by Liz Tyner
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Lily pulled away from her sister’s grasp. ‘I’ll not get into another one of those messes. If Edgeworth or I spent one moment dancing with someone else and it appeared we stood too close, it would be in the papers, just like the old lies. I don’t want to live my life in the papers and I’m too muddle-headed when he’s around to think properly.’
‘You should never let people like Sophia Swift hurt you.’
Lily took a deep breath. ‘I want to make sure you know that we are full sisters.’
Abigail rolled her eyes. ‘I never doubted it. Who else could put up with me? You look exactly like the miniature of Father’s aunt, anyway. I’d always thought it a painting of you until one day I asked where your picture had disappeared to and Mother told me it wasn’t you.’ She smiled. ‘I did think it odd that you looked way older in the painting, but—’ She shrugged. ‘What do I know about art?’
Abigail patted the necklace. ‘I think I will wear this when I break Fox’s heart, if you don’t mind.’
Abigail flounced to the doorway and looked back. ‘We are full sisters. And sisters help each other. Remember that.’ She twirled away so fast her skirt almost tripped her.
Chapter Eleven
‘The cravat would pass any inspection,’ Edge said. He leaned, looking into the mirror. The simple tie Edge had managed worked well enough for the meeting with his man of affairs.
‘Are you sure you don’t want your hair trimmed?’ Gaunt asked for the second time.
‘I most certainly do not.’ Edge straightened, wishing his tone hadn’t been so harsh, but the valet would have been nudged out of the way by a snail that morning. Still, Edge should have maintained decorum.
Gaunt put away the shaving supplies and his eyes didn’t meet Edge’s.
‘I do appreciate your years of service, Gaunt.’
Gaunt paused suddenly. His lips turned up. ‘Thank you.’ But he didn’t raise his head.
Frustration stopped Edge from saying more. If anything, Gaunt seemed more distant, almost as though he was hiding inside himself, and now he took an extra moment wiping a cloth over the top of the mirror.
‘Is anything wrong?’ Edge asked, fighting impatience.
‘No, sir.’ This time Gaunt met Edge’s inspection. The valet’s eyes brimmed with mirth and then they darted to the window.
Edge’s stare followed and then he saw the handkerchief across the way, caught in the window, hanging to the outside. ‘Ah...’ A welcome warmth flourished in his body and he took a second longer to look at the handkerchief.
‘Does everyone in the household know?’ he asked, curious, not upset.
‘I would say you are the last person to be aware of it.’
‘Everyone?’ Edge read Gaunt’s face.
A nod.
Edge put the towel by the wash basin. It would be a long time until darkness. Hardly seemed worth waiting if everyone knew.
‘If they didn’t notice the first...’ Gaunt folded the cloth he used to dust, never taking his eyes from it ‘...they probably noticed the green one—on the broom leaning against the corner of the house.’
Edge jerked his eyes to Gaunt’s face, reading the truth.
‘Or the third. On the front gate.’
Edge’s grin tried to break through, but he kept it in check.
‘I will collect the lower two and return them to their owner,’ he said.
‘If you collect the uppermost one—’ Gaunt fought to keep his face straight ‘—I would take extra-special care.’ Gaunt took in a quick gulp of air. ‘Wouldn’t want you falling from a ladder.’
‘Your concern is taken in the spirit it is given,’ Edge said.
‘Thank you.’ Gaunt walked out. An ally.
Instantly, Edge changed his plans for the day. He had some handkerchiefs to retrieve, although the one at the window couldn’t be collected. Lily could bring that one to him later, after dark.
Edge walked into the sunshine, retrieved the linen on the broom. He kept himself from lifting it to his face, instead contenting himself to recall the mix of soap and springtime that made him think of Lily, of gardens and her childhood exuberance.
Then he folded the cloth and put it in his pocket. Next, he moved to the front gate and collected the one tied around the iron.
