Her Secret Fantasy

by Gaelen Foley

  And so he had paid a call at Knight House and asked his London cousins to recommend a good accountant.

  They had presented him with Charles Beecham, Esquire, their tidy little solicitor and all-purpose man-of-business, who had come to earn the supreme trust of the entire Knight clan. The Duke of Hawkscliffe himself had asked Beecham to add Baby Kate to his will when Her Ladyship had done them the honor of being born—and if anything untoward happened to His Grace, the ducal daughter would be one very wealthy infant.

  At any rate, the brisk, balding, and meticulous Charles had joined Derek’s mission with a numerical zest that belied his pasty face and slight stature.

  The little fellow looked like he might faint at the sight of blood, but so far, Charles had proved to be a godsend. In his years of service for assorted men of wealth before devoting himself exclusively to the Knight clan, he had seen all the dirty tricks dishonest men could try.

  Instinctively confident in the integrity he sensed in the man within minutes of meeting him, Derek had sworn Charles to secrecy and then explained the whole unpleasant matter about the suspected embezzlement.

  Charles had quickly grasped the scope and consequence of the problem, whereupon he had rolled up his sleeves and put his spectacles on like a man arming for battle. “Fear not, Major. If there is wickedness afoot here, we will find it,” he had vowed, and then, before Derek’s eyes, Charles had begun to attack that paper mountain with a single-minded fury, determined to ferret out whatever corruption might be hiding inside all those blinding little columns.

  Derek had watched him, bemused.

  Charles had high-placed patrons in Derek’s kinsmen, true, but it struck him as somewhat extraordinary that this small, harmless man—who looked like he wouldn’t stand a chance defending himself in a milling match against even the youngest water boy back at the regiment—this unlikely little hero showed not the slightest fear about crossing the supremely powerful Gentlemen of the Sub-Committee.

  This was a new kind of courage to Derek. He found it rather impressive for a civilian. Who’d have guessed it? Behind the accountant’s unassuming face and paunchy form beat the heart of a lion.

  For the past few days now, Charles had waged his holy war on the ledger books. He had even agreed to bend the rules a bit and use the influence he wielded through his patrons with the chaps in the back offices at the Bank of England. Thanks to Charles’s role as the man-of-affairs for one of the richest families to store their millions there, he managed to persuade certain clerks of his acquaintance at the Bank of England to let him have a brief glance at the banking records of the committee members under suspicion.

  Derek knew they could all get into deep trouble for this, but there wasn’t time to fool with chasing after all the correct permissions in London’s dizzying bureaucracy. The bloody good of the nation was at stake. If the troops didn’t have their gold, they might lose the war; the colonies in India could then begin to fall like dominoes, and who could say what advantage that would give the French or some other rival power?

  In any case, that bit of illicit snooping helped him clear another pair of names off his list.

  Since most of this lay within Charles’s expertise, Derek floundered, finding that he wasn’t much use in this particular stage of the investigation.

  Given his restless state of mind after his falling-out with Lily, any hour of idleness was an unwelcome plague. He resorted to cleaning his horses’ tack and repacking his things an eighteenth time for his journey home. There was still no word, no letter from Colonel Montrose. He worried about his lads, wondered where his men had been dispatched to, how they were faring under the new major, whether they had seen any action yet, and if there had been casualties.

  Lundy had no news to report about what was happening with the Chairman Lord Sinclair’s efforts to find the embezzler within the committee. Derek had not told Lundy about bringing Charles into the fray, of course. He finished up the last few spying sessions needed and did what he could to help Charles. That, at any rate, was how he spent his days. The nights were another matter.

  Nights were hard.

  He lay awake thinking nonstop about Lily and even when he slept, she invaded his dreams. In his same battlefield nightmares now, he could hear her calling to him through the barrage of cannon-fire and black smoke. In his dreams, they were desperately trying to find each other, so somehow they could both escape that hellish place and survive.

  Indeed, his stark nightmares about his past battles had led him to a change of heart about having invited her to come with him to India. Thank God she had said no. For when he thought in cold, hard, realistic terms about her actually being there, he knew he didn’t want her anywhere near his army life.

