She turned back to her guest, taking the seat across from Mr. Kingsley.
“Do you have a busy few months planned? You’re probably eager to renew old acquaintances, seeing as you’ve been absent so long.” Mr. Kingsley’s gaze met hers, and comfort rushed over her. Few men looked at her as he did. Never her father. Jackson, only at first. As if she was a person of interest, worth bringing flowers to and conversing with.
It was an altogether foreign and completely pleasant sensation.
“I have rather courted solitude of late.” She gave a small smile. “Not by choice, of course.”
“Custom dictates choice.” He ran a finger across the mustache obscuring his upper lip.
“How well you know the world in which we dwell.” He wasn’t a handsome man, by any means. Not like Jackson, dark and Byronic. Nor like Evans, with his farm-boy grin and wavy brown hair, grass-green eyes that—
Evans? Her chauffeur? Was she actually comparing Roland Kingsley’s looks with that of her servant? Gracious. Maybe she hadn’t slept as well as she thought.
But Mr. Kingsley did have a kind look about him, the sort she wished her father might’ve had. As if, in his gentleness, she could find safe harbor.
“Well, I do, as you say, dwell in it. But back to my question.”
“I’m hoping to attend a few parties. Probably the Astors will hold their usual ball at Beachwood. I might even host one here. What would you say to that?” Opportunities to hostess as Mrs. Jackson Montgomery had been few and far between. To host such a party, one would expect the man of the house to be in residence. She had never been sure whether Jackson was coming or going, how long he intended to remain with her before heading off on another round of pleasure-seeking. But the thought of now opening her home, arranging such an event, held a certain lure.
“I’d say that any party hosted by Lily Montgomery is one worth clearing my calendar for. Such an event would take time to plan though.”
She nodded. “I think I could still manage. Maybe right before everyone returns to New York.”
“Sounds feasible. It’s always amazing the wonders capital can do.”
She bit her lip, hesitating before continuing. “I’ve been thinking about that. The capital part, I mean. I don’t want to go through the rest of my life indulging in nothing but pleasure. While I was in mourning, I became acquainted with a certain Mrs. Dorothea Lincoln. She runs a home for immigrants who are left without family upon their arrival in the States. I visited the home and it seems such a worthy cause. But it’s not very large. I think I might like to expand it.” The words rushed out. She hadn’t mentioned the idea to anyone before. Oh, wait. She had mentioned it to Evans. He’d been the one driving her there, and on the way back, she’d shared her thoughts. He’d listened so earnestly….
“Lily Montgomery, lady patroness.” Mr. Kingsley chuckled.
“You don’t think it’s a good plan?”
“I do indeed. I wager you could accomplish anything you set your mind to. But it’s best not to be too hasty about these things. The reputability of such organizations can’t always be trusted. I heard of an instance where a gentleman founded a charitable organization for the benefit of orphaned children, and it was only discovered after several wealthy patrons had given him financial backing that he was pocketing over half of the profits himself. I would hate for such a thing to happen to you.”
“Perhaps the idea does merit more investigation,” she said quietly.
“If you’ll allow me, I’ll check into Mrs. Lincoln once I’m in New York. You’ll need someone to aid you in such matters.”
She supposed his words should have brought her a measure of relief. After all, he, a highly respected man of mature years was offering her, a young woman with little experience of the world, his assistance. That was a good thing, a needed thing.
But it didn’t quite match the new vision of herself as Lily Montgomery, capable woman. The sort of person who could stand on her own two feet and succeed at doing so.
Never mind high-minded new visions. He would only be helping. And she would hate to entangle herself and her finances in an ugly situation.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “You’re right. I do need help. I must admit I’m woefully inexperienced.”
“No more so than any other woman.” He offered a reassuring smile, and had they sat near enough, would probably have taken her hand. “And as for help, rest assured, you may always rely, in every circumstance, upon me.”
