Lillian's Light Horseman

by Jasmine Hill

  Her mind wandered to George Dawson’s shocking and life-changing revelation. She was still finding it difficult to believe that William could be so callous and indiscreet with his affections. And lying to her about it was the ultimate betrayal. She’d asked him not three nights ago about his relationship with Margaret Dawson and he’d sworn that they were just acquaintances. Tears blurred her vision and she swiped angrily at them. She’d cried far too much. She was surprised she had any tears left to spill. The pain and hurt were so raw and so deep that she doubted she would ever recover. It was a physical ache in her chest that sharpened and drilled deeper whenever she thought about William. Her only distraction was to focus on her immediate situation and find her way to a safe haven—wherever that may be.

  George Dawson had been oddly well prepared and had planned for Lillian’s departure with care. It had been a relief, yet also disturbing, knowing that the man had been scheming to have Lillian removed in order to make way for his pregnant daughter. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. His priority would obviously be Margaret and ensuring that she was not disrespected or dishonored any further, but it was still unsettling. When Lillian had asked George Dawson how far along Margaret was in her pregnancy, he had proclaimed that it was unimportant—either unable or unwilling to tell her. It was important to Lillian, however, for it would tell her exactly when William had been intimate with the other woman. There was, of course, the possibility that George Dawson had been lying to her, but she couldn’t believe that a father would risk the reputation of his daughter and for what gain? Lillian had racked her brains and couldn’t come up with any reason as to why the man would lie about something so serious. And her own observations of William and Margaret Dawson and William’s own admission regarding his relationship with Mary Simpson did nothing but lend credence to the situation. William was obviously very…liberal with his favors and she and Margaret Dawson were just two in what was quite probably a very long list. She just prayed to God that she herself had not fallen pregnant. That possibility was too terrifying to consider and she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

  William would have returned and found her letter by now. She had worded the missive carefully, not wanting to give anything away as to the true reason for her leaving. She’d hoped to give the impression that she was leaving because she wanted to, with the underlying message that she didn’t love him, for she’d not been sure that William would have accepted anything less. Lillian would not be the reason that Margaret Dawson became an unwed mother and besides, she knew that William would act honorably. Lillian just wanted to make the situation easier for him by eliminating herself from the equation and thereby limiting William’s assured guilt. She had no doubt that when he was told about the baby, William would marry Margaret immediately. Even after discovering, as she had, his indiscretion, she knew deep down that he was a good man who would do the right thing.

  She checked her watch, scanned her surroundings and decided that she would stop to rest. She dismounted and collected her belongings from the saddlebags. She’d packed food and water for herself and her horse. The rest of her possessions were meager. She’d only taken what she could pack into her carpetbag, which was a change of clothing, some warmer articles for the cool nights and her personal items. She’d put her money into a purse, which was hidden in a pocket of her skirt. She dearly wished that she had trousers to wear. It would make horse riding so much more comfortable. As it was, she’d chosen a loose skirt with enough fabric to allow freedom for movement.

  She organized a food bag for Whinny and stood for a moment stroking the mare’s nose and taking comfort from her soft snuffling. She’d initially balked when George Dawson had suggested that she take a horse. She definitely hadn’t wanted to steal from William, but George had been insistent. He had wanted to ensure that she made enough headway before William discovered her departure and George had promised to have the horse returned. It hadn’t taken her long to agree. She understood that it would be dangerous and stupid to attempt to leave on foot and taking a horse was her only other option.

  As part of Dawson’s plan, she was due to meet John Steele in one hour, at three o’clock. Hopefully he’d be waiting for her at the fork in the road, as George Dawson had informed her. The whole scheme had seemed ludicrous at first, but she’d seen no other option and she’d been particularly concerned about traveling with a relatively unfamiliar gentleman. However, Dawson had quite rightly pointed out, it was preferable than her traveling unaccompanied. After so many hours of riding alone and in unfamiliar territory, she was immensely relieved that she had agreed. At least John Steele was not a complete stranger and she felt that she knew him, if only a little. She had wondered at George’s decision to involve him, but she assumed they were friends and hadn’t questioned it. She was relieved to have assistance from any source.

  She took George Dawson’s hand-drawn map out of her pocket and the accompanying compass then checked her bearings. She was confident that she was heading in the correct direction and she gauged that her timing was on track, give or take some minutes either side of three o’clock. Their ultimate destination was Byrock, which was some distance from her current location. George had worried that William would seek her out at Coolabah train station and possibly intercept her. Whereas he wouldn’t expect that she would travel all the way to Byrock, particularly unaccompanied, as he assumed her to be.

