Romancing a Wallflower

by Anna St. Claire

  Lilian beamed. Of all things, she wanted to tell Lydia. “Oh, very well!” She threw up her hands in a show of mock surrender. “He walked over to me with Mama. She introduced him and then left reluctantly. I could tell she wished to stay. It is my belief he asked Mama to introduce him.” Lilian felt her grin stretch until it took up so much of her face it hurt. Closing her eyes, she summoned his image. She had tried for months to recall the man who had rescued her. Lydia had described him as handsome; even now, Lilian could not recall his features from a year ago. What she remembered was his scent. It was the same fragrance which had assailed her tonight. “He asked me to go for a drive tomorrow.”

  “Really? That is marvellous!” Lydia jumped up and down and clapped her hands furiously. “I am so happy for you, my sweet sister.”

  “What are you happy for, my dear?” The door opened and her mother walked in with a maid following behind her, carrying a tray. “I know you have had a tea tray. I thought, perhaps, a small cup of chocolate would make the night more restful.”

  “Mama, that is so thoughtful. You know how I love chocolate.” Lydia reached for the cup.

  “What were you girls talking about just now? Why are you so happy, my dear?” Mama looked at Lydia.

  “Mama,” the words gushed from Lydia’s mouth as water from a pump. “Lord Harlow has asked to take my darling sister for a drive tomorrow. I think he means to court her.”

  “Lydia!” Lilian flushed.

  “Well, my dears, it seems tonight was a success for both my daughters.” She sat between them and hugged them to her, then looked at Lilian.

  “Please, Mama,” Lilian pleaded. “Please do not expect anything to become of his attentions. He is just being solicitous and wished to meet me to assure himself of my good health.”

  “Nonsense. That man has been wanting to meet you for a year. Your father has mentioned that Lord Harlow has inquired often, mostly through a messenger, of your health. I am hopeful for both of you.” She kissed first Lilian and then Lydia on the top of the head before leaving the room.

  “I think Mama does know best, this time.” Lydia squeezed Lilian’s hand. “I am for my bed. Good night, dearest.” So saying, she also departed.

  Lilian lay and watched the candlelight dance effortlessly on the soft blue and white printed wallpaper of her room. Feeling her eyes about to close, she forced herself to sit up and blow out the candle on the walnut night-table and then, lay back and smoothed the covers over herself. Her curtains were slightly apart and allowed a sliver of moonlight to enter. She stared at the light on the ceiling, imagining it as starlight. Shutting her eyes tight, she made a small wish. Tonight, she asked the stars that her mother would be right. Tonight, every part of Lilian hoped it could be true.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Harlow whistled in the crisp morning air as he drove the short distance to Lord Avalon’s Mayfair town house. The weather had cooperated, his neckcloth did not pinch, and Cook had provided his favourite dishes for breakfast. Everything was right with the world. And, most important of all, he would see the woman who had occupied so many of his dreams of late—in a matter of minutes.

  He was so caught up in his musings, he nearly missed the furious sounds of horses running down the street. Looking up, he spotted a black coach drawn by black horses hurtling in his direction, its driver yelling at the terrified horses, which appeared to have bolted. With only a moment to spare, Harlow whipped up his pair and swung his yellow curricle to the side of the road, as the black coach sped past him, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. “Are you alright, Simmons, he yelled to his tiger, who had been in the small box seat at the back.

  “Ye…yes, m’lord. I believe I am,” a shaking voice replied. “’Tis a testament to your skills, m’lord,” he added in a strained voice.

  “I am debating whether we should disembark and kiss the ground before proceeding,” Harlow joked.

  “I thought we were going to do exactly that, m’lord,” the tiger retorted, unflinchingly.

  “Ha! Simmons, you have right of it!” Good humouredly, Harlow held the reins in one hand, and pulled off his hat, blowing off the dust that covered it.

  “Well, boys,” he muttered aloud to his chestnuts, “’Tis a good job the bloke regained control of his horses before they ran over someone. Come to think of it, I do not recall ever seeing a coach racket through this part of Town before. Mayhap he has an appointment with the devil himself.” Recollecting that he wished to keep his good mood, he shook the remaining dust from his hat, rolled it around to make sure the shape was correct and placed it back on his head. “That could have had unfortunate consequences had there been people in the street.”

