One Night for Love (30 page)

Lily looked up. As usual Elizabeth was the epitome of understated elegance in a dark-green high-waisted gown, her blond hair dressed in a smoothly shining coiffure. She was the quintessential aristocrat, daughter of an earl, educated, accomplished, a woman of immaculate but easy manners. And she was asking to sit beside a sergeant’s
daughter—Lily Doyle? Well. Lily had always been proud of her father; she cherished fond memories of her mother; she had grown up liking and respecting herself. Her self-respect had faltered during those seven months when she had chosen survival over defiance, but it had recovered. There was nothing in herself or in her life and background of which she was ashamed.

She nodded and returned her gaze to the darkness of the outdoors.

Elizabeth drew a chair close to Lily’s and seated herself. She took one of Lily’s hands in both her own. They were warm. For the first time Lily realized that she was still cold despite the blanket and the fact that the evening air was not so very cold after all.

“How I honor you, Lily,” Elizabeth said.

Lily looked at her in surprise.

“You have done what is right for both Neville and yourself,” Elizabeth said. “But it was not easy to do. You have given up a great deal.”

“No.” Lily shook her head. “It is not difficult to give up Newbury Abbey and all this.” She gestured about her with her free arm. “You do not understand. This is the sort of life to which you were born. I grew up in the train of an army.”

“What I meant,” Elizabeth said gently, “was that you have given up Neville. You love him.” It was not a question.

“It is not enough,” Lily said.

“No, it is not, my dear.” Elizabeth agreed. They sat together in silence for a while before she spoke again. “Neville says that you wish to find employment.”

“Yes,” Lily said. “I do not know what I am qualified to do, but I am willing to work hard. I think perhaps Mrs. Harris, with whom I came to England from Lisbon, will help me find something if I ask her.”

“I can offer you employment,” Elizabeth said.

“You?” Lily stared at her.

Elizabeth smiled. “I am six-and-thirty years old, Lily,” she said, “and long past the age of needing chaperones wherever I go. But I am a woman living alone and there are conventions to be observed. I am expected to have a companion in residence and in tow whenever I venture out without male escort. I had Cousin Harriet with me for five years, but she was provoking enough to marry a rector just four months ago and leave me companionless. I was delighted for her, of course—she is older than I and has always believed that a woman is not a complete person until she gives up her personhood in order to marry. And, really, Lily, she was a trial to me. Two women so different in character and temperament it would be difficult to find. I need a replacement. I need a companion. Will you be she? It would be a salaried position, of course.”

Lily despised herself for the rush of gladness she felt. But it would not do.

“You are kind,” she said. “But I am in no way equipped to offer you companionship. Consider my deficiencies—I cannot read or write; I cannot paint or play the pianoforte; I know nothing about the theater or music or—or
anything
. I am not of your world. If you found your cousin tiresome, you would soon find me impossible.”

“Oh, Lily.” Elizabeth smiled and squeezed Lily’s hand, which she still held. “If you knew how dull life can be for a woman of
ton
, you would not so readily reject my offer. One is cabin’d, cribb’d, and confin’d at every turn, to borrow a phrase. One is subjected to insipid company, insipid entertainments, and insipid conversation, largely because one is a woman. You cannot know, perhaps, what a delight you have been to me in the past week and a half. You think you have nothing to offer by way of companionship because you do not know the things that I know. Well, I know them, my dear. I do not need to be told them by
someone else. But I do not know the things
you
know. We could share worlds, Lily. We could entertain each other. Life with you in my home would be great
fun
, I daresay. And you have a lively, intelligent mind, even if you do not realize it—intelligence is
such
an important attribute. Do say you will come—as my friend. For convenience’s sake you would be my employee since you will need something on which to live. But to all intents and purposes you would simply be my friend. What do you say?”

She would be an employee, Lily thought. But within the confines of her employment she would also be a sort of equal. Elizabeth did not believe they were of unequal mind or intelligence. She believed that Lily would have as much to offer a friendship as she did. Lily was not quite convinced, but the temptation to say yes was strong. Overwhelming, in fact, when the alternatives were so few.

“Perhaps for a short while, then,” she said. “But if you find that I am not what you expect, then you must tell me so and I will leave. I will not be anyone’s charity case.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “I would not bring anyone into my own home out of charity, Lily,” she said. “I have far too great a regard for my own comfort. But I agree to your terms. And they will work both ways. If you find after a while that I am impossible to work for, then you must tell me so and I will help you find something else. Can you be ready to leave in the morning?”

“Sooner,” Lily said fervently. “But I promised that I would stay tonight.”

“And quite right too,” Elizabeth said. “Neville is not happy with the turn of events, Lily. Not happy at all. You are not intending to leave behind all your new clothes by any chance, are you?”

“I must,” Lily said. “They were bought for his wife. I am not his wife.”

“But he would be dreadfully hurt if you did not take
them with you.” Elizabeth told her. “Sometimes pride can be selfish. Will you take them as a gift from him? It is not wrong, my dear. It is not greedy. It is the right thing to do. It would be cruel not to.”

“Lily bit her lip. But she nodded.

“Splendid!” Elizabeth got to her feet. “We will leave early. Try to sleep?” She bent and kissed Lily’s cheek.

Lily nodded. “Thank you,” she said. But she stopped Elizabeth before she reached the door. One troubling possibility had occurred to her. “Will the Duke of Portfrey travel with us?”

