A Lord for Miss Lily: A Wallflower’s Wish

by Dallen, Maggie

  Her face fell. “So we are...on the same side, then?”

  He gave an exasperated laugh as he spun her around the dance floor. “Don’t worry. I’m not happy about it, either.”

  Chapter Three

  The cad.

  What he failed to understand, what he’d always misunderstood, was that she wasn’t being cross with him as some personal vendetta.

  All right, perhaps it was a tiny bit personal.

  But mostly she didn’t like everything he’d come to stand for since returning from his tour. She still missed him. Nearly every day.

  Once upon a time, Merrick had been exactly like her. A flaunter of rules and an unrepentant believer of life outside their circle.

  The circle where the Abigails of the world reigned queen. As did his parents and, at one point in time, her mother.

  The believers in perfection, rules, and the unrelenting pursuit of best rather than of happiness or self-fulfillment.

  She had always—and would always—refuse to live such a life. Even more so after everything she’d been through. One never knew when their time would come to an end. She’d enjoy every moment she had without worrying what others thought about her actions or behavior.

  But Merrick...he cared tremendously. The change had been evident the moment he’d returned from his tour of the continent and immediately began courting Abigail.

  She gave her head a little shake to forget the past. Right here and now, Merrick was not courting Abigail. He was holding her in his arms instead.

  His movements were graceful and effortless. Hesitantly she followed. Despite having attended dozens of balls over the past few years, she rarely engaged in the activity.

  Lily supposed there were certain pursuits in which perfection was preferable. Riding was always a pursuit of excellence. Becoming one with the horse until rider and animal practically flew over the earth, barely touching the surface.

  Then there was dancing.

  Merrick moved with a grace that stole her breath. And for once, since her illness, she exuded that same grace as they spun about the floor, her slippers barely touching the ground.

  While she’d never wished for more social status, she did miss the physical grace of being completely healthy.

  In her youth, she’d been a fierce, unafraid rider, an excellent tree climber, and a nimble dancer. Those lessons were what she’d enjoyed most about her social education. Her body had always been lithe and athletic, and dancing had come to her as naturally as breathing.

  And now?

  Well, now she was getting there. Slowly.

  Just before her first season, she’d been ravaged by an infection of the lungs. A sudden rainstorm in the fall had interrupted her ride, and rather than return home, she reveled in the storm. The breathless excitement that had come with a breakneck ride through the rain.

  The next day, she’d woken feeling sluggish and worn thin. Three days later the fever had come, robbing her of every ounce of energy. Then the cough had started. For three months she’d hung onto life by the thinnest of threads.

  Barely able to eat, or even breathe, she’d lay in bed sure she’d never rise from it again.

  Her mother swore that it was her sheer determination that had saved her life.

  Lily tended to agree.

  She was nearly completely healed but it had taken these three years to accomplish the feat and she still had coughing fits once in a while, though they grew less and less frequent as the months passed.

  She was certain, given time, she could return to her former self completely.

  Merrick spun her again. “I was wrong before.”

  She blinked up at him. The movement of their dance had allowed her to slip into the past. Only in Merrick’s arms could she remember who she was. Funny. She’d underestimated how much she missed some parts of Laura.

  How much she missed Merrick and Laura. “About what?”

  “You are different,” he whispered, low and close to her ear, his breath tickling the small hairs that framed her face. Her heart raced at the feel.

  “How?” She looked at him and for some odd reason, she was aware of just how close his mouth was to hers.

  “The way you dance…” His brow furrowed. “It’s more hesitant. Stiff.”

  She tried to breathe normally, but only he would notice the small change in her. And here she’d thought she was her old self in his arms. But she’d not share what happened. Not with him. Not with anyone. To admit to the weakness that had ravaged her would be to admit she was weak. Or that such an affliction could happen again.

  Perhaps even worse, she’d risk repeating the past hurts of a friend abandoning her in her weakest moment.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing different about me. You said so yourself. I am the same stubborn girl I’ve always been.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, his gaze narrowing even as he picked up the pace to the uptick in the music.

  But something was off. She wasn’t used to the exercise, or the thoughts of the past had her heart racing..,or perhaps that was the feel of his arms. Most unexpected.

  But whatever the reason, her chest tightened and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  Her lungs heaved even as her head spun. A small cry of exasperation fell from her lips. It had been half a year since she’d had an episode like this. She’d thought them past.

  Her doctor had seen fit to have her slowly build her exercise regimen to strengthen the lungs. And it had been going so well.

  Lily tightened her grip on his arm even as her feet stumbled, the steps eluding her.

  Merrick’s hand tightened at her waist. “Lily?” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

  “Get me, get me out of here,” she said, unable to catch even the smallest breath. “I need air.”

  Quickly and efficiently, he danced them to the edge of the crowd and then pulled her out onto the terrace. Just to the right was a stone wall and he half carried, half dragged her to the end that was shadowed and out of the light.

