When she didn’t acknowledge my statement, I plowed on, throwing subtlety out the window. “Mama, you know he would not leave if he knew your predicament. Why do you not tell him? He would want to know. He deserves to.” Peter would be heartbroken if he learned she’d kept the truth from him—and that he could’ve had the chance to spend more time with Mama, before it was too late. He’d already experienced that regret with one parent.
Mama pocketed the note, as if it was the sole reason for my distress. “I am quite determined in this, Eliza. You will not sway me. And it is only natural he should miss his wife and child, so to Ambleside he will go. There is nothing more to discuss.”
I was about to protest further when there came a metallic rapping at the door. A wigged footman in a cream-tailored suit materialized. I waved him off, opting to answer the door myself.
Twisting the knob, I swung it open to reveal William dusting snowflakes from his shoulders. A flash of surprise crossed his face—whether from seeing me demoted to butler, or from seeing me awake at such an “unearthly” hour, or both—before he covered it with a smile.
“Well, are you going to let me in? It’s devilishly cold out here.”
I stepped back and allowed William to slide through the door before shutting it. He slipped out of his coat—inordinately embellished for such a simple meeting—and gave it to me.
“I thank you, miss,” he said to me with a gleam in his eye. “I shall be sure to tell your mistress what a fine job you are doing.”
As he laughed, I shoved his coat back into his arms, barely keeping hold of his poem as I did. “Do not suppose I shall open your doors in the future, sir.”
“Ah, but what a pretty maid you would make.”
He winked. A funny feeling crept into my stomach at the sight. It took me a moment to notice he was waiting for something, and another moment more to realize he expected me to flirt back. He had only said it to give me practice, as we’d agreed.
“Not as pretty a maid you would make.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh bother, what a blunder!
“Gads, it’s somehow worsened.”
I blew a huff of air. I was never going to get any better at this. Without acknowledging the blush creeping onto my face, William stepped over to Mama and pecked her on the cheek.
“Aunt Rebecca, you are looking ravishing this morning. Is that a glow I detect? Yes, I am certain of it. You are glowing, madam, and it has shaved ten years at least!”
“Oh, do go on!” Mama beamed and hit him playfully.
“On my word, you are prettier every time I see you. By all accounts, you are over your mysterious cough and on your way to a full recovery!”
I winced, but Mama’s smile only grew, the glow William had insisted he saw now entering her face. Anyone with two eyes could see how she adored William, how happy he made her.
Mama had always been the type to depend on a man for guidance and strength—so when Father died several years ago and Peter left to London, she’d wandered and drifted in an aimless state with nothing to anchor her. The estate fell to ruin, and even though I’d only been twelve, I’d tried to fix things since no one else would. But of course I couldn’t. I was neither the man Mama needed, nor the book Matthew needed, nor the father Peter needed. I was just a girl.
William’s mother and mine were childhood friends, so he’d often spent the summer at Ambleside. Being a close friend of the family, he’d visited a few weeks after the funeral to offer his condolences. But when he got to Ambleside and saw its dire condition, he shouldered the weight of setting things in order. He managed the books, visited the tenants, and comforted Mama in a way no one else could. He was there for her in her darkest hour, and because of that, he was special in her eyes. Because of that, he was another son to her—and another brother to me.
“I received your note last night,” Mama said.
“Yes, about that,” William said, turning to me. “I wanted to show you Hyde Park, but we may have to forego our outing. It’s a fair blizzard outside, and I don’t think anyone else will venture out in this weather.”
Keen disappointment flared to life. If our outing was canceled, he had no reason to stay. Not to mention that I could use a distraction from Mama’s deteriorating condition, blizzard or no. “Where is your sense of adventure? Come, I will fetch my things while you ready the horses, and we can be there and back before the weather worsens.”
William sputtered something, but I dashed away before he could fully protest. In a matter of minutes, I returned to the entryway garbed in a bonnet, pelisse, half boots, and thick, fur gloves.
Out in the street harnessed to a sleek gig, clomped my favorite of William’s horses. I approached the stallion, grinning when it whickered in recognition. “Hello, Ardent,” I said. He stomped his hooves on the cobblestones, shaking his mane. “Yes, I missed you too.”
“I knew I should have ordered a different horse harnessed.” William descended the steps. I ignored him, putting my forehead to Ardent’s. William scoffed. “I don’t know why I keep feeding and housing the animal when he’s so clearly yours. Honestly, you two are close enough to be cousins.”
I laughed and scratched behind Ardent’s ears. “What a silly thought. My cousin the thoroughbred.”
William patted the stallion’s neck, looking at me. “For the thousandth time, Eliza, he belongs with you.”
“And for the thousandth time, Mama would never approve of you giving me such a gift. Neither would Peter.”
“Hang what Peter thinks. Just take the blasted horse.”
I laughed again. “No.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh. “What would you have me do? For you won’t take him off my hands, and I can’t bring myself to sell the animal knowing how attached to him you are. By your refusal, you consign me to a life of caring for the beast. How selfish you are.”
I met William’s stare, noting his lazy gaze and lopsided smile. “I will take him off your hands the day you stop teasing me.”
