Lilly Blossoms (Lessons in Submission Book 3) (6 page)

Phillip stood and, bending down, kissed her cheek. "As I said before, you are an amazing woman, Eleanor."

* * *

Lilly's eyes kept moving between the flowers she was trimming and the stuffed squirrel that shared her small worktable. She'd been shocked to discover the grey animal sitting beneath the rose blooms but had instantly fallen in love with the stuffie. A very bushy tail curled around the squirrel's body. It was so soft, and the inspiration for her name. Lilly remembered every word of the note written on the piece of paper she'd found tucked between the stuffie's paws.

Miss Lilly –

Mr. Squirrel and I would be very happy if you would join us for a tea party among the flowers. Please let me know what day and time would be best for you. I hope you say yes and enjoy Mr. Squirrel's company until then. I promise there will be no bugs served.

Yours,

Phillip Carrington

PS: I hope your arm is healing well.

She'd been shocked that he had not only known her name, but had actually extended an invitation to tea. It took her a moment to deduce that he'd learned her name from the woman who had witnessed Mrs. Hollis screaming it that awful day. As for his invitation, she had been about to decline when she'd looked at his gift. The squirrel seemed to be frowning slightly.

"You are far too soft and lovely to be a male squirrel. I suppose we need to attend if just to inform Lord Carrington that you are Miss Bushy. Do you agree?" She didn't bother to stifle her giggle when she reached over and moved the stuffed animal, so it appeared that Miss Bushy’s nod indicated that she did agree indeed. Using the pencil he'd thoughtfully left, she had written her acceptance. She almost wished she could see his expression as he read her words and realized that she could indeed read and write quite legibly.

It wasn't until she had finished preparing her vase of flowers and taken Miss Bushy to bed with her that she began to have doubts. Why on earth would a man such as he want to have tea with a girl such as she? He was a titled member of the ton and she was nothing but a flower girl. Turning onto her side, her arms wrapped around the soft animal, she had no answer that satisfied her. All she knew was that something had pulled at her to accept his invitation. She hadn't attended a tea party in years, but remembered that she'd served hundreds of cups of pretend tea surrounded by her favorite dolls and stuffed animals. Giving the squirrel another squeeze, she pressed her face into the soft fur and fought not to shed the tears that were pressing against her eyelids. Seeing his face in her mind, she concentrated on his blue eyes and the dimple that appeared in his cheek when he had smiled, telling his silly story. The urge to cry disappeared as she hoped that he would tell her another. Maybe it was time to let the past go and maybe… just maybe… she could find a future that brought her peace.

Phillip quickly learned that, according to Eleanor's cook, Belinda Yardley, a proper garden tea party entailed far more than he'd imagined. "You are aware that there will only be two of us?"

"Tell me, Lord Carrington, exactly how many picnics have you prepared? Not attended, mind you, but prepared the meal or even packed the basket? Hmm?"

"None," he admitted, enjoying the show as the plump woman who ruled the kitchen bustled about the room.

"That's what I thought. A good host ensures a wide variety of offerings," Belinda said as she tucked yet another packet into a basket sitting on the large worktable. "I imagine you are trying to impress your guest?"

"Well, yes," Phillip admitted.

"Then imagine how unimpressed she'd be if the only sustenance you provided was a cucumber sandwich when she really had a craving for a taste of egg salad?"

"Or chicken, or ham or…" He lifted his hands in surrender when she dropped her hands to her ample hips and gave him a look that he was absolutely positive was same one she shared with the naughty girls sent to her domain to serve penance by performing kitchen duties.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Yardley; I not only admit you are far better equipped at packing what I'm sure will be a veritable feast, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not allowing my inadequacies to be discovered."

Belinda smiled and spun away, only to return with four of what had to be the largest biscuits he'd ever seen. After they were secured in the basket and she'd closed the lid, she said, "I won't have it said that Belinda Yardley let some poor lass go hungry. Don't you dare return that basket with a single crumb left. You hear me?"

Before he slid off his stool and took the basket, he reached out and snagged her, wrapping an arm around the older woman's waist and dropping a kiss on her cheek. "I not only hear you, ma'am, I will obey."

She huffed but smiled. "Have a lovely tea party, Lord Carrington."

"Thank you, Mrs. Yardley." He left the kitchen and walked towards the French doors to see Eleanor standing before them. "I can't thank you enough."

"You can thank me by showing Lilly a lovely time, though, by the looks of the clouds, I'm praying that the rain waits until after your tea party."

Phillip looked out through the panes of the double doors and quickly added his own prayer, then realized that Eleanor was speaking. "I'm sorry?"