  Slowly turning his horses, he nonchalantly tried to observe any movement in the alley as he tooled quietly back the way he had come, Harlow noticed that the black coach had slowed down and pulled off the main street into an alley. Odd, that, he thought. He circled the block and peered through the alley. He saw nothing moving except the heads of what appeared to be the same horses which had just passed him. The horses’ heads were tossing back and forth in some irritation, white flecks of foam spotting their forelegs. The vehicle and the animals’ hindquarters were hidden behind a well-respected public house.

  “Very odd place to park a coach…unless someone has died in the tap,” he mumbled to himself, making a mental note to discuss this oddity with his friend Max. Satisfied with his resolve, he turned about again, signalled his horses to pick up speed and, ten minutes later, pulled his curricle into the circular drive to Avalon House on Norfolk Street.

  The beautiful, combined grey stone and pink brick mansion stood three storeys tall and was surrounded by black iron railings. Window boxes filled with flowers known for their fragrance hugged the sills of several upstairs windows, while white and pink rose bushes dominated the gardens that framed the house. The soft fragrance of roses floated on the light breeze, welcoming Harlow and reminding him of the flowers he had brought as he handed the reins to his tiger. He reached for the bouquet of purple forget-me-nots, kept safely in a hidden box behind his feet.

  A moment passed, and the door opened. “Good morning, my lord.” The butler stepped back, allowing entry, and held his hand out to receive Harlow’s hat and gloves. “Shall I take the flowers for you, Lord Harlow?”

  Harlow shifted the bouquet as he removed his gloves, handing both them and his hat to the butler.

  “Thank you, Chambers, but I would like to give them to Lady Lilian myself.”

  “Of course, my lord. Please follow me.”

  Harlow thought he caught a faint smile cross the old retainer’s face before it disappeared, as if he was pleased for Lady Lilian. Harlow’s heart warmed.

  The door to the parlour opened before Chambers could knock and a young lady rushed through the door, her attention still on a person behind her in the room. She slid to a stop, just short of toppling the old man, who had already begun protective measures, stepping against the wall and holding out his hands.

  “Oh, good gracious. Please accept my apology, sir. I thought Lord Yarstone…” She stopped in mid-sentence; a smile crept up her face and she gave a quick curtsy. “Lord Harlow, do forgive me.” The smile lit her face. “I expect you have come to see my sister, Lilian.”

  “I have, indeed.” He smiled pleasantly. The girl looked almost identical to her sister, except for the slate blue colour of her eyes, a contrast to her sister’s deeper, blue-green. Lady Lydia’s reddish-brown hair had been gathered into a modest knot, framed by curls and small white flowers. “Beg pardon for staring, but this is the first time I have seen the two of you so close together. You are almost identical twins!” Harlow felt a fool as soon as he made the observation out loud.

  “Yes, my lord, we are, and I am afraid we filled our childhood with pranks. She smiled mischievously and nodded toward her sister. “Those around us tried to make us look different in our dress, a tactic I fear we…ah…put to good use.”

 
“Lady Lydia, please accept my apologies.” The voice of the butler interrupted any further indiscreet confidences. The old man had recovered his wits and his balance.

  “Chambers, it is I who should apologize. I am at fault, not you.” Lady Lydia stepped aside to allow him entry into the parlour and quickly moved to stand behind a winged-back chair near her sister. “Lilian, I believe Lord Yarstone has just arrived.” While Lady Lydia’s voice was almost a whisper, she could not refrain from smiling widely. “Would you mind if we also took a turn in the park? He said he would bring his phaeton.”

  “Oh, gracious! Lydia, please…daughter, your manners!” The Countess blustered into the room with evident frustration and gave a piercing look in the direction of her errant child. “Lord Harlow, what a pleasant surprise this is.” Her voice was at once calm and even.

  He extended his leg and gave a slight bow.

  “An excursion as you describe would be most pleasant, I am sure, ladies,” Harlow interposed. He could not help hearing Lady Lydia’s whispered request.

