Lillian's Light Horseman

by Jasmine Hill

  And her heart broke a second time. How could he feel ashamed of an act that she felt had been so beautiful and loving?

  A low sob escaped her and she pushed a hand against her mouth to stifle any further outburst but her eyes filled with water and tears flowed down her cheeks as his hurtful words pierced her chest.

  William was out of his chair in a second and kneeling before her. “Please don’t cry, my darling,” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I would give anything to take it back.” He cupped her face in his hands, swiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

  “That’s just it, William,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to take it back!” She watched through blurred vision as various emotions crossed his features—regret, pain, longing. He stood, scooped her up and settled her in his lap, clasping her head to his chest with one hand and stroking her hair with the other.

  “I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he observed. “God, I can’t seem to do anything right.”

  She relaxed into his embrace and her tears subsided as his gentle caresses soothed her. He kissed the top of her head then stood and gently deposited her onto the seat before he reclaimed the opposite one.

  She felt weary and emotionally exhausted by the day’s events but she knew that she owed William an explanation. She looked across at him expectantly and waited for him to ask the ultimate question.

  “Are you, or have you ever been, married, Lillian, and if so, why was your marriage not consummated?”

  She took a deep, tremulous breath. “No. I’m not married, nor have I ever been.” She looked up at his sharp intake of breath. He was staring at her intensely, his fists clenched as he rested forward with elbows on his knees.

  “Hamilton is the name of my maternal aunt. I assumed her last name when my father died two years ago. When Father passed away, he left behind numerous debts and many unhappy creditors. His reputation and the Baxter name were in ruins. My mother died not long after we arrived in England and after Father’s passing, I was left destitute.”

  She paused in her recounting and looked across at William. He was staring into the fire but she could see by the rigid set of his jaw and tense posture that he was angry. She took a restorative sip of her sherry and continued.

  “My only surviving relative was my mother’s sister, my Aunt Agnes Hamilton. After my father’s death, she came for me and helped me organize the funeral and sell the house so we could pay off some of his debts. She took me to live with her and suggested that I go by her name. The Baxter name was too sullied by my father’s disrepute to be welcome in polite society. Aunt Agnes was like a mother to me. She gave me shelter and love when I had no one.” Lillian could feel tears starting to brim again and she wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  “Five months ago, my aunt died after a lengthy illness. She’d left all her worldly possessions to me, having no children of her own. Her lawyer informed me soon after that my father’s creditors had applied to the estate for reimbursement of monies owed. Fortunately, Aunt Agnes had the foresight to have me hide her jewelry before her death. After selling her jewelry and my clothes, I had enough money set aside to last some months. It was also around this time that I received a letter from Mrs. Thompson. Apparently, my aunt had written to her before her death regarding a governess position. I took the Mr. Cartwright mentioned in her letter to be your brother, James. I had nothing and no one to keep me in England, so I wrote to Mrs. Thompson accepting the position and… Well… Here I am.”

  She looked across to William and was surprised to note the look of fury that suffused his features. His jaw was hard, a tic pulsing rhythmically in his cheek as his eyes glinted with steel.

  “You mean to tell me that your father left you destitute? With no provision for your financial or personal security?” he asked, aghast.

  Lillian gave him a small smile. “I’m sure that he didn’t plan to die the way he did. He was mugged walking home one evening and expired through loss of blood. Although, given the things that I’ve learnt since his death, perhaps his murder was not a random act of violence but rather one of vengeance.”

  “Still, the man should have left you provided for,” he snarled.

  “You knew my father, William. He was always involved in some scheme or another, something that was bound to make us rich. I’m sure that he planned to arrange for my welfare at some point.”

  “You give the man entirely too much credit,” he muttered angrily. “You must have been distraught to have been left in such a position.”

  “I wasn’t a child, but neither had I sought any employment up until that point. My father required my assistance at home, so I had no income of my own. I was lucky Aunt Agnes came to my rescue. She and my father had never seen eye to eye, so I was thankful that she helped me. I owe her my life,” she said simply.

  William swore softly and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I can’t believe I treated you so appallingly when you arrived, particularly after everything you’ve been through. I feel like a complete arsehole.” A swift look of contrition flared in his eyes then distrust shadowed his features. “But speaking of schemes to get rich,” he continued, “what of the man who you were promised to when you left Australia for England? Why did you not marry him?”

  Lillian looked up sharply. “What are you talking about?”

  William scrutinized her. “Well, that’s the reason for your family leaving Australia after all, so you could marry who your father termed a ‘young man of established family and connections’.”

  The blood roared in her ears as she listened in disbelief to what William was saying. She heard his words but the import was not sinking in. “I d-don’t understand.”

  “Your father”—he sneered—“told me when I asked for your hand in marriage that you were already promised to another.”