By five in the morning, Nathan had memorized every crack and crevice in the ceiling above his bed. Whether the pain in his abdomen, growing worse by the minute, or the events of the past two weeks, was keeping him up, he couldn’t say. At any rate, he hadn’t slept worth a darn.
Since that first afternoon call, Lily and Mr. Kingsley had been inseparable. Every afternoon, at precisely one o’clock, the doorbell would ring and Kingsley would be waiting outside. He always brought gifts: flowers, a new book, a box of chocolates. And he always stayed closeted in the morning room with Lily, their laughter and chatter humming through the house like a hive of lively bees.
Then the evenings came. They dined at friends’ homes. They dined together. They went to parties, balls. Took walks along the beach.
Nathan played driver at each one of these excursions. And every passing day, the knot in his chest burned like a smoldering firecracker.
Why was Lily throwing herself into this relationship? Kingsley was a nice enough fellow, genial and gentlemanly. He didn’t talk down to Nathan or the other servants the way some rich stiffs did, treating them like a coatrack: useful but not worth the time of day. Kingsley generally made some pleasantry about the weather or Nathan’s skill with motorcars.
It took the calm of a poker player and the control of a diplomat to answer Kingsley’s remarks with proper respect.
Why? Why was his usually rational mind responding this way? It wasn’t his business whether Lily consorted with Kingsley or the king of Prussia.
But it had become just that. His business. In the two years they’d shared together, he’d made it his business.
Worst of all?
He, Nathanial Evans, had allowed himself to care about Lily Montgomery—his employer. The woman who paid his salary, whose food he ate and pillow he lay his head on.
Not just a little schoolboy infatuation, no, sir. But the kind of caring that robbed his sleep, muddled his mind, confounded all manner of reason and sense. The kind that made him want to move heaven and earth in her defense, to give Kingsley a bloody lip and a black eye, even though the man had done nothing at all wrong.
It wasn’t love though. Couldn’t be.
Nathan sucked in a breath, the pain in his lower abdomen increasing, jabbing his insides like a pitchfork in the hands of an angry farmer. In the bed across from him, Gilbert snored loudly.
Now that he’d admitted all this to himself, one question remained: What was he going to do about it? Lily wasn’t like those girls who worked in the kitchen or sold bread at the bakery downtown. No, she was special. Not your average jewelry store diamond, but the kind of gem Tiffany’s kept under lock and key and only brought out to show their very favorite customers. Women like her weren’t meant to be carelessly tossed into a box with all the other pearls and emeralds, but kept polished and cared for. Set apart.
In a fit of exasperation over some annoying antic, his mother had once declared that Nathan hadn’t the sense the good Lord gave a pump handle. He tended to disagree, and deep down, he knew his mother did, too. The decisions he made were usually smart.
His feelings for Lily Montgomery?
Unimaginably stupid.
He couldn’t act on them. Not now. Not ever. She’d sack him on the spot, and with good reason, too. But not experiencing them, locking them away and then burying the key? Well, one might as well have asked him to quit providing his lungs with air.
So there was his quandary, intricate and complicated.
He tightened h
is jaw. What in tarnation was wrong with his stomach? The pain had begun a few days ago, but he’d chalked it up to something the cook fed him. One never could be sure just what those French chefs put in their recipes. But it hadn’t gone away, as digestive upsets tended to do. It had only gotten worse.
He glanced at the clock on the wall above Gilbert’s bed. Almost six. He’d have to get up then. Would he manage?
His gut churned. A wave of nausea swooped over him like a black crow bent on vengeance. He managed to stumble to his feet and cross the room just in time to deposit what little remained of last night’s dinner into the washbasin.
Gilbert sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.
“What’s going on?” His roommate’s tone was as slurred as if he’d tossed back one too many.
“Not sure.” Nathan collapsed back in bed. “But I’m feeling terrible. You’ll probably have to manage without me today.” If he was sick in bed, he wouldn’t be able to drive Lily anywhere. That meant Kingsley would have to use his chauffeur. That also meant Nathan wouldn’t be privy to their conversations.
