Then Came You

by Lisa Kleypas

  “What are you talking about, dear?” Totty asked.

  “I may be receiving a caller in a day or two. An absolutely delightful young man—and a neighbor of yours, Lord Raiford.”

  Totty registered immediate delight. “Are you teasing, Wilhemina? Is it someone I’m familiar with? Why haven’t you mentioned him to us before now?”

  “I’m not certain how much there is to tell,” Lily said coyly. “And yes, you are familiar with him. It’s Zachary.”

  “Viscount Stamford?”

  Her family’s astonishment caused Lily to grin. “None other. As you know, I began a friendship with Zach after Harry and I left off. Through the years we have cherished a certain fondness for each other. We get along famously. Lately I have suspected that the feelings between us may have ripened.” Perfect, she thought with pride. She had delivered the news in just the right tone—casual, pleased, a touch bashful.

  It was on the tip of Alex’s tongue to ask what her paramour Derek Craven thought of the situation, but he bit the words back. He considered what kind of pair they would make. Stamford was a harmless pup without much of a spine. Lily would lead the poor fool around by his refined little nose.

  Lily smiled at Penelope apologetically. “Of course, dear Penny, we all know that Zach entertained an interest in you for a while. But of late Zach has begun to view me in a light he never has before. I hope you would not be disconcerted by the prospect of a match between us.”

  There was a strange expression on Penelope’s face—amazement battling with jealousy. Penny had never looked at her sister in such a way before. She managed to produce a valiant smile. “It would please me if you were to find someone who could give you happiness, Lily.”

  “Zach would be quite a good husband for me,” Lily mused. “Although we’d have to work on his marksman-ship. He’s not quite the sportsman I am.”

  “Well,” Penelope said with wan enthusiasm. “Viscount Stamford is a gentle and thoughtful man.”

  “Yes, he is,” Lily murmured. Penny, bless her, was easy to read. She was in shock at the thought that the man who had courted her so ardently was now considering marriage with her older sister. Everything was going to fall into place nicely. Glowing with satisfaction, Lily looked at Alex. “I trust you have no objections to my receiving visitors, my lord?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with any matrimonial prospect that comes your way, Miss Lawson. Who knows when there might be another?”

  “You’re too kind,” she replied sourly, and leaned back as a servant ventured forth to remove her empty plate.

  “Miss? Miss, shall I fetch something from the kitchen? P’raps a cup o’ tea?”

  There was the sound of curtains being pulled. Lily stirred and groaned, climbing up from the soft depths of sleep. The glare of daylight was in her eyes. As she turned her head, she winced at the ache of sore muscles in her neck. What a wretched sleep she’d had, filled with strange dreams, some of them about Nicole. She’d been chasing after her daughter, trying to reach her, stumbling through endless hallways in unfamiliar places.

  The maid continued to pester her with tentative questions. Probably his odious lordship had sent his servants to wake her at some ungodly hour, just for spite. Cursing Raiford silently, Lily rubbed her eyes and struggled to a sitting position. “No, I don’t want any tea,” she muttered. “I just want to stay in bed and—”

  Lily broke off with a gasp as she saw her surroundings. Her heart thumped in fright. She was not in bed. She wasn’t even in her room. She was…oh God, she was downstairs in the library, curled uncomfortably in one of the leather armchairs. The maid, a young woman with a wealth of red curls stuffed under a white cap, was standing in front of her, wringing her hands. Lily looked at herself, realizing she was dressed in her thin white nightgown, no robe or slippers. She had gone to sleep last night in the guest room provided for her, and somehow she had ended up here.

  The problem was, she had no recollection of getting out of bed or coming down the stairs. She didn’t remember any of it.

  It had happened again.

  Disoriented, Lily ran her palm over her sweat-beaded forehead. She could understand the situation if she had been drinking. Oh, she’d done quite a few foolish things when she’d “bought the sack,” as Derek called it when she was tipsy. But all she’d had to drink last night was a few sips of liqueur after dinner, and that followed by a cup of strong coffee.

