Hint of Desire (The Desire Series)

by Lavinia Kent

  “I can’t marry you in six weeks.”

  “Do you need longer?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. You don’t want to marry me.”

  “I believe I’ve indicated that I do.”

  “No, you can’t. I am not the wife you need. I don’t know what you and your aunt are thinking”

  Arthur clasped one hand on either side of her face and tilted her head further back until she met his glance fully. The heat radiating from his hard, lean body covered her.

  “I admit the thought took me by surprise. I hadn’t even considered it when I first spoke the words. I was probably as startled as you were. I think only Lady Smythe-Burke in her own mysterious way had considered the option. Yet it took me but an instant to realize what perfect sense it would make. You have everything I need in a wife.”

  “I do?”

  Arthur grinned at her.

  “Yes, you do. You’re the granddaughter of a marquess. I don’t remember the details of your father’s lineage, but I do believe it was respectable. And you’ve proven your fertility.”

  Lily flushed, and would have lowered her eyes if he had not held her trapped.

  “I am aware that you don’t come with a fortune, but that I have no need of. It does concern me that you’re young. I never understood this fascination with schoolgirls, but you’ve been married and surely matured. I can’t imagine I’ll have to deal with childish antics.”

  Lily could only nod. She didn’t know how to reply to his speech.

  “Then, I find you attractive. Again, I wish you were older, but I can’t imagine that this will be a problem. Having a son, you can be no a stranger to the marital bed. So, I don’t believe that should present any difficulty.”

  Lily swallowed hard at that. Arthur was still little more than a stranger, and he was talking about marital intimacy. She refrained from shuddering as she considered what that entailed. Still, Arthur could only be a relief after the painful couplings with Worthington. But – what was she thinking? She couldn’t marry him. Despite his best efforts at persuasion, it simply made no sense.

  “. . . sense of duty. I must admit I feel a sense of obligation to you.” Lily started at that. Somehow the talk of marital intimacy had thrown her so much that she’d lost the thread.

  “Obligation?” She felt like a parrot continually repeating his words.

  “The incident with my father.” Arthur’s sudden stiffening and withdrawal as he spoke indicated it was not a topic he desired to pursue. He removed the hands that had been caressing her scalp, and straightened. He walked purposefully around her and, pulling a chair close across from her, sat down. He took her hands in his and clasped them tightly.

  “It really is the most sensible plan, Lily. Surely you can see that.”

  “The incident with your father? There’s no need for you to repay me for what I may have done as a child. I only did what anybody would have done. What matters is the situation we’re in now.”

  “You’re exactly right. That’s what I am trying to explain. It all makes perfect sense. I’ll get the wife I need and not have to worry about that gaggle of debutantes you mentioned before. It can all be taken in hand quietly, quickly and sensibly. I won’t need to change things at all. I’ve already seen how you fit into the house. You’re well brought up. It shouldn’t require much for you to learn to be my duchess. I know my aunt is prepared to help.”

  “No. It doesn’t make sense at all.” Lily refused to back down when the issue was of such importance. She might still be feeling the aftershocks of anxiety, but she would make Arthur understand her. She had been one man’s wife and had not desire to repeat that nightmare, being a wife made one property. No matter her circumstances she had no desire to be owned again.

  “Your hands are icy again. Do they ever get warm?”

  “Arthur,” she said softly, testing his given name for the first time. “I have to tell you about my life before the morning you found me. Once you know, you’ll understand why you cannot marry me.”

  “Do you hold it against me that I haven’t tracked down your attackers? I know I should have. I started to send men out, but then I heard Sir Drake had taken an interest in the matter and I made the foolish assumption that it was his responsibility to pursue the matter. I do not understand how he came to such a foolish conclusion. I do know that, given my previous vehemence, you must have expected that I would pursue the search. It is my duty to protect you and this is the simplest way.”

  “No, you must let me explain.” Lily wished more words would flow, but she paused – what could she say, to explain her fear of marriage would lead to the realities of her past marriage and that . . . no, she still could not talk of that.