He took his time, fairly certain every window in his house had a face behind it watching him.
The butler at the Hightower residence received him. The butler had surely seen the handkerchief at the front gate. Had he not known what it was about, he would have instantly removed it.
Edge vowed that if he should have children, he would buy a small country hunting lodge for relaxation and have only one trusted servant about who lived in a nearby cottage, and he and his family would just have to get by. He imagined Lily and their children with him and wished he’d awoken earlier.
Edge looked around the Hightower sitting room. No portraits showed a perfect family. No intricate vases or books about. Just lamps, furniture and the one painting, the width of the mantel, of the Hightower bank. Lily’s house reminded him of the studies of his childhood.
When Mr Hightower arrived in the sitting room, his pace was measured. He spoke, braced for unpleasant news. ‘Everything going well, Your Grace?’
Mr Hightower didn’t know about the handkerchiefs. Probably the only person in the two households who didn’t.
‘I wish to ask if I might call on your daughter.’
‘Lily?’ Hightower paused.
‘Of course.’
‘Well...of course.’ Hightower collected himself. His face completely changed, lighting the room. He reached for the bell pull, snapped it so firmly that Edgeworth looked to the base to make sure it was still attached.
When Lily walked into the room her eyes were guarded.
‘Your Grace.’ She curtsied perfectly. Her eyes darted from him to her father and back.
‘Edgeworth wishes to call on you, Lily,’ her father informed her.
‘He does?’ She stared at him, seeming unable to take in the features of his face.
Edgeworth felt prickles of unease. ‘Yes.’
Her jaw tensed. He wished he could read her thoughts. She definitely looked as if she were trying to tell him something with her face that she didn’t want to say in front of her father, but Edge didn’t think it the words he expected. Three handkerchiefs. Three.
Then Abigail pranced in behind her sister, her head bobbing a quick curtsy and her eyes alight. He would have thought she was the one expecting a—His gaze took in the sconce on the wall and he shuffled his feelings, and gave one censorious blink to the traitorous sister.
‘Leave us for a moment, Abigail,’ the father instructed.
Abigail’s bottom lip quivered and she wavered, looking as if she tried to find some excuse, any excuse, to stay. She didn’t budge. Expectation in her eyes.
Too many handkerchiefs. The father wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. Lily didn’t either.
‘Miss Abigail,’ Edge said. He reached into his pocket and stepped to her, reaching out with the cloths. ‘I believe you lost these in the garden.’
She took in a breath. ‘Oh. Um... Aren’t those yours, Lil?’
Lily’s eyes changed from morning wonderment, to sunshine burn, and then to a storm’s clash of lightning. ‘They are Abigail’s.’ The last word snapped and ended on a hiss.
‘Oh.’ Abigail reached out, hand limpid, eyes wide, ever so unaware. ‘I wondered where they’d gone.’
‘And how did you end up with them?’ Hightower asked Edge.
‘They fluttered in my direction.’
Hightower stared at his daughters.
‘Abigail,’ Lily said, ‘gets misguided and I’m sure while she was misguided,
she lost them.’
‘I suppose I should return them to my room,’ she said. ‘As no one here seems to appreciate them.’ She flounced out.
Lily closed the door behind her sister, the click firm.
Lily moved to the sofa, careful to sit so her skirt wouldn’t wrinkle. Edge sat across and her father remained standing.
‘I had considered calling on you,’ Edge said, irritated at the hesitancy in his voice. The one time he needed to feel like a duke and he didn’t. In fact, perhaps the only time since his father’s death that he didn’t feel his title.
‘I think it is a lovely idea, however...’ She swallowed. ‘I’m... I have a secret that I must tell you and I think when you hear it we will both decide to put the question aside.’
He waited.
‘Yes. I didn’t want it known...’
He raised his brows, watching her try to think. Her eyes brightened when she settled on an idea. ‘I’m in love with Foxworthy.’