  Lillian stood on shaking legs, unsure what she intended but needing some answers, as if she could walk to the next room and demand from her father to know what William was talking about. The room started to tilt and grow dim. She swayed. Distantly, she heard William demanding to know if she was all right. She saw him step toward her before the world went black and the last thing she remembered was William’s arms around her.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the second time that day, Lillian had scared the hell out of him. His heart had stopped in his chest when he’d watched, as if in slow motion, her sway and start to fall. Thank God he’d only been a step away from her and had been able to catch her before she’d hit the floor.

  He looked down at Lillian lying in bed, where he’d carried her and tucked her in after she’d fainted. She looked so beautiful and fragile, like an angel with her auburn hair fanned out on the pillow and her lush lips red and slightly parted in sleep. He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead and caressed her cheek gently. He could kick himself for the way he’d handled things, or, more to the point, hadn’t handled things.

  He’d been correct in his suspicions that she’d experienced hardships. No wonder she always looked so serious, so forlorn. His beautiful girl had been alone, had been left destitute by her bastard of a father. His chest physically hurt when he imagined what she’d gone through and he sent up a silent thank you to her dead aunt for rescuing her and providing a safe haven. He didn’t want to envision what could have happened to her if Agnes Hamilton hadn’t stepped in. Young women in Lillian’s situation didn’t have too many options and the alternatives didn’t bear thinking about.

  Playing through his mind over and over was her reaction to his question about her intended husband—something wasn’t right.

  He groaned when he recalled how he’d told her he was ashamed that he’d made love to her. What bastard told a woman that? Of course she was upset, particularly as he’d taken her virginity at the same time. It wasn’t what he’d meant, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d sounded like a callous arsehole. He needed her to wake up so that he could explain himself.

  As if in answer t
o his silent prayers, she stirred beneath his caress and opened her eyes.

  “William?” she asked tentatively, her gaze roaming his face.

  “I’m here, darling,” he said, softly stroking her hair. “You fainted. I’ve put you to bed. You’ve had a big day and you must be exhausted.”

  She furrowed her brow in confusion and he watched her warily.

  “Don’t distress yourself. Just relax,” he murmured.

  He could tell the moment she recollected their conversation—her green eyes grew wide and focused on him.

  “William, why did you say that about me wanting to marry another?” Her voice trembled and her bottom lip quivered as she searched his face for an answer.

  His chest tightened at her obvious distress. He hated to see her cry and over the past week, he’d caused her enough tears to last a lifetime.

  “Hush, Lilly. We’ll talk tomorrow. Just rest now,” he soothed, caressing her cheek.

  “I need to know now. Please tell me,” she begged and struggled to sit upright.

  He gripped her shoulders gently to stop her efforts.

  “All right, I’ll tell you, but please calm down. I don’t want to upset you any further.”

  She took deep breaths to compose herself then settled back against the headboard and looked at him expectantly.

  “Before you left for England, I went to your father and asked his permission to marry you. He told me that he was resettling the family in England, where you were to marry a young man who apparently had more money and better prospects than I did.”

  He could hear the bitterness in his voice but he couldn’t help it. Even after ten years, he still felt anger and betrayal at Lillian’s decision.

  He watched her intently as a range of emotions crossed her face. Her green eyes were wide and confused and she shook her head obstinately.

  “There was no man I was to marry,” she said softly. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because that’s exactly what your father told me,” he responded coolly. “I was destroyed, Lillian. I thought you loved me.”

  “No!” she whispered brokenly. “He can’t have done that. I can’t believe he would do that to me—to us!”

  It was William’s turn to look confused. “What are you talking about?” he demanded as a sick comprehension started to take hold.

  “Father. He told me that he was moving us to England right before he told me that you were going to be married! I cried for weeks. I was devastated.”

  A cold, hard fury overtook William. He clenched his fists as a desperate need to hit something—to inflict damage—swept through him. He took deep breaths and counted to ten in an effort to regain his self-control.

  “I only met and married Ruth after you’d left—after I thought that you were promised to another.”

  He grasped Lillian’s hands in his and gazed into her eyes. The stark anguish and hurt he saw reflected in her emerald pools rocked him to his core. He wished with a desperate fervency that her bastard of a father were still alive so he could kill him all over again. How could he do that to his own daughter? The depths of the man’s depravity knew no bounds.

  “I’ve always loved you, Lillian. Words can’t describe how I felt when you left. It was as if you took a part of me with you. I was devastated and furious—furious that you’d betrayed us and betrayed our love.”

  He studied her as she came to grips with what her father had done to them all those years ago.

  “I can’t believe he did that,” she said, her gaze unfocused. “I knew that he wanted me to make what he considered a good match—he threw enough men in my path over the years—but I would never have believed he could have been so heartless.”

  William’s vision hazed in red and rage gripped him anew at the thought of the men that Henry Baxter had pushed at his daughter. He was astounded and relieved beyond measure that Lillian had been able to resist her father’s demands for as long as she had.

  “I was also to blame,” he said quietly. “I should have fought for you. I’m ashamed at how quickly I capitulated and I’ve been swamped with feelings of guilt ever since.”