  “I know you still have not recovered from you birth and the attack. Do you fear that I do not?”

  Arthur did not give her time to finish. “It’s Simon, isn’t it? You’re afraid that once we are wed and I’ve got my heir on you I will be content to send him to his uncle to be raised. You must understand that once you’re mine, he will be, too? And I’ll do anything to protect and care for what’s mine.”

  Lily paused. She withdrew her hands from Arthur’s and wrapped them about herself. It was, indeed, a factor she hadn’t considered. If she married Arthur, she would be putting Simon into his keeping. And everything she’d seen of him in the last few days told her it would be very safe keeping. No matter what happened to her, Simon would be safe.

  All she had to do was hold her tongue until the wedding and pray that no further evidence came to light. For the first time in weeks, she felt a deep sense of calm. She could almost feel the blood flow back into her veins, filling her with warmth. She rubbed her hands together for a second and then, of her own accord, placed them in Arthur’s.

  “Yes, Arthur, I will marry you.”

  The giggle alerted Lily that Gertrude was on her way. Lily finished straightening the bed she’d mussed during her nap and turned to meet the maid.

  “Oh, dear, my lady, you oughtn’t be doing that. I don’t know what you can have thought!” Gertrude moved to straighten the already flat quilt. “Particularly not now. Not if it’s true, what they’re whispering in the kitchen.”

  Lily turned to Gertrude, confused. “What?”

  “Oh, my lady, forgive me. I mustn’t pry –“

  “No, no, speak. What are they saying in the kitchen?”

  “Why, that you’re going to be marrying his grace, of course. Are you? Or were they just having me on? I know they like to do that sometimes. Just because I tend to ramble on, and never seem to get what I mean out and said, I get teased. I’d bet you’d never have guessed? You don’t think I talk too much foolishness, do you?” Gertrude winked. “A lady’s maid is supposed to know all about gowns, and hair, and the latest styles. How can they expect me to keep up if I don’t speak about it?”

  “I daresay I don’t know.”

  “Then, you don’t know if you’re marrying his grace? My! How can you not know something like that?”

  “No, I know about that.”

  “No, you’re not marrying him? How could they have they fooled me like that? To be sure, I understand why you wouldn’t want to marry him . . . oh, I shouldn’t have said that, either, should I?”

  Gertrude rubbed her hands anxiously, and Lily was not sure whether the poor addled girl was more distressed to be played a fool or by the mismanagement of her runaway tongue.

  “Yes, you probably shouldn’t have said that, for indeed, I am marrying him.” Lily took a quiet pride in her ability to follow Gertrude’s comments.

  “Oh.” Gertrude pursed her lips. She placed her hands on her hips, considering. “I guess it’s not such a bad thing. It’s just that he’s so old . . . almost thirty, I daresay. I don’t think I’d care for it. I like a man who’s young and lusty. They have such enthusiasm.” Gertrude suddenly turned a shade to match the roses on the vanity. “Dear me! I shouldn’t have said that, either. I seem to forget myself with you . . . or sho
uld I say, even more with you. You’re not like all those other ladies who’ve come to stay.”

  Lily wasn’t sure how to respond. She remembered childhood worries about lacking the propriety her mother expected. How could she hope to become a duchess? But from Gertrude’s smiling eyes and slightly chewed lip, it appeared the girl worried more about her own words than about Lily’s demeanor.

  “No, it’s alright.” Lily made herself smile at the maid. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but in this instance it really doesn’t matter. It will be a practical marriage.”

  Gertrude pursed her lips in consideration. Her eyes looked over Lily’s slender frame before coming to rest on her bosom. “I don’t know about that, my lady. His grace may not be young anymore, but I can’t see him lacking the desire to . . .”

  Lily cut her off hastily before the discussion could become any more improper. “Oh, no, I don’t mean that. He does need an heir. I know he’ll expect to . . . I just meant that we have other reasons to marry.”