“Don’t worry about that. Gee whiz, Nathan. You don’t look well. Your face is all pale and pasty looking. Do you want me to get my uncle to fetch the doctor?”
“No. It’ll pass.” The last thing he wanted was the butler peering down at him while he writhed in agony. The stress of dealing with Osbourne was probably what has caused the stomachache to begin with. Either that or the residual remains of those strange-tasting peppers.
“Well, all right.” Gilbert lay back down. “If you’re sure. I’m going to try and catch a few winks before that housemaid starts banging on our door.” He pulled the covers over his head, sonorous nasal strains emerging two minutes later.
Would Lily be worried when Nathan didn’t show up to serve breakfast? Would she even care? Probably not. Her plans for the day would consume all her thoughts. Especially now that she had such an attentive swain nipping at her heels.
He’d sort out his own thoughts later.
Just as soon as he got his blasted stomach under control.
Chapter 4
You’re leaving?”
Lily faced Mr. Kingsley across the morning room, his just-made announcement sending her heart into a downward spiral.
“I’m afraid so.” He gave a weighty sigh, as if the news pained him. “But it will only be for two weeks. At the most. Just enough time for me to tend to my business in New York. Then I’ll be back on the first available train.”
“Still, why so sudden?” The past weeks had been a whirlwind. Not a day had passed without spending time in Mr. Kingsley’s company. Their initial polite acquaintance had deepened into true friendship. Which in turn had deepened into…
“Necessary business. But don’t worry. I’m sure every man in Newport would be thrilled to take my place and squire you wherever you need to go. Would you like me to arrange an escort?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine. A rest will do me good. I haven’t danced so much and so often in…well, ever.” She laughed. “Go and have a good time.”
“I won’t enjoy a second of it on account of your presence being absent.” He crossed the room and took both of her hands in his, gazing down at her with warmth in his eyes. “I’ll miss you, Mrs. Montgomery. It would be a shame if I were to deny it.”
Heat flamed her cheeks as she enjoyed the sensation of holding his hands. Though she had little experience of such matters, it seemed indelibly branded within her to want and long for the touch of a man. Jackson had rarely been physically affectionate, especially the gentler, sweeter things, like holding hands or putting his arm around her waist. It wouldn’t have been proper for Mr. Kingsley to have done the latter, but he’d tried the former a couple of times.
“I won’t deny it either,” she murmured. “I’ll miss you, too.”
The door opened.
“Mrs. Montgomery?”
Lily turned. Her footman stood by the door. “Yes, Gilbert?”
“There’s a matter needing your attention. It’s urgent.” She noted the anxiety in his eyes.
“One moment.” She faced Mr. Kingsley again. “Good-bye then.” He still hadn’t released her hands, and she didn’t attempt to pull away.
“Good-bye, my dear.” He let go and crossed the room. At the door, he stopped and bowed, very seriously and politely. “Or should I say Mrs. Montgomery?”
She smiled at his antics, listening to his footfalls die away down the hall.
“Something awful has happened, Mrs. Montgomery. It’s Nathan…er, Evans.”
Her smile vanished, every muscle in her body tensing. “What? What’s happened?”
Gilbert practically hopped from foot to foot. “He was sick this morning. I thought he’d just eaten a piece of bad beef. But it got worse…Dr. White told us the news. He’s got acute appendicitis. They’ll be operating within the hour.”
Her heart slammed against her rib cage. The lacings of her corset seemed to leech every particle of air from her lungs.
Please, God, no…
“Take me to him. At once.”
Gilbert started from the room. Lily fisted her voluminous skirt, holding it above her ankles to match his stride. Down the servants’ stairs, through several long passageways. Finally, Gilbert stopped, puffing from exertion. “He’s in there. Dr. White, too.”
Once before, she’d been unprepared to see a man she’d seen as strong and invincible, prostrate and limp. The first time obviously hadn’t taught her much, because it was happening all over again. Only much, much worse. Her throat tightened as she approached the narrow bed. Dr. White stood to one side, but Lily spared him only a glance.
