A vision long forgotten rushed into my mind of a faceless but handsome man coming to my rescue. My heart did a little trill.
From the settee, William said nothing, only stared at me with that unwavering gaze of his. He still wore a small smirk, but it didn’t fool me. He could pretend all he wanted. Whatever he felt in this moment, it was not amusement. It was anything but.
Iris sauntered up to Allerton and engaged him in conversation. I studied her, and the way her smile did not seem as deliberate as usual . . . more relaxed. My eyebrows came together.
“An urgent post for Miss Wycliffe.” I turned back toward the servant who had announced Iris. He hadn’t yet departed, and I noticed for the first time that he held a silver tray.
The whole room fell silent. My lips parted as I beheld the gleaming tray bearing a note. It must be Mama. Earlier drama forgotten, I grasped the letter, managing to thank the footman as he turned and left. I felt a pair of eyes watching me. I glanced over to see Allerton, noting the way he sat on the edge of his seat, ready to spring up at a moment’s notice.
Lady Prima said, “Perhaps we should give Miss Wycliffe a bit of privacy to read her letter. Shall we all adjourn to the garden? Mr. Cooper has some wonderful stanzas about trees I’m sure he wouldn’t mind . . .” By now, she and the rest of the party had made their way out of the drawing room and were drifting further away, cutting off the last of her comment.
I broke the wax, noting it was still warm, and read. It was a note from Mama’s physician. She’d fainted and had been found by one of the servants. Though she was now stable and resting, the physician wrote that I should return as soon as possible. My heart twisted painfully. Warmth enveloped my shoulder, and I turned to see Allerton there, watching me with a concerned brow.
“I am sorry, Miss Wycliffe,” he murmured. We shared a meaningful look. He knew the missive was about Mama. As the only other person who knew of her condition, he was the only one who could’ve comforted me, and I found, standing there in the drawing room with my trembling fingers clutching the note, I very much needed it.
Swallowing the lump in my throat I said, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
As always, his eyes were kind. His hand touched my upper arm and travelled to the middle of my back. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
I nodded, grateful for the offer. His warm touch seeped through my clothes and into my heart, lending it strength and reassurance. I felt myself wanting to lean in, to suck up more of that strength, to help fortify me against what was going to come. I resisted though, settling for a soft smile instead. Another moment Allerton lingered, before he left the room.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I turned to gather my things. Then fell back at the shock of seeing William behind me, leaning against the wall and taking me in. He’d witnessed everything. My mouth ran dry.
I’d been searching for a moment alone with him, but now that I had it, I needed to leave. There was no time to declare myself when Mama needed someone to attend to her.
“What’s this?” William said, though I didn’t know if it was over the note, or Allerton. Neither one could I explain. William’s tone was veiled, blank.
“I must go,” was all I said.
He pushed himself off of the wall and came around me, putting himself between me and the exit. And I knew he’d done it on purpose. “Go?” He crossed his arms. “Why go, when we were having such fun?”
I couldn’t tell if the comment was in earnest, or if it was sarcastic. Why was he so blasted hard to read?
“I have a pressing matter I must see to.” I stepped forward, but William had anticipated me and moved quicker, blocking me again.
“What’s in the note?” he asked.
Of course he would ask that. Of course he would choose this topic—the only one I was sworn not to tell him—to try and rip the truth from me. “It is none of your business.”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “But it is Allerton’s?”
“Allerton was shrewd enough to guess. Why don’t you discover the truth from him?” I only added that part because I knew Allerton would never divulge it; whereas I, with William’s cajoling and prodding, might actually make leave of my senses and utter the words he wanted to hear.
“What are you keeping from me?”
At last, something slight slipped into his voice, and it sounded like hurt. He was offended there were secrets between us he did not know about. And judging by the determined set to his face, he wasn’t going to let the matter rest until he knew every one of them.
The thought made my hands shake. For he did not know my biggest secret of all. Earlier, I had enough time to reveal it to him. Now, I did not. I could not speak of undying love while another love I had really was dying—and waiting for me to return to her side.
And as for the other secret, Mama’s illness . . .
“I am sworn to secrecy, William. I cannot tell you.”
“What is the confession Lady Iris spoke of? What are you hiding?”
I faltered, realizing he was playing a game of different sorts. “Stop fishing.” I brushed past him toward the exit.
“Then my dear, I must discover your hidden treasures on my own.” His tone was light, flirtatious as he caught up and clasped my arm. If he followed, it would prevent me from rushing to Mama’s side, for then he would discover her illness.
And I needed to rush to her side.
“You’re not coming with me.” I quickened my pace for the door, but William followed suit.
“Indeed I am.”
I tried to shake his hand off. “No, you’re not.”
His grip stayed true, and he flashed me a wicked grin. “You leave me no choice.”
“This isn’t a game, William!” I halted, surprised at the conviction lacing my voice. William was surprised too, for he faltered, let go, and eyed me head to toe. “This isn’t like pretending to flirt or throwing around silly comments to gain laughs. It is serious. In anything else you may tease me, but not in this. I forbid it.”
