She returned the look. “Yes. I’m rather a good climber. My father encouraged me, to my mother’s dismay, when I was younger. I don’t suppose he ever considered I might use the ability to leave the house at night when I was not supposed to. Or maybe he did.” She shrugged, pushing back the sadness of her father’s loss, which was always at the edges of her happiness. “I can go about rather freely since my father passed, my chaperone fled, and my mother—”
She stopped herself from confessing that her mother took laudanum nearly daily and locked herself in her room for most of the days and nights. Even Lilias had boundaries of propriety she would not cross, and one did not confess such scandalous secrets. Well, at least not until one knew someone better.
He arched lovely, dark, expectant eyebrows at her.
“And my mother’s preoccupation since my father’s death,” she added lamely.
“I see,” Nash said, his deep voice filled with understanding, and she truly felt he did understand. Somehow he knew what she had not said, and in that moment, it seemed as if an unspoken bond formed between them.
“I’ve been wondering how you flitted about the countryside with me,” Owen piped up, breaking the spell.
Lilias offered her friend an indulgent smile. He had not asked, not once since she’d met him, and it had always bothered her. She didn’t know why, but it seemed he should have at least asked. Nash had asked. It made her want to sigh happily.
“As to being ruined,” she continued, wanting to finish answering Nash’s questions with the hope that eventually he’d answer some of her own, “you two are our nearest neighbors. The others are so far away that being seen in your company and then ruined is hardly a concern. So don’t fret that you might have to wed me.”
“It’s you who would need to fret if you had to wed me,” he responded, then chuckled.
But to her, the laugh was forced. It covered the truth of his words. He found himself unworthy of marrying. How fascinating. He was most assuredly a Gothic hero in the making.
“I feel I’ll make an excellent husband,” Owen blurted.
“Of course you will,” Nash replied.
Nash’s kind words to Owen were quite endearing but not yet true, and it would not do for Owen to fool himself. “You’ll make excellent husband one day,” she assured her friend with a friendly pat on the arm. “But you are only five and ten summers,” she added.
“I’m the same age as you!”
She nodded. “Yes, and I’m not ready to wed yet, either.”
What she didn’t say was that he needed to become a lot less stuffy before he tried to find a wife. Romantic heroes were not supposed to be so concerned with propriety. Though, to be fair, she knew Owen’s obsession with being proper had to do with the fact that his mother had run off with their horse trainer. Lilias suspected Owen was trying to make up for his mother’s shocking lack of decorum by having so much of his own.
“I do believe I’ve answered all your questions,” she said to Nash. “Shall we get started teaching Owen to swim?”
“Why at night?” Nash asked instead of agreeing to begin.
She bit her lip, not wishing to admit the truth of the matter, but there didn’t seem to be hope for avoiding doing so. “Several reasons. One is that I cannot very well strip down to my unmentionables in front of the two of you to teach Owen to swim.”
“I’d say not!” Owen exclaimed.
Nash, however, shockingly said, “I’ve seen girls in their unmentionables before.”
“Well, of course you have!” Owen guffawed, which irritated her.
Apparently it irritated Nash, too, for he scowled at Owen, but she pressed her lips together on intervening. He’d been the one who wanted to shock Owen. It served Nash right that Owen had readily thought him a rogue.
But she did need to ensure he understood that just because she did not care for the fact that girls were bound by different rules than boys were, she did have a proper upbringing and plenty of self-worth. “I am not the sort of girl who will be showing anyone but my husband my unmentionables,” she stated, giving him what she hoped was a warning look like the one her father used to give her when he’d lost patience with her antics. It had been rare, but it had occurred.
“That’s obvious,” Nash said.
She frowned, unsure whether it was a compliment or not and if he thought that a good thing.
“What are the other reasons?” he asked.
“I thought if we surprised you, you might be intrigued enough to come.”
“You’re quite honest, aren’t you?” He sounded as if he was not used to such behavior.
“I don’t see the point of being otherwise. Now…” Though the conversation was fascinating, the night was slipping away. “Shall we start?”
“I shall start,” Nash replied. “You’ll sit there.” He pointed at the grass.
“I shall not!” she said hotly.
“You will or I’ll leave and not help at all.”
“But it was my idea to teach Owen to swim!”
“It may have been, but you are a girl.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “And I have enough honor that I cannot, will not, allow you into dangerous water at night. You could catch cold. You could slip and twist your ankle. You could be bitten by a snake. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
That was the most gallant thing anyone had ever said to her. She couldn’t even muster the outrage to protest again, nor the wish to show him what an excellent swimmer she was. She ought to be irritated, she supposed. He wanted her to sit on the bank while he taught Owen to swim, after all, but she could not find a hint of the emotion in her. He had not said he didn’t think her capable; he’d said he wanted to protect her. Warmth filled her, and she had the most embarrassing desire to sigh at him.
Instead, she simply nodded. “I suppose someone should keep watch.”
“Yes,” he agreed quite readily, sounding relieved, and she half wondered if he had thought she’d argue. “You will make an excellent guardswoman.”