"I just said that if nature ignores our prayers, there is a gazebo at the rear of the property. Just follow the path from your tree. It's a bit of a walk but I'm sure it could provide shelter."

"Thank you," he said. "Eleanor, would you like to join us? Mrs. Yardley packed enough food for a half-dozen, and…"

"That's very kind, but I think not," she said when he paused. Laying a hand on his arm, she smiled up at him. "Don't tell me that you are nervous?"

"A little," he admitted. "I was thinking that it might make Lilly feel more comfortable if another woman was there."

"Phillip, Lilly has been on her own for quite some time. If she weren't comfortable, she wouldn't have accepted your invitation. Besides, I believe that Miss Bushy will be chaperoning?"

He grinned and nodded, a bit amazed that she remembered the name Lilly had given the stuffed animal.

"Then go. It wouldn't do for Lilly to pop through the hedge only to discover that her host was late."

Phillip walked down the path, wondering why he was nervous. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He'd escorted many women to high society soirees, balls, luncheons, and attended many a tea hosted by mothers who were offering not only biscuits and scones with lemon curd and clotted cream, but had also been offering their offspring. None had ever caused him to worry that he wouldn't measure up to their expectations. Why then did he feel as if he'd feel crushed if Lilly found him lacking?

Reaching the bend, he turned, giving his surroundings a quick scan, grateful that he was the only person in the area. Placing the basket on the bench, he grinned and bent down, picking something up off the ground. Lifting the lid, he tucked the items inside and then moved behind the long row of bushes. Eleanor was right; it certainly wouldn't do for his guest to think he'd changed his mind. He most certainly hadn't, as he'd thought of little else since reading her acceptance. His smile widened and his nerves settled when he heard rustling. Moving to the opening in the hedge, he squatted down and, when a head full of black curls popped out, he held out his hand.

"Welcome, Miss Lilly. I'm so very glad you came."

* * *

Lilly had considered not coming several times during the past week. She'd continued to ask herself why he'd want to see her again, telling herself he couldn't possibly be interested in a flower girl. Though an innocent, she wasn't ignorant of what men desired. Her penny novels told of knights in shining armor, or of a prince wandering his kingdom in search of his princess. She'd yet to read a tale of a lord having tea with a girl far beneath his station. However, every time she looked at the squirrel, she couldn't help but smile. It hadn't been presented in some jewelry case that when opened revealed a stunning string of pearls or a dazzling pair of ear bobs. No, it had been presented sitting in the dirt beneath a pair of roses, and yet it had been the perfect setting and the absolute perfect gift.

That morning, she'd awoken early and, after eating an apple, bathed and washed her hair. Its thick mass had taken a quarter of an hour to comb through, and hours to dry. It took her less time to dress, as she only had a few choices. She chose a dress of navy blue with capped sleeves. A piece of the white ribbon she'd bought from Jimmy kept her curls off her face. Though she knew her clothing couldn't compare to that worn by Rachel, she was clean and wore her best dress for the occasion. Now, hearing his welcome and seeing his hand, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to help her stand.

"Thank you for the invitation," she said softly. "We've been looking forward to joining you for tea."

"I must apologize," Phillip said.

Apologize? Was he about to inform her that he'd been nice enough to meet her in person only to inform her that he'd changed his mind? Was there to be no tea party? Her attempt to pull her hand from his was thwarted with him tightening his grip.

"Pardon me," he said, reaching out and running his finger down the long tail of the stuffed animal tucked beneath her arm. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant that I was too blind to see that your companion is indeed a beautiful girl worthy of her name." Her pulse slowed a bit as he gave a small bow. "It is a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Bushy."

"The pleasure is ours," Lilly said, a small giggle escaping before she caught herself. His smile showed his unconcern that her manners might not be quite proper. When he offered her his arm, she placed her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"I thought we would have our tea on the bench."

"Oh," she said, her face heating at his suggestion.
Relax, silly. It is only a bench. It's not like he is going to instruct me to lift my dress so he can lower my drawers
. Her pulse quickened as they walked around the end of the row and circled back towards the tree. It was a perfect spot to place a teacup. The surface of the bench was flat and stable.
Yes, think of it as nothing more than a small table
. She attempted to block out the other little voice in her head that was telling her it was also the perfect place for a man to sit and take a naughty girl across his knees for a spanking.

"Are you all right?"

