For the Love of Lila (19 page)

The weight on her pressed down heavier. She saw his point, and though her reputation mattered little here amongst the society she had found with Felicity, his lifelong plans demanded that he return to English society. If gossip about him spread far enough, his good name could be at stake.

He and she would not be able to continue like this.

Unable to speak, she lay down her head and wrapped her arms around him, crushing his broad chest as though she would never let him go. Unfortunately, she knew she would have to.

“I know you never planned to marry,” he said, “so you won’t have put any thought into what sort of wedding you might like. I imagine you will want to keep the event modest, will you not?”

She froze for a moment, then propped herself up on her elbow to face him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Of course. Oh, I’m sorry. That was poorly done.” He cleared his throat. “Will you marry me, Lila...and make me the happiest of men?”

All at once she went lightheaded, a feeling that confused her. Surely these words were the last she wanted to hear. She swallowed. “But, Tristan, you know my opinions about marriage.”

His brow furrowed, signaling his own confusion. “Yes, but ...you must realize that marriage is our only option now.”

Her answer stuck in her throat.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his gaze drilling into her. “Did you think we could simply make love without consequences?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down at his chest. “I didn’t plan this any more carefully than you.”

“Well, what if you do conceive a child?”

The thoughts that she’d shoved aside rushed forward, jumbled in her head. She tried to remain calm and approach the matter with logic. “I suppose I shall have to do some research into methods of preventing pregnancy.”

“I can tell you up front that none of them work
after
the act of coupling.” His tone had grown hard.

“I know that,” she said, her focus leaping to his face. “I am aware that we did not act wisely last night, and I can only hope that this once we will be lucky. When I mentioned prevention, I meant for next time.”

“Next time?” His brows hiked upwards. “You suggest that we continue like this, without benefit of marriage?”

“We can meet secretly.” Her mind began to work quickly, desperately. “No one need know, not even Felicity. Really, none of last night’s company know exactly what happened between us, and we have no need to tell them. In the future, none of them need even know when you are in town.”

He gawked at her. “You refuse to marry me but would become my mistress?”

“I would have said your
lover
, but, basically, yes.” She wished with all her might that he didn’t look so upset. “Tristan, you know my reasoning for this. If I were going to marry anyone, it would be you. I simply cannot marry.”

“Well, I cannot do what you suggest.” Looking away, he slid his arms from around her and sat up. He grabbed his shirt from beneath the bed and stuffed his arms into the sleeves.

“What are you doing?” She pushed herself up into a sitting position. The sudden loss of contact with him chilled her, and she pulled her half of the counterpane around one shoulder.

“Leaving.” He began buttoning his shirt.

She watched his fingers work swiftly down the row. “I wish you wouldn’t, especially not now. Stay, so we can discuss this.”

With his lower body still beneath the covers, he slipped into his inexpressibles. Snatching his breeches from the floor, he stood and leaned against the bed to pull on the first leg. “As you pointed out, the others here don’t know for certain what happened between us. In fact, the Italians didn’t actually
see
me enter your room—though I did let them know my intention. More fool I. Nevertheless, we are best served if I can steal out of here before they rise.”

She could feel her heart beat quicken. “You aren’t leaving for London today, are you?”

“As soon as I can pack and hire a coach.” Finished with his breeches, he leaned over and picked up his boots.

“Don’t.” She wished he would look at her, but he kept his attention on his toilette. As he put on his waistcoat, she stood, wrapping the counterpane around her. “Please. Promise me you won’t leave Paris yet, not without at least speaking to me again, after you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

He finally met her gaze, the muscles around his mouth tight. “There is no point, Lila. I shall have no change of mind.”

She stood by, helpless, as he went to the door and opened it, peering up and down the hall. But she didn’t know what she could do to make him stay. Weakly, she said, “Tristan, what if
I
need to contact you?”

He looked back at her over his shoulder. “You can reach me at D’Anjou today. Afterwards, write to me at my office.”

Without another word, he swept out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

She rushed to the threshold and stopped, remembering her state of
deshabille
. Peering into the hall, she watched him walk to the staircase, not once looking back toward her. In another moment, he turned down the steps and out of her sight.

