“If possible.”
Reluctantly, but spurred by dread, she eased apart from him. Between apprehensive glances out the entrance, they made a hasty toilette. Trying to smooth her wrinkled gown, she feared she looked more suited for bed than a drawing room. And even in the faint moonlight she could see that Tristan’s face was flushed.
When they stepped out of the teahouse she reached up to pat down his tousled hair. “Do you think they’ll be able to tell?”
“I don’t know. They won’t be expecting this from us, but I imagine we look rather disheveled. We’ll have to make excuses to get away from them as soon as possible. I think I should leave directly, and you had better go to bed.”
“Oh, Tristan.” She grabbed his hand. “I know you’re right, but I hate to part in such a hurry. We just made love.”
“I know. I don’t like it either, but we can’t dally any longer.” He lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop back in the morning.”
She knew she couldn’t ask for more. “Thank you.”
He gave her a quick kiss and turned toward the path, leading her by the hand. “Unfortunately, I think that tomorrow we need to set down rules for ourselves—rules we cannot break. I fear we’re going to have to vow not to see each other at all for a long while.”
She stared ahead, afraid she would cry if she tried to respond. How could she possibly argue? They couldn’t continue making love in the backyards of London society. How long would it be before some eagle-eyed gossip looked over her shoulder and took note?
As they emerged from the maze, he withdrew his hand from hers and gently urged her forward, pressing the small of her back. “Come on. Let’s go into the house.”
When they returned to the front hall, Hester was coming out of the drawing room.
“Oh, you’re back. I was just about to retire. I’m sorry to break up our party early, but I’ve been drained lately.”
“All of us could benefit from an early night,” Tristan said, his expression unnaturally bland.
“‘Tis not so early anymore. You lingered in the garden a long time.” She gave them both a sly smile. “What happened? Did you get lost in the maze?”
“We did stroll through. Lila wanted to see it.”
Hester smirked. “And you had trouble reaching the goal?”
He glanced at Lila. “On the contrary, we got there quite swiftly.”
Despite his poker face she suspected a double entendre. Trying not to show her astonishment, she looked at Hester. “The teahouse is lovely, and the evening is so perfect I didn’t want to come in. But after this morning I thought I should make sure to get plenty of rest tonight.”
“That goes for me, too.” Tristan pulled out a pocket watch and flicked it open. “Egad, nearly eleven, and I want to check with Higginbotham again in the morning. I’ll stop back here afterwards to report what he says.”
Hester lifted her eyebrows. “Wonderful. Will you be joining us for breakfast?”
“More likely just after.”
“Very well. We’ll be expecting you.” She glanced back into the drawing room. “I’m afraid that Poinsett’s gone to his study. Shall I pass your good-byes onto him later?”
“Please.” He turned toward the front of the house, and Hester followed him up the hall.
Lila trailed behind, allowing them a few feet of space. As a new “friend of the family” she didn’t want to be intrusive, but as Tristan’s lover she felt neglected. He and she shouldn’t have had to part at all. The laws of nature dictated that they should have gone to bed together...tonight and every night.
He opened the door, stopping at the threshold to meet her gaze briefly. “Goodnight, Lila. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
As he exited, Hester moved into the doorway and watched, partially blocking Lila’s view. Once he’d descended to the pavement, he disappeared from her sight. A moment passed, then Hester waved and shut the door.
Lila’s body suddenly felt heavy, nearly too heavy to bear. How would she ever muster the strength to live without him?
“He seems in better spirits since you two stepped outside.” Hester turned to face her and smiled. “I daresay your presence cheers him up, my dear.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that.” Lila looked downward. In fact she knew that she did quite the opposite to him—and that only made her feel worse. He was right about their needing to vow to separate. She had to get out of his life, so he could go on...and somehow she had to do the same.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “I’d better go to bed.”
“I’ll walk up with you.” Hester started up the staircase. “I’m tired myself. I’ve been fatigued a great deal lately. I shouldn’t say this—I haven’t even told Poinsett–but I believe I may be enceinte.”
With child? The thought struck Lila like an anvil falling on her head. Pregnancy hadn’t even occurred to her as an explanation for her own symptoms. But she’d been nauseous in the morning and tired all day—and she’d certainly taken risks.
She stopped on the stairs, her head spinning.
“Why, what is it, dear? Are you unwell again? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Oh...” The enormity of her possible plight made her feel strange, nearly faint. Could she really be expecting? Forcing herself to concentrate on facing Hester for the moment, she saw that her hostess was studying her closely. Did she suspect? Quickly she said, “I think it’s just what’s left over of the ailment that was bothering me this morning.”
Hester took her elbow, her brow furrowed. “Shall I call a maid for you?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Lila tried to meet her gaze but found herself looking away. Slowly, she began climbing the stairs again. “Congratulations on your condition. I mean, I hope...I hope it proves true.”
“Thank you.” Hester’s voice still sounded strained with concern. She paused as though distracted—which seemed unlikely when discussing such a subject. “I hope so, too...Poinsett and I have had no luck in that area previously, and we’ve been married for five years.”
