Lyn Stone Page 12

  The next morning Lily awakened alone. She was glad of that. It would have proved most awkward waking up naked next to Guy after last night’s event. Perhaps he had thought so, too.

  She stretched her arms wide and smiled at his consideration of her modesty, even though he didn’t think much of the virtue.

  She wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about what had happened. A thoroughly wicked shiver ran through her just thinking of all she had allowed him to do. She could still feel his touch on her skin and was loath to wash it away.

  When she performed her ablutions in the dressing room, her mind wandered somewhat salaciously as she drew the wet washcloth over her body. Perhaps tonight he would want her again. She met her own gaze in the mirror and smiled. This time she might be able to ignore prudence altogether.

  “Nonsense, Lily!” she muttered. “You are not some silly goose with romantic flights of fancy. Behave yourself!” She actually giggled, glad at the moment she had no personal maid about to look askance at her private antics.

  From the first, when she had wed Jonathan, she had elected to bathe and dress herself as she had always done. It infuriated her mother-in-law and even caused Jonathan to raise a brow. But this was the one concession to her modest upbringing Lily had insisted upon, the absence of a maidservant to attend her personal needs.

  Admittedly, that insistence had as much to do with retaining marital privacy as it had with her former habits. Maids were notoriously nosy.

  For instance, if she had one now, the girl would be well aware of what had gone on in Lily’s bed the night before. And this morning, every servant in the house would be privy to it.

  She abandoned her ridiculous musings, dressed quickly and went downstairs to begin her day.

  Mrs. Prine informed her that Guy and Beau were in the nursery doing lessons, and that a guest had been waiting in the parlor for her this last quarter hour. It was Mrs. Oliver, the wife of the vicar who had succeeded her father at Edgefield Church, the housekeeper informed her.

  Lily hurried to greet the guest, embarrassed at staying so late abed this morning. It was nearly ten, early for visitors by city standards, but not so for country folk. “Mrs. Oliver, how nice of you to come.”

  The woman beamed. “So you’ve married our lord Guy. The news was most welcome, my lady.”

  “Thank you.” Lily accepted the envelope Mrs. Oliver handed her.

  “It’s a formal invite, my lady. We’d be most obliged if you would come. There’s those that’ll be there who recall when you was but a child tagging behind the reverend as he visited the infirm. They watched you grow up and missed you when you married Lord Bradshaw and moved up here.”

  Lily regretted the social distance her first marriage had demanded. Her father had died soon after she and Jonathan wed and her main tie with Edgefield Village had been severed.

  Though she had never met the wife of the current vicar before this visit, the woman seemed sincerely eager for Lily to attend the tea planned in her honor by the women of her father’s old congregation.

  No doubt Guy’s housekeeper had made the rounds in the community and spread the news of his marriage immediately after she and Guy had stopped at Edgefield Manor on the way here. “I would love to come, Mrs. Oliver. How dear of you to plan this for me.”

  The vicar’s wife nodded with satisfaction. “Then we’ll expect you the day after tomorrow at two in the afternoon.”

  “This is ladies only, I presume?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. It is the regular time for our weekly Ladies Circle meeting. I do hope you won’t mind a bit of discussion about our plans for good works.”

  Aha, so there was an underlying motive in addition to honoring the former vicar’s daughter and their local lord, Duquesne. Lily took Mrs. Oliver’s hand and pressed it between her own. “Only if you allow me to contribute to your efforts.”

  “Oh, ma’am, that would be ever so grand of you! Perhaps you would also consider attending services at Edgefield now and again. What with your father the former vicar and the earl and Lord Duquesne furnishing the living there…”

  “Of course.” She had missed the lovely old church and its congregation. It was much less imposing and certainly nearer by than the one she and Jonathan had attended in Maidstone. “We would be delighted. I shall speak to my husband about it.”

  She had no idea whether Guy would agree to attend church services with her or even if he was religious at all, but Lily resolved to go the very next Sunday and take Beau. Her memories of the church there were very happy and she was certain he would love it, too.