  The room offered a bright and cheery respite from the world, and Harlow imagined they must use it more than just when they received guests. A soft yellow and blue damask wallpaper covered the walls. Light blue velvet curtains framed the front window, hanging over thin curtains. The delicate fabric beckoned light into the room. A deep blue velvet settee with walnut edging sat against the far wall, and a yellow and white striped winged-back chair stood in a slight, diagonal angle from the wall opposite the door. Resting on a small, adjacent wooden table was a vase of potted greenery. To his left, near the door, a tall walnut secretaire, with colourful leather-bound books lining two upper shelves, stood sentry against the wall.

  Looking beyond the twin sister and her mother, Harlow spotted his quarry sitting in her chair near an over-large window, holding a small blue book which she had evidently been reading. Lady Lilian placed her book in her lap and looked up at him, smiling shyly.

  His mouth ran dry and he suddenly felt as if he had stuffed it with cotton. He tried to swallow and clear it; coughing instead, he was left feeling very much like a tongue-tied schoolboy of twelve. Unnerved, he thrust the handful of forget-me-nots in front of him, wiping with his free hand at sudden moisture that had formed over his brow. This is a new occurrence. When has giving flowers to any woman ever made me nervous? I have never been at a loss for words. This woman—the woman who has haunted my dreams—appears to have affected all cogent parts of my being. Tomfool! Despite the inner turmoil, he pressed forward.

  “These are for you, Lady Lilian.”

  “My lord, what lovely flowers!” Her hands gripped the wheels of her chair to move them.

  “Lilian…please, my dear, allow me to help you.” Her mother stood up and moved towards Lady Lilian, and released the brake on the chair, pushing it closer to the parlour couch.

  Lady Lilian relaxed her arm. Harlow stepped closer, continuing to chastise himself for acting like an idiot.

  “Thank you, Mama,” Lady Lilian replied. She accepted the flowers from Harlow, and lifting them to her nose, inhaled deeply. “Thank you, sir. They are a favourite of mine. They smell lovely.

  A deep voice sounded from behind him. “Lord Yarstone, my lady.”

  “Please show him…in…” Lady Lydia’s voice faltered. Glancing up, Harlow was in time to see the withering look she received from her mother.

  “Thank you, Chambers,” Lady Avalon answered tersely. Harlow recalled seeing his father deliver a similar look, once upon a time, and swallowed, suddenly feeling sympathy for Lydia.

  “Lord Harlow, I had not expected to see you.” Richard, Viscount Yarstone, stiffened and slowly withdrew a large bunch of white roses from behind his back.

  “Relax,” Harlow uttered under his breath. Yarstone appeared slightly more irritated each time they met near the DeLacey sisters. Clearing his throat, he said aloud, “Lady Lilian, are you still amenable to a drive in the park?”

  Lilian nodded. “I should be pleased to accompany you, sir, if…” She looked up at her mother. “Mama?”

  “Lord Harlow, of course, nothing could be more acceptable.” The Countess beamed. “Do not forget your pelisse, my dear. There is a slight chill in the air today,” she added, accepting the flowers from Lilian.

  “Lady Lydia, these are for you,” Yarstone spoke, holding out his spray to Lilian’s twin.

  “Oh my, white roses! They are so beautiful.” Lady Lydia sniffed them and smiled at the Viscount.

  “Lady Lydia, it is a pleasant day. I was hoping…would you care to join me for a ride in my phaeton?” Lord Yarstone shifted on his feet, seemingly nervous.

  The Countess did not wait for her daughter to answer. “She would indeed, sir. You are very kind to so indulge her. You gentlemen have chosen a beautiful day for a turn about the park.” She accepted Lydia’s flowers and cast a quick look at Lilian.

  “Do try not to get into trouble, my dears,” she chided gently.

  Harlow caught the look of hope in Lady Avalon’s eyes. He could only imagine the strain that the family had been under these past many months. A pang of guilt attacked his heart. He still had not determined the origin of the shot which had caused the accident and try as he might, could not shake the fear that his earlier inquiries in Tintagel connected him to this tragedy.