  Gertrude did not look convinced. “If you say so, my lady. I know gentry have different ways. I just mean I wouldn’t marry if I wasn’t looking forward to a good bedding.”

  Lily turned away in consternation. For her part, Lily simply couldn’t imagine looking forward to a good bedding. Carefully she chose her words. The last thing she needed was to precipitate more gossip among the servants, who plainly were having a high time already discussing the coming nuptials.

  “What is important to me is finding a good home in which to raise my son. I have already been married once, and I know what to expect. I cannot speak to his grace’s reasoning, more than to say we are both in accord that this marriage suits us.”

  Gertrude let out a giggle. “There! You did manage to sound like one of those other ladies, but I’m going to ignore it. But I do understand wanting to find a good place for that sweet angel of yours. And you’ve certainly chosen well, if I may be bold, my lady. Some men might not take well to another man’s child, but his grace is nothing if not fair-minded. He’ll be a very proper father, he will.”

  Lily found Gertrude’s words immensely reassuring. She felt her remaining worries dissipate. Gertrude was right. Arthur would be a good father. She might not be able to predict her own future, but she could assure Simon’s.

  “Which dress should I lay out, my lady?” Without waiting for Lily’s reply, Gertrude fetched a watered gray silk. She held it out for Lily’s nod. “I guess you’ll be getting new ones now, instead of just the old duchess’s. I still don’t know why your own clothes weren’t sent over?”

  “I don’t care to think about that.” Lily wished she could pretend as easily that her life had begun the morning Arthur rescued her in the woods. With a sigh, she turned to let Gertrude start preparing her for dinner, her first dinner as a duchess-to-be.

  Chapter Ten

  “Chin up, shoulders back. After two weeks you should have mastered this.” Lady Smythe-Burke commanded as she strode across the library. “You do have a surprisingly good posture. Now glare. A duchess must have a perfected glare.”

  Lily found herself smiling, instead of glaring. It was all so preposterous. It was all she could do not to giggle and let her shoulders roll forward.

  “That won’t do at all.” Lady Smythe-Burke spoke coolly, but her eyes were warm. “Did I tell you I knew your mother? She was more my sister’s age, school chums they were, but I met her several times during her coming out. Now, she would have been raised for this. I’ll hold her responsible for your nearly acceptable posture. Such a pity she married an insignificant lordling like your father – yes, yes, that’s the glare. I knew you could capture it.”

  “Do not speak ill of my father.”

  “Even better. I could not have said it so well myself, such tone.”

  “Is it all a game to you?”

  “Certainly not. It could not be more serious. Despite your mother’s standing, you are of somewhat questionable birth. You have a child born after the mysterious death of your husband.” Lady Smythe-Burke hit Lily with a very studied look. “And, the less said about your late husband, and his standing among the ton, the better.”

  Lily felt each word squarely. “If that is how you feel, why did you not protest? Arthur even implied that you had suggested the proposal.”

  “I would never be so vulgar as to make such a suggestion to the duke. I might perhaps have first put your name together with the words wife and marry, but I would never actually make such a suggestion. But, to the main point, I am in favor of the match, and think you may be just what Westlake needs. Yet, that does not mean I think it will be easy. You will never survive without a good glare. There will be times when it will be your only defense. Let’s see it again.”

  Lily ignored the command. “How could you possibly think I am what he needs after everything you just said?”

  Lady Smythe-Burke pursed her lips, walked stiffly to the desk chair, and sat. “Something happened to my nephew before his father died. He had always been a fun-loving if serious lad. He used to cut a swathe through London with his friends the Marquess of Wimberley and Mr. Wulf Huntington, heir to the Earl of Sperrow. The troubles those three used to get into . . . I’ve never seen the like . . . never a serious disturbance but continued good spirits. Then Westlake succeeded to the title and the duke lost the man. He could never see beyond the duties and responsibilities. I thought he was following in his father’s footsteps.

  “Then he summoned me here. I couldn’t believe he’d let himself become embroiled in such a mess.”