  He sighed heavily, the full import of his failure hitting him hard. They’d lost ten years together and spent ten years each feeling the betrayal and heartache of a lost love. Of course he could console himself with the fact that if things hadn’t occurred the way they had, he wouldn’t have his children and he wouldn’t have had the years spent with Ruth. However, those facts didn’t ease his anger and fury at the injustice of Henry Baxter’s deceit.

  “You weren’t to know that my father was lying, William. We were adolescents and I was too young to be married without my parents’ permission. There was nothing that you could have done. My father manipulated the situation to serve him and his future plans. I knew that he was capable of deceit and immoral acts. The years before his death showed me exactly how unscrupulous he could be. But I would never have believed him capable of hurting me for monetary gain!”

  William’s heart wrenched at the tears that were flowing freely down Lillian’s cheeks. He couldn’t begin to understand how she must be feeling at the full realization of her father’s depravity. He stood and moved to sit beside her on the bed.

  “Come here,” he ordered softly and pulled her onto his lap. “It’s done now. Let’s leave the past in the past and focus on the future.” He rocked her gently in his arms.

  Slowly, her tears abated and he felt her start to relax against him. Exhaustion over the day’s events had finally taken its toll and she’d fallen asleep. He held her closely for a few minutes, not wanting to wake her. When he was sure that she was in a deep slumber, he lifted her gently and placed her back on the bed. He drew the covers up to her neck and tucked her in securely, placing a kiss on her forehead.

  Taking the lamp, he left Lillian’s bedroom and made his way to his own. A sudden weariness overwhelmed him. He needed to sleep on everything that had occurred that day and he was sure that a way ahead for them would present itself to him in the morning.

  There was one thing on which he had no doubts—he wouldn’t allow Lillian to leave him again.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Lillian awoke, the sun shining brightly in her bedroom told her it was much later than she usually arose. She checked the bedside clock and was startled to find that it was just past ten a.m.

  As she struggled to wake fully, the events of the previous day crowded her foggy mind until sudden comprehension had her instantly alert. Through all the events and emotions that had unfolded, she felt as if she’d lived an entire lifetime in the span of twenty-four hours. She couldn’t quite believe she’d experienced so many intense reactions—fear, panic, lust, love and sorrow—in such a short period of time.

  She recalled making love with William and her body tingled deliciously. Never had her immature fantasies come close to touching on the reality of what she’d experienced with William. She blushed fiercely, remembering what it felt like to have his mouth on her—everywhere. She couldn’t believe that she’d done those things—and enjoyed them.

  Too quickly, her thoughts turned to William’s proclamation that he’d felt ashamed and it was as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. Of course he was ashamed. She shouldn’t have acted like she had—wanton and immoral. It was little wonder that he regretted what they’d done. Worse still, she had no idea how she should behave around him from this point forward and that made her nervous. She was so inexperienced with the act of lovemaking that she was clueless about his expectations and their current relationship status.

  Her thoughts then brought her full circle to what her father had done to them all those years ago and a fresh wave of pain stabbed her. She understood that her father had always been somewhat disreputable, but the things she’d discovered since his death had her realizing that she hadn’t really known him at all.

  A soft knock on her door startled her out of her reverie and she turned to see Mrs. Thompson bustli
ng into her room bearing a tray laden with tea and bread.

  Lillian sat up quickly and shuffled back to rest against the headboard. “Mrs. Thompson, please, you don’t have to do this,” she said in embarrassment. “I’m quite capable of coming to the kitchen. In fact, I should have been up and about hours ago.”

  “Nonsense,” the older woman declared and placed the tray on Lillian’s lap. “After the ordeal you had yesterday, you must rest. You could have caught your death out there in the cold.” She reached across to lay a hand on Lillian’s forehead.

  “I’m quite well,” Lillian assured her. “Just a little tired.”

  “It’s no wonder. Now I want you to stay put and eat something. Food will do you a world of good.”

  “But the children—”

  “The children are fine. At the moment, they’re in my kitchen helping me bake bread and scones and having a world of fun doing it,” she said with a laugh. “Take your time. Eat something and join us downstairs when you’re ready.”

  With the conversation obviously over, Mrs. Thompson bustled back out of the room, leaving Lillian to her breakfast.

  Lillian smiled to herself as she poured some tea and buttered a slice of freshly baked bread. For so long she’d looked after other people—her mother when she was sick, to a certain extent her father, then, after him, her dear aunt. It was nice to be looked after for a change, even if only for a little while. She still felt guilty about being in bed when everyone else was up and about, but she consoled herself with the thought that the longer she stayed in her room, the longer she could put off seeing William and delay what was sure to be an uncomfortable encounter.

  She was finishing her breakfast and preparing to face the day ahead when she was startled by a sharp rap on the door. Before she could say anything, the man whom she’d so recently been distressing over strode casually into the room. Her breath hitched and her heart rate beat in double time when she took in his magnificent physique. He was dressed in fitted jodhpurs and a blue cotton shirt that stretched across the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders.