Season For Surrender (A Danby Family Novella Book 2) (9 page)

Lillian glared. “I’m afraid I’m going to
disappoint you, and I hate that. Damn you.” With those words, she turned on her
heel and disappeared through the iron gate and into the house.

Nick grinned. It didn’t matter that she
was angry. What was really important was that she didn’t want to fail him. It
was a small step in the right direction. If she truly had a dead heart as she
claimed, she wouldn’t care at all how she made him feel.

Lillian stayed in her room for the rest
of the day and night. On Saturday she awoke with every intention of remaining
there like the coward she was until she was summoned downstairs, but when the
servant came to clear the luncheon tray and made an offhanded comment that his
lordship had gone to Town on business Lillian jumped at the chance to escape
her room. She was feeling as if she was trapped in a cage, never mind she knew
perfectly well it was one of her own making.

She wanted to be happy and in love, but
to love Nick and allow him to love her she had to trust him and forget Lord
Derwent. How could she do either of those things? True, Nick already had much
more of her confidence than she’d meant to give him, but could she take that
final step and give him her whole heart?

After dressing, she left her room and
wandered Nick’s house. Every servant she encountered smiled and several offered
tales of how much they loved Nick and how wonderful he was to them. Lillian bit
her lip on a smile as she made her way to the garden. Clearly, the servants
knew something was amiss and they were trying to help Nick. That spoke volumes
in her mind for his staff to adore him so much they would try to persuade her
to see his gallant side. That was not the problem. Every action Nick had taken
since the day he met her had shown her his goodness. She didn’t doubt him. It
was herself she questioned. Could she make herself whole once more? Did she
really want to try? There was safety in going along alone as she had.

Once outside, she made her way to the
garden, laughing at the paint still splattered on the grass from their antics
yesterday. And an easel was still standing. It was rather odd that the servants
hadn’t cleared away the mess, but the closer to the easel she came, she
realized by the fresh smell of paint in the crisp, winter air someone had
recently painted. It had to have been Nick.

Her heartbeat quickened as she stopped
in front of the canvas. A strangled cry of joy escaped her. Trembling, she read
Nick’s signature scrawled at the bottom then moved her gaze over her own face
he’d painted. It was her, but surely not. This woman was exquisite with high
cheekbones, flawless skin, a chin tilted up in determination and eyes glowing
with life. She wanted to be as Nick saw her. Strange and disquieting thoughts
whispered through her mind growing louder and more comforting with each passing
second. She
could
be that woman. All it would take was a leap of faith.

Nick’s gut clenched as he waited at the
foot of the stairs for Lillian to come down. He’d not seen her since yesterday,
but she was still here, so that was good. Tonight was his last chance to
impress upon her how wonderful their life could be together. This week had
shown him it didn’t take long to fall in love. All it took was the right
person. His throat ached with the need to tell Lillian he loved her once again.
Maybe tonight when they were sitting in his box at the theatre.

All he wanted to do was make her happy,
even if, God help him, it meant letting her go.
Please, God, let her want to
stay
.

Footsteps above him drew his attention. Mrs.
Prewitt, the new lady’s maid he’d hired for Lillian, and his butler Dickens
descended, each wearing matching frowns. Uneasiness made Nick stiffen. “Is Lady
Edgeworth still dressing?”

Mrs. Prewitt shook her head and came to
stand in front of him. Her right eye twitched as she extended an envelope to
him. He glanced at the envelope, noting the elegant way his name swirled across
the paper.
Lillian.
A cold knot formed in his stomach. He took the paper
even as he asked, “Where is Lady Edgeworth?”

Mrs. Prewitt pressed a hand against her
chest, as if to contain herself. “I don’t know, my lord. I went to help her dress
several hours ago, and she declined my assistance.”

“And?” Nick tried not to roar the
question at his distraught servant.

Mrs. Prewitt wrung her hands, her gaze
darting to the letter he held. “When I went to get her just now that letter was
on her bed.” He glanced at the envelope, afraid to open it and learn she’d left
him. What if this was a goodbye letter? Damn her. He loved her, and he didn’t
believe for a minute she didn’t love him too. She was afraid, that was all. He
wouldn’t let her live the rest of her life in fear. He ripped open the letter
and scanned the writing.

I
can’t go forward with my future until I put the ghost in my past to rest.
Please

understand.
Yours forever, Lillian.

Sheer black fright swept through him.
Derwent was the ghost of her past, or at least he was the only person alive she
could put to rest. Christ. Had she gone to kill Derwent? “Bring my goddamn
horse around.”

At Mrs. Prewitt’s gasp he paused mid-stride
towards the door and faced her. “Begging your pardon.” He turned without
waiting for her to respond, thundered down the hall and flung open his door. If
anyone was going to send Derwent to his death, it was going to be him, not
Lillian. He prayed he wasn’t too late to protect her from risking her life or
succeeding and then having to live with the guilt he knew she’d feel.

Lord Derwent, pinched-faced and pale,
leaned back in the chair opposite Lillian and offered her a thin, cynical
smile. She forced herself not to react. She was safe. He was moving slowly, due
to his injury, and besides that, the theatre was her domain. Martin, her props
mover, waited nearby in case she called for him. Steeling herself, she met Lord
Derwent’s dark, assessing gaze. His irritating smile widened. “I must say, I’m
surprised you summoned me, but I
knew
you wouldn’t last long without
wanting to see me.”

