A Dare to Defy Novel

by Syrie James

  Julia sniffed the air as she approached the table. “That smells like bacon.”

  Alexandra lifted the domed lid over her plate. It was bacon, crisply fried. And scrambled eggs. Sautéed mushrooms. A grilled half-tomato. And buttered toast.

  Julia and Lillie lifted the lids covering their own plates to find the same delicious-looking feast.

  “Bacon and eggs!” Lillie cried, ecstatic. “But we only get this at Christmas.”

  “Well, it’s Christmas in May.” Martha beamed as she set out cups and a pot of cocoa. “His Lordship come in early this mornin’, he did, told Mrs. Nettle it was his wish that ye have the same breakfast he gets every day from now on. Not just breakfast, mind you. Luncheon and dinner, as well.”

  “Luncheon and dinner!” Julia’s eyes widened. “What are they to be?”

  “Ye’ll have t’ wait and see.”

  “But why?” Lillie asked.

  “Who cares why? Let’s eat!” Julia plunked into her chair and took a bite of bacon. Lillie followed suit. The expressions on the girls’ faces as they chewed were akin to experiencing nirvana.

  A smile tugged at Alexandra’s lips as gratitude spread through her. So, Longford actually had listened to her. “It was very good of your brother to think of us.” To Martha, she added, “Do you mind waiting a moment before you go? I’d like to write a quick thank-you note to His Lordship.”

  “Ye can write it, but he won’t get it this mornin’, Miss Watson.”

  A feeling of dread curled in Alexandra’s stomach. “Why not?”

  “On account of he left the house soon after breakfast.”

  “He left again?” Lillie cried sadly, through a mouthful of toast. “But he only just got home last night.”

  “He’s not gone to London,” Martha answered, “only rode off on his horse. Said he had business in St. Austell or might go as far as Bodmin, but would be back for supper.”

  Alexandra was relieved. “I’ll write the note all the same. But as there’s no hurry, I’ll wait until after I’ve eaten.”

  They enjoyed breakfast immensely. As Alexandra ate, she wondered what business had taken Longford away so suddenly. While the girls worked on their French assignment, Alexandra wrote him a note:

  Your Lordship,

  Breakfast was delicious and a treat beyond measure. Julia, Lillie, and I cannot thank you enough. If only you could have seen the expressions on their faces when they lifted the lids over their bacon and eggs, it would have been its own reward. It felt like Christmas morning.

  With gratitude,

  Miss Watson

  It was the first time she’d ever signed her name as Miss Watson, and she keenly felt the lie behind it.

  Luncheon proved to be another feast: ham, scalloped potatoes, cucumber salad, and a slice of lemon cake. The girls were thrilled. Longford had still not returned by dinnertime, which turned out to be individual baked pastries that Martha called Cornish pasties. They were similar to the beef pie Mrs. Gill had made in London, except in this case, a circle of dough had been folded in half, wrapping the filling of beef, turnip, onion, and potato with crimped edges to form a seal.

  “This is my favorite food in the whole world,” Lillie cried, savoring every mouthful, and Julia was equally appreciative.

  After a day of interesting lessons and delectable meals, they were all three replete with satisfaction. That evening as Julia practiced piano, Lillie read, and Alexandra worked on the next day’s lesson plans, John appeared in the nursery.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.” John placed a parcel wrapped in brown paper on the table. “His Lordship asked me to bring this up straightaway, and to tell you . . .” He paused, as if struggling to get the words right, “that it come from Bodmin, and he hopes it will suit.”

  Alexandra’s only thought was: Longford is home at last.

  “Who is it for?” Julia leapt up from the piano bench to stare at the package.

  “All of you, I think. Miss Watson, Lady Julia, Miss Lillie.” John backed out of the room with a bow.

  It didn’t escape Alexandra’s notice that he’d called the youngest girl Miss Lillie instead of Lady Lillie. It didn’t escape Lillie’s notice either, for as the girl’s eyes followed John’s retreating figure, her shoulders sagged slightly.