  Lily blushed. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Never said you did. I found the situation delightful. Still do. It’s been too long since I’ve seen Westlake any less than sure of himself.”

  “I still don’t see what . . .”

  “Why are you wearing blue?”

  “What?” Lily did not see where that had come from.

  “Why are you wearing blue? Shouldn’t you still be in mourning?”

  Lily turned even redder. “I was expecting to, but none of dresses from the modiste were black, or even lavender.”

  “Why not?”

  “Arthur asked if I mourned Worthington. When I didn’t answer immediately, he announced that he liked me in colors and that, as he was my betrothed, none would gainsay him.”

  “Sounds just like a duke. But tell me, does it strike you at all odd that the extremely proper Duke of Westlake would so side-step convention?”

  “I never even considered.”

  “And have you seen him with your son?”

  “Of course.”

  “But, have you really looked at him? I’ve watched you both. You melt whenever the lad is placed in your arms. The wonder you feel glows from you. You look as if you never dreamed such happiness existed. But Westlake, now, that is different. He barely glances at the lad in company, but I’ve caught the little touches and even a kiss when he was not aware of observation. His emotions are involved.”

  Lily bowed her head and considered. She did not doubt Lady Smythe-Burke’s words, and they brought her contentment. Even with the security of being a duchess, the thought of marriage had filled her with worry, but if Arthur would protect Simon, she could survive whatever else might come.

  “Enough chatter.” Lady Smythe-Burke stood. “It’s time we move on to court etiquette. Do you have an acceptable curtsey?”

  ###

  Arthur entered his study and settled into his chair, his mouth turned up with mirth. He’d just passed Lily’s lesson in the library and the expression he’d caught on her face when Lady Smythe-Burke turned away was priceless. This marriage promised a bevy of unexpected pleasure. Of course, it was the reasonable solution to the situation. Always in the past he had pictured his duchess as a rather horse-faced grand dame whose bed he’d frequent just often enough to get the requisite heir and a spare. This accomplished, he imagined, he and his duchess would have little enough to do with each other. She would manage his
houses and oversee the children. He might take her to the opening of the opera or see her to a ball. Always polite and cordial, but never intimate, they would avoid each other when possible.

  He swung his polished boots onto his desk with an unaccustomed languor. Life with Lily would not be what he had pictured, but he found no displeasure in the thought. His carefully planned life could withstand, nay, adapt to, such disruption.

  Arthur could picture her now, a superb mother, so different from his own, surrounded by a brood of small towheaded sons and dark-haired daughters. His children would never have to earn their mother’s love.

  He stretched. He would take Lily to London next season, if by then she wasn’t already expecting, and he would let her enjoy some time in town. Experiencing the high season through her innocent and unworldly eyes would certainly restore him. Then he could settle her back in the country and move between there and London at his pleasure.

  Ah, once again he had planned it all quite well. He only needed to find the truth of her husband’s attack. He let his booted-feet drop to the floor.

  Lily awakened the next morning with a start, just as dawn cast its orange glow through the gauzy curtains. She stretched her limbs, relishing the knowledge that Simon had not yet issued his first morning bellow. She glanced around for only the barest moment before becoming aware that the air was suffused with a heavy pall of smoke.

  A second glance at the window revealed not the first sweet glimpse of sunshine making its way through the crystal pane, but . . . It took a moment for her mind to comprehend and a further moment for her brain to understand.

  Fire.

  Flames raced rapidly up the thick curtains, spreading heat and light in their wake.

  In the same instant she became aware of a presence beside the cradle, the orange glow illuminating the large silhouette leaning over her son and the cold glint of steel in his hand.

  Simon!

  She dived forward, dropping from the high bed and flinging her body out in an effort to cover the cradle. Even as she moved, a large section of the flaming curtain tumbled from the rods. Pain engulfed her as a blanket of fire settled over her. She turned, rolling in an effort to be free of the fire. The scent of singed hair overpowered the reek of smoke as she turned twisting across the thick carpet.