Passionate (34 page)

“Are you implying that you’ll have to
pay
someone to take me off your hands? A bride of my surpassing beauty and wit?”

“Of course not! I was only wondering.” Wondering if he would lose her soon. Someone would enter her life, someone courageous enough to breach her defenses. And then—then he would wish them well and all the happiness in the world. He swallowed. “The stretch ahead is clear—first one to that maple tree is the best rider in all England.”

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Caroline had spurred her horse past him. He thundered along just behind her, content to ride hard, if only for a handful of moments.

“I win!” she crowed, turning her horse in a circle around him. “You owe me a forfeit.”

“I do? Not my dessert again.”

“Silly.” She sobered. “No, James, you must tell me the truth. What happened in Tunisia?”

James turned to look at her, the bright eyes, brown as his own, the wide lips, capable of engaging smiles and spiteful words, the curiosity and affection written across her face.

“What do you mean?”

“You must tell me,” Caroline said, “about a certain Miss Lily Strathmore who was mentioned rather frequently in your letters, but who has not been spoken of once since your return.”

“There is nothing to mention.”

“James.” She gave him a penetrating look. “What happened? You seemed absolutely stricken when I mentioned her name just now. You may as well tell me.”

“Because?”

“Because if you don’t I will have to call on Miss Strathmore myself and ask her. I’m your sister, James. I want to help if I can, and provide a nice absorbent shoulder to cry on if I can’t. What happened?”

“Let’s go to the blasted Serpentine, then. I’ll tell you as we ride.”

It took the better part of an hour for Caroline to coax the sorry story out of him—minus certain details, of course. There were some things that could never be revealed. They were riding back through Mayfair when he finished.

“So you rode away, back to the valley? James, you deserve so much better.” Her voice was soft with sympathy.

“Better than a woman who’s betrothed to another, at any rate.” His lips twisted. “But enough of this. That story is over.”

“And we are home.” Caroline drew rein in front of Twickenham House. “Come in and have some tea. Or whiskey, if you prefer.”

“Tea with whiskey—there’s a thought. Don’t look so sad, Caro. The sun is out, Grandfather and Sir Edward have their flower. Everything has turned out for the best.” He followed Caroline into their uncle’s residence, trying to believe his own words.

In the parlor, James settled into a comfortable chair and let her pour.

“Are you really going to take whiskey in it?” she asked.

He made a face. “With my tea? I’m not that badly off. Lemon will do.”

She set the teapot down. “Are you planning to attend Lord Severn’s betrothal ball tonight?”

“No. I intend to put my feet up—or maybe take a bath and read something moody. Horses couldn’t drag me there.” Lily would almost certainly be attending. With her fiancé—if he wasn’t already her husband.

He took a swallow of tea, wincing as it burned the back of his throat.

“Be careful, the tea is just off the boil. Here, have a drink of milk.” Caroline quickly filled another cup and thrust it at him.

“Or a tea cake. Stop laughing at me. I’m sure the frosting will be quite soothing.”

“Doubtless. Tea cakes are universally known for their healing properties.”

She frowned at him, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Better than dry toast, at any rate. When was the last time you had a tea cake?”

“When I was twelve and knew no better.”

“Ha. They are one of the chief delights of English society.” She bit into the pastry. “Mm. Delicious. Speaking of bad tastes, you should be glad you weren’t here yesterday afternoon. Reggie came by and proceeded to have a terrible row with Uncle. Worse than their usual, it seemed.”

“He seems to have become even more bitter than he was as a youth. I suspect he was somehow behind the raid on the expedition’s camp.”

Caroline nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He has always been supremely self-centered, but it has grown worse with the years—there is something darker about him now, more desperate. And when it comes to you, James…”

“What of me?”

“Just the mention of your name is enough to drive him into a jealous rage. I don’t know why it has to be that way with him, but it is. Somehow he blames you for the problems between himself and Uncle, although I don’t see why. He brings it on himself. Take yesterday for example—he was literally shouting in the study.”

“Really? What about?”