William’s grin widened. “Then I am stuck with him, confound it.” After helping me into the seat of his gig, William slapped Ardent’s reins and we were off.
We arrived at the park where an army of naked trees shrouded the banks of the Serpentine. On a given day, Hyde Park would be teeming with persons from all social circles, but now it was completely deserted. Likely due to the weather.
“You know, you can be rather difficult sometimes,” William said. “Wanting to go out in a snowstorm. Your mother looked duly worried.” He gave the reins another smack before adding, “In fact, she seems to always look like that now. Have you noticed how sickly she appears? Has she seen a physician recently?”
I swallowed, focusing on the shifting landscape. “Yes, and they’ve told us not to be concerned.” That much was true, though it was only what Mama had told them to say, in order to keep her illness a secret.
Her illness. My stomach turned over.
I needed a distraction.
“Let us have a snowball fight!” I said suddenly. Bouncing in my seat, I clutched William’s arm and tried to drag him from the contraption, while he struggled to keep Ardent in check.
“Be off with you, woman! Can’t you see we’re in open view of others?” William was trying to scold me, but even with his skill at disguising his face, he couldn’t completely hide his amusement. I looked around. We were in a public park, but no one else had ventured out in the snowy weather. When I mentioned as much to him, he said, “Still, it won’t do to ruin my coat. This one was particularly expensive.”
I huffed. “I shall simply have to convince you through other means, then.” I stood, giving William just enough time to rein in Ardent before I hopped down in a very unladylike fashion. I scooped some snow into my gloved hands, compacting it into a ball.
“Do you want to get yourself killed!” William brought Ardent to a halt.
I backed away from the curricle, crossing my arms behind my back, hiding the snowball. “Perhaps—if it would
stop you from being such a prig.”
“Prig!” He fastened the reins to a bar in the gig and stood, hands on hips, scowling down at me. “Never in my life have I been accused of such, and I find I take great offense at it.”
“Enough for you to come down?”
“On the contrary, now I am more determined to have my way. Come back in the carriage, Eliza.”
“So you are a prig?”
“No! I like to have fun as well as the next chap.”
“Just not with me?”
William ignored me, instead settling on an old strategy. “You must know you are being childish.”
I chewed my cheek as his words stoked my frustration, and my own determination. “Yes, perhaps I am. But what is so very wrong about that, sir? We were both children once—and I seem to recall several instances where you weren’t the least bit reluctant to throw snowballs at me.”
He still glared, but his lips twitched. “As I said before, I do not wish to ruin my coat.”
“Then take it off.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized how scandalous they sounded.
His eyebrow quirked. “That’s more like it,” he said.
My cheeks reddened in a way that had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the way William smirked at me as he removed his coat. I was too busy blushing to point out that I hadn’t actually intended to flirt. He folded the coat onto the seat and dropped out of the carriage, boots crunching, face set.
I tried to suppress my gulp as he strode up to me, looked me square in the eyes, and said, “You are going to regret this.”
“I think not.” And I squished my snowball into William’s face.
He fell back, half-gasping, half-laughing. “Eliza, if you were not a girl, I would tackle you to the ground.”
I grabbed another handful of snow, working it into a ball and trying not to think of William tackling me. Of him being on top of me in any way. “Then it is fortunate I am a girl—for you are too much of a gentleman to fight back.” I took aim and threw my second ball.
William dodged it. “I think you overestimate my chivalry.”
That was all the warning I had before he returned with his own snowball, and a slew of others following. He obviously had more practice forming them—and correctly aiming at a target—for he barraged me in the back, arm, and chest.
Perhaps compared to a man’s fight, William was taking it easy on me—but it didn’t feel that way, for he thrashed me. I had thought him too gallant to aim for my face, but several times ice stung my forehead, or cheek. When I complained they were cheap shots, William reminded me that I had aimed for his face first.
I couldn’t help but laugh as he pummeled me with snow. It felt so freeing to run and giggle, warmth blossoming in my chest despite the water seeping through my gloves and boots. William laughed too, cheeks rosy, eyes bright as we made trails in the snow even the most expert tracker couldn’t have made sense of.
At last, I held up a hand. “No more, I beg of you!” I collapsed in the snow and spread my arms wide. I was still breathing hard, big, icy plumes escaping up into the air.
William squatted over me, threatening me with a ball in his hand. “You concede?”
“I concede!”
He grinned, dropping his weapon. “Then let it be known throughout all the land that I, Sir William Bentley—” his boot nudged a bit of snow onto my prostrated form, “—am not a prig.”
He flopped down beside me, so close that I had to move my arm out of the way before he crushed it. He must be terribly cold lying in the snow with no coat, but he didn’t complain. He started to flap his arms and legs, forming a snow angel and bumping into me with each movement.
“Stop!” I said, to which he only laughed. I started to form my own, and soon we were competing for the arm room. Being stronger, William managed to force my arm into rhythm with his.
“You know, it is fortunate no one is around to witness this spectacle—or else they should think we were lovers.”
I rested my arms at my sides. “Yes,” I said.