  After she had seen Mrs. Oliver to the door, Lily went up to consider what she would wear to the function. Nothing too fussy, she thought as she entered her bedroom. Something sedate. Perhaps the blue merino with the lace collar. She had so enjoyed the blue riding habit that had belonged to Guy’s mother, the countess.

  Almost everything else hanging in her wardrobe would be considered half-mourning and it was time she came out of that. It had been two years. The first twelve months she had passed wearing unrelieved black, as was proper. The second, she had changed her dress only in so far as adding a bit of trim here and there or donning the occasional dark purple of late.

  The colorful dresses she had worn before becoming a widow would seem like new to her. She rummaged in the trunk that had remained closed for so long.

  “Lily?” Guy greeted her as he passed her open door.

  She saw he was in riding attire. Though she knew she blushed, Lily managed to keep her composure. This was a morning like any other, she kept telling herself, but avoided meeting his gaze. She must pretend nothing had happened between them and hope that he did not insist on discussing it. Surely he was gentleman enough not to do that.

  With a deep breath, she introduced a topic to distract him just in case. “You missed our guest. You were with Beau?”

  He shrugged and ducked his head, looking a bit guilty. “We were out early riding and I thought to give him a hand catching up with his lessons. He’s diligent, that one. Smart as a whip.”

  She concealed a grin. “Is he now? Well, not if he was trotting about the fields when he should have been at his studies. What is he about at the moment?”

  “Totaling the accounts for grain. I gave him the figures from your books.” He came closer then, touching the dress she was holding up for inspection.

  “But those books are too difficult for a boy of seven, Guy,” she said gently, pressing a hand on his arm, unable not to touch him when he stood so close. “We must not give him too great a challenge with his limited knowledge of mathematics.”

  Guy scoffed. “It took me only five minutes to show him how it’s done. The boy amazes me, Lily,” he said, shaking his head. “I think he’s a thirty-year-old in the wrong body.”

  Her laugh burst out unexpectedly. In some respects, Guy seemed more a boy than Beau. She found it endearing that Guy’s hardships had not left him bitter and that he could still take joy in something so simple as a little boy’s achievements.

  Guy was like no other man she had known. Not gruff and strict as her father had been, nor concerned with propriety and etiquette like Jonathan. And Guy was as different from Clive as two men could possibly be. Jeremy Longchamps, Jonathan’s friend and Lily’s one suitor, didn’t even enter the realm of comparison. She decided Guy was perfectly unique.

  Lily realized then just how few men she had known well in her life. She had no frame of reference for dealing with one such as Guy. Considering that, perhaps she had not done so badly after all.

  What a relief that he seemed so at ease with her despite last night, not at all sly and suggestive as she had feared he might be. Her feelings of awkwardness fell away.

  “Come in, sit with me for a while and I’ll give you a bit of gossip.”

  “Gossip?” he asked with a grin. “That sounds delicious. What are you doing there?” he asked as she laid the gown she was holding across her bed.

  “Deciding
on the appropriate thing to wear day after tomorrow,” she told him, gesturing at the dress. “That’s to do with the gossip, by the way.” She lowered her voice as if to tell him a secret. “Did you know that Lord Duquesne’s staff has spread the word in the village that he’s wed that scamp who used to scratch her name on the back of the pews in Edgefield chapel?”

  “No! Has he really dared such a thing? Do you suppose the rascal abducted her or was it the other way ’round?”

  Lily laughed merrily as she lifted the blue gown and held it against her front. “Will this do for a tea, do you think?”

  “At Edgefield?” he guessed, frowning at the dress.

  She looked down at it. “What’s wrong? Is the lace too much? The color too bright? I’ve worn mourning for so long now, I thought—”

  “No, no, the frock’s lovely,” he answered, coming closer and putting his hand on her shoulder. “I think you shouldn’t go unless I accompany you and I daresay that’s out of the question.”

  “I’m afraid so. Ladies only.”