  Death was everywhere. If she were killed, he would never forgive himself. Then there was the threat of capture, arguably worse for a woman. A golden-haired English girl would be considered a most exotic addition to any of the local nizams’ private harems. Her very beauty would make her a target—and that would only increase the danger for his whole squadron.

  He could protect Lily and he could fight a war—but he wasn’t sure any man could do both, every day, around the clock. Even “strong-arm’d Achilles” had to rest sometime.

  For now, he counted himself lucky for this chance to stand here near her, in earshot of her soft, melodious voice; he wondered if she knew that he was watching her in fascination.

  Earlier, he had tried to read her reaction when he had arrived, but all he could glean was that she was not happy to see him with Fanny again.

  Well, good. Let her take a dose of her own medicine.

  She seemed resolved to treat him just the same as anybody else, but privately, Derek amused himself by watching Lily deal with each new trial that came her way.

  When Mrs. Lundy started gushing again about her upcoming trip to Jamaica, Derek observed Lily’s fleeting exasperation when she thought no one was looking. It was barely there, a subtle glance to heaven, as though praying for the strength not to scream upon having to hear it all again.

  He lowered his gaze with a private smile. The first time he’d met her, she had been masked, but somehow she had become an open book to him by now, one he knew he could never get tired of reading. He looked at her again, engrossed.

  Her gaze was fixed across the green and now he watched her delicate face harden. She was battening down for a siege, and quickly, Derek saw why. Bess Kingsley was making her way over to them, skirts and petticoats flouncing with her big, pounding strides.

  This should be interesting, Derek mused.

  Oh, not her again!

  Certain that within moments her nemesis would search out some new way to humiliate her in front of everyone, Lily barely had time to brace herself before Bess flung herself as usual into the center of their party, monopolized Mrs. Lundy, and began talking loudly. At once, she began hurling her opinions about, critiquing the food, the drink, the tent, and the musicians, as if anyone cared about what details had displeased her.

  Gabriel looked at the girl in surprise.

  I think I feel a headache coming on, Lily mused, but then she noticed the hint of a sympathetic smile coming from Derek, and that soft curve of his lips becalmed her soul so that the sun came out again and her floating heart ignored Miss Kingsley’s bellowing verbiage, and all she heard was the lilting song of a little bluebird perched high up on the mighty oak’s branch above her.

  Then the bird flicked its tail and deposited its droppings right in Lily’s cup of champagne punch.

  Mrs. Clearwell gasped.

  The bird flew away without a care, and Lily just sighed, somehow not surprised, while Edward and Bess roared with laughter.

  “Oh, Eddie, look! The curse of the Balfours has struck again!”

  “What excellent aim the creature had,” Lily drawled as she handed off the goblet to the nearest servant and received a wet washcloth in return, quickly wiping her hands, though thank heavens, there was no direct hit.


  “Actually, they say it’s good luck, you know,” Mrs. Clearwell offered, with a pitying look for her humiliation.

  “I’ve heard that,” Derek seconded, while Mrs. Coates cringed and Lady Amherst murmured, “How disgusting!”

  The men had stronger stomachs. Derek and Gabriel stifled their smiles, simultaneously stepping forward to offer their handkerchiefs.

  “It’s all right, Majors,” Lily said dryly. “The little dickens missed me.”

  “Barely!” Bess burst out, red-faced with hilarity at the mishap. She elbowed Edward. “I told you you’d best stay away from her or something horrid would befall you! She’s bad luck! Poor Miss Balfour! It must be such a trial, being cursed.”

  Lily came abruptly to the end of her patience and gave Bess a bright smile. “Actually, Miss Kingsley, all the best families have curses. Maybe your father can buy one after he’s finished paying off the title.”

  “Hullo,” Derek said mildly.

  Bess’s eyes had widened. “How rude!”

  Mrs. Coates and Lady Amherst were snickering as only true Society ladies could do, but Mrs. Lundy looked like she might faint. “Oh—oh, my dear young ladies, do not—”

  Her lower lip trembling, Bess whirled to Edward. “Did you hear what she said to me?”