  She repacked the saddlebags and mounted Whinny, wincing when her sore muscles settled into the curve of the horse’s back. She checked her compass once again, turned Whinny’s head in a northeasterly direction and kicked her into a trot.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  William was convinced that he was slowly going insane. He was pacing his study relentlessly, not allowing anyone in, speaking to no one, as powerful emotions erupted and warred within him. He vacillated between feelings of hatred, love, betrayal and despair, until he was left feeling dazed and disoriented. He’d tried, but he couldn’t reconcile Lillian’s actions with what he was sure were her true feelings. He was convinced that she still loved him. He’d recalled every moment that they’d spent together since her return. Every word spoken and every gesture made. He’d tortured himself with visions of her underneath him, moaning and crying out in ecstasy while he’d thrust into her or pleasured her with his fingers and tongue. He remembered vividly when she’d taken his cock into her mouth, how she’d opened her lips and sucked him in, hesitant with her tongue as she had tasted him for the first time. Her innocence and sweetness had been disarming, as had her willingness and enthusiasm to please him. And when she’d told him that she wanted to taste him, to swallow his essence, it had been his undoing.

  He propped both hands on the mantelpiece and stared into the dying embers of the fire, thinking furiously. What happened between when I left three days ago and now? Did something occur to prompt Lillian to leave, other than what she states in her letter? He just couldn’t fathom her one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn around. Perhaps Mrs. Thompson could tell him something. He’d only spoken to her briefly, had just barked a couple of questions regarding what she knew about Lillian leaving and had scarcely given the woman time to tell him anything else.

  He had to find Mrs. Thompson and question her further. He raced to the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges in his haste to open it.

  He found his housekeeper sitting at the kitchen table, her head cradled in her hands. Guilt assailed him. He hadn’t considered how much she cared for Lillian and how she would also feel her loss. He entered quietly and placed a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. She startled and looked up at him with watery eyes.

  “William.” She struggled to stand but he stayed her, keeping his hand on her shoulder and pressing her gently back into her chair. He took a seat opposite and tried to control his impatience.

  “Millie,” he spoke softly. “Can you think of anything that happened to Lillian while I was away mustering? Anything that would precipitate her leaving?” />
  She sighed heavily and wiped her eyes. “I can’t understand it. She seemed so happy here and she loved the children. She enjoyed gardening. Did you know that?”

  He curled his lips into a tight smile. “Yes, I know.” Talking about Lillian in the past tense disturbed to him. “Is there anything unusual that occurred?” he pressed.

  She stared over his shoulder, her gaze unfocused. “The only thing out of the ordinary was the visit from Mr. Dawson.”

  William froze. Dread coiled and tightened the base of his spine. “What?”

  Mrs. Thompson shrank away from his intense stare. “I didn’t think anything of it,” she whispered. “I assumed he was taking his automobile for a run and just stopped in to say hello.”

  William shot up from his chair and started pacing. “How long was he here and what happened after he left?”

  “He visited for an hour and a half, approximately.” Mrs. Thompson wrung her hands in agitation. “When he left, Lillian went straight to her room claiming a headache.” She looked up from the table, her face pale. “I didn’t see her for the rest of the evening.” Her eyes widened as the import of her words sank in. “Do you think Mr. Dawson is somehow responsible for Lillian leaving?”

  William scowled, fury emanating from his every pore. Why didn’t Mrs. Thompson mention this before? How often does George Dawson stop by the property, for Christ’s sake? He was suddenly and overwhelmingly certain that something George Dawson had said or done was the reason for Lilly leaving them. Nothing else made sense. He thought back to his odd conversation with Dawson a few nights previously and grew even more agitated. The man had an agenda. What exactly it was, he couldn’t be sure. But Dawson’s questions regarding his relationship with Lillian and his insinuations about his daughter and William taking another wife had been peculiar.

  “I’m certain George Dawson is responsible,” William snarled.

  He had no time to waste. He needed to speak to Dawson before it was too late. Before something happened to Lilly and he lost her forever.

  * * * *

  Lillian had been relieved to find John Steele waiting patiently at the arranged meeting spot. It had taken her longer than she’d anticipated to arrive and she’d worried that he would grow tired of waiting and leave.

  “Miss Hamilton,” he greeted her warmly and helped her from her horse. “Do you need to rest for a moment? You look tired.”

  Lillian smiled and tried in vain to stem the tears that threatened, but she couldn’t. And, she realized with horror, her bottom lip was trembling uncontrollably and her eyes were overflowing. Fat teardrops ran unchecked down her cheeks.

  She was mortified that a kind word could overwhelm her so. “I’m s-s-sorry. Everything has just been so sudden and a little shocking.”

  He frowned and drew her into his arms. “Hush now,” he crooned. “It’s understandable. You are overcome.”

  He stroked her back soothingly and Lillian melted into his warm embrace, taking comfort from his caring ministrations. She’d never felt so alone and so frightened—even the long trip from England to Australia hadn’t been so nerve racking. At least at that time she had employment and accommodation to look forward to. Now she was homeless and utterly heartbroken and once again facing a future without William in it. She shivered and pulled away from John Steele. “Please forgive my outburst. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Please don’t apologize, I’m here to help. I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

  Lillian returned his smile tremulously. “Yes. Thank you for meeting me.”