  She collapsed into his side, her cheek pressing into his shoulder as the scent of sandalwood and leather surrounded her. That scent, the feel of his strong muscles began to relax her chest and she drew in a deep breath.

  He sat on the wall, pulling her with him, tucking her under his arm. “Lily?” he whispered again.

  “I’m all right,” she answered between short breaths. “Or I will be in just a moment.”

  Lily closed her eyes as she rested her cheek on his upper arm. Slowly her chest loosened and her breathing returned to normal. He didn’t ask any questions, which she was exceptionally grateful for as his arm slid around her shoulders.

  Then his cheek rested on the top of her head. “Better?”

  She nodded, ever so slightly. The attack, that was the only word able to describe them, left her scared and drained and for just this moment, she didn’t want to speak, she just wanted to bask in the strength of his wide shoulders and his muscled arm.

  “Lily,” he started and she heard the change in his voice, it dropped low with the question he wished to ask.

  “Merrick...please,” she pleaded. “I can’t. Not just yet.”

  Unlike her, he conceded and they sat there for several more minutes, enveloped in the dark clear night.

  She supposed there was some merit to being less tenacious. Not for her of course. But it was nice that he didn’t badger her for information. He must have questions, but he didn’t ask them. Just allowed her to recover.

  “Thank you,” she finally murmured.

  “We should get you back inside before you are missed,” he answered, but he didn’t move.

  She shook her head. “My parents won’t mind. Not when I tell them why we were out here.”

  “This happens often then?” He stiffened, his body growing harder under hers. “What happened to change your parents so thoroughly?”

  “I…” Her throat tightened. Lily did not cry. Ever.

  �
�Is this why you haven’t danced? When did this begin? Do they know what ails you?”

  She shook her head, her cheek brushing against the softness of his coat. “Merrick,” she sighed. “I know you want an explanation but—” She hated the weakness so much.

  He squeezed her arm a bit tighter. “Take a few minutes if you need to.”

  She grimaced. He was politely trying to say that she needed to offer an explanation of some sort. Her refusal crowded her mouth. But then she swallowed it back down. She supposed some sort of bare-bones explanation was required.

  “If you must know, I contracted a disease of the lung while you were away. It is the reason I rarely dance or ride, though I am much improved. These sorts of attacks rarely happen anymore. Another year and I’ll be completely healed according to my doctor.”

  She didn’t tell him about how she’d wasted away, how the first season, she’d barely had the strength to stand, or about how cruelly Abigail had abandoned her.

  He nodded against the top of her head, but his hand grew even tighter and his breath was growing short. “I see.”

  Did he? Did he realize how much she held back? He must. Why else would he suddenly seem nervous? “Thank you again. Your help was most...unexpected.”

  “Unexpected?” He leaned back then, looking down at her, and she found herself glancing up to meet his gaze. “Whatever happened between us, you were always my friend. I would never leave you in such a state as you were.”

  For a moment there she almost believed him.

  Worse, she found that she wanted to believe him. A part of her wished for it so badly it nearly made her forget herself. The weak part of her chest that had never quite recovered even after her lungs had healed ached to believe that he meant it.

  She almost did something unthinkably foolish. She nearly caved to the temptation to trust him again.

  Really, Merrick, that girl will be the end of you. Abigail’s voice came back to her with crystal clarity and just in the nick of time.

  She stiffened in his arms and drew back quickly, and his arms dropped to his sides at her sudden move.

  She steeled herself against the childish urge to turn to her old friend for comfort and forced herself to look upon him now, as the man he’d become.

  She’d been horrified when Abigail had turned her back on her during that season. Abigail had known of her illness, and rather than come to her aide, she’d turned Lily into a laughingstock.

  She had been so certain that Merrick would be her salvation when he returned. And instead…

  You cannot remain friends with someone like poor Laura if you wish to succeed in society.

  She would never forget the way she’d held her breath, holding in a cough as she waited for his response. She’d been so certain he would come to her defense, that he would cut Abigail straightaway for even hinting that he would betray her and their friendship.

  But instead he’d sighed. You’re right.

  The memory of those words had her heart hardening all over again and took another step back. She’d been a youthful fool to believe someone like Abigail was truly a friend. She’d been even more naive to think that Merrick would stand by her side.

  She’d amended then and there to do better the next time she made friends. And she had. Daisy and Marigold were the best sort of friends a girl could ask for.

  She had no use for Merrick and his sudden charitable kindness now. Too little, too late.

  But Lily had to confess, Merrick had handled her incident just now with more care and selflessness than he would have expected. Much as it pained her, she could not let that go unnoticed. “Thank you for this,” she said with a little wave toward where he’d held her, keeping her safe from prying eyes. “I’m...grateful.”

  His brow furrowed. “You sound surprised. What did I do to so thoroughly ruin your opinion of me?”

  She swallowed. That was a complicated question and not one to be easily glossed over.

  But then again, what had he done to deserve the truth from her?