  It had happened on two other occasions. Once, when she had gone to sleep in the bedroom of her London terrace and had awakened the next morning to find herself in the kitchen; and the time after that, Burton, the butler, had discovered her asleep in the parlor. Burton had assumed that she had been under the influence of strong drink or some other intoxicant. Lily hadn’t mustered the nerve to tell him she’d been as sober as a judge. Good Lord, she couldn’t let anyone know that she roamed the house in her sleep—that wasn’t the behavior of a sane woman, was it?

  The maid was watching her, waiting for an explanation.

  “I…I was feeling restless last night and…came here for a drink,” Lily said, twisting the folds of her nightgown in her fists. “H-how silly of me to fall asleep right in this chair.” The girl glanced around the room, obviously wondering about the absence of a glass. Somehow Lily manufactured a light laugh. “I sat here to think about…something…and then I went to sleep before I even got the bloody drink!”

  “Yes, miss,” the maid said doubtfully.

  Lily ran her fingers through her tousled curls. A headache pounded in her temples and forehead. Even her scalp was sensitive. “I believe I’ll return to my room now. Have some coffee sent up, would you?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Gathering her nightgown around the front of her body, Lily crawled out of the large chair and left the library, trying not to stagger. She went through the entrance hall. There were clinking sounds of dishes and pots from the kitchen, voices of servants engaged in their early-morning tasks. She had to get to her room before she was seen by anyone else. Clutching the hem of her nightgown in her hands, she flew up the stairs, her feet a pale blur.

  Just as Lily neared the top, she saw a dark, imposing figure. Her heart sank. It was Lord Raiford, going for a morning ride. He was dressed in riding clothes and gleaming black boots. Defensively Lily pulled at the front of her gown, trying to conceal herself as much as possible. Raiford’s assessing gaze seemed to shred her thin nightgown and detect every detail of her body underneath.

  “What are you doing, traipsing through the house like that?” he asked curtly.

  Lily was tongue-tied. On a sudden inspiration, she lifted her nose and stared up at him as haughtily as possible. “Perhaps I was consorting with one of the servants last night. Shouldn’t one expect such behavior from a woman like me?”

  There was silence. Lily endured his unfathomable gaze for an eternity, then tried to look away. It was impossible. Suddenly it seemed to her that instead of icy glints, his eyes were filled with sparks of intense heat. Although she stood there motionless, she had the sensation of the world careening around the two of them. She swayed slightly and placed her hand on the banister.

  When Raiford spoke, his voice was more gravelly than usual.

  “If you’re to stay under my roof, Miss Lawson, there’ll be no displays of your well-used little body, for the benefit of the servants or anyone else. Do you understand?”

  His contempt was worse than a slap in the face. Well-used? Lily drew in a quick breath. She couldn’t recall ever hating anyone more in her life. Except, of course, Giuseppe. She wanted to fling a scalding retort at him, but suddenly she was overwhelmed with the urge to flee. “Understood,” she said briskly, and rushed past him.

  Alex did not turn to watch her go. He descended the stairs with nearly the same speed as she had gone up them. Instead of walking toward the stables, he strode into the empty library and closed the door with such force that it shook in the doorjamb. He allowed himself several long,
searing breaths. From the moment he had seen her in the filmy white gown, he had wanted her. His body was still rigid, trembling with arousal. He’d wanted to take her right then on the steps, bear her down to the carpet and push into her. Her hair, those damnable short curls that enticed his fingers to wind through them…the delicate whiteness of her throat…the small, tempting points of her breasts.

  Alex cursed and rubbed his shaven chin roughly. With Caroline his desire had been mingled with tenderness and love. But this kind of wanting had nothing to do with love. He felt as if the surge of arousal had been a betrayal of his feelings for Caroline. Lily was more dangerous than he had suspected. He managed to stay in control of himself and everything around him, except when she was near. But he wouldn’t yield to the temptation she presented…he wouldn’t, by God, even if the effort killed him.