  “It was rather rude, Lily,” he agreed in a low tone.

  Lily glared at him in shock.

  “No, no,” Derek interjected, watching in amusement. “Our Miss Balfour has merely learned to parry. It’s about damned time, too,” he added under his breath.

  “Oh, I always knew how, Major.” Lily glanced at him, then at Bess again. “I was brought up on noblesse.”

  “You never had the guts before to say boo to me!”

  “No, Miss Kingsley; you see, it’s called manners.”

  “Well! Aren’t you a fine one! Come on, Eddie. My father wants to talk to you.” Bess grabbed Edward by the coat.

  “Edward,” Lily clipped out. She looked him in the eyes. Don’t you dare.

  “I’ll be right back,” he grunted. “Mr. Kingsley and I have been workin’ on a deal.”

  Bess shot Lily a smiling gloat and yanked Edward along with her as she went flouncing off.

  “I say,” Gabriel murmured.

  “Au revoir, Miss Kingsley!” Mrs. Coates gave her an elegant wave.

  Lady Amherst joined in. “Do come visit us again.”

  “Oh! Oh, dear, I’m sure, well, that is—” Babbling incoherently, Mrs. Lundy lasted another ten seconds or so before hurrying after them.

  “Darling, your mother would be so proud,” Mrs. Clearwell murmured with a twinkling glance.

  Lily gave her a wry look.

  Her triumph over Bess was short-lived, considering she was the one left standing here, suitorless, in front of Derek and his gorgeous paramour. It was dashed uncomfortable, being the odd woman out—and really, it was too vexing how that spoiled girl always seemed to get her way!

  “Charming girl,” Mrs. Coates remarked in her sophisticated manner, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Forgive me,” Lily apologized. “We don’t get along very well.”

  “I can hardly imagine why,” Lady Amherst drawled.

  Lily did not desire any sympathy from Derek’s worldly bedmates, but she supposed she appreciated their sentiments.

  “Miss Balfour, you never mentioned your family had a curse. How exotic,” Derek remarked, unaware that this was a sensitive topic.

  “Do you believe in curses, Major?” Lily shot back.

  “No.”

  “Neither do I. The only ‘curse’ upon our family is that of reckless Balfour men who make bad decisions, leading straight to their own demise!”

  “I see,” he murmured, his sharp look affirming her point was well taken. “But your grandfather lived into old age, did he not?”

  “He had sense,” she replied. Which is more than I can say for you.

  “Er, Major—” Mrs. Clearwell had been casting worried glances from Derek to Lily and back again, no doubt fearful that her matchmaking efforts had gone permanently awry. Fortunately, she was a grand mistress of the art of smoothing things over. “How is that adorable nephew of yours? And the rest of your family?”

  “Very well, ma’am. They are all doing fine. My father in particular wished me to send his regards.”

  “Oh! Did he?” she asked in surprise. “How kind!”

  Lily smiled at the beaming pleasure that broke out across her godmother’s face.

  “Likewise, Major. Do give my best to Lord Arthur.”

  “I shall. And how is your family, ma’am?”

  “Oh, I haven’t any family but this one.” Mrs. Clearwell put a fond arm around Lily’s shoulders.

  Her answering smile was taut, because from where she stood, she could see Edward talking to the Kingsleys.

  Things were looking awfully cozy over there.

  “Actually, now that you mention it, Lily had a letter from her cousin just the other day, didn’t you, dear?” Mrs. Clearwell gave her an encouraging nod, trying to get her to talk to Derek.

  “Cousin Pamela?” he asked, tilting his head in curious amusement. “And how is the family scribe?”

  “Go on. Tell him about her letter. Pamela writes the most amusing letters!”

  “Are they frightful?” Derek asked with a mock shudder.

  “Only a little macabre,” Lily conceded, reluctantly succumbing to a smile.

  “Do tell.”

  The others looked at the two of them without the slightest inkling of what they were talking about.