  “You were right, Merrick. I should return to my parents before they begin to worry.”

  Then, in a move completely unlike her, and like a complete coward, she turned and ran.

  Chapter Four

  The sound of a rifle’s report in the distance pulled Merrick out of his thoughts with a start.

  “Merrick, have you heard a word I said?” Griff stopped walking and turned to face him with a glower.

  Another blast from a rifle filled the air as a distant hunting party found its prey. The answer was no. He had not heard a word his friend had said for quite some time now. Not since they’d set out in this direction on the lawns. The two men had planned to join one of the groups setting out, but something had delayed them.

  That something, Merrick now realized...was him.

  The next blast had them moving again. As if by some unspoken agreement they headed toward the stables—one of few places not teeming with group activities. Mere moments ago they’d passed a flurry of ladies bearing butterfly nets heading toward the gardens. Perhaps Daisy was amongst them, which would explain why Griff was walking with Merrick and not his new bride-to-be.

  And Lily? Merrick found himself looking over his shoulder for a redhead in the crowd of butterfly hunters.

  No luck.

  But then, he could hardly imagine her doing something so docile as strolling the gardens searching for butterflies. She’d always rolled her eyes at such activities, preferring instead to ride her horse at a breakneck speed or race across the grounds on foot leaving onlookers gaping in her wake.

  But then again…

  He had a memory of her cough from the night before and it made him cold all over. He’d never heard her sounding so ill. He’d never seen her so weak. So...so frail.

  “You are doing it again,” Griff said from beside him.

  “Hmm?” Merrick asked, making a point of looking at the scenery around them to avoid his friend’s prying eyes. He knew precisely to what his friend was referring.

  Merrick was stewing. Perhaps even…brooding. It was not a state that came to him naturally but after last night it seemed all he was capable of doing.

  It was all Lily’s fault, of course. She’d brought back memories better left forgotten.

  Griff sighed beside him, but the sound lacked much of its usual grimness. The Duke of Dolan was decidedly less serious overall this morning. In fact, one might even call him...giddy. Even now his typical glower seemed to fade into a smile as he too glanced back in the direction of the great house, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of his betrothed.

  The high and mighty duke had fallen head over heels over the course of a few days and Merrick found the sudden change in him amusing...and alarming.

  This morning the change in his friend was unsettling.

  Merrick eyed his friend warily as they continued their stroll to the stables to avoid the crowds. A little time and space was likely what they both needed. Merrick so he could get his head on straight after last night’s run-in with Lily. And Griff ought not to be allowed anywhere near a firearm. The duke’s newfound romance with Daisy and all the planning that came with courting the woman one loved had clearly driven him to distraction.

  Merrick knew something of that...

  He let out an exasperated huff. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.

  And yet, that seemed to be all he was capable of this morning. He scrubbed a hand over his face, but that did nothing to banish the image of Lily’s expression just before she’d fled.

  The girl had always been an open book. Her emotions were never far beneath the surface. Once upon a time he’d been adept at reading her, but last night he’d been stymied. There had been a myriad of emotions flickering in her eyes, all vying for supremacy and each more unsettling than the last.

  She’d looked hurt, betrayed, angry...scared.

  But why? What had he ever done to make her turn on him the way she had?

  He groane
d under his breath, ignoring Griff’s questioning look. If anyone understood the need for some silent stewing, surely it was Griff.

  But no amount of brooding was giving Merrick any clarity. And why should it? Years had passed since she’d first turned on him, and he was no closer to understanding her anger now than he had been then.

  Only one thing was different now.

  He frowned down at the earth at his feet. That cough. How serious was it? She’d closed up on him before he could get much information, but he knew without a doubt she had not been telling him the whole truth.

  A suspicion that had been nagging at him all morning came back with full force.

  Was she still gravely ill? Had she lied about how well she was recovering? That cough, the way she’d turned so pale and had struggled to catch her breath…

  Horror shot through him. A sort of crippling fear that made him forget every slight she’d cast his way and all he could think of was how she was faring, right this very moment. Was she suffering?

  He did not doubt that she’d suffered from a disease of the lungs, and in hindsight it helped explain why she’d been so insistent on sitting out every dance, every garden stroll...every activity she’d once enjoyed.

  How had he not noticed it before?

  But then again, maybe he had. At least, he’d known something was different upon his return, but every time he’d tried to gain her confidence, she had pushed him away.

  He muttered a curse under his breath that had Griff pausing once more. When he spoke again, his friend’s voice was laced with amusement. “I’ll admit, I did not think it such an arduous favor to ask, but if you are so put out by the idea…”

  Merrick stared at his friend, dragging his mind out of the past once more. “My apologies, I seem to be distracted this morning.”

  Griff laughed. “Now that is an understatement.”

  Merrick glanced away from the questions in his friend's eyes. Questions he refused to answer. “What was this favor you asked?”

  “It’s actually more of a favor for Daisy,” Griff started.