by Amelia Grey
Lillian settled comfortably onto her soft seat, let out a happy breath, and smiled. Lord Wythebury was taking the long way around to the paddock. She would have more time to enjoy the boys, be outside in the refreshing air, and look at the man by her side all she wanted to without worrying whether any of the other guests would notice.
Slowly twirling the handle of her parasol, Lillian asked, “Did Fallon misspell any words today?”
“Doe,” the marquis said. “He left off the e.”
“That would be easy to do.” Especially for a five-year-old, she wanted to add but held her tongue about that, and instead asked, “Did you make him write it twenty times?”
The marquis glanced at her and grinned. “Ten.”
She smiled too. It pleased her when she spoke her mind and it didn’t annoy him. “I’m surprised but happy it wasn’t more.”
“I considered what you’d said about the amount of studies they’ve been doing.”
“That’s good to hear.” Her lower abdomen tightened. Maybe there was hope for him to change his hard practices. “And Heron? How did he do with his arithmetic?”
“Very well. What did you do today?”
“The usual,” she answered, thinking she’d thought she noticed everything about him, but she’d never noticed how long and dark his eyelashes were.
He glanced at her and grinned again. “Sewing, reading, and playing the pianoforte.”
She smiled at him, not minding that he teased her about her uncomplicated life. It was true she had few important things to do. However, she couldn’t resist teasing him back so she said, “How astute of you. As a matter of fact, I read the complete volume of F. W. Bessel’s Fundamenta Astronomiae this morning. It catalogs over three thousand stars.”
His expression of surprise was priceless. “I know the book. You didn’t read that this morning?”
“Not all of it, of course. But you are not the only one who thinks studying and learning are important—we simply disagree about whether all of it needs to be done in one day.”
He grunted a laugh and clicked the ribbons against the horse. “You never give up an inch, do you, Lillian?”
“When you grow up in a house with four sisters you can’t afford to.”
“I make no apologies for my love of learning, and wanting my nephews to appreciate the value of it too.”
“No reason you should,” she answered.
“Tell me,” he said, glancing at her again. “Do you understand everything you read in Bessel’s book?”
She eyed him warily, then said, “Not all.”
“Perhaps, I could help in the evenings if you have any questions?”
“That would be nice as long as—”
“Don’t go shy on me now,” he said. “As long as what?”
Lillian wrinkled her nose. “As long as you don’t give me a required number of pages to read each day.”
Admiration glowed in his eyes as he turned back to manning the horses.
They rode in silence for a little while as the breeze chilled their cheeks and the boys chattered.
“Was it you I heard on the pianoforte today?” the marquis asked.
“Some of the time,” she said. “Both Gwen and I played, and so did Mrs. Edgeworth.”
“All of you are talented. I enjoyed hearing it.”
“Thank you,” she answered with a smile of satisfaction. “It’s easy to be talented when you’ve had many hours to practice each day.”
“Which reminds me,” he said. “I had a letter from the innkeeper’s wife today. She said Mrs. Barstaple is on the mend, but still not well enough to travel.”
“That’s good news that she’s come through the worst of her illness. I’m sure it pleases you that she’ll be returning soon.”
“Yes. I was wondering if perhaps you might be willing to spend the day with the lads tomorrow. I think they’ve grown tired of me and they asked if you could.”
That Fallon and Heron had asked to spend some time with her made her smile.
“Of course. I’d be happy to. We can play hide-and-seek.”
He cut his eyes around to her.
“Inside if there is no sunshine. Though,” she added casually, “I’ve heard a child can hide for three days in a house as big as Hurst.”
The marquis kept his attention on the horses, but from his profile, she saw a smile on his lips and heard the rumble of his chuckle.
So she added, “And you’ll be sure to write out their assignments for me, won’t you?”
He didn’t bother to look at her as he said, “All twenty-five pages.”
In spring, summer, and autumn Hurst Valley was lush with vibrant green meadows, colorful wild flowers, tall grasses, and scrub trees of varying types and sizes. In winter the trees were barren except for clusters of mistletoe hidden among their branches. Shrubs were mere spindly weather-beaten bushes, and the ground was snowy white as far as the eye could see.
The boys talked, squealed, and hit each other a few times as the horses pulled the carriage around the estate. When Lillian looked back to them with a stern expression of warning about hitting, she saw they’d helped themselves to a plum tart from the basket. She didn’t mind. She’d put extra inside, not knowing how many the strapping marquis would eat.
Fallon had crumbs on his cherub cheeks and down the front of his coat. Unobtrusively, she hoped, she made a brushing motion with her hand across her cheek and then down her chest. Luckily, the bright little boy caught on immediately and raked the crumbs away.
A wide turn took them up a rise to the back of the manor house. From the top of the small hill they could see the carriage house, two paddocks, and a stable. Farther in the distance, rooftops of several tenant cottages were visible.
Expansive snow-covered lawns of the estate were in full view from the top of the hill. A hedge of long perfectly cut yew interspersed with tall topiary trees, whose tops had been trimmed into the shapes of pyramids, outlined the formal garden. The shrubs, fountain, and crushed stone pathways that led to a now-barren rose-and-knot garden were covered with clumps of melting snow. A bevy of large birds flew south across the spacious sky.