  “Think nothing of it. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.” He turned to his horse and retrieved a blanket and a small hamper from his belongings. “Let’s rest for a moment and take some refreshment.”

  Lillian took his outstretched hand and followed him to the shade of a nearby tree where he spread the blanket out and helped her to sit.

  “Mr. Steele—”

  “Please, call me John. As we’ll be traveling companions, I think that we can dispense with the formalities. May I call you Lillian?”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  “You were going to say?” he prompted.

  “I just wanted to thank you again for your kindness. I don’t think that I would be capable of finding my way to Byrock without assistance.”

  He scowled. “Nor should you. Gallivanting around the countryside alone is no position for a young lady to be in.” He reached out and grasped both of her hands in his larger ones. “Do you have a plan once we reach Byrock?”

  She looked away. “No. I’m taking one day at a time.”

  “Hmm.” He ran his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you, Lillian. I’m here to take care of you.”

  Lillian turned back to him in surprise. “I have money, John, and I’m independent. I’m not a weak girl in need of assistance. I can take care of myself…” She faltered for a moment and looked around the unfamiliar and harsh environment. “However, I do appreciate your help now.”

  She couldn’t miss the devilish smile and the roguish glint in his eye. She shivered as an inexplicable chill worked its way down her spine.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  William jogged up the stairs of the Dawson property and flung the front door wide, rattling it on its hinges and sending a young maid scuttling for cover. “Dawson!”

  He’d driven like the devil possessed him to get to the property as quickly as possible. Now he would wait no longer. He needed an explanation. It was too much of a coincidence that Lillian’s departure had occurred not long after Dawson’s visit.

  William stalked down the hallway and entered the drawing room where George Dawson was rising from his seated position at a writing desk.

  “Cartwright,” Dawson greeted William mildly. “Why all the fuss?”

  William advanced on him menacingly, his eyes glinting with suppressed fury. “Don’t play the innocent with me. You know very well why I’m here.”

  Dawson raised his eyebrows.

  “Let me make it simple for you. Where the fuck is Lillian?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, William saw Margaret Dawson enter the room. “What on earth is all the commotion about?” she questioned, her gaze landing on William.

  “Apparently, Cartwright’s little governess has run off and he has some notion that I know where she’s hiding,” Dawson smirked delightedly at his daughter then looked back at William. “I assure you I have no idea.”

  “Then it’s just a coincidence that Lillian left not long after you visited her?” William asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Dawson shrugged. “I don’t profess to know what goes on in the heads of young ladies.”

  William cast a sidelong look at Margaret. She had her head cocked to the side studying him quizzically, a soft smile curling her lips. He looked back at Dawson. The man had retaken his seat and was leaning back in his chair, a look of calculated nonchalance composing his features.

  William’s tenuous hold on his temper snapped. He stalked to where Dawson sat. “Enough!” He slammed both fists on the desk. The older man jumped in alarm and tried to back away but he was caged between the wall and William’s heaving body. William grinned wickedly, enjoying the fact that Dawson had misjudged his own actions. By trying for aloof indifference, he’d literally backed himself into a corner.

  William leaned forward, bracing his body on his arms. “I’m not going to ask you again, old man. You tell me what you know, or be prepared to face the consequences.” He watched as a myriad of emotions crossed the other man’s face—fear, calculation then anger.

  “I’ll tell you what I know,” Dawson snarled. “You have the audacity to stride into my home and throw your weight around, after impregnating my daughter!”

  Whatever William had expected to hear, it definitely hadn’t been that. The air left his lungs as the implication of what Dawson had just
said hit him full in the chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he whispered, incredulous.

  The other man turned smug. “Just what I said. I don’t think that I have to explain it to you, do I?”

  William stepped back a pace, confusion crossing his features. This couldn’t be happening. No wonder Lillian had left. If she thought that Margaret was pregnant with his child, it would be the ultimate betrayal to her. Fury boiled in his veins. He clenched his fists and he felt the tendons in his neck bulging with the effort to refrain from lashing out and punching the man. He took three deep breaths, trying to calm his raging temper. He needed to get his priorities in order. First and foremost, he had to determine the direction in which Lillian was heading.

  William straightened and spun around to face Margaret, his eyes glinting dangerously. “You told your father these lies?”

  She smiled slyly and walked toward him, her hips swaying provocatively. “I’m sorry, William, I had to tell him.”

  What the fuck is she talking about? Is she insane? William looked at her in disbelief and held his arms in front of him to halt her advancement. “Stop!” he ordered roughly.

  “And you are going to marry Margaret, Cartwright. I demand that you make an honest woman out of my daughter!”

  William whirled back to face George Dawson and laughed coldly. “You’re insane, man! Your daughter tried to seduce me under this very roof three nights ago. I’ve never known your daughter intimately. I have no doubt that some man has been there, but it definitely wasn’t me.”

  Margaret gasped as George’s face turned purple in his outrage. “How dare you!” her father ground between clenched teeth.