Evans—no, Nathan—gave a weak smile as she approached. His tanned face was marble pale, the lines in his strong jaw tight.
“I’m sorry I won’t be able to drive you around for a few days.” He sucked in a gulp of air. Her heart ached for him, for the intense pain he was enduring.
“If you say one more word about that, I’ll sack you on the spot. It’s you I’m worried about, as a person, not as my driver.” As if driven by something other than conscious thought, her fingers rested against his forehead. His skin, smooth and warm, was dampened by perspiration.
“As my lady commands.” He reached up, covered his hand with hers.
“Mrs. Montgomery, we’ve arranged to have the surgery here rather than down at the hospital. We’ve taken the liberty of setting up the adjoining room as our theater. My nurse, Miss McGrath, will be assisting me.” Dr. White’s tone radiated the calm of over twenty-five years practicing medicine.
“Of course. Please, feel free to use anything you need that we might have.”
“We’ll be preparing the patient in just a few moments.” His tone made it clear that it was time for her to leave.
“Yes. Just give me a minute more.” She captured Nathan’s gaze, wishing she could use every penny of Jackson’s fortune to erase the pain in his eyes.
“You’re going to be all right. Understand?” Traitorous tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back, unwilling to let him see her cry.
A calm smile edged his lips. “I trust God’s providence. He decides my future. But I would very much like to continue driving that fine motorcar of yours.”
“And so you shall.” She stood, trailing her fingers across his cheek. “My prayers won’t cease until I know you’re all right.”
Lily turned, brushing past the doctor. She crossed the hall and managed to make her way into the empty servants’ dining hall. Sinking onto one of the backless wooden benches, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears trickle over her fingers. This was ridiculous. He was her servant. She shouldn’t be collapsing into a blubbering heap.
Let him be all right, Lord. I know Dr. White is capable, but I’m still afraid. Guide his hands. Keep Nathan safe.
There. She lifted her face and drew in a steadying breath. The Lord would preserve Nathan, if it was His will. He loved and cared
for both of them. And she needed him. Not just as a chauffeur but as a friend. She hadn’t quite realized how much his friendship meant to her, but it hit her with full force now.
Nathan Evans was a true friend.
And the moments of waiting would be nothing less than agony, until she heard firsthand of his health and safety.
His mouth felt like cotton batting, his eyelids like weighted lead. His abdomen burned as if ringed in fire, and a woozy fog filled his mind.
Yet Nathan wasn’t hallucinating when it came to the vision at his side. Lily’s eyes were sapphire pools of concern. Her silk-smooth fingers caressed his forehead.
“Nathan. Wake up. Please.” Her tone pleaded, drew him from the foggy shroud.
“I’m…awake.” The words slurred from his lips.
“Oh, thank God!” She drew her fingers away and his head instantly started to ache. He nearly asked her to continue her ministrations but thought better of it. This was Mrs. Montgomery, an American countess. A common fellow like himself didn’t ask her to stroke his forehead. No matter how blissful the sensation.
“Can I get you anything? Anything at all?”
“Draw the curtains a bit more, please. The light…hurts.”
“Of course.” It wasn’t until she’d crossed the room and pulled the drapes that the irony of the situation struck him. She’d asked him to do the same once, when he’d found her in the parlor, eyes swollen from crying over an altercation with Jackson.
Another face, not half as appealing, loomed over him. Dr. White’s bushy mustache twitched. “You’re awake. Good. You survived quite an ordeal, young man. We almost didn’t make it in time. But never fear. You won’t have to worry about that offending organ ever again.”
“That’s nice.” If he hadn’t been so tired and his abdomen in such discomfort, he’d have laughed out loud. The good doctor talked about the bad appendix with the same matter-of-fact ease that a blacksmith would a faulty shoe.
Don’t worry. The old brown stallion is newly shod and ready to go.
Yep, that was him all right. Nathaniel Evans, old brown stallion.
The Secret Admirer Romance Collection Page 3