So for possibly the first time in her life, Lilias did as she was told and sat while Nash taught Owen to swim. He was kind and patient, and he was an excellent instructor. In no time, he had Owen with his head underwater, stroking his arms and kicking his legs. And as the grand finale to the night, Owen swam for five strokes to Nash. Lilias jumped up in her excitement, caught her foot on a tree root, and fell face forward onto the dirt, twisting her ankle in the process.
She cried out in pain, and before she could even right herself, Nash was there, grabbing her by the forearms and then helping her up. “Are you all right?”
In the moonlight, she could see the outline of his strong jaw, his head tilted toward her, his eyebrows raised. His hands were cold from being in the water, but she didn’t mind one bit. “I’m fine,” she said, not wanting to admit that her ankle was already throbbing.
“Thank God,” Owen said, coming up behind Nash.
When Nash released her and she put all her weight on her ankle, she almost fell down again. Nash caught her by the elbow and tugged her to his side, where he encircled her waist to hold her up. She had never felt protected like that in her life.
“You can’t walk home like this,” Nash said.
She hated to be helpless, but he was right, and the idea of him carrying her was not one she minded. She was really warming to it when he turned to Owen. “Can you carry her?”
Lilias felt her jaw drop open, but before she could recover from the sting of him not wanting to do the deed himself, she was being pushed gently out of Nash’s strong embrace and into Owen’s hands. Owen awkwardly slipped an arm under her leg as she protested, and he ignored her. He got her up against his chest, took two steps, and promptly tripped, sending them both flying forward, but Nash somehow managed to stop them from falling.
“I’m sorry, Lilias,” Owen said, and she could hear the misery in his voice.
“I’m sure she’s quite
heavy,” Nash assured Owen, to her astonishment and irritation. “She looks it.” And then he jostled her out of Owen’s grasp, into his own, and gripped her under her legs while bringing her into the crook of his other arm and against his very solid, wet chest. “Which way?” he asked her.
She pointed, still vexed with him. Owen gathered their things and then fell into step behind them as they made their way through the dark woods to her home. When they got to the road that led to Owen’s home, he handed Nash’s things to her, and then Owen bade them an awkward farewell, as if he did not want to depart.
“Let’s meet tomorrow,” she told Owen. “We’ll work on your swimming again.”
“We can meet at the bridge,” Owen said, and to Lilias’s delight, Nash agreed, though he did sound a trifle reluctant.
Once Owen departed, Nash strode along toward her house for a moment, and Lilias racked her mind for a way to ask him about his family that was not too intrusive. She’d seen a family portrait on one of her visits, and there was a boy and young girl in the painting who had to be his siblings.
“Do I truly look heavy?” she asked, unable to think of a better way to start the conversation.
“No. You look perfect, and you’re light as a feather.” His compliment would have made her smile, except he sounded irritated, and he picked up his pace, as if he wanted to be rid of her. At this rate, they’d be at her house in no time.
Blast. She wanted to learn something about him.
“Then why did you tell Owen I looked heavy?”
He paused, glancing down at her. In the moonlight, she could just make out his face and see his eyebrows arch. “Sorry about that. I didn’t consider it might hurt your feelings. I was trying to ensure that Owen was not embarrassed if he couldn’t carry you.”
Her chest tightened at his words. “You’re quite nice.”
“No. No, I’m not, Lilias,” Nash replied and started walking once more. Silence stretched for a long time, and as her home came into view, Nash said, “But Owen seems to be truly nice. He reminds me of my brother.”
“You have a brother?” she asked, refusing to feel guilty about not mentioning the portrait she’d seen.
“Not anymore.” His clipped tone did not invite questions, so she bit her lip as he set her on her feet. He took his belongings from her, silence stretching and nearly killing her, and then he slowly put on his shoes. When he finally stood, she thought it likely he’d simply leave, but he said, “He died last year.”
His words stole her breath, and for a moment she recalled the image of the light-haired boy in the portrait. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. How did he die?”
“He drowned.”
The pain in Nash’s voice pierced Lilias’s heart. She inhaled a long, steadying breath as her own grief over the loss of her father rose to the surface. “Is that why you decided to help me teach Owen to swim?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “How will you get back into your house unnoticed?” he asked, changing the subject.
“The tree I used to get down.”
“With that injury?”
“I’ll manage.” Her ankle ached terribly, but she didn’t want to admit it—nor did she want him to leave yet. “It’s very selfless of you to help Owen.”
“No, it’s not. I’m hoping to get something out of it,” he said. “Where’s the tree?”
She pointed to her bedchamber, and he put an arm around her waist and helped her over. “What do you hope to get out of teaching Owen to swim?”
He slid his arm from her waist, but his fingers lingered on her arm, as if to ensure she was steady before releasing her. Nash Steele, the Marquess of Chastain, as she’d discovered from his butler, was a protector whether he knew it or not. His touch disappeared, and she felt the loss of it all the way to her toes. They stood in silence for several breaths, and she was beginning to think he was not going to answer her.
Finally, he said, “Redemption.”
The word was low and throbbing. It caused an ache in her gut. “For what?” she whispered.