‘Lily.’ Her father gasped, stepping back. Apparently he was hearing this for the first time.
‘I didn’t want to tell you, Father.’ The words rushed. Guilt? ‘I realised my true feelings recently. It has been a deep secret of mine. No one knows. Not even Abigail.’
‘I understand your reluctance.’ The father’s lips moved to form more words, but he said nothing for a second. ‘One wouldn’t want to marry the wrong cousin.’ His eyes raked over his daughter’s face.
‘Miss Lily.’ Edge rose, stepped forward and held out his hand to her. She had no choice but to rest her fingers in his. The touch hit him to his boots. He’d been planning to let her off the hook, particularly since her scheming sister had set up the meeting. But Fox? Oh, hell, no.
‘I completely understand. I care deeply for him, too. One can’t help but love him,’ he said. ‘Does he reciprocate?’
‘He will, I’m sure, eventually.’
‘How could he not?’ Edge’s grip tightened on her fingertips. His eyes locked on hers. ‘I did notice that intensity you had for him the last time we were together. You ran right into his arms and were overcome with emotion.’
‘Lily?’ Hightower choked out the word.
‘Yes.’
He put her fingertips almost to his lips. ‘I am completely at ease with that.’ He kissed her fingertips, feeling the tug away. He released his grasp and her hand shot back almost to her shoulder, and her fingers were curled.
‘The caress you gave him awed me.’
‘Lily?’ her father repeated.
‘Yes, Lily,’ Edge said. ‘Please share with your father that moment so he will understand your deepest feelings.’
‘I stumbled,’ Lily said. ‘Not ran. And I looked up into his eyes and his face, and I could not believe what I had just done. An error. Of monumental proportions.’
‘No. It wasn’t. Because of your deep devotion for Fox, then I don’t see how being in his arms could be considered such an error.’
‘Before. The stumble.’
‘Again. Not an error.’
‘You don’t understand a woman’s tender feelings.’
‘Not for Foxworthy.’
‘Lily,’ her father said. ‘You’ve never been a particularly good liar that I could tell. And you’re not getting any better.’
She looked at Edge, her head cocked to one side, brows raised and her mouth in a straight line. ‘Marriage... It’s not for me.’
‘Lily,’ her father inserted, ‘just because your mother and I didn’t have the best of marriages, don’t let it discourage you.’
His face tightened when he mentioned his wife, but so did Lily’s.
Edge stood. ‘I suppose I should be on my way. And, who knows?’ Edge frowned. ‘Perhaps you will change your mind about courting.’
She didn’t relax at all.
He examined her. He walked forward, staring at her face.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and put it in her hand, letting their fingers brush, before moving away. ‘I believe you have something on your face. A speck of powder?’
She looked at the silk, ran a finger over the gilded embroidery threads and looked at him.
He touched a finger to his lip, at the same place the tiny scar appeared on hers.
She brushed at the area. ‘Did I get it?’
He snapped his chin up a bare amount to give assent, noting the way her fingers kneaded the cloth in her grasp.
She held the handkerchief back to him.
He refused it with a wave of his hand. ‘You can send someone with it later.’
‘Yes, Lily. It should be laundered first. You know that,’ her father said.
‘I should take my leave. I just remembered that Fox and I are to go to White’s tonight, and we tend to stay out until the early hours of the morning. So please don’t be in any hurry to have it returned.’
* * *
She wore a spencer because of the chill in the air and arrived at the bench near one-thirty in the morning.
Edge stood waiting.
‘How long have you been out?’ she asked.
‘Since the lights went out in your house. I didn’t want an audience. I am sick of having an audience when I talk with you. I’ve sent Fox to Andrew’s house. He’s taken Mother for another portrait sitting with Beatrice and they won’t be back for a few days because he values his life and I explained this is the easiest way to keep it. He owes me for the scrapes I’ve got him out of.’