"What?" She could feel her face heat even more. "Um… yes, I-I'm fine, thank you." She wondered what the penalty was for telling a flat out lie. The clenching of her bottom told her she knew exactly what the price for fibbing would be. But what surprised her was the flutter in her tummy and a tingle that seemed to be journeying south, making her wonder what hearing those naughty instructions from his lips would be like.

God, he'd not only think her a fool for her thoughts, he'd probably wonder at her sanity if he knew that her drawers were becoming a bit damp at the thought of his giving her a very tangible answer as his hand rubbed against her bare bottom before lifting to turn her rear rosy. Would he then cup her sex in his hand as he held her? Would his eyes widen in horror to discover that she was some sort of… of deviant? Her strangled gasp had him pausing a few feet from the bench.

"Lilly, look at me."

She couldn't. The moment he saw her flushed face or looked into her eyes, he'd know she was not only a flower girl… she was a girl with very naughty thoughts.

"Lilly, I know that something is wrong. I can't help fix it if you won't talk to me." When she shook her head and released his arm, he had her hand before she'd managed even a half-turn. "No, not this time. I'll not have you running again." Before she knew what was happening, she was being lifted off her feet and into his arms.

"Put me down!"

"Again, not this time," he said, his arms tightening a bit. "You are a very strong, capable woman, but it's time to stop running. Now, I want you to talk to me; tell me why you went from smiling to looking as if you'd seen a ghost. Do I frighten you?"

She buried her face against his jacket and when she took a deep breath in preparation to give him an answer, the scent of peppermint instantly calmed her. Yes, he'd think her a fool but she couldn't allow him to think she was frightened of him. He'd been nothing but kind to her.

"No, you don't frighten me," she said softly.

"I'm very glad. Will you please tell me what happened?"

She ran a few scenarios quickly through her mind, desperately trying to find something that could possibly make sense. Anything was better than the truth. Perhaps she could say she thought she saw… what? A monster? No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't a little girl who was afraid of monsters. But, perhaps a bug? No! A snake! Yes, every girl she'd ever known had been terrified of the reptiles! As she embellished the story in her head, she squeezed both Miss Bushy and his jacket lapel, each offering a sense of security. She nodded, satisfied with her tale, and then sat up to tell it. It was only then—only realizing that she had indeed sat up—that she realized he was already sitting—sitting on
the
bench holding her on his knee, almost exactly as Rachel's papa had held her after he'd reddened her bottom.

Her fabricated story slithered away like the snake she'd created and she finally looked up to see dark blue eyes studying her. She saw the line appear on his brow as he said, "It's not the bench, is it?" When she gasped and dropped her gaze, his finger lifted her chin. This time she saw the lines had disappeared and his dimple deepened with his smile.

"It's only a bench, little one." He paused and then bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I promise it can't hurt you. But, if you'd rather, we can spread the blanket out beneath the other side of the tree to have our tea."

She was surprised at his ability to garner her feelings about the bench, and very glad that he could not possibly know how his terms of address were affecting her. Why did his endearments make her feel as if she were safe, protected, cared for… cared for by him?
Don't be a fool, Lilly! He means nothing by it. He probably used the forms of address simply by rote. After all, he is Rachel's uncle
.

Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she considered that those words weren't endearments to him… well, not when directed at her. But now, he had to know she was an adult…

Why does he have to know? I didn't tell him and… and I actually brought a stuffie to tea. Sweet Lord, here you are thinking naughty, ridiculous thoughts and he thinks he is… what? Entertaining some poor waif who trespasses?

"How old are you?"

Make that a poor, rude trespasser
. "I'm sorry…"

"There's no reason to apologize. I'm twenty-seven."

In for a penny, in for a pound, right? You've already proven you are rude… might as well get it all out.

"I just meant… well, you call me little one or little girl… why? I don't know how young you think I am… I mean, I know I look younger and I'm not very… um, filled out but—"

"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable…"

"No!" Could she just slink back through the hedge now? "I mean, you don't… make me uncomfortable. I like you… I mean it… I mean, I'm not really little." Did people actually die from having their foot stuck in their mouth?

"So you informed me when we first met," he said, giving her a smile, not blinking an eye, as if her fumbling words were perfectly normal conversation.

"I'm nineteen."

"And a very beautiful nineteen, who I believe is filled out just perfectly."

Oh! What… how do I respond to that?
She couldn't. Instead, she sat with her eyes downcast and her cheeks heating.

"Lilly?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I'm fine," she managed, though she was pretty sure that if she said that she was feeling ill, he'd believe her. After all, she was acting like some, some… Sighing deeply, she realized she truly had no idea what to call herself at this moment.

"I'm not too sure that you are, but I was going to remind you that you never did answer my question."