In the lane Ardent grew restless, snorting and shaking his mane. Eventually William stopped too and we both sat there in the snow-muffled silence, drinking in the pale sky.
“I plan to travel soon.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs. Snow chilled my cheek where I turned my head to stare at William. He wasn’t looking at me, instead gazing up through the bare branches of the tree towering overhead. I sounded wheezy when I asked, “When?”
“I don’t know. But soon.” There was a certain set of his jaw that told me he meant it.
“But . . . why?” I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving—and I told myself the reason was because he was my only guide to an unforgiving society.
“I know what you must think. What everyone will think.” His hand gestured at the spectacle of clouds in the sky. “Why would I leave when I have everything I could ever want right here? Money. Connections. Status. No one will understand it. I have everything—and yet, nothing. London is drab, the company is tedious, and I cannot bear the thought of another year here, in this wasteland. England holds nothing for me.”
I felt like an icicle had just fallen from the tree above and skewered my heart. Nothing? Was I nothing to him?
“I crave adventure,” he said with fervor. “I want to find purpose and meaning in my life—not whittle it away paying insincere compliments and seeking favor. What a waste that would be, and I will not stand for the tedium any longer. Maybe I’ll go to India, or perhaps America. Start over.”
I stayed silent, despite the question burning at the back of my mind: Will you ever come back? I had to fight the prickling sensation behind my eyes. Mama’s condition worsened, I was being pressured to find a husband while maintaining her secret, and now, my only friend said he would leave me behind, to bear it all alone.
I will not cry, I told myself. I will not.
William chose that moment to look over. He roved my face, no doubt noting my glimmering eyes. “Have no fear, ‘Liza. Before I go I shall stay as long as you need, I promise you.”
I bit back what I wanted to say—that I would always need him, that he should stay by my side forever. Instead, I forced a smile and whispered, “I’ve always wanted to travel.”
He smiled too, sitting up enough to recline on his elbow. Leaning over me, he stared deeply into my eyes. “Then perhaps I shall take you with me . . .” My insides turned somersaults, and again, his gaze wandered my face. “If ever there were someone I would want to take,” he muttered, “it would be you.”
His hands were red and shaking with cold. He sighed and sat further up. “We should return.”
William stood and brushed off the lingering snow before offering his hand down to me. Soon we were back in the gig, trundling through snowflakes back to Berkeley Square.
Chapter 6
I was trembling with cold by the time we returned. As we entered the foyer, I blew into my hands and rubbed them together. William stomped his boots against the checkered tile, likely trying to bring some feeling back into his feet.
Through the bronze-rimmed mirror hanging across the way, I spied my cherry-red nose. What a fright I looked. Damp black tendrils of hair framed my face, sending the occasional trickle of ice down my cheek. With the back of my sleeve, I mopped my face before turning into the drawing room in search of Mama or Matthew. William followed, bumping into me when I suddenly halted.
Sitting in the drawing room, presumably waiting for me, was Lady Prima. She turned when we entered, countenance beaming.
“Miss Wycliffe!” she said. “You have returned at last.”
I bobbed a curtsy. “I am surprised to see you, Lady Prima.” If nothing else, her laugh should have alerted me to her presence the moment I entered the house. Could it be she’d found a match already?
“I have come to finalize your list of requirements.”
My eyes darted to one corner, aware of William behind m
e, overhearing everything. He knew I was attempting to find a husband, but not like this. Not with a matchmaker. I cleared my throat. “I thought I already specified my desires.”
“Yes, yes,” she waved a hand in the air, “but what else? Would you like a curmudgeon like Mr. Parkyn?”
My mouth filled with air. “Well, I—”
“Or a dimwit like Sir Windsor?”
“Hopefully not a dimwit—”
“Then come, girl, tell me what it is that you want besides the horse-breeding thing. And Bentley quit hiding behind Miss Wycliffe. A woman ought to be able to look at you anytime she pleases, and I tire of craning my eyes around Miss Wycliffe’s figure.”
William sidled past me, passing in front of the roaring fireplace. I didn’t have to see his face to know he brimmed with amusement. And I knew it was directed more toward me than toward Lady Prima.
Lady Prima brushed some cookie crumbs off her lap before patting the empty cushion beside her. William sat in it. Then she continued, a quill and paper suddenly materializing in her hand. “I’ve already rung for tea. Now, requirement one: candidate must breed horses. What is next, Miss Wycliffe?”
I gulped, gaze sliding to William. “Well . . . perhaps if he were tall.”
“Oh, yes!” Lady Prima scratched the paper, occasionally dipping her quill in an inkpot resting on the table. “An absolute must. Short men are the scourge of England.”
“And he must be respectable.”
Lady Prima nodded, feather bouncing. “Indeed, indeed.”
“And no less than sixty,” added William.
Before I could protest, Lady Prima turned to him and said, “How you tease, Bentley! Miss Wycliffe is much too pretty to be wasted on some ancient miser.”
He sighed. “But if I were to ever marry, it would be to a woman much older than I. For they are the best kind.” He gave Lady Prima a meaningful look. She blushed and giggled and hit his arm with her quill.
“Stop, I beg you, or I shall take you up on the offer!”
A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2) Page 6