  He nodded, somewhat absently. “I thought as much.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Guy. They are neighbors and my father’s former flock. They’re doing this especially for me, for us, really. I must go.”

  His smile appeared again. “I’d prefer you take someone with you. How about Mrs. Prine and Mrs. Kale? Will that do?”

  “If you insist.” In fact, she was flattered by his continued concern. She felt more secure than she had since Jonathan had died. No one, especially Clive, would dare touch her now that she was married to Guy.

  Guy, a true gentleman despite his reputation, one who seemed perfectly willing to bow to her wish for modesty and to do precisely as he had promised with regard to her protection and Beau’s. Surely her troubles were over and her new life begun.

  Guy decided Lily would be safe enough traveling the five miles to the church at Edgefield if the other women went along. Clive was well aware now that Guy was on to his scheme. That in itself should prevent anything further happening, at least not right away. But he would keep a careful watch to be sure.

  For now, Guy intended to concentrate on building a better marriage. To that end, he had come to Lily’s room to speak with her about last night. That had proved impossible when greeted with that blush of hers. He couldn’t make himself embarrass her more than he obviously had done.

  For his own good, he needed to gain a bit of perspective on his and Lily’s new relationship. She was a lady to the core and he had known that from the beginning. Still he had hoped for a bit more of her adventurous spirit to surface in the bedroom.

  It was as if she had become a different person once they reached Sylvana Hall. Not shy and retiring exactly, but entirely too conscious of the starch in her petticoats. Danger had quickly dispensed with all that in London, but now she had reclaimed her training. He wondered whether he would ever see that devil-may-care, caution-to-the-wind side of her again. God, he hoped so.

  He had been profligate for too long, used to a much different sort of attachment. His experience with women of Lily’s station was admittedly lacking. The single ones had avoided him because he had no wealth to offer, and also because of his reputation. The others he had avoided. He had no wish to cuckold their husbands for the sake of momentary thrills.

  He had left her this morning while she’d still slept. After a brief glance, he’d refrained from looking at her. Damn, but he had wanted her again. He still did, right now, but it was the middle of the morning and she was hardly likely to desert her daily duties just to accommodate his lust.

  The idea made him smile, but it was a grim expression that mirrored how he felt. He and Lily had things to work out, but they were things best left to the night.

  When he strode into the stables, Beau stood there waiting, the little leather quirk slapping rhythmically against the top of his small, scuffed boots. The boy grinned. “Where shall we ride now, sir?”

  “I thought I left you working.”

  “All finished,” the boy said with a grin.

  “I need to visit my father,” Guy told him, “and then I’m on to Maidstone to handle a bit of business.”

  “Excellent. I should like to meet him,” Beau said, climbing upon the mounting block and propelling himself onto the saddle, working his little boots into proper position in the stirrups.

  “Your mother will be worried if you simply disappear.”

  “I told Mrs. Prine I was riding out with you.”

  Resigned, Guy nodded and headed out in the direction of his father’s estate. Beau caught up, jouncing along happily. “Is he truly mad?”

  Guy almost reined in to send him home. “Who said he was mad?”

  Beau shrugged. “I hear the servants talking. They were not mean about it. One, and I shan’t say who even if you whip me, declared it was a shame his old lordship left you to do all of the work of an earl without your having the grand title to go with it.” He clicked to his pony to go a bit faster, then said over his shoulder, “I think a viscount shouldn’t mind a bit of work. That title is grander than baron, and I don’t mind working.”

  Guy nodded. “Point taken.”

  “So is he mad, then?”

  Again, Guy nodded and answered the boy’s question as frankly as he had asked it. “He is. You’ll want to wait downstairs while I see to him.”

  “I’d rather not. I’ve never seen a madman before. Of course, I saw my mother, but I expect a woman’s is a different sort of madness, don’t you think?”

  Guy almost gaped, but managed to absorb the shock of the boy’s words before it was noticed. “Hold up a moment. What do you mean? What’s this about your mother?”