Mind swirling with rapid thoughts she tried to stifle, Lila gave her a quivering smile as they reached the upstairs hall.
The other woman frowned. “My dear, is there something wrong? I don’t want to pry, but I have a strange feeling...that is, if you’re in trouble, I want to help. I can assure you of my confidence. Whatever your difficulties, I would say nothing of them to my brother.”
“Tristan?” Lila started at the very thought of him—then she worried that she’d given herself away. She shook her head. “Really, I’ll be fine. I simply need rest.”
She knew her attempt at composure lacked credibility, so she murmured goodnight. Embarrassed by her behavior but helpless to do better, she hurried to her room.
Once inside, she closed the door and rushed to her luggage. In a small portable writing desk, she kept a calendar on which she marked the days of her monthly cycle.
Fumbling through travel documents, journals and manuscript sheets, she finally found the little book. Fingers icy, she flipped through the pages and found her records for the last month. Comparing the dates, she gaped in disbelief.
She was a full week late.
The calendar slipped from her grasp to the floor. She sank onto the bed and flopped backwards, staring up at the canopy. How stupid she had been! This was the very sort of thing that could ruin Tristan’s reputation.
Her hands began to tremble. She dug her fingers into the bedclothes to stop them. At the first opportunity, she would have to leave London. The instant she got her money, she would have to move far away. To protect him she would need to take a false name until after the babe was born...maybe forever.
Putting her hand up to her forehead, she wondered where on earth she would go. Perhaps she would end up moving to Italy with Felicity, after all. Her cousin was the only acquaintance she had who would be empathetic to her predicament.
Yes, she would have to go to Italy. Thanks to her folly, she would be forced to do exactly what she had declined only a fortnight ago. She would have another mouth besides her own to feed, and much of her writing time would be consumed looking after the child, decreasing her earning power.
Yet, despite of all the horrendous repercussions, she had to admit she felt a spark of preposterous pleasure. When she acknowledged the feeling, the spot warmed and spread through her midsection. Tentatively, she placed her palm over her belly.
Perhaps she was the maddest woman in the kingdom—but if she had to live her life without Tristan, at least she would have his baby to console her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
In the morning, Tristan drove to the bank, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to go inside and inquire. If Lila’s trust was closed and her new account had been set-up, the money would still be there tomorrow. But if he brought her the news this morning and she left his life today, he didn’t think he could bear it. Not yet.
He turned the carriage around and headed toward Hester’s, mad thoughts swarming his mind. Suppose he gave up his dream of entering the House of Commons...surely he could he find another meaningful way to use his knowledge and his skills.
One of the horses neighed, and the negative sound brought him back to his senses. No matter what career he chose, if it became known that he’d taken a well bred woman for a mistress, the notoriety would ruin him. Not to mention that there were other people to consider besides himself; he didn’t even want to imagine how the rest of his family would suffer from his disgrace.
He had no alternative but to break away from Lila. The sooner he did so, the safer it would be for everyone. The vow of separation he had proposed the night before had to be made today.
When he reached South Audley Street, the butler informed him that Poinsett was out but that Hester and Lila were still at the breakfast table. Tristan walked to the dining room and paused at the entrance, admiring Lila’s fine profile. He wondered if this might be his last chance to do so for a long, long time.
She sensed his stare and turned her head to meet his gaze. Her lips tugged a little, but her upturned eyebrows gave her a melancholy look.
“Good morning, ladies.” He stepped into the room, pulling off his gloves.
“Good morning,” Lila murmured.
“You’re early.” Hester smiled at him, but her expression didn’t quite reach her eyes, either. For some reason, furrows rippled her brow. “Have a seat, and I’ll pour you tea while you give us your update.”
He stepped around to the chair across from Lila and looked downward as he drew it out. Sitting, he said, “I’m afraid I’ve no news yet. Maybe later today.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear before long.” Hester handed him a cup and saucer and turned to her houseguest, who was toying with a plateful of omelet. “My dear, you’ve consumed no more than tea this morning. Is your appetite off again?”
“My stomach is perhaps a little nervous.” She glanced up at her hostess but didn’t look Tristan’s way. “I suppose the turmoil over my trust is affecting me.”
He thought their impending separation more likely to be the cause of her distress. Though not typically subject to nerves himself, he too had little care for food today and had lain awake half the night.
Lila looked down at her plate, but suddenly her head shot up again, as if she had recalled something. “How are you feeling this morning, Hester?”
“From what I gather, much the same as you.” Frowning, his sister continued to watch her guest, maintaining her scrutiny even after Lila had focused her attention back on her food.
Instead of the benign cheerfulness typically displayed by new acquaintances, a strange tension hung between the two women. Tristan began to wonder if they had quarreled before his arrival, as odd as the idea seemed. What on earth could they have to differ about?
A harrowing thought pierced him, and he nearly spit out a mouthful of tea. What if one of the servants had spotted Lila and him in the teahouse and recounted the tale to Hester? But surely if that were the case, most of his sister’s abhorrence would be directed at him.