Caroline raised her brows. “As if I would stoop to eavesdropping. What do you take me for?” She smiled and took a sip of tea. “Besides, the study door is too thick. Even when they raised their voices I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I’m positive I heard your name several times. It did not sound as if Reggie were very pleased. Afterwards he sought me out. After making his usual insulting remarks he mentioned Miss Lily Strathmore. Curious, don’t you think? He said he was planning to attend the ball to ensure that there were no unfounded rumors circulating about the two of you—which I naturally took to mean just the opposite.” She opened her mouth to say more, then gave him a worried look. “James, is it that serious?”

“What?”

“You just ate a tea cake.”

He forced himself to swallow, then took another gulp of tea.

“I can’t imagine what Reggie thinks to gain. Even if he suspected that Lily and I had formed an attachment, what bearing could it have now? It’s over.”

“Who knows what our cousin plans? Perhaps he thinks he can get at you through Miss Strathmore—or maybe he doesn’t intend to go at all.”

James rose, brushing cake crumbs from his trousers. “I should be off. Will you have enough time to get ready? I trust you have a suitable gown.” He went to the door and turned. “I’ll call for you at half-past seven.”

“For what?”

“The betrothal ball. Don’t be late.”

No matter how things stood between them, he couldn’t let Lily fall prey to whatever plot Reggie had hatching.

Chapter 22

“Welcome,
bella
.” The baronessa took Lily’s hands—her eyes alight with happiness, the gold-embroidered satin of her gown enhancing her radiance. She brushed a kiss over each of Lily’s cheeks. “And this handsome couple—these are your parents?”

Lily introduced them, though her stomach was in knots and had been all day. What if the baronessa mentioned James? She had been far too perceptive on the
Sidonia
. Even though Lily’s connection with James had been severed, it would still provide fodder for the gossips—especially in light of her impending engagement to Lord Buckley.

“My fiancé, Lord Severn,” Baronessa Bellini said, smiling up at the dashing blond gentleman at her side.

“Well met, Miss Strathmore. Maria has told me how much she enjoyed your company aboard the steamer.”

“It was entirely mutual, and it is a pleasure to meet you, as well.” Lily edged forward as she spoke—not difficult with the press of well-wishers in the receiving line behind her. The safety of the ballroom lay just a few steps ahead.

“But where is the so handsome gentleman that is keeping company with you?” the baronessa asked.

Lily froze. Please—not here, not now. She fixed the baronessa with an imploring look.

“Oh, you must mean Lord Buckley,” her mother said. “He will be joining us shortly. He has been in Lily’s company frequently, I must say.”

Baronessa Bellini’s brows drew together. “I see.” Though her look said clearly that she did not.

Lily spoke through the tightness in her throat. “Lord Buckley has been calling on me since my return. He has my parents’ favor—but please, do not let me keep you from your other guests.”

The baronessa took Lily’s hands again. “We will speak together soon. So much has occurred since last we saw each other, no?” She gave a gentle squeeze then turned back to the next well-wishers who were already offering congratulations to Lord Severn.

Lily felt weak as her parents led the way into the ballroom between two huge marble urns overflowing with white roses. She trailed behind. Thank goodness her mother had assumed the baronessa had been referring to Lord Buckley.

Out on the dance floor couples swirled like petals scattered over moving water, the gaslights glowed brightly, and white-liveried servants circulated with flutes of champagne for the guests. Lily took a deep breath and willed her heart to slow. It had been a close thing, but no damage had been done. And tonight, at last, she would see Uncle Edward and Aunt Mary. That alone was worth a day’s anxiety.

She scanned the crowd. Her aunt had written to say they would be spending a few weeks in London so Sir Edward could prepare for the Royal Horticultural Society’s upcoming meeting. Lily was certain they would not refuse the baronessa’s invitation. How she longed to see them again—even if it meant introducing Lord Buckley.

“Lady Fernhaven!” The shrill tones of Lady Wembly, one of her mother’s closest friends, interrupted Lily’s thoughts. She turned to see the violet-clad matron bearing down on them.

“And the Marquis of Fernhaven, of course. How good to see you. Where is that girl of yours? Come here, let me take a close look at you. Hmm, the sun in Africa did not seem to have permanently scorched you. Wear your bonnet without fail, child, or you’ll wind up freckled as a shepherdess.” She held Lily at arm’s length. “But what a lovely necklace—it matches your eyes perfectly, I declare.”