  “At the picnic,” Beau replied, slowing his pony to a walk. “She had a fit. Uncle had to restrain her. I was upset until he explained. Oddly enough, he was very kind that day.” The boy shook his head as if in wonder at the event. “Very unlike his usual self.”

  Lily had experienced a former episode that she’d neglected to mention? A shiver of unease crawled up Guy’s spine. “When did this happen?”

  “Last month. We brought her home and put her to bed. When she awoke, she seemed as well as ever.”

  Guy remained quiet as he mulled over the unwelcome news. After a while he asked the boy, “Were there any other incidents such as that?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I feared it was the madness that made her leave without saying goodbye to me. But now I suppose it was only that she wanted to go and meet you.”

  Was that a note of jealousy he heard? Guy wondered. He smiled at the boy, hoping to relieve any worries. “I know for a fact that she was delayed. Your mother never intended to be away long enough for you to know she was gone. She was most anxious to return and see you.”

  Beau brightened at that, his expression hopeful. “Thank you ever so much for bringing her home. She seems quite herself now, wouldn’t you say?”

  Guy forced a nod. “I pray that’s true.” He needed to find out whether she had drunk or eaten something at that picnic. Surely she had.

  He rode in silence until they reached his father’s house. They left the horses tied to the post near the entrance to the kitchens. “It would be best if you stayed downstairs with my housekeeper,” he told the boy.

  The earnest blue gaze, so like Lily’s, met his, then drifted away, his face a study in disappointment. “Very well.”

  Guy introduced Beau to Mrs. Sparks, saw him settled in with cakes and milk and then went up the stairs to make a short visit with the earl.

  When he entered the master suite, he found his father thrashing about, babbling nonsense and grinning at things that weren’t there. Suddenly his grin turned to grimace and he cried out, an unearthly sound between groan and scream. His wrists were secured to the bedpost with linen strips. He strained against them, threatening to break bones or tear fabric.

  Guy wondered if he was looking at himself thirty years from now. His father had looked remarkably lik
e him before his illness. Now the earl’s hair had turned almost white, his face gaunt and his large, muscular body to skin and bones.

  Marcus Mimms, his father’s old valet, sat in a chair beside the bed, sadly observing the earl. “He sees her, he says. The countess. Always at first. Then it goes bad. Almost always goes bad.”

  Guy wondered how many times the old fellow had been obliged to witness this sort of behavior over the years. Laying a hand on the broad shoulders of his father’s trusted servant, Guy asked, “How long has he been this way?”

  “Since early morning. He’s somewhat quieter than he was.” The former batman slicked down his own sparse hair with a shaky palm. “I expect he’ll be sleeping soon. A good long sleep, that’s what he needs.” He glanced over at the bottle on the table. “If you’d hold him, sir, I’ll give him the medicine. Easier when I don’t have to do it by myself.”

  An opiate. Guy knew laudanum was the only thing that truly calmed his father after one of his spells, but he wished there were an alternative to it. He had seen the wasted humanity in the opium dens in London and the mere thought of it sickened him.

  “I’ll be hiring some help for you as soon as I can find someone suitable,” he told the valet, thinking of his one attempt to do that and how it had brought him Lily instead. Thank God he had not employed that Brinks fellow who turned out to be such a rotter.

  With a sigh, he held his father’s head steady while holding his nose so he would open his mouth. Guy thought of Lily doing the same to Brinks in order to gain time to escape. How brave she had been. And resourceful, too.

  Marcus emptied in the required dosage. Moments later, the thrashing stopped and his father drifted into sleep.

  “I was wrong. It is the same,” said a small, terrified voice from the doorway. “Just the same.”

  Guy turned, aghast that the boy had been privy to the scene. “What are you doing here? You were to stay with—” He stopped midsentence when he noted Beau’s distress.

  As quickly as possible, Guy ushered him downstairs and out to where the horses were tethered.

  “I want my mama,” Beau whispered, turning a pale, imploring face up to Guy. His wide blue eyes brimmed with tears.