  Alexandra opened her mouth to call out a reprimand to the young man, but he was already gone. She turned to Lillie with a bright smile. “Lillie: would you like to open the package?”

  “All right.” Lillie untied the string and pulled away the paper covering. “Oh!” Her spirits instantly rose. “Sketchbooks and pencils! And colored pencils, too!”

  Julia gasped with delight. “How did Thomas know, Miss Watson? You must have spoken to him.”

  “I did.” Alexandra’s heart turned over. So this is what Longford’s mysterious errand had involved. He must have gone out specifically, against his own inclinations, to purchase these items for them. How good and kind that was.

  “Did you talk to him about our meals as well?” Lillie asked. “Is that why we dined so magnificently today?”

  “I did mention something about a more well-balanced diet.”

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Julia threw her arms around Alexandra.

  “Yes, thank you, Miss Watson.” Lillie also embraced Alexandra tightly, so that the threesome stood in each other’s arms.

  Alexandra smiled in wonder. It was the first expression of physical affection the girls had shown her. “Don’t thank me,” she said, returning the hug. “Thank your brother. All this was his doing.”

  Alexandra had just drifted off to sleep that night, when she was awakened by a sharp cry from the room next door. A low moan followed, and then the sound of weeping.

  She got up, shivering. It was nearly midnight. The fire Martha laid earlier had died down to embers. Lighting a candle, Alexandra slipped through the connecting door into Lillie’s room. The girl was sobbing into her pillow. Alexandra couldn’t tell if Lillie was awake or crying in her sleep. Setting down the candle, she sat on the edge of the bed and gently caressed the girl’s shoulder. “Lillie, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe. Don’t cry.”

  Lillie woke with a gasp and rolled to her back. After taking in her surroundings, she whimpered, “Oh Miss Watson!” Then she dissolved into tears again.

  Alexandra affectionately brushed back a lock of brown hair from the girl’s forehead. “What is it, Lillie? Can I help you?”

  Lillie squeezed her eyes shut and silently shook her head.

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  Lillie wiped tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  “I know you’re unhappy about something. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  Lillie rolled to her side again, clutching the pillow. Her sweet young voice cracked as she whispered: “Nobody loves me. Nobody wants me here.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is true. Miss Larsen said so.”

  Miss Larsen was their last governess. “What do you mean? What did Miss Larsen say?”

  “She said I was not part of the family, that I did not deserve to live here, because I am a . . . a half-breed. What is a half-breed, Miss Watson?”

  To hear such a statement and such a question from this beautiful young girl nearly broke Alexandra’s heart. “It’s something that you certainly are not, Lillie. You’re a beautiful girl, and you belong at Polperran House just as much as anyone else. I don’t want you to give another thought to anything Miss Larsen said.”

  “Yes, Miss Watson.”

  “When you go back to sleep, I want you to dream of something pleasant, like the drawing lesson we’re going to have tomorrow morning. We’ll go to the gardens and sketch the prettiest thing we find.”

  “Yes, Miss Watson,” Lillie said again, closing her eyes.

  “Sleep sweet,” Alexandra crooned softly, as she bent to kiss the girl’s brow. She massaged Lillie’s back gently, until she felt the girl relax beneath her fingers. Ju
st as the sound of Lillie’s even breathing confirmed that she was asleep, the bedroom door slowly swung open.

  Alexandra’s gaze took in the tall figure who stood framed in the doorway, carrying a candle, and her heart jolted.

  It was Lord Longford. His hair was in slight disarray. He wore black trousers, a white shirt that was half-unbuttoned from the neck down, and a dark red dressing gown, as if he’d been interrupted in the act of undressing for bed.

  And he looked impossibly, irresistibly handsome.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thomas had heard the crying from his bedroom down the hall.

