It Could Only Be You (The Imperial Regency Series)
Page 3
Lily didn't look convinced, but he wasn't saying anything more on the matter. It was personal, and too dark for such a quiet, homey scene.
Wanting to satisfy something that had been nagging at him since he had eaten a solitary dinner in his room the previous evening, and wanting to change the subject, Harry cleared his throat. "Is there no one here to help you? You said your father lives here, but I’ve not seen him yet and there don’t seem to be any servants."
"Father has been unwell, and is resting, but he sends his regards. I have informed him that you are recuperating nicely. Since you seem able to move about more easily, perhaps you can visit before lunch." Lily's expression grew distracted, as she stared into her tea. "I think he would enjoy someone to talk to, another man especially. He took a chill last winter and never fully shook it off. With the onset of cold weather again, he spends more time in his bed than not."
When she glanced up, sending him a small smile, Harry felt a small surge of sympathy for her. It was frightening, the prospect of being alone, especially for an unmarried woman who did not have many options. And yet, her eyes were clear and steady on his face, though the smile seemed hard won.
"We do have a housekeeper and two maids, but they're on holiday for the week, visiting their family. I thought it only right they spend Christmas with their loved ones. My father and I are able to manage for a week," she continued, looking a little more cheered."We do have Peter, the stable boy. And of course, the entire village comes by daily it seems, for a bit of gossip."
It was obvious how attached she was to her home by the warm look on her face when she spoke of it. And it seemed the people of the village were just as attached to her. He felt a bit better, knowing she was being looked after and protected, no matter how capable she was. It's not as if he would be able to do the job. Having nothing but his name at the moment, he wasn't a good prospect for her.
Not that he was looking to remarry. Once had been enough. He was free of entanglements and commitments at the moment, just the way he liked it.
Harry pushed back his empty plate and stood.
"It's good to know you have help here. I would hate to think of you struggling to take care of your father and maintain the house all by yourself." He moved towards the back door. Air. Air would be good. Somewhere else. "Now, after that excellent meal, I feel the need to walk. I haven’t eaten like that in so long that I feel like a slug."
As Harry reached for the knob, his gaze was drawn upwards by the bit of greenery tacked over the doorframe and he stilled. He glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and crooked grin, watching with fascination as Lily went rosy pink from the neckline of her modest gown to the tips of her adorable ears.
***
"Mistletoe?" Harry teased, pointing overhead, his green eyes laughing.
"It’s English tradition." Lily defended her decoration, grateful that he hadn’t caught her sneaking around the house at dawn, hanging the pretty greenery over every doorway she could find. After yesterday's embrace, in his bedroom, Harry would think her a hopeless flirt.
But how else could she arrange for another one of those passionate, toe-curling kisses?
"Mm hmh," Harry said, his eyes twinkling at her. "Come here, Lily."
She couldn’t move. She wanted to. She had planned to. But now, as the moment she had arranged so industriously was upon her, Lily was frozen to her small patch of floor. Harry stepped forward instead, his eyes never leaving her face and drew her to him, closing the gap until they were but inches apart.
All morning, she had hugged the memory of their embrace to her with wonder and delight. Lily had finally discovered the bubbly happiness that could be found in a man’s arms. Before Harry's lips had touched hers, she had found kisses to be, at best, damp and intrusive. At worst, well... one did not dwell on the unpleasant. But now she understood why the other girls in the village would make fools of themselves over their beaux. Harry Connelly was temptation itself, in the form of a man, and she would do just about anything to experience his lips against hers again. Even use the mistletoe as a spur.
Harry slipped his arms around her, holding her snug. Under the soft cotton of the old shirt, his chest was warm, the muscles hard where she allowed her hands to rest lightly. Lily leaned forward, their bodies not quite touching, drawing strength from his warm presence. One large blunt finger tipped her chin up and slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. Gently, he played with her, nipping at her bottom lip, requesting entrance. She opened her mouth on a sigh and his tongue slipped in, stroking the moist recesses, sensations shivering down her spine. She shifted against him and he drew her arms up, wrapping them around his neck.
This kiss was just as delicious as the one they had shared yesterday. It was perfect. Everything she had hoped for and more. Lily shivered with longing and held on for all she was worth.
They stood by the kitchen door for several minutes, kissing and exploring quietly, lost in each other, before Harry gently broke the connection by stepping far enough away to put a few inches between them again.
"I think I've abused your father's hospitality enough. We cannot do this again." He held her with his large hands on her upper arms, gentle but firm.
She struggled with disappointment. "I'm a grown woman and free to do as I like."
"I’m only here a few days, Lily. I can’t stay." Harry's green gaze was intense, still smoldering with the remains of passion, but wariness was beginning to crowd it out.
Inexplicable tears pushed at the back of her throat. She battled them back, refusing to give in to such weakness.
"Yes, I know. I just thought we could become… friends, while you were here." Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Lily managed to dredge up a smile, but her face felt frozen. He gave a short nod, still searching her expression.
How embarrassing, to become weepy over such a small thing. A kiss. Or perhaps two, she had lost count.