  Ridiculously pleased that Derek had remembered about her Gothic-writing cousin, Lily indulged his curiosity. “Cousin Pamela is in ecstasies over the uninvited guests who have taken up residence in the attic of the north wing of Balfour Manor.”

  “Balfour Manor?”

  “My home.”

  “Her grandfather, the previous Lord Balfour, left it to her in his will,” Mrs. Clearwell boasted, nodding at Lily.

  “Oh?” When Derek’s glance swung to her again, a strange look dawned slowly in his eyes.

  “It’s the home I grew up in. We’re very lucky it wasn’t entailed. At any rate, we haven’t used that wing of the house in years,” Lily explained, barely noticing the change coming over him. “Unfortunately, there must be a few holes in the roof, for our visitors were spotted swooping in and out from under the eaves after nightfall.”

  “Swallows?” Mrs. Coates inquired.

  “Bats,” Derek said, guessing correctly, since he was privy to Pamela’s quirky turn of mind.

  “You have a colony of bats in your attic, and your cousin is happy about this?” Gabriel asked in confusion.

  “It’s atmospheric, Major.” Lily shrugged. “Our Pam’s a little strange. But we love her. The difficult part is that nobody knows what to do about these bats.”

  “I do.”

  Lily arched a brow at Derek. “Why am I not surprised, with all your hidden talents?”

  Mrs. Coates and Lady Amherst did not appear to like her cheeky comment one bit.

  Lily pressed her lips shut, supposing her words could be taken as more risqué than she had meant them.

  “What is the correct method, Major?” Mrs. Clearwell asked, sticking to the subject before her charge got into another verbal altercation, this time to be outnumbered. “Smoke them out with burning peat?”

  “No, in fact. It’s much simpler than that.” Derek was eyeing Lily darkly.

  He did not look happy and she couldn’t figure out why. She thought the story about the bats would have amused him. Instead, that tension around the outer corners of his pale blue eyes and the firm line of his jaw hinted that he was annoyed about something. Maybe even angry.

  Baffling man!

  When he turned to Mrs. Clearwell, his tone was still polite. “The first thing you’ve got to do is close up those holes in the roof.”

  “Easier said than done.” Lily shook her head, jumping in again.
“The last fellow who came to appraise our roof situation said the whole thing needed to be replaced. It’s nearly half an acre of roofing, and the house is of Tudor vintage. The repairs have to be done properly in a manner that’s true to the period.”

  He stared at her in shock. “Good God, that’ll cost a fortune. Have you told Edward this?”

  “Derek!” Gabriel exclaimed at his brother’s blunt nosiness.

  Lily was used to it. She did not take offense. “Is there something wrong?” she asked him quietly.

  “No!” he exclaimed, obviously lying. “I’m just surprised. This is the first that I’ve heard about Balfour Manor. I mean, really, Miss Balfour, I had no idea you were the owner of a huge Tudor mansion!”

  Lily looked at him in confusion. “So?”

  “Never mind. I’m going to play cricket.” But as he marched off to join the trio of young men beckoning him over to join their team, he passed Lily with a cold glower like midnight in December.

  “What?” she cried.

  “You could sell the damned thing,” he snarled, then strode away.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Major, darling, I’m parched!” Lady Amherst announced, dimpling at Gabriel. “Shall we get something to drink?”

  “I’ll come along.” Mrs. Coates seemed to have had enough of Lily’s company, too.

  “Er, yes, of course,” Gabriel obliged them. “Miss Balfour, Mrs. Clearwell, if you will excuse us.”

  “Certainly. Major. Ladies,” her chaperone said ever so pleasantly. “Enjoy the picnic.”

  Gabriel sent Lily an awkward and somewhat apologetic nod of farewell, then was whisked away by the worldly women he had on each arm.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Lily could no longer contain her exasperation. “He growled at me! Derek did.”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “What a savage! He is so vexing!”

  Mrs. Clearwell looked askance at her. “Especially when he’s right.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “If you sell the house, you don’t need Edward’s money, do you?”

  “Sell the house? You must be joking.”