  Not that he hadn’t heard such crying from Lillie’s room before. He had, far too many times to count. He had never thought to investigate before. After all, what could he possibly do? Lillie sometimes had nightmares. She cried in her sleep. It was not something he had ever felt comfortable thinking about or dealing with. He had left that to the governesses, or to Mrs. Mitchell.

  This time, though, he had felt compelled to look into it. Striding down the hall, he had told himself he was doing it for Lillie’s sake, but he knew that was a lie. He had come because he’d guessed—hoped—that Miss Watson might be there. That it would provide an excuse to see her.

  How right he had turned out to be.

  She was sitting on the edge of his sister’s bed, and as she glanced in his direction, he had to catch his breath. She had never looked more beautiful or more alluring. She was clad in just a thin white nightdress. The glow from a nearby candle bronzed her sienna hair, which fell in loose, billowing waves about her face.

  Now that he was here, words failed him. Everything that came to mind—How is she? Is she all right?—sounded trite, particularly after a glance at the bed, which confirmed that Lillie was asleep. Well then, crisis averted. Of course Miss Watson had known what to do, what to say, to comfort his sister.

  Not wishing to disturb the sleeping girl, he gestured to Miss Watson with a silent tilt of his head, inviting her to join him in the hall.

  She stood and brought her candle with her. He shut the door, then led the way down the corridor to a spot around the corner, out of earshot, in case either of his sisters should wake again. He set his candlestick down on a low table as they paused and faced each other. Miss Watson, holding her own candlestick aloft, broke the silence.

  “Thank you.” She spoke just above a whisper.

  Her remark puzzled him. “For what?” he responded with equal quietness.

  “For the fires in my room.” She smiled, her eyes bright. “The sketchbooks and pencils. And the delicious meals today.”

  “Oh. That.” He’d been against the last two requests when she first made them, but upon further reflection, realized that she’d had a point. It was worth all the effort he’d gone to in search of those sketchbooks, just to see the smile on her face right now. “You are most welcome. But it is I who should thank you. For attending to my sister just now.”

  Moonlight from the nearby window bathed her in its glow. This, combined with the flickering flames of their candles, made him suddenly aware that she had nothing on beneath her nightgown. The thin white cotton molded itself around the firm roundness of her breasts, and the twin points of her nipples poked through the fabric. He could make out the indentation of her slender waist, and farther down, the shadow of her shapely legs and the apex where they met. The sight made his mouth go dry.

  “That’s the second time I’ve heard Lillie crying in the night.” Miss Watson’s distressed voice brought his gaze back up to where it belonged, on her face.

  He nodded, swallowing hard. “Lillie has had bad dreams since she was an infant.”

  “I think it’s more than a bad dream. She’s very troubled.”

  “Troubled?” He forced himself to avert his glance, not to think about the fact that she was standing only two feet away, and nearly naked.

  “Yes. Has she told you why?”

  “I cannot say that we have spoken about the matter.”

  “Well, she thinks that no one loves her or wants her here.”

  That got his attention. He hesitated before replying. “Why does she think that?”

  “She said that Miss Larsen, who sounds like a vile creature, told Lillie she wasn’t part of your family. That she doesn’t deserve to live at Polperran House. The woman told Lillie that she’s a half-breed!” Miss Watson hissed the last two words. “Why on earth would your former governess have said something so cruel about Lillie?”

  Thomas glanced away, deliberating. Well, sod it. It seemed that he had no alternative but to tell her. “You are right, Miss Watson. That was a very cruel remark. Had I known Miss Larsen ever uttered such a thing, I would have fired her on the spot. But I suppose she said it because . . .” He raised his eyes to hers again. “Lillie is not a Carlyle. She is my half sister.”

  Miss Watson stared at him. “Your half sister?”

  “We had the same mother, but different fathers.”

  Her cheeks colored as she made the obvious and unhappy connection. “Oh.”