When the paddock came into full view, the boys’ voices grew louder and more excited as they tried to talk over each other to make sure Lillian and the marquis heard them.
As soon as the carriage stopped, the boys threw off the blanket and bounded down and ran over to the fence. They stepped onto the bottom rung and started calling and whistling for the horses before Lord Wythebury had secured the ribbons and jumped down.
“I think they’re excited,” he said, reaching for Lillian’s hand. “Let’s join them.”
She lowered her parasol, closed it, and laid it on the seat before placing her hand in his.
Four horses were out being exercised. Their ears had pricked forward when they heard Fallon and Heron. All of them were big and powerfully built. Three of them were dark chestnut in color, but a fourth—the largest—was a magnificent, proud-looking gray.
Curious, the three chestnuts trotted over to the boys with their heads held high, their manes flapping in the breeze. The gray kept his distance and looked at the boys with a suspicious, big brown-eyed stare.
Fallon reached out to touch one of the horses. The animal’s ears twitched. He snorted and tossed his head at Fallon, scaring him. Heron laughed. The horse then turned his back on them and trotted off to the other side of the paddock.
Lillian watched as the marquis patiently showed the boys how to reach out their hands and wait for the horse to explore their palms with its velvety nose. Her heart filled with love for this gentle-sounding man standing with the boys, teaching them the kinds of things that can’t be learned from a book or studies. This was the kind of man she wanted to marry. Not the stern man who didn’t want children to play outside when it was cold, the one who wanted them to spend all their time reading a book in front of the fire.
It wasn’t long before the boys grew tired of wa
tching the horses, and they all climbed back into the carriage. The marquis told them there used to be a swing hanging from a tree not far from the paddock and if it was still there, it would be a good place to have refreshments and they could swing.
Lillian began to think that maybe she was wrong about Lord Wythebury. Perhaps he wasn’t as unbending as she’d thought and maybe he could change and not be so strict and serious all the time. But that thought didn’t last long. After they had stopped and feasted on the many tarts and chocolate she’d packed, the boys had all of ten minutes to run and swing before the marquis declared it was getting late. It would be dark shortly and they must go.
All too soon they were headed back to the house.
When the carriage stopped, Heron jumped down and ran toward the house. Even after the marquis had secured the carriage and helped her down, Fallon remained hunched in the seat. “Time to go in, lad,” the marquis said.
“No, I don’t want to get out,” he answered.
“What’s wrong?” Lillian asked, sensing something wasn’t quite right.
Fallon drew his feet up and balled lower into the corner of the seat. He closed his big brown eyes and said, “I don’t feel well.”
The marquis reached over and laid his open hand on Fallon’s forehead. “I think he has a fever.”
“No, he can’t,” Lillian said, grabbing the Lord Wythebury’s arm and pulling him out of the way so she could get closer to Fallon. “He was just running and playing. Let me see.” Quickly, she took off her glove and pressed her hand his forehead. “It’s not even warm. It’s cold.” She then touched his cheek. It was cool to the touch too. “But his lips are pale so something is wrong.”
“I knew he would get sick when I heard his feet got wet,” the marquis murmured.
“No,” she argued. “Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with what happened days ago.” Lillian then noticed crumbs from tarts on his coat. She tried to think how many he’d eaten. She didn’t remember, but probably too many? “Is it your stomach that feels bad, Fallon? Did you eat too much?”
He nodded, but then said, “I don’t know.”
“No matter what it is. You don’t need to be out in the cold to get sicker.” Lord Wythebury then took hold of Lillian’s arm much in the same way she had his and moved her aside. “Come on, lad, let’s get you inside.”
He reached over and picked the boy up out of the carriage intent on carrying him inside, but Fallon squirmed and said, “I can walk.” The marquis stood him down.
“I don’t see any signs of his having a fever, my lord,” Lillian said again. “He’s going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” he argued. “You are not a physician.”
“No, but I do know children. He would have to be warm to the touch, and he’s not. As soon as his stomach settles, he’ll be fine. You are just being a worrywart needlessly.”
His smooth brow wrinkled into a tight frown. “I do worry about him, Lillian. It is my responsibility, not yours, to see to it he stays healthy and grows up to be a fine young man, so I’ll thank you to stay out of this.”
Lillian heard a choking noise and then coughing. She spun and saw Fallon was bending over a bush emptying his stomach.
Her lips set in a hard line as an ache developed in her chest. Just when she thought the marquis might be willing to bend a little on his hardline views of life and taking care of the lads, she found that he hadn’t. A deep sadness gripped her and the pain of loss pierced her heart. She turned away from him.
No matter how divinely pleasurably his kisses made her feel, no matter that he could fill her with euphoric sensations just by looking at her, they were too different in the way they lived life to ever consider making a match. There would be constant strife between the two of them.
At every turn, they would be battling, arguing, and she didn’t want to live with a man with whom she would constantly be butting heads.
That would make for a very unhappy life together.
Chapter 7
The fire burned low.
