadow.
Before she could speculate what it might be, a man stepped from the wall and into a beam of moonlight. No mistaking his well-cut silhouette anywhere. Dressed in a dark riding habit that fit his firm thighs and strong chest to perfection, he was quite stunning. Her breath stopped. She was meeting a man in the moonlight for the first time and she relished the adventure.
She grinned at her own boldness—and prayed it would not be her downfall. After all, found out, she’d never do this again. She’d be…oh, she didn’t want to think about the possibility that her father would send her home. Or make her marry some man whom she did not know and could not want the way she was beginning to want this one.
The joy of it all was too grand not to wish the experience to be repeated. With Julian.
“I’m so sorry to be late,” she said. “The ladies wanted to talk all night.”
“The men as well,” he said, his white teeth flashing in a wicked smile. He fell in at her side and offered his arm. “Allow me. Through the woods, you see. I don’t want you to trip.”
“Terrible. They’d ask how it happened.”
“And you couldn’t say you’d fallen in your bedroom.”
She feigned horror. “I tripped over the rug?”
“How could you be so clumsy?” he asked.
“So indelicate. My, my.”
The forest was thick but the path he led her on had been cleared of branches. They trod on a thick carpet of leaves, their footfalls subtle as whispers. They strode on for a while, their quiet companionable and comfortable for two people who’d known each other so briefly.
“You’ve come this way before, I bet?” she asked him.
“Often as a boy. I had a friend who was the estate manager’s son and we played together, traipsing through the forest, running like ruffians, pretending we were Robin Hood and his merry men.”
“Stealing from the rich?” she asked him, catching a glimpse of his far-off expression and smiling at his fond remembrance.
“Bringing justice to the peasants.”
“Defying the sheriff.”
“A noble calling.” He grinned and patted her hand.
The clearing opened and she halted at the sight of a two-story house of white stone glimmering in the starlight. To one side stood the gray Seton stable block.
The folly of what she was about to do made her pause. She’d never been a hare-brained girl, taking chances, breaking social rules. But being with him felt not so much risky as audacious. She’d always envied women who could be. Women who said no to marriage, like Marianne. Women who did as they wished no matter the warning from men. Like her mother. What was it then to ride at midnight alone with an eligible man? In a man’s saddle. In britches.
“I hope you’re not having second thoughts,” he said and she glanced up to see concern wrinkle his dark brows.
“It’s not wise.”
“But you’re with me. If you wait all your life to seize the fun of being alive, look what you’ve wasted.”
“You’re a philosopher?” she quipped, accepting his reasoning.
“Tonight, I am.” He squeezed her hand. “Come ride. You’ll be so proud you were brave. Mischief is worth the risk. Besides, I bet you’d do it at home.”
“Oh, but there no one would know.”
“No one will know here, either.”
“At home in Texas, no one would blink an eye. Out on the range, women do ride like men and herd cattle, too. But here, Chaumont and others have warned that the whole family could be subjected to ridicule if Marianne and I stepped out of line. What if you have a servant who’s out and about, he could tell others—”
“He wouldn’t.
She flung back her head to gaze up at him. “Oh, Julian. I can call you Julian, can’t I?”
He searched her expression as if he met her for the first time. “I would think you must under the circumstances.”
“I couldn’t bear it if I were in the newspapers again. That cartoon of me on horseback was hideous.”
He swung toward her and looped an arm around her waist. “If he saw you now, he’d cry bitter tears that his talents were so shallow.”
“Your compliment is kind.” Exciting. “But if word gets out…”
“It won’t. I know that artist. Trust me, he wouldn’t dare it again.”
“How could you stop him?”
A mischievous light crossed his eyes. “Shoot him at dawn.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t that what they do in Texas?”
She laughed. “Sometimes. Before the sheriff arrives.”
“We have a sheriff who’s just as slow.”
She giggled.
He put a hand to her cheek. His touch calmed her, the heat of his skin on hers an endearment she hadn’t expected. “I’d gladly shoot him for you.”
“I’d hate to be the cause of you hanging.”
“I’d hate to see you insulted.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. His lips parted and he drifted closer. “Lily. I may call you Lily, can’t I?”
Her heart in her throat, she could only nod.
“Lovely Lily. Have you kissed a man before?”
She shook her head. Gulped hard. “Have you?”
He considered the sky and hooted in laughter. “No.”
Realizing her mistake, she laughed and rested her forehead against his chest. He stepped against her and the planes of his body were warm, solid temptation. He was aroused. She was flattered that he could be attracted to her…and she wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled closer to him.
“My lord?” a young lad’s voice interrupted them.
She pushed away. Where was her brain? Her sense of decorum?
Julian cleared his throat. “Yes, Colin. Good of you to do this for me.”
“And for me, Colin.” Lily smiled at the gangly young man who stood before them and pulled his forelock. “We’re grateful you came out so late at night.”
“Not a thought you should give it, milady.”
“Oh, I’m—”
“The lady,” Julian told him, “is honored you’ve done her and me the favor.”
“I’m pleased to do it, milord. Your horses are ready.”
“We won’t be long, Colin. Thank you.”