  “We will return in two hours, my lady.” he offered.

  The Countess looked warily at him. “A footman will assist Lady Lilian into the carriage, sir.” She tugged on a rope near the settee. A knock on the door quickly followed it and Winston entered on his mistress’ command.

  “It appears we shall have a beautiful day together. Shall we adjourn to the park, ladies?” Lord Yarstone held the parlour door open for the group to depart, a look of unbridled delight in his eyes. He held out his arm to Lydia, and the two of them led the small group to the phaeton and curricle waiting outside.

  “Wait! Cook sent this for you, m’ladies.” Clara came scurrying behind them with another maid, each carrying a picnic basket and a blanket. “In case you become hungry,” she added, smiling at the two young ladies.

  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Clara,” Lilian said kindly. “Lord Harlow, Clara is our maid.”

  Harlow nodded. “That was very nice of you, Clara.”

  “Now, be off with you or the day will be done afore you get there!” Clara adjoined, waving to the four of them as they pulled away from the house.

  I will let nothing mar this day, Harlow thought to himself. His stomach contracted when he glanced at the beautiful woman sitting beside him, and he allowed a small smile to shape his mouth. His mother would be pleased, and he should be happy, and he would be, if he could quell the agitation he felt roiling in the pit of his stomach.

  Chapter 5

  It was a wonderful day for a picnic in Richmond Park. Except for a few words about perhaps partaking of a picnic together, the foursome agreed to join forces and enjoy the scenery in tandem. Except for minimal pleasantries, conversation between Lilian and Harlow faded into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed the park.

  There was only the slightest chill in the air, but this year the weather seemed a little cooler than normal. Considering the extreme cold of last winter, when the Thames froze hard enough for an elephant to walk across—at least that was what she had been told—it could not surprise her. Ordinary folk were out walking, reading books under trees, and eating lunches, without the perpetual, inconvenient rain or the heat of the summer.

  Lilian snuggled into her lightweight pelisse. She wished Mama had not made such a fuss about her taking a wrap. She felt Lord Harlow might then have lent her his coat, something she felt sure would have warmed her clear to her toes. Thanks to Mama, she was left to warm herself.

  It was a time to see and be seen. Almost a year had passed since her last such carriage ride through park, and it had been Hyde Park. Life had been different, then. Lydia and Lord Yarstone kept to their word and stayed either alongside or not far in front
. Lord Yarstone’s red phaeton enjoyed a good deal of attention, a circumstance that gladdened Lilian—her sister welcomed the acclaim that she no longer wished to have. It provided a false feeling of obscurity, which Lilian, not so secretly, appreciated.

  “Lady Lilian, may I have leave to call you by your given name?” Lord Harlow broke the silence. He lightly touched her gloved right hand.

  Heat from his touch coiled through the core of her body, creating an unfamiliar feeling, but one she could not find disagreeable.

  “I would like that, Lord Harlow…” she responded.

  “John,” he retorted, before she could finish. “Please call me John. Are you warm enough?” he added.

  Lilian looked down at the hand he had covered with his own and realized she had hugged herself with it. How embarrassing! What must he think of her, reacting thus to his touch?

  “I am warm, thank you…my…John,” she answered haltingly while she studied him with curiosity. “Why are we here? I mean, why did you ask me? I am a wallflower. You could have had your pick of any young lady at the ball.”

  “I picked you.” He lifted an eyebrow in ironic question.

  Her stomach did a small flip. Lilian looked down at her hands and barely whispered.

  “My lord, you flatter me. I am no longer used to such frivolity. I apologize if you deem my questions ill-mannered.”

  “Lilian, I have hoped for the opportunity to become reacquainted with you ever since the first time I saw you. The occasion did not arise until this week. I had begun to believe I would not get the chance,” Lord Harlow answered as he stared into her eyes.

  A sigh caught in her throat and she felt her heart beat strangely fast.

  “You have left me without a response,” she whispered.

  Lord Harlow dipped his head and pulled his horses to the right, signalling Lord Yarstone to follow. The two gentlemen turned their carriages off the main drive, slowing down as the party followed a narrower road.