“Thank you.” Lily reached up, fingers tracing the teardrop pendant. The stone was warm where it lay against her skin. What matter that James had given it to her—it was only a piece of jewelry, after all.

Her mother nodded. “Lily brought it back from her travels. See how it complements her gown. I saw it on her dressing table this evening and I insisted she wear it.”

“It’s darling. A perfect choice,” Lady Wembly said. “Now tell me, Lady Fernhaven, what do you think of the profusion of white roses used in the décor?”

“Lily,” her father said, “Would you honor me with a dance?”

She mustered up a smile. “Of course. Unless you would prefer to stay and discuss the decorating scheme with Mother and Lady Wembly.”

“I think I will leave that to the professionals.” He offered his arm.

They stood at the ready, waiting for the music to begin.

“It will be lovely to see Uncle Edward again,” Lily said. “I’m not certain I will believe he has fully recovered until I set eyes on him.”

“I was quite concerned, myself, about what occurred in Tunisia. You never speak of it.”

“It was…” Lily took a breath, “difficult, I suppose. But all that is in the past.”

His look grew even keener. “I hope so. You have not seemed yourself since your return.”

She was astonished. Her father’s work in the House of Lords kept him quite busy during the season. They rarely saw him, except at the dinner table. She did not know what to say. That he had noticed either meant she had been more out-of-sorts than she thought, or that he paid more attention to her life than she knew.

She was touched. Some impulse made her want to confide in him, to explain what had happened between herself and James—how he had broken her heart. Lily bit her lip, afraid the words would slip out. It would only hurt her father, and there had been more than enough hurt already.

“Well,” he said. “There has been much to occupy your mind.”

“Yes, there has.”

She would miss him, she realized as he swept her into the opening of the dance. Even if she was no longer a child who could seek comfort in his arms, they could at least dance together.

Lily felt considerably better when they had finished. Her cheeks were warm, and a tendril of hair had unwound from her careful coiffure to tickle her neck.

Her father glanced down at her. “I see Lord Buckley has arrived. Shall we make our way over to him?”

“Of course.” She lifted her chin. “He was to meet us here.” There was no point in delaying.

As they approached Lord Buckley extracted himself from the circle of gentlemen he had been conversing with. “The Marquis of Fernhaven, how very good to see you. A great deal going on in Parliament this season, I understand. And Miss Strathmore. You are looking well.” He bowed perfunctorily over her hand.

Lily’s father turned his considering look on Lord Buckley. “Lord Abernathy wanted a word with me. May I leave Lily in your hands?”

“You may, sir, without fear.” Lord Buckley transferred her hand to his arm. “Some refreshment, Miss Strathmore? You look a bit…over-warm.”

“I was dancing.”

“Enthusiastically, it would seem.” He made it sound eminently undesirable to show enthusiasm for anything. “It is certainly a crush in here. I suppose Lord Severn must be pleased. society has approved his match to that Italian.”

“That
Italian
is Baronessa Bellini, and she is a friend of mine.”

He frowned, his gaze skating over her. “I shall fetch you some refreshment. Would you prefer lemonade or champagne?” He peered into the crowd.

It was clear he was not going to discuss her friendship with the baronessa or apologize for the way he had referred to her. At least not now. Lily sighed inwardly. “Lemonade, please.”

Over the course of their courtship she had noted that Lord Buckley somehow managed to spend very little time in her company. She did not doubt it would take him a rather longish time to return with her lemonade. Not that she minded. It was a match of convenience after all.

“I shall return shortly.” Lord Buckley stepped away from her. She watched him go. The man walked as if his shoes were too tight.

“Good evening, Miss Strathmore.” The voice came from directly behind her, making her heart jump. Lily whirled.

“Gracious, Lord Reginald, what are you doing here? Do you relish startling people?”

He was hovering uncomfortably close, dressed in impeccable black, even his waistcoat subtly embroidered with black silk. Lord Reginald made her a bow, dark eyes gleaming as they swept over her. “At one time I did enjoy startling people, but now it bores me. Besides, it was you who startled me, Miss Strathmore. What an unexpected pleasure. You have returned safely from your travels. Was the expedition everything you had hoped for?”