They mounted and urged the horses to a walk along a country lane. They spoke little, a quiet camaraderie Lily relished. The sounds of the wind rustling the trees was their only accompaniment.
“It smells like rain. Do you think it might?” Lily asked him.
“Perhaps. We’re not far from where I wanted to take you. Follow me. We may still have time before it starts.”
He spurred his horse to a trot and she followed him down the lane. At once, he stopped, turned and waited for her to catch up.
“There,” he pointed toward a flat plain before them. “If you’d like to try your hand at racing Polly, here’s your chance.”
She surveyed the terrain, rising in her saddle and smiling. “It seems to be more than three acres.”
“Four. You cannot see it well in the dark, but it’s a lovely clear expanse where you can enjoy yourself. Trust me when I say that Polly will, too.”
Lily patted the mare on the neck. “She’s very responsive.”
“Knows her manners, that one.”
“Will you ride with me?”
“Better yet. Shall I race you?” he offered.
“Why not? You know Polly’s speed better than I, especially against that fine beast you’ve got here.”
“Horatio knows when to let a lady win.”
“That’s not very sporting,” she challenged him with a tip of her chin. “You assume I’m no match for you.”
Horatio snorted.
Julian chuckled. “He knows Polly and you.”
“Doubtful, sir,” she teased him.
He arched a disdainful brow. “We’ll race. Straight to the stone barrier. You’ll know it when you see it. Four feet high, pale stone. No jumping it, mind you. Turn. Then back to this marker. Here under this tree.”
“And the winner gets to name her own prize.”
“Ha! What did you have in mind?”
“Another run tomorrow night?” she asked with giddy hope.
“Incorrigible, you are.”
“A deal?”
“Of course.”
She beamed at him. “Ready?”
Off they went, she in the lead and intent on winning, he at her heels and fast closing the distance.
Polly was a speedy lady and Horatio had met his match. It tickled Lily to bend low in her saddle, feel the power of the animal beneath her and admit that the surge of excitement flowing through her had nothing to do with the horse, the ride or the moonlight.
The freedom of it, that Julian had arranged it for her, raised her laughter and her appreciation of him. She liked him, much more than she’d anticipated, more than she’d predicted when they’d met in Paris. There, she’d been struck by his classic handsomeness, his form. There, she’d thought him imperial, so far above her socially that she’d been aghast at his attentiveness. Now that she knew him, she could acknowledge he was generous, kind and so attractive that she could not, would not ignore him.
At the turn, she stopped and hailed Julian with a grin of delight.
He scowled at her, his eyes full of mischief.
“I’ll beat you if you keep doing that,” he shouted.
She dug in her spurs and Polly responded with speed.
But Julian gave a good race, digging in only inches behind her.
At the final mark, she rejoiced in the win, proud that she’d risked exposure, grateful to him for the opportunity.
“We won!” She whipped her hat from her shoulder where it had fallen and dangled by its pins.
“By a nose!” He was laughing as he permitted Horatio to prance around her and Polly.
“Polly deserves a bucket of oats. And I’d like a firm promise of tomorrow night.”
Julian laughed. “You love the taste of risqué business, eh?”
“I won’t deny it.”
“I’ll risk it with you.”
Drops of rain hit her face. She pushed curls from her cheeks and dragged off her net caul. The wealth of her hair fell to her shoulders, hanging in long curls over her jacket.
His dark gaze shot to it and back to her eyes, where he lingered. His consideration heated her blood, making her shift in her saddle, noting the tension in her belly was new, welcome and unwise.
In the distance, the crackle of thunder rent the night air.
“We should return quickly. Come on,” he said and headed back toward the stables at a trot.
But the heavens opened in a steady downpour, the rain seeping into her jacket. Julian and she trotted straight into the open doors.
Julian was off his mount in a thrice and strode over to help her down. “You’re soaked straight through.”
“You, too.” She felt the wet wool of his jacket as she braced herself on his shoulders and slid to the earthen floor.
Colin appeared from the back of the barn, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he took the reins of Horatio and Polly.
“Thank you, Colin,” Julian said and then her turned to her.
“We must get you home before you catch a chill.” He glanced around the dim interior, then reached over to a line of tack hanging on the wall. He whipped off a horse blanket and stepped to her. “Here, let’s put this around you. I’ll go up to the house and get a coat for you. You can’t go back to Carbury’s in the pouring rain. Not wet as you are. I should have thought of this.”
“You cannot predict the weather.”
“Foolhardy of me, anyway. I should have taken better care of you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Now, you are. But if you take sick—”
“I’ve never been ill a day in my life.”
“Bloody well good for you.”
At his rough words, she threw him a smile.
“Sorry. But you need a change of clothes, a shot of whiskey and a good warm bed.”
“Hopefully, this downpour will end soon.”
He was rubbing her shoulders and securing the blanket around her throat tightly. “Only servants are in residence at the house. I’ll run up. My mother’s winter coat would fit you. Elanna’s would be too short.”
“So why don’t we both go? You need dry clothes, too.”
He tipped his head. “If we’re caught—”
“By whom? If no one in your family is there? Where is your father?”
“London.”
“So then.”
“Stay here.”
“Not on your life!”