He peered at her face and saw that she was still studying Lila. All of her wariness seemed aimed at her houseguest.
As he followed his sister’s gaze, Lila took a small forkful of eggs into her mouth and chewed with an unnatural slowness. She gulped down the bite and immediately looked a bit green.
“Are you sure you’re not ill?” he asked, concerned.
She shook her head, the meaning of the gesture ambiguous. given the phrasing of his question. “‘Tis only nerves, but I’m afraid that I can eat nothing more. I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me.”
Abruptly she stood. Dropping her napkin on her plate, she started for the door.
“But, Lila, I need to—” Before he could finish, she’d left the room. He turned to Hester. “I think she really is ill but doesn’t want any fuss made over her.”
His sister dropped her gaze to a solitary piece of toast on her plate. She picked up her knife and dipped it into a pot of jam. “Maybe she’s best left alone, if that is what she wishes.”
“How can you say so, when she’s clearly unwell?” He blinked at her averted face. “What if she should worsen and require help?”
“She’ll know that she can ring for Digby.”
He watched her spread jam over the bread, her focus centered on the task. Something told him she was being less than candid with him, but he was too caught up in his own worries to wonder why. “In any case, she can’t be left to herself for long. I need to talk to her about something.”
“It looks as though you’ll have to wait.”
“I can’t.” Emotions running high, he feared that he was in danger of revealing the extent of his feelings. Noticing that his urgency had drawn a curious stare from his sister, he added, “There’s an important matter she and I need to discuss...about her trust.”
A maid came in and exchanged the teapot on the table for a new one, steam emanating from the spout.
Hester eyed him silently for a moment, then looked to the servant. “Mary, take some of those plain crackers I like up to Miss Covington’s chamber. You won’t be needed here again until after we’ve finished.”
“Yes, milady.” The girl curtsied and scurried away.
His sister turned back to him. “Maybe you can address your important matter with Lila later today. Don’t ask why, but I have a notion that her health may improve by this afternoon. You can stop back here after you’ve seen Mr. Higginbotham again.”
“I suppose.” He looked toward the exit Lila had used, wishing he could follow her.
Hester cleared her throat. “Tristan, while we have a moment in private, I wonder if I might ask you some personal details about my guest.”
He swung back around to face her. “Such as...?
“Well, she seems...troubled. I know she’s had a difficult time, but I’m beginning to wonder exactly how difficult.” She looked down at her napkin, pleating the fabric between her fingers. “This is hard for me to phrase delicately. About her uncle—that horrid man, Casper—did he abuse her physically?”
He shook his head, pondering what could have provoked the thought. For an instant he worried that his sister might know something he didn’t, but he dismissed the idea at once. If one word described Lila’s manner toward him, it was frank. She wouldn’t have told Hester anything she hadn’t disclosed to him. “No, I’m sure the fellow isn’t quite that unscrupulous. She’s never mentioned his beating her or anyone else in the family.”
Hester swallowed hard and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I was wondering more about his making improper advances toward her.”
He nearly fell off his chair. “What on earth put such an idea into your head?”
“Well...from what I gather, the man is an unprincipled cur, and she is a beautiful young woman, who was living under his roof for years. Don’t you think it possible that he would try to tak
e advantage?”
“Of course not!”
“How do you know?”
He scanned his mind, reviewing Lila’s stories of verbal abuse and fierce objections to her writing. “I’ve heard plenty of tales about Casper’s evil, but in none of them did he ever touch her.”
She twisted her mouth. Quietly, she said, “Then again, if he had, she wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would she?”
“Yes, she would.”
“Think on it, Tristan. How would a young woman broach such a subject with a man, albeit a family friend?”
“Lila is a remarkably forthright woman, and I’ve been her confidante for months.” He gave her an unwavering stare. “I assure you that you may rest easy on this point. The abuse she endured, though trying, was all emotional—nothing so sordid as you imagine.”
“You seem so certain.” She watched him now, her gaze sharp and penetrating. “Precisely how close to her are you?”
“Close enough that I’m concerned about her health, and I’m going to her now.” He stood up.
“You can’t.” She leapt to her feet as well, her fine brows crunching together. “Don’t be daft. She’s likely gone to her room. You can hardly attend her there.”
“I need to talk to her privately,” he insisted. He was being daft, but momentum had driven him on. In an effort to explain, he added weakly, “about her trust.”
“Tristan, what has come over you? Sit down this instant. Please.”
He knew he had gone too far but had no idea how to retreat. Going to Lila’s room was out of the question, of course. That left either running out of the house like a damned fool or trying to recapture some semblance of sanity.
“Sorry,” he muttered, sinking back into his chair. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. That preposterous talk of yours about Lila’s uncle upset me.”
Her gaze felt heavy on him, and a thick stillness permeated the room. At last, she too again settled into her seat. “If you like, I can send Mary back upstairs to give Lila your message and see if there’s any chance of her rejoining us.”
For the Love of Lila Page 21