She wanted to spit in his face. Instead,
she smiled and prayed it appeared serene. “Did you?” Thank God her voice didn’t
tremble.

“Of course.” He struggled to his feet
and pressed his palms against the desk to bring his face came inches from hers.
“Your sudden marriage shocked me when I heard of it. Especially since you
always declined my offer of marriage, but then I figured it out.”

She jerked to her feet, not wanting to be
so near him. What she had to say didn’t require having to smell his sweat or
feel the draft of his fetid breath on her face. She strode around the desk and positioned
herself where she could escape if need be. He may be injured, but she wasn’t
going to take any chances. “What did you figure out?”

“You may now be married but you can’t
forget me. Can you? You called me here because Edgeworth’s prick doesn’t
satisfy you after having me inside you. Don’t worry, sweeting, once I’m
recovered I’ll gladly fill you up.”

She barely held in her bile as he jerked
towards her, his cane scraping the floor with his effort. Withdrawing the
pistol from the folds of her dress where she’d hidden it, she said, “Don’t take
another step. I didn’t call you here to kill you, but I can’t say I’ll regret
it if you force me to it.”

A satanic smile spread across his lips.
“You dirty little whore. You think you’ve enough guts to shoot me?”

She nodded, though her hands shook.

“I’ve the guts, Derwent,” came Nick’s
ruthless voice from the doorway. “And as luck would have it, I brought my favorite
pistol. I guarantee
you’ll
feel it when my bullet is inside of you.”

Lillian’s pulse leaped. She would have
whirled around to face Nick, but she didn’t want to turn her back on Lord
Derwent. He was a snake. Nick stepped close to her, a firm, possessive hand on
her shoulder. She didn’t mind one bit. It had been stupid not to tell him what
she was doing, but she was afraid he wouldn’t want her to do it. She loved him
so much, she wasn’t sure she could have gone through with her plan if she’d
known it upset him.

“Edgeworth.” Lord Derwent blanched. “I,
that is, I wasn’t aware―”

“Be quiet.” Nick’s fingers tightened on
Lillian’s shoulder. “If you keep talking, I’m definitely going to shoot you
again.” His emotionless tone left no room for doubt. Lillian stepped closer to
him, her back coming up against his hard body. He stroked her arm. “My dear, I
assume you arranged a meeting with Derwent because you’ve something you wished
to say to this worthless weasel and not because you want to kill him.”

“As usual you know my mind, dearest.”
She hoped Nick understood how much she appreciated that he hadn’t barged in and
tried to take charge of everything. His presence and understanding gave her
confidence. She raised her chin and stared at Lord Derwent. “You did
unspeakable things to me. But know this, I’ll never think of you after today.
Nick has shown me what a real man is like. I thought all men
small
,
rutting pigs because you were the only man I ever knew in intimate ways. But my
husband has shown me what a real man is made of.”

Lord Derwent opened his mouth to speak
but Nick waved his pistol. “Please talk, so I can put a hole right between your
eyes. Shooting you in the leg wasn’t near as satisfactory as I thought it would
be.”

Lord Derwent pressed his lips into a
tight line.

Lillian understood something about him
with abrupt clarity. “You crave power.” His face contorted. The chains of shame
and fear that he’d burdened her with fell away. She pointed a finger at him.
“You have no power over me anymore. My father forced me to you, and he’s dead.
I would have never gone to you of my own volition. Get out. I’ve already
forgotten you.” She kept her gaze on him. Courage and strength unlike anything
she’d ever known were like a rock inside her.

He started to hobble past them, but Nick
grabbed his arm. “Don’t forget what I told you before. I’m going to be watching
you, listening for any word of misconduct towards a woman or even the tiniest
hint of a rumor I don’t like. Do you understand?”

Lord Derwent jerked his head, and when
Nick released him, he limped out the door. Lillian faced her husband. The
shadows of fear that had held her back from giving her heart to him disappeared
amid the bright light of his caring eyes.

His tight expression relaxed into a
smile. “So you’re not leaving me?” The muscles at his jaw quivered.

She ran a finger down that strong jaw
and slid it farther down his chest and over his heart. “I love you. I’m sorry I
didn’t tell you last night, but first I had to learn to leap. I think I fell in
love with you the very day I met you.”

“That’s very good to hear.” His husky
voice made her tingle all over. “I love you irrationally. A little bit ago,
when I received your note, I was prepared to break my vow to myself to let you
go, even if it was what you wanted.”

“What were you planning to do with me if
I wanted to leave you?” She loved that she wanted to tease him and taunt him.
Elation coursed through her.

He drew her tight against his chest. “I
was going to kidnap you, like my grandfather did my grandmother. And then I was
going to show you, with painstakingly slow, sensual caresses, how exquisite and
empowering two people coming together could be.”

When he dropped his gaze from her eyes
to her shoulders to her breasts, her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. “Well,
my lord, you won my heart this week with your kindness and tenderness. Now I’d
like to see how you win my body.”

He swept her weightlessly into his arms.
“Your wish is my command.”