  Chapter 4

  “Zachary! Dear, dear, Zachary, how nice of you to call!” Lily strode forward and clasped his hands, welcoming him into the mansion as if she were the lady of the manor. Standing on her toes, she lifted her face, and he kissed her cheek dutifully. In his black silk cravat and elegant riding clothes, Zachary was every bit the handsome country gentleman. Discreetly the butler took Zachary’s coat, gloves, and hat, and withdrew. Pulling Zach to a corner of the entrance hall, Lily whispered in his ear. “They’re all taking tea in the parlor—Mother, Penny, and Raiford. Remember to act as if you’re in love with me—and if you make eyes at my sister, I’ll pinch you! Now come—”

  “Wait,” Zachary whispered anxiously, tightening his hold on her. “How is Penelope?”

  Lily smiled. “Don’t look so worried. There’s still a chance for you, old fellow.”

  “Does she still love me? Has she said so?”

  “No, she won’t admit it,” Lily said reluctantly. “But she certainly doesn’t love Raiford.”

  “Lily, I’m dying of love for her. Our plan must work.”

  “It will,” she said with determination, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. “Now…off to battle!”

  Together they strolled out of the entrance hall. “Have I called at too late an hour?” Zachary inquired, loudly enough that the occupants of the parlor could hear.

  Lily winked at him. “Not at all, dearest. Just in time for tea.” With a broad smile, she pulled him into the parlor, a beautiful and airy room with pale yellow silk walls, carved mahogany furniture, and large windows. “Here we are,” she said lightly, “all familiar with each other. No need for introductions—how convenient!” Fondly she squeezed Zachary’s arm. “I must tell you, Zach, that the tea at Raiford Park is excellent. Almost as good as the blend I serve in London.”

  Zachary smiled as he regarded the room in general. “Lily does serve the best tea I’ve ever tasted—she orders a secret blend that no one else can quite reproduce.”

  “I encountered it during my travels,” Lily replied, seating herself in a delicate claw-foot chair. She sneaked a glance at her sister, and was delighted to witness a brief but intense glance between Penny and Zachary. For just a moment, Penny’s gaze was filled with sadness and hopeless longing. Poor Penny, Lily thought. I’ll make everything right for you. And then perhaps you and Zach can prove to me that true love does exist.

  In a courtly manner, Zachary went to the settee, where Penelope and Totty were situated. Sensitive to Penelope’s deep blush, he did not speak directly to her, but addressed her mother. “Mrs. Lawson, it is a pleasure to see you and your lovely daughter. I trust all is well with you?”

  “Quite well,” Totty replied in mild discomfort. In spite of her objections to Zachary’s courtship of her daughter, she had rather liked him. And she had been aware, as everyone else had, that Zachary’s love for Penelope had been sincere and honorable. But a family of limited financial means had to be practical. Lord Raiford was by far a more advantageous match for their daughter.

  Alex stood by the marble mantel of the fireplace and lit a cigar as he surveyed the proceedings. Lily glared at him. How impossibly rude he was. Gentlemen usually reserved their smoking for when they congregated to discuss masculine subjects of interest. Unless he were an irascible elderly gentleman puffing on a dignified pipe, Raiford should have smoked in private, not in the presence of ladies.

  Warily Zachary nodded to Alex. “Good afternoon, Raiford.”

  Alex nodded and brought the cigar to his lips. As he exhaled a stream of smoke, his eyes narrowed into gleaming slits of silver.

  Surly beast, Lily thought darkly. He must feel threatened by the presence of a man so different from himself, a charming, gentlemanly fellow whom everyone liked. Raiford couldn’t make himself likeable even if he tried for a hundred years. She scowled at him and then directed a smile to Zachary. “Come sit down, Zach, and tell us the latest happenings in London.”

  “Unbearably dull without you, as always,” Zachary replied, taking the chair next to hers. “But I did attend a large dinner party recently, and observed that Annabelle is looking quite splendid since her marriage to Lord Deerhurst.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Lily rejoined. “She deserves to be happy after enduring ten years of marriage to Sir Charles, the randy old goat.”

  “Wilhemina!” Totty gasped in dismay. “How could you call Sir Charles, may he rest in peace, such a dreadful name—”

  “How could I not? Annabelle was only fifteen when she was compelled to marry him, and he was old enough to be her grandfather! And everyone knows that Sir Charles wasn’t kind to her. Personally, I’m gratified that he passed on in time for Annabelle to find a husband of more suitable age.”