Dinner was over. The gentlemen had retired to one of the sitting rooms and the ladies were in the drawing room chatting and listening to Mrs. Edgeworth play a soft melody on the pianoforte. Lillian stood by the fireplace thinking that it was finally late enough to excuse herself without anyone thinking she was retiring too early.
The evening had seemed to drag by for Lillian. When she’d first come below stairs, she’d caught sight of the dashingly handsome marquis talking with Crispin. She’d quickly looked away, but not before her heart told her it was useless to pretend she hadn’t fallen in love with him. After his harsh words to her when Fallon was sick, she kept telling herself that she wanted nothing more to do with him. He was a hard, unyielding man and she wished she’d never have to look him in the eyes again. But the instant she caught sight of him, she found out that wasn’t true.
She could tell herself for the rest of her life that she had no loving feelings for the marquis, but it wouldn’t make it true. She did. She loved their banter, the way he could make her smile, and the way he made her feel whenever he looked at her. But she needn’t set her cap for him. They had more differences than similarities. Her upbringing was carefree and easy, his was obviously stiff and proper. And she knew herself well enough to know she couldn’t change, and she doubted he could either.
During dinner they’d been polite but not conversational. She’d asked how Fallon was feeling, and he’d answered. For most of the meal they’d talked with others.
“You usually have a cup of chocolate after dinner.”
Lillian looked up from her glass to give her sister a wry smile. “I’ve heard a glass of port will help you sleep better.”
“Have you not been sleeping well?”
“I have been, but I’m not sure I will tonight.”
“That must mean things didn’t go well between you and Lord Wythebury at the paddock this afternoon?”
Lillian sighed.
“It was clear to everyone you two weren’t speaking to each other tonight.”
“No, we did. We greeted each other politely.”
“I guess I missed that, but certainly you didn’t converse as you have in the past.”
“I should have kept better watch on Fallon and not let him eat so many tarts. That upset his stomach. But, the marquis should be a little more reasonable about his concerns over their health.”
“It’s not unusual for a child to eat until they get sick.” Gwen placed her cup on a nearby table. “But what does Fallon eating too much have to do with you and Lord Wythebury?”
Lillian swirled the wine in her glass. “Everything.”
“Oh my,” Gwen said. “That doesn’t sound favorable.”
“I really can’t explain it. I wish I could. I have all these wonderful feelings churning inside when I look at him. When he’s near I get fluttery feelings in my chest, I find it hard to breathe, and I want to—well, it doesn’t matter,” she finished when she realized she was about to talk about kissing.
“That sounds a bit like love,” her sister said.
“Oh no, it can’t be,” Lillian hastened to say, though she wasn’t sure it was true. “We would never suit. The marquis is very serious about his responsibilities concerning the boys and his obligations toward them. You know me, if it comes to my mind I say it, and I have strong opinions about some things and I let him know. I don’t think he appreciates that. ”
“I think most men are like Lord Wythebury. More serious-minded.”
“You are just saying that.” Lillian placed her glass beside Gwen’s cup and saucer.
Gwen smiled. “No. Most of the gentlemen I know are.”
“Crispin doesn’t seem to be.”
“Ah, on that you are right, dear sister. But my husband was brought up in a household much like our own, where there were many siblings running about. At least one of them was always laughing, squealing, or crying. Lord Wythebury was not brought up in a house
like ours. His was quieter, more reserved, more about there being a place for everything and everything must be in its place.”
“If most men are like him, then perhaps I’ll never marry,” Lillian said, annoyed by the thought of everything always being so proper. “I see no reason to be so stuffy and strict all the time no matter how you were brought up. Life is supposed to be enjoyed. And with that unsolicited proclamation, even though Mrs. Edgeworth’s tune is not finished, I’m going to say good night. Since Fallon had a stomachache, I want to check on him and make sure he’s sleeping soundly before I go to my bedchamber. Why don’t you walk up with me? You’re probably tired.”
“I’m all right.” Gwen looked around the room. “I’ll stay down here as long as Mrs. Edgeworth is playing. It shouldn’t be too much longer. You go on up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lillian kissed Gwen’s cheek and then headed up the stairs. She was certain there was nothing more wrong with Fallon, but since Lord Wythebury had been so concerned and had made such a big fuss about it, she wanted to make sure Fallon had no lasting effects. While the marquis was enjoying an after-dinner brandy and cards with the gentlemen, it was the perfect time for her to do it.
The guest wing of the house was as large as the main section. She wasn’t very familiar with the turns down the windowless corridor, but thankfully wall sconces were lit to guide the way.
If she hadn’t taught the boys their lessons a few days ago, she wouldn’t have any idea where their room was located. When she made it to their door, no light shone from underneath it. That was a good sign that all was well within.
Still, she had to make sure.
Lillian slowly turned the knob and pushed the door. It opened with an eerie creak that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire estate. She stopped, cringed, and listened. No sounds came from inside. With her heartbeat racing, she slowly moved the door enough she could slip inside. Light from the hallway sliced down the center of the room, showing a bed on either side. Her entry hadn’t seemed to disturb either peacefully-sleeping child. She started to leave but couldn’t until she touched Fallon’s forehead if for no other reason than to prove she was right and Lord Wythebury wrong about the fever.