She put her hands to her cheeks. ‘I must apologise to Fox for slapping him.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Edge said. ‘He had no business skulking around the house at that moment and he knew it. You can slap him again and I’m sure he’ll have deserved it for something.’
‘I can’t believe I did that.’ But she did. A side of herself she feared surfaced when she was around Edgeworth. Her emotions erupted. ‘I shouldn’t have met you tonight.’
‘Yes. You should have. Did it occur to you that you could have just agreed to court and we could have just seen each other in your family’s sitting room for a few times? Unless, of course...’ He started that tickly thing again where his breath brushed against her cheek and warmed all the air around her. ‘I prefer to court out here as well. Excellent choice, Lily. You’re taking away the night chill quite well.’
‘It would get Abigail’s and my father’s hopes up if we met in public. And what would we have talked about?’
‘The weather.’ He reached out, pulling her close, sending the right kind of shivers into her body. ‘The world. The ships at sea. Just hearing your voice is conversation enough for me.’
‘You sound like Fox.’
She felt the shake of his head more than saw it. ‘Well, because of your deep affection for him, it should make you happy.’
‘You know I just said that to try to discourage Father’s hopes.’
‘I’ve never sounded like Fox before in my life. If I do, perhaps I should remain silent.’
His cold nose pressed above her cheek and warm lips rested on her skin. ‘I think silence now would be...pleasant.’
A chilled button from his waistcoat pressed at her thumb.
She tried not to let his words sway her. She needed to get back inside. She’d only ventured out because she’d not wanted him waiting and her not showing up. She would tell him they couldn’t meet again. She opened her mouth to speak.
‘Lean against my clasp,’ he said, taking her in a light embrace, clasping his hands at the small of her back. ‘I want you to see what I’ve recently discovered. Stars.’ He took a step forward, bracing his leg, and holding her lower, so she could look straight up and into the sky. He held her completely and the stars glittered overhead.
‘You’re not like you used to be,’
she said.
‘I know. I almost died twice.’
He swung her side to side.
The stars shimmered and she closed her eyes.
He pulled her up and swirled her around and straight into him. ‘I lived for this moment.’ He paused. ‘Or I almost died to find it.’
‘You scared us all.’
‘I went to check on my tenants because I wanted to do something away from what I’d done every day. I wanted to see what others’ lives were like. The ale-addled man was so nervous having a duke watch him render lard that he stumbled and the hot fat covered the front of my legs. Then I was in pain and it was like the fever after my watery mishap. I didn’t want to take the time to heal. But I did. And you won’t even marry me. I got well for you.’
‘You are only one of the many, many thousands of men I will not marry. And you did not get well for me.’
‘To my next dying day, I will believe I did. And if there is another accident, there is one woman I would want by my side. One.’
She tried to make herself bigger—hug him closer to warm him. ‘Don’t talk about death.’
‘Ah,’ he whispered, ‘I’m definitely alive now. Lily.’ His voice rolled over her, sending waves of weakness into her arms and legs. ‘Tell your father that you’ve changed your mind. You’ll let me court you.’
‘But...’
‘But,’ he murmured, his lips covering hers briefly before settling back enough to speak, ‘we can still talk privately. At night. And you can always tell your father if you change your mind again. He’ll adjust to it.’
He rubbed his nose against hers and the air warmed around them.
‘We’ll find out about ourselves. Together. I’ve been near death and I don’t want to die without living.’
‘What if I—?’
Lips trailed down her neck, not in kisses but in the firm slide of taking in the taste and feel of skin. Of her.
Tendrils of his hair brushed against her. Her fingers lingered in his hair and she could feel crispness where the strands ended and the trace of beard began. ‘Later. You can always change your mind, later.’
He enveloped her in his arms and surrounded her with more than just his body, but his strength—and the scent of him, of maleness, and something else. She didn’t know what. But she could have stayed in that feeling every moment the rest of her life and never pulled from it.