He grew quiet, then stepped forward, so close that I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, almost smug in its appearance. His voice was sultry when he said, “Forbid, Eliza?”
I wanted to snatch the words back, for nothing motivated William to obtain something more than denying it of him.
“Please,” I whispered.
That one little word, spoken softly as a friend, seemed to reach him. He relaxed and cocked his head back, studying me. There was a long silence. “Well. With a face like that, I would be heartless to refuse.” Another pause, longer than the last. “Unfortunately for you . . . I am heartless. Leave now, or leave later—either way, I will follow you.”
“Will you never be content to have less than your way?” I pushed him away with all my strength, but he barely budged.
“No, I will not,” he said. “Certainly not where it concerns you.”
“Why me?” I demanded.
He looked down. It was then I noticed one of my hands stilled splayed on his chest. Slowly, he raised his gaze. His hazel eyes sparked under his lashes. I jerked my hand down, heat rising to my face. “Because you will let others pursue you, but not I,” were his low words.
My heart jumped a little.
Turning away, he loosed his cravat. A loud inhale acted as a precursor to, “I find it amusing how attentions from Mr. Hayman the horse, or Mr. Cooper the poet has you laughing in droves, yet the moment I pretend to woo you, you get a consigned, miserable look on your face. As if I am torturing you in some way.”
He was. Because it was torture to know it was all pretend.
Refusing to tell him that, I decided instead to latch onto the other part he’d said, remembering the tiles. “Why do you feel the need to best every one of my suitors?”
He scoffed and spun back. “I do not.”
“You insist upon telling me over and over how ridiculous they are. I can see they are ridic
ulous, William. I need no help from you in pointing it out, and I need no help in driving them away.”
“On my word, I do no such thing. I merely find them amusing.”
I crossed my arms. “I would believe you were amused, except for the hard glint in your eye and the disdain upon your lips. You do not regard them as entertainment, but a challenge—as if you must prove to me you are better than them. Why must you prove it?”
“What nonsense!” William’s face flushed, and I lost my next words at the shock of seeing it. He was always in control, only ever letting me see what he wished me to see. Yet even though his eyebrows were raised to give an indifferent impression, his mask had slipped and his cheeks were red.
He was angry. But about what? What on earth was he angry about?
“Your romantic inclinations have put silly ideas into your head, Eliza—as has this elusive idea of your perfect man. You have an expectation about love that cannot be fulfilled—”
“Better to consign myself to a miserable life, is that it?” I said. “Better to hate everyone and scorn them behind a smile.”
Just like that, William tossed his mask away. His jaw clenched and his brows plunged, letting me know my arrows had found their mark. I had seen him this angry before, but never at me. Not even when I’d followed him to the prison.
“If you want to entertain ridiculous poets and play with a man’s heart, then be my guest. Woo them, dangle them, make them beg. But do not expect me to condone it.” There was something else—a river that ran deeper under his words. Play with a man’s heart.
The way yours was played with? I asked the question silently, not daring to speak it aloud, too afraid he would shut down, walk away, and never let me in again as he had done with everyone else.
William did not understand. I was struggling with securing an adequate suitor in the span of a few short months, while battling my love for a man who didn’t believe the sentiment existed. A man who now accused me of taking my quest too lightly—of toying with men’s hearts. I could tell him the whole truth, but that would be breaking Mama’s trust. And I could pursue another man, but that would be betraying my own heart.
So were those my only options? To be, in his eyes, either a silly girl, or a conniving woman?
William sighed, his frame losing some of its tension as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, ‘Liza . . .” Again, he sighed. “I have no wish to quarrel. Not with you.”
Clues to the heart he kept locked away were the little phrases that fell from his lips—phrases where, when twisted, sounded as if cared for me as more than a friend. Not with you. As if I were an exception—a gemstone so valuable and rare that he never handled it for fear of tarnishing it.
But I had a long practice of analyzing every word that fell from William’s lips, weighing each syllable for its truth. And it did not take an intellectual to know I was no priceless gem to him, not with the way he scolded me like this. To him, I was just a girl. A sister. A friend. Something simple, something common.
Why couldn’t he have just let me leave?
“May we make peace?”
“Yes.”
He relaxed further. “Good.” He approached me, studying my features, mask back in place. “Where’s that happy girl I know, hm?”
I didn’t want to show him a smile. But from the moment William decided he wanted one, it was practically set in stone. There was no use fighting it—for he would win out in the end, as he always did.
“There she is,” he said in satisfaction, one finger tapping my lips. Walking to the other side of the room, he tossed over his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself over what I said—I was not myself.”
I was not myself.
It’s not real, I reminded myself, refusing to read into things and garner false hope.