  Totty gave her a disapproving frown. “Wilhemina, you sound quite heartless.”

  Zachary reached over to pat Lily’s hand as he came to her defense. “You are rather forthright, my dear, but anyone who is acquainted with you knows that you have the most compassionate of hearts.”

  Lily beamed at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that her sister looked dumbstruck. Penelope could scarcely conceive that the man she loved was calling Lily “my dear.” Sympathy and amusement battled within Lily’s chest. She wished she could tell Penelope that this was all a sham. “I shall try to curb my tongue,” Lily promised with a laugh, “if only for this afternoon. Do go on with your news, Zach, and I’ll refrain from spouting my shocking opinions. Let me pour your tea. Milk, no sugar, correct?”

  While Zachary entertained them with his tales of London. Alex drew on his cigar and watched Lily. He was forced to concede there was a possibility the two were contemplating marriage. There was an easy familiarity between them that bespoke a long friendship. It was clear that they liked each other and were comfortable together.

  The advantages such a marriage would present were obvious. Zachary would certainly be appreciative of Lily’s fortune, more sizeable than what he would stand to inherit. And Lily was an attractive woman. In the sea green gown she was wearing today, her skin took on a faint rosy glow, and her dark hair and eyes were strikingly exotic. No man would find it a chore to bed her. Furthermore, in the view of society Lily would be fortunate to land a man of such good family and character. Especially after she had strayed along the edge of the demimonde for so long.

  Alex frowned at the thought of the two of them together. It was all wrong. For all his thirty years, Zachary was still a guileless boy. He would never be the man in his own home, not with a wife as headstrong as Lily. Zachary would always find it easier to obey her wishes rather than argue with her. As the years passed by, Lily would come to feel contempt for her callow husband. This marriage was misery in the making.

  “My lord?” Lily and the others were looking at him expectantly. Alex realized that his thoughts had wandered, and he had lost track of the conversation. “My lord,” Lily said, “I just asked you if the hole has been dug in the garden yet.”

  Alex wondered if he had heard her correctly. “Hole?” he repeated.

  Lily looked extremely pleased with herself. “Yes, for the new pond.”

 
Alex regarded her in dumbfounded silence. Somehow he regained his voice. “What in hell are you talking about?”

  Everyone seemed startled by his profanity except for Lily. Her smile remained unaltered. “I had a lovely conversation with your gardener Mr. Chumley yesterday afternoon. I gave him several ideas to improve the garden.”

  Alex stubbed out his cigar and threw the butt into the fireplace. “My garden doesn’t need improvement,” he snarled. “It’s been the same way for twenty years!”

  She nodded cheerfully. “Precisely my point. I told him that the style of your landscape is sadly outmoded. All the really fashionable gardens have several ponds all around them. I showed Mr. Chumley exactly where a new one must be dug.”

  A flush of scarlet crept up from Alex’s collar to his temples. He wanted to strangle her. “Chumley wouldn’t overturn a spoonful of dirt without asking my permission.”

  Lily shrugged innocently. “He seemed enthusiastic about the notion. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already begun digging. Really, I think you’ll adore the changes.” She gave him a fond, sisterly smile. “And whenever you walk by that dear little pond, perhaps you’ll always think of me.”

  Raiford’s features contorted. He made a sound that resembled a roar as he stormed out of the parlor.

  Totty, Penelope, and Zachary all stared at Lily.

  “I don’t think he appreciated my idea,” she remarked, looking disappointed.

  “Wilhemina,” Totty said faintly, “I know your efforts were well intentioned. However, I do not think you should attempt to make any more improvements about Lord Raiford’s estate.”

  Suddenly one of the cook-maids, clad in a white apron and ruffled cap, appeared at the door of the parlor. “Ma’am, Cook wants to speak wi’ ye about the weddin’ feast, as soon as yer lady-ship ’as the time. She don’t know what to make o’ what, from the soup to the trifle.”