Again, they stood in silence, this pause longer. An owl hooted from a tree above, and her dogs, who always slept in her bedchamber, began to bark in response. Lights started flickering in the window to the right of her bedchamber. Nora. The ninny. She was afraid of every little sound, and soon she would wake their mother.
“What do you wish redemption for?” she urged him, her heart pounding with the knowledge that she had to hurry and make her way up the tree to the safety of her bedchamber.
A sigh filled the space between them. “My brother’s death,” Nash finally said. “I killed him.”
She could not have heard him correctly. “You said he drowned.”
“He did,” Nash replied. “But I was the reason he was on the ice. My selfishness killed my brother. So you see, Lilias, I am not nice.”
Before she could point out that someone who wasn’t truly a good person would not even be worried about whether they were good or bad, her window slammed open and Nora leaned out with her nightcap still on. “Lilias Honeyfield, I see you down there in the moonlight, and in a minute, Mama will, too. I’m going to wake her. Then you’ll be in the soup, as you deserve for never taking me with you!” With that, her sister disappeared from the window.
“You’ve been caught now,” Nash said. To her pleasant surprise, he sounded regretful, which could only mean he wanted to see her again.
She waved a dismissive hand as she grabbed a tree branch. “Nonsense. It would take the house coming down around my mother’s ears to wake her. The laudanum—” Lilias bit her lip on the slip as she struggled to pull herself up the tree, but her ankle hurt something dreadful. “Give me a push?” she asked, not knowing what else to do. Eventually her mother would wake up if that tattletale Nora shook her long enough.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” Nash said, his hands coming to her hips. His touch shot heat through her. “Is she ill?”
“No,” Lilias said, shocked at the husky sound of her voice. She cleared her throat. “She’s sad since my father’s death.” And though she did not wish to leave Nash, she had to, so she tugged herself up as Nash hoisted her. She finally got a hold on the sturdy branch, and her foot found a good knot in the tree so she could make her way to the next branch. She turned and looked down at Nash. His head was tilted up to look at her, and his hands were on his hips.
“You’ll still come to the bridge tomorrow, won’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, I promised I would.”
Relief flowed through her, but then she had a worry. Would he mention what she’d said about her mother to Owen? Truly, she didn’t want anyone to know. She wasn’t even sure why she’d told him. “About my mother—”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
And he thought he wasn’t good… He was perfect. Never mind she’d only spent a few hours in his company, but he was wonderful. And she was going to mend him so he could be hers.
The fall went along in the dreamiest of manners. Lilias, Nash, and Owen met every day for Owen’s swimming lessons. When Owen finally mastered swimming, she feared Nash would not meet them anymore, but that tragedy was skirted when Owen asked Nash to teach him how to fish. The three of them spent September together with Nash instructing them both on the finer arts of fishing—she begged to be included—and the process continued into October when Owen asked Nash to teach him to fence and to ride better. Lilias was already an excellent rider, but as she again did not want to be excluded from Nash’s instruction, she pretended she wasn’t.
Nash seemed to have taken on the role of older brother to Owen, but he didn’t talk about it. She could not bring it up, though, because it was never just the two of them, and she didn’t want to reveal what he’d told her in confidence about his own brother. He was gruff and grumpy at times, but he had honor and a fiercely protective side.
By the start of November, Lilias knew three things for certain: she was hopelessly in love with Nash, she wanted time
alone with him, and the only way to get him to herself to find out if he felt the same about her was to seize the day. With that in mind, she sat at her desk and penned a note to Nash asking him to meet her at the bridge before the appointed time she, Owen, and Nash were supposed to rendezvous that evening. She was going to teach the boys about the constellations, which was something her father had taught her in one of his tentative moments.
Just as she was signing her note, her door swung open and Nora stood at the threshold with a grin on her face and letter in her hand. Lilias frowned at the interruption. “What do you want?”
“A rather stuffy footman brought this round for you, but I’m not inclined to give it to you.”
Lilias jumped up and lunged for Nora, but her sister was faster on her feet than Lilias was. Nora dashed down the hall into her own room, slamming the door behind her as she went.
Lilias was halfway down the hall when her mother screeched, “Be quiet, girls! I’ve a horrid megrim, and I got no sleep last night.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Lilias called back, feeling guilty that she was actually glad to hear her mother had not slept well the night before. That meant she’d likely retire to bed early tonight, making it easier than usual for Lilias to leave the house without being noticed. Not that it was overly hard in the first place.
Her momentary pleasure turned sour as she tiptoed toward Nora’s room, intent on taking her sister by surprise. It actually did not feel so grand that her mother never noticed that Lilias sneaked out of the house. In fact, at times, her mother almost seemed to forget that Lilias existed, except she had mentioned just yesterday that Lilias needed a new wardrobe to go to London next Season. Mama intended to introduce Lilias to Society to marry her off and get one daughter out from under foot. Those words had pricked.
Lilias sniffed and shoved her injured feelings away. Mama was overwhelmed and melancholy, as she had been since Papa died. Lilias reminded herself not to take it personally. After all, Mama ignored Nora, as well. Regardless, Lilias did not want to be clothed to be wedded off. She’d already found the man she hoped to eventually wed, and she’d done that in a pair of borrowed trousers.
Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid (Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 2) Page 3