He collected his things where they lay draped over a stuffed mahogany chair. “However,” he added, shrugging on his coat and slipping into his gloves, “I would give you a word of advice: let the men down now, rather than later. Do it in a nice little letter or at the next ball when one asks you to dance—it matters not. Their reactions will be the same. The only difference is whether you witness it.”
Echoes of laughter filtered in from under the door, boisterous but distant. Lady Prima and her party must be returning.
“I say this on purpose, Eliza. You say you want to catch a husband, and you may—but not without all the difficulties that come with it. You need to understand that you cannot toy with people.” William turned on his heel. He made it to the door before I mustered the mettle to say it.
“The way you toy with people?”
He halted. Twisted back. But he didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked amused. “Exactly.” He was collected again, transformed in the wickedly charming gentleman everyone knew him to be. He backed out through the doorway, swinging the doors closed until only his face showed through the crack. “Be better than I am, Little Cricket. It shouldn’t be too difficult.” The door shut.
I couldn’t stop one corner of my mouth from quirking. And how I hated myself for it.
Chapter 13
My Lady Prima
What secrets can I tell of her
That noble, buxom goddess?
Be she a maid, or maid it were
Her manners shrewd and modest
With wit as quick as any fox
And laughter always handy
Her beauty shines as to her flocks
Each gentleman and dandy
Their love for her is but increased
Round tables of flirtation
For when she chomps the sweetest feast
She shows due moderation
With charity surpassing nuns—
Applaud her—sound the bugle!
For never does she scorn the ones
Deemed trivial and frugal
And never would she dream her words
Could be so misconstrued
For like a colony of birds
Like-minds are gently wooed
She changes skin and flicks her tongue
As swift as an iguana
What praises of her can be sung—
My Lady Prima donna
Oh, how unkind William was. The sarcasm dripping from the page was so thick, I could’ve filled a glass and swallowed it. Charity surpassing nuns . . . never scorning those of lower birth or lesser fortune—they were statements that could never be applied to a gossipmonger like Lady Prima.
I had found the key under my door this morning, and a new poem in the box. Because of my busy morning spent talking with the housekeeper, planning the week’s menu, and arranging for the sofas in the drawing room to be reupholstered—tasks that had recently fallen on my shoulders, since Mama was worsening by the day—I hadn’t been able to steal a moment alone to read it until the afternoon. Making my escape to the conservatory connected to the back of the house, I had sat in one of the iron cast chairs and whipped out the poem.
The humid conservatory was almost always empty, and I preferred it that way. A black net of metal crisscrossed the domed, glass ceiling. The stone floor was always warm, unseen stove flues piping horizontal smoke under the greenhouse to keep the room hot enough for vegetation. Daily, servants watered the lemon trees, orchids, jasmine, and crawling grape vines, then dusted the sills and washed the windows. The shafts of sunlight streaming through heightened the fragrant, earthy scent in the air, making the atmosphere perfect for clearing one’s head, and incidentally, reading poetry.
I had to tighten the corners of my mouth as I read, holding back the smile William had intended to win when he penned the verses. It really was unkind of him. I was so preoccupied with stuffing down the laugh fizzing in my throat that I didn’t hear him enter.
“In here again?” I looked up to see him meandering inside, and noted his coiffed hair and freshly shaven jaw. “That’s the third time this week alone. I never knew you were such a lover of nature.”
I folded the note discreetly
. “It is not nature I enjoy, but solitude.”
“Mm.” His lips trumpeted as he stopped to finger the leaves of a fern. “And what do you think of my poem?”
Drat. He’d seen me—or more importantly, my smile.
I straightened, stashing the note in my lap. “Why are you here?” I asked nonchalantly.
He released the plant to come and sit in the chair opposite mine, tucking his coattails behind him as he did. “I,” he said, “am going to pretend I did not notice your inelegant change of subject, because as it happens, I am here for your lesson.” My face must have pouted, with the way William laughed. “Come, do not frown so!”
“I had hoped you had forgotten it.”
“Yes, I know you did. But how could I forget, after yesterday’s spectacle? You are in desperate need of some flirting expertise, and I have come to provide it.”
There was a large measure of hypocrisy in the way William had scolded me yesterday for playing with a man’s heart, only to insist upon teaching me how to do it well. Last night I’d lain awake, watching the flickering shadows from a candle dance upon my ceiling, wondering why. The only explanation I could conjure was that my actions with my suitors had somehow broken through his defenses. A brief moment of rare vulnerability, where he’d been faced with emotions he’d pretended away for years.
“Desperate need?” I said. “I was not all bad . . .” William’s eyebrows skyrocketed up, head tilting in doubt. “Fine, so I was not the most skilled of the party. That still does not mean a lesson or something else just as nonsensical will do the trick.”
“Trust me,” William said with a broad grin, letting me know that I definitely should not trust him. “Now please, ‘Liza, will you let me flirt with you?”
My mouth felt parched and I filled my lungs with lemony air. Why did he have to phrase it that way? Quieting my insides, I finally managed to chirp, “If you must.”
A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2) Page 13