  “You might as well know the rest of it. It is a sordid tale, the shame of the house of Polperran.” He let go a sigh, and keeping his voice low, went on: “I told you of my mother’s unhappy life, due to my father’s neglect and ill behavior?”

  “Yes.”

  “Julia’s birth sent her into an even deeper depression, from which she never seemed to recover. When Julia was nine months old, my mother left. With the medical man who had been attending her. We heard nothing more of her until a few years later, when we learned that she had died giving birth to a baby girl. Lillie.”

  “Oh no,” Miss Watson cried.

  “Her natural father, having lost his lover, wanted nothing to do with a bastard newborn, so Lillie was sent back to Polperran House. My father agreed to raise Lillie, even though she was no blood relation to him. But from the moment that baby arrived in this house, the stigma of her birth came with her. The servants . . .”

  Understanding crept over Miss Watson’s features. “That’s why they don’t call her Lady Lillie.”

  He nodded. “Because she is not my father’s daughter, not of noble blood.”

  “Does Lillie know all this?”

  “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

  Her brows furrowed as she processed what he had told her. “Yet she seems to sense that she’s different somehow.”

  He pressed his lips together in silent, troubled affirmation.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Did you accept her?”

  “I have tried. I am not sure I have succeeded very well.”

  When she glanced up at him again, her expression was filled with empathy. “Lillie was the visible reminder of your mother’s infidelity and abandonment.”

  “Yes.” He hoped, now that she knew, it would put an end to the subject. A moment of silence followed. Try as he might, Thomas couldn’t prevent his treacherous gaze from drifting down once again to the shapely form of her breasts beneath her thin nightgown.

  “Still,” she countered, “what your mother did isn’t Lillie’s fault. It’s shameful the way the staff treats her.”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown, forced himself to keep his mind on the conversation at hand. “How does the staff treat her?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? They act like she’s a second-class citizen, beneath their notice. When I arrived, Lillie was running around wild, and nobody cared.” Miss Watson’s voice grew increasingly animated. “She’s an innocent, precious child, who should be accepted in her own right. She’s every bit as worthy of their love and attention as Julia. And of yours, as well.”

  “I suppose that is true, Miss Watson,” he responded, guilt spearing through him. “I have no doubt shirked my duty in that arena. But—”

  “Which reminds me, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask: why don’t you dine with your sisters?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “They’re you
r family,” she continued passionately. “The only family you have left. Why do you dine alone in your study, and leave them to take all their meals in the nursery?”

  The question took him aback. “Where would you have them dine?”

  “In the dining room. They’re fifteen and twelve. Their table manners are perfect. Surely they’re old enough now to join you for dinner?”

  “I ate every meal in the nursery growing up, except tea. I didn’t dine with my father until I was eighteen years old.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I don’t know. It’s what children do. The girls are not out yet.”

  “My mother and father were busy people, yet since we were girls, they dined with us whenever they could.”

  “I am their brother, not their father.”

  “But you’re all they have in the way of a father. Or any parent, for that matter. Lillie and Julia love you and look up to you. Yet you ignore them.” Blue fire blazed in her eyes as she glared up at him.

  Thomas glared right back. She was brazen, this woman. Impudent. Opinionated. It irritated him no end. At the same time, it inflamed him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her lips, which were full and rosy in the candlelight. The urge to take her in his arms and taste those lips again was so strong, it was all he could do to resist it. “You seem to forget: I am the master here. You are the governess. What gives you the right to speak to me this way?”

  “I may not have the right, but I dare to say it anyway. Someone has to speak up on behalf of your sisters!” She gestured so dramatically that hot wax flew from her candle. She cried out, brushing off specks of wax that had singed her hand.

  Without thinking, Thomas closed the gap between them in a single stride, removed her candlestick from her grasp, and set it aside on the corner table. Taking her injured hand in his, he brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. They stood but a hair’s breadth away from each other. He could feel the heat from her body, could hear the way her respiration suddenly altered, matching his own jagged breaths.