"All right. Friends, it is." He let go of her completely, his hands sliding away, and stepped back to open the door. She keenly felt the loss of his heated body close to hers. "I will be back soon. I plan to stay to the vicarage walk."
With one last long look, as if he was attempting to puzzle her out, Harry stepped out into the snowy yard and shut the door behind him. Lily watched him for a moment, trudging across the dead grass into the chill wind, his head down and shoulders hunched up to protect his ears. Within moments he rounded the house and was gone from her sight.
Lily turned back to her kitchen with a small sigh.
Cleaning up the breakfast dishes and wiping down the counters afforded her some time to think. By the time she had the kitchen put to rights, she felt much more like herself.
Harry had made it perfectly clear he was only passing through and was not looking for permanence of any kind. That was fine with her. She liked her life just the way it was. She had friends here, and her father, and a responsibility to the village. Lily was the charitable focal point of the area, since all the duke's daughters were grown and married. She was the one to organize the church fairs, pageants and to act as a mediator between the ladies of the village and her father. It was a sizable job, and one she excelled at.
She just wanted a bit of fun. Something to brighten her days, for as long as it lasted. At twenty-six, it was looking less and less likely she would marry. Harry might be her last chance to discover passion. She wasn't going to let it slip away without a fight.
~ 5 ~
"Miss Beaumont, how lovely it is to see you!" Mrs. Yardley trilled, as she bustled into the drawing room with her three daughters trailing behind her. "You look so well, my dear."
Lily swallowed a sigh and accepted the hands that the older lady held out. The heavyset woman smothered her in an enthusiastic embrace that Lily endured with good grace.
"Mrs. Yardley, it is so wonderful of you to visit. Miss Yardley, Cynthia, Cora. Don’t you all look so pretty in your new bonnets." Lily smiled at the three younger girls as they all took seats.
This morning Lily had been inundated with callers. For the most part, it was the village matrons and their unmarried daughters, nieces and granddaughters, but several of the men had dropped by also. After the first few calls, Harry had disappeared, leaving Lily to fend off her curious neighbors herself. If she hadn’t wanted to do the same thing so badly, she might have resented him making himself scarce. She couldn’t really blame him, although she did extract her revenge by promising to convey several invitations to tea. If nothing else, perhaps a round of house visits would delay Harry’s departure by a few more days.
Although, she wasn't entirely positive he would attend even if he did stay. He was American, after all. They were not known for their flawless manners.
"Would you like some tea, Mrs. Yardley?"
"Oh, yes, my dear. That sounds like just the thing."
The thought of Harry leaving so soon made her chest tight. He was a pleasure to have around, and not just because of his melting, enthralling kisses. He was an interesting man. He kept her laughing and engrossed in his story weaving as they sat with her father, who was thankfully recovering, in the evenings. Much to her surprise, they had truly become friends. After his careful step back the other morning, she had been afraid that things would be awkward between them, but the two of them fell into a comfortably easy pattern.
They were simply simpatico. It was as if they had known each other for years.
Shaking off her thoughts, Lily cleared her throat and leaned forward to off a plate of biscuits. "How is Mr. Yardley? And the farm?"
"The sheep are doing well, thank the Lord. They have not caught that awful croup that so plagued the Stinsons two winters ago, but are hale and hearty." Lily nodded absently as the woman chattered. "Mr. Yardley is just fine. He sends his regrets, of course. He had to stay behind and balance the books or he would have come with us."
"Of course." Lily turned to Miss Yardley. "How are your piano lessons coming? Have you mastered any Bach as of yet?"
Miss Yardley laughed. "Poor Mr. Bach spins like a wood lathe in his grave every time I set fingers to keys."
The feeling of ease between them did not mean Lily felt any sort of sisterly affection for Harry. No, when he was near, her heartbeat would quicken, and her stomach would do odd little flips every time he flashed that charming grin.
Mrs. Yardley scowled as the two younger girls burst into giggles at their sister's self-deprecation. Lily smiled, struggling to focus on their visit, but she kept drifting.
Every day it became harder to remember that she was looking only for a small flirtation with Harry. Sometimes, late at night in her bed, she let herself imagine what it would be like to be his wife, and sleep in his strong, muscled arms every night. Thinking that way would lead only to heartbreak when he moved on, and he would move on. She could see the restlessness that was beginning to plague him. The way he would stop whatever he was doing, and just stare out the window. The look on his face was a puzzle. She longed to reach over and smooth away the frustration she saw there, but knew that for her heart's protection, she should not.
But Lily was beginning to think no matter what she did, he was going to take a piece of her with him when he left. All she could do was make sure the damage wasn't vital.
That being said, she was still going to kiss him again if she got the chance. He was too delicious to resist.
"And how is your visitor today, Miss Beaumont?" Mrs. Yardley set her tea cup down very precisely on the table in front of her. "Is he able to join us this morning? I was so hoping the girls… ahem… we would be able to meet him."
Lily suddenly realized she had been drifting again and she refocused on her guests. Four pairs of brown eyes watched her eagerly, three faces hopeful and one slyly calculating.