“No. Provoking man.” Elizabeth laughed. “He left this afternoon. He is not going straight to London and may not be there for a few weeks. But he did not abandon me, you know—not that I have any claim on his company anyway. Webster and Sadie will be accompanying us in their own carriage—and Wilma, of course. And Joseph will be leaving at the same time as us, though I expect he will ride on ahead at a pace more suited to his youth and gender. Fortunate man!”

Lily nodded and felt enormous relief. The Duke of Portfrey had gone. He would not be in London for a while. But he had left this afternoon? Suddenly? After he had made his attempt on her life, perhaps? Had he assumed success? But she was horrified by the direction of her thoughts. There had been no man. And even if there had been, there was no proof he had been the Duke of Portfrey. It might as easily have been a woman anyway. But if it had been Lauren, then there would be no more stalking or attempts at creating accidents. Lauren would be free to secure Neville’s affections again. In all probability there had been no one at all. That fallen rock really had been an accident.

She closed her eyes after Elizabeth had left and rested
her head against the back of the chair. She thought about her wedding and her wedding night, about the dream of reunion that had kept her sane during her captivity, about the long, lonely, dangerous trek back to Lisbon and the fruitless search for him there and for someone to believe her story, about the long voyage to England and Newbury, about finding him in the church in the village about to marry someone else, about all the events of the past week and a half.

About last night.

Two tears escaped from beneath her eyelashes and ran unchecked down her cheeks to drip onto her dress.

And about this afternoon’s disclosures in the library.

She had not yet fully faced the reality of a shattered dream. She dared not look into the future. It appeared brighter now, or at least more secure, than it had an hour ago, it was true. But it was to be a future lived without
him
. Without Neville.

There had always been Neville since she was fourteen, even though for four of those years he had been unattainable and for a year and a half he had been unreachable. But always there had been the dream of him. Dream and reality had touched last night—she had been quite aware even at the time that it was a mere touch that could not last. But she had not realized that so soon they would be completely severed. She had not realized that by tonight she would have reached the end of her dream.

Even though she still loved him and always would.

Even though he loved her.

The end of the impossible dream.

Well, she thought, opening her eyes and getting to her feet in order to prepare for bed, she would survive. That had always been the chief purpose in life of the people with whom she had grown up—simply to survive. She
would do it. Perhaps somewhere in the future there was another dream waiting to be dreamed. She could not imagine it now, but she could hope.

She could dream about a dream. She smiled at the absurdity—and the sustaining hope—of the thought.

Neville did not get drunk. He sat in the library with the Marquess of Attingsborough and toyed with the temptation to seek temporary oblivion while he downed two brandies in quick succession, but he drank no more. Liquor would not cure what ailed him. It would only cloud his mind for what must be faced in the morning.

Lily was leaving him in the morning.

“I wish there were something to say, Nev,” the marquess said, setting down his own half-empty glass—his first. “When I was at the church with you nine days ago, I thought there could be no worse disaster than what happened. But there was, damn it. There was this.”

“Do you think wringing her neck would help?” Neville chuckled, but the attempt at humor, black as it was, only made him feel worse. He rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes.

“She is a rare one,” Joseph said. He chuckled inappropriately. “Who else but Lily would have the deuced nerve to refuse you? Especially when there seems to be nothing else for her. And more especially when she is devilish fond of you.”

“Perhaps Elizabeth will persuade her to change her mind,” Neville said hopefully. “What will I do if she fails? I promised Lily’s father I would look after her. I made her vows. I—Well, all this has little to do with promises and vows. I—You would not understand, Joe.”

“Being an inanimate block who has never tumbled into love and dreamed that he has found that one and only love he would never tumble out of again?” his cousin said ruefully. “Your feelings for her are pretty obvious, Nev, and look pretty enduring to me. I have envied you. We have all fallen a little under Lily’s spell.”

But Elizabeth stepped into the room at that moment, and they both scrambled to their feet. She looked significantly at their glasses but made no comment.

“Well?” Neville’s hands had formed into tight fists at his sides.

“Lily will be coming to London with me in the morning, Neville,” she said. “She has accepted employment with me. As my companion.”

“
What
?” Neville could only stare at her incredulously.

The marquess cleared his throat and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“It is what she has chosen,” Elizabeth said calmly. “It will be a respectable position for her, Neville.”

“Did you even try to persuade her to stay and marry me?” he asked her. But her expression gave him his answer without the need of words. All his pent-up anxieties exploded in anger. “You did not, did you? You had no intention of doing so. You deliberately misled me. Do you too want to take her out of the way, Elizabeth, so that the stage will be cleared here for a resumption of things as they were? Nothing can be as it was. Lily is my
wife
. I
love
her. Can no one understand that fact just because she is not a
lady
? She is lady enough for me. She is
my
lady. I am going to go up there now and—”

“No, Neville,” she said quietly before he could take more than one purposeful step in the direction of the door. “No, my dear. It would be the wrong thing to do. Wrong for you. Wrong for Lily.”

“And you know what is right for us?” Neville’s eyes blazed at her.
“You
, Elizabeth? The spinster aunt? What do
you
know of love?”

“Watch it, Nev, old boy,” Joseph said quietly.

Neville raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. “I am sorry,” he said. “Oh, the devil. Forgive me, Elizabeth. I am so sorry.”

“I would be worried,” she said, quite unruffled, “if you did not react to all this with passion, Neville. But listen to me, please. This may very well prove to be the best thing that could have happened for both of you. You love her—I do not even need to ask if it is so. But you must admit that your marriage stood every chance of turning into a dismally unhappy one. Perhaps the next time you offer Lily marriage there will be more than just love and obligation to bring you together.”