"I am so sorry, but Mr. Connelly is not able to join us today. He is…he is…" Lily paused, thinking. She didn't want to lie, but trying to avoiding revealing he had gone into hiding was taxing the limits of her weary imagination.
"He is abominably rude. Ladies, I do apologize."
Lily gaped as Harry strode into the room as if he had merely been delayed a few moments, rather than absent the entire morning. He winked as he passed, hiding his action from their visitors. Lily felt a flicker of pleasure and squelched it quickly, so as not to embarrass herself in front of their visitors by simpering at the man.
Taking Mrs. Yardley’s hand, Harry bowed low, listening politely as she fluttered and babbled, introducing her daughters and revealing much too much personal information in the process. Lily turned her head and concentrated hard on the drapes, as the woman explained that they would have come yesterday, had it not been for an attack of her gout.
She would not laugh. She would not.
"Mother!" hissed the eldest Miss Yardley, her face quite pink. She looked as though she would happily curl up and die of mortification.
"It’s quite all right, my dear. What’s the point of living to my age and not being able to say whatever I feel like?" Mrs. Yardley said, blithely rolling over her daughter’s protests. She turned to a grinning Harry. "So, Mr. Connelly. Are you married?"
"I am a widower, actually."
"I am so sorry for your loss, sir. Do you mind me asking if it was recent?"
Now all three daughters were looking like they would gladly throw themselves out the window. Lily had found it amusing at first, but she disliked the direction Mrs. Yardley was heading. Though the older woman did not know, Harry was a widower. It did not bode well that he had not said much about his life previous to his arrival in England, and Lily felt his avoidance of the topic must surely indicate deeply felt personal loss. Such a thing should not be bandied about drawing rooms.
She shifted uneasily in her seat as the cheerful smile fading from Harry’s face confirmed her growing dread.
"Mrs. Yardley, did you mention that the ladies in the village are starting to already plan the spring rout at the assembly hall?" Lily asked loudly. "Have they picked a theme?"
If she could only redirect the discussion.
"What? I have no idea." Momentarily confused, Mrs. Yardley paused. She dismissed the attempt to change the conversation and continued. "As you were saying, Mr. Connelly?"
The woman would not be dissuaded, clinging to her conversational bit like a terrier with a rat. She leaned forward, eager to hear Harry’s answer. There was a brief silence as they all looked at him. Harry looked back, expressionless. His fingers flexed, digging in where they rested on the arms of the chair.
"I lost Katarina almost three years ago."
Lily's throat tightened. Although his voice showed no emotion, the look in Harry’s eyes was desolate.
"The American frontier is a rough and wild place. She was taken by an Indian raiding party, while I was up at Fort Knox delivering lumber. It was the culmination of an entire month’s work and would bring in enough money to buy us supplies for the winter."
"Mr. Connelly—" Harry shook his head, cutting off Lily's entreaty. She laced her fingers together in her lap to still the trembling that had begun, her heart sinking at the frozen expression he wore.
"I spent too much time picking out material so Kate could have a new dress. It was the most beautiful blue, with little flowers all over it. I remember looking at it and thinking how much it would please her. Blue had always been her favorite color."
The room was absolutely silent, except for the harsh sound of Harry’s breathing. Lily sat stock-still in her chair, riveted by the play of emotion across his face moving over him like the tide breaking against a rocky shore.
"I loaded up the supplies and Kate’s present, and make the choice that cost my wife her life. I decided what harm could it do to stop into th
e tavern and have a drink with some friends?" His bitter laugh was directed inward. It was a mirthless sound that echoed throughout the drawing room.
"By the time I left town and drove the wagon home, I had been gone almost the entire day. The cabin was empty and our things rifled through. Much of it was stolen or ruined, just for the joy of destroying it. And then I found Kate." Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Mrs. Yardley stiffen. Harry's eyes were focused on the past. The fact something so personal was never aired in polite society was completely irrelevant to him in that moment. Lily wasn't even sure he was aware of them anymore.
"She was gone before I even started on the road home. We had been married less than a year."
No one moved. Finally Lily drew in a ragged breath, blinking back her useless tears. At the sound, Harry raised his haunted gaze to hers. What had been hiding behind that blithe mask had broken free. She hated that anyone was witness to Harry at his most vulnerable; raw and exposed. As their eyes locked he stood abruptly, almost knocking his chair over, and strode from the room without another word.
"Well… I say. I never…" Mrs. Yardley exclaimed weakly. She sat, dazed, and then shook her head, coming back to herself. "Miss Beauchamp, that is a very troubled young man. Speaking that way with my innocent darlings in the room."
The matron’s outrage was growing as she composed herself. Shoulders stiff, she yanked on her gloves, her double chins quivering with indignation.
"Mrs. Yardley, I hardly think—" Lily began, but the woman was up and bustling her daughters out of the parlor before she could say more.
She trailed behind them, trying to soothe Mrs. Yardley’s offended sensibilities. The woman was an incessant gossip, and the details of the disastrous visit would be all over the village in no time at all. Harry didn’t deserve to have his pain gossiped about in parlors and at dinner tables, but short of a Christmas miracle, there was nothing to be done. She closed the door behind the Yardley women and just leaned there for a moment, her head throbbing.