If she’d had any viable reason, she would have gone after him, even undressed as she was. But what could she say to him? Her philosophy precluded her from marrying him. To drop her beliefs at the first sign of difficulty would be hypocrisy.

The abating sounds of his footsteps tortured her, and when she heard the front door close softly in the distance, she lost the last of her composure. She spun back into her room and shut the door, collapsing against the panels. Her throat tightened, and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

Eventually she staggered back to the hearth and curled up on the floor, rolling onto the spot where he had lain. All vestiges of his body heat had dissipated, leaving the rug and pillows cold. The soreness in her nether regions nagged at her, a ruthless reminder of what they had shared...and lost. He had been here, but he was gone, completely gone.

How on earth would she do without him?

* * * *

Lila awoke with a clouded mind, uncertain whether the rapping sound she’d heard had been real or a dream. She blinked against the sunlight filtering through her window and wondered how long she had been asleep.

The rapping repeated, emanating from her bedroom door. While she lifted her head, debating whether or not to respond, the handle turned and the door pushed halfway open.

The top of Felicity’s well coiffed hair poked through the gap. “Lila?”

Clasping the counterpane to her chest with one hand, Lila propped herself up on the other elbow. She cringed at the thought of what a sight she must be. “I...I am not exactly decent.”

“No matter. ‘Tis only I.” Her cousin pressed her way into the room, fully awake and decked in her usual flamboyant style of attire. She closed the door behind her. “Good Lord, coz, why are you sleeping on the floor?”

Lila couldn’t even bear to think about an answer, let alone phrase one. She put a hand up to her throbbing forehead. “What time is it?”

“Half past two.” Felicity grinned. “My, don’t we look the worse for wear. I hope the evening was worth your while.”

Trying not to reveal her heartache, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Well...I wouldn’t want to undo it.”

“
My
evening was very rewarding.” Her cousin approached the hearth and settled down on a pillow beside her. “I have some marvelous news.”

Lila forced herself to sit up straighter, hoping she appeared more interested than she felt. “You do?”

“Do I ever.” Felicity hugged herself like a giddy schoolgirl. “I am to live in Italy. Goldoni asked me this morning.”

Lila hesitated. Was the announcement ambiguous or was she simply groggy? But her cousin’s radiant smile registered distinctly. Evidently, the count had proposed.

“Pray forgive my density,” she said, shaking her head briskly as if the action might clear her mind. “My best wishes to you. Tell me all about your plans.”

“Domenico is to arrange everything.” Felicity sprang to her feet and began pacing the room. “He is writing ahead today to hire a lovely little villa on the Italian Riviera.”

“Just like in your fantasy,” Lila murmured. Recalling all that had been said during the parlor game, she blushed.

“Precisely. Oh, coz, I have always dreamed of this. I can hardly wait to leave. We depart a week from today.”

“Goodness.” That piece of news cleared her head. She bit her lower lip. “I shall need to find my own lodgings.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Her cousin stopped pacing and leaned over to brush Lila’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, love. My head is as muddled as yours. I meant to tell you up front that you are to come with us.”

“But you cannot possibly want me along. Surely, I would be in the way.”

Felicity gave her a wide smile. “When I said we are hiring a ‘little villa,’ I did not literally mean
little
. I expect the place will be twice the size of this, so we’ll have plenty of room. Tess is as excited as I am. We shall all be
molto
merry.”

“Tess is going, too?”

“Naturally. She is looking to expanding her acquaintance with Giuseppe.”

Lila frowned. “But won’t you and the count want some time alone—at least a honeymoon of some sort?”

Felicity swatted away the notion. “I am sure you and Tess will oblige us with privacy when we want it. Most of the time, however, I will need your companionship. From what I understand, Domenico will not be at the villa very often. His wife keeps him on a fairly short leash.”

“His wife?” Lila could only stare. Her cousin planned to become mistress to a
married
man, placing herself totally at the whim of a man who had no obligation to her. “Felicity, pray pardon my asking, but are you sure you want to...to put yourself in a position with so little power?”

“I know, I know,” her cousin said, shaking her head. “I must confess that I don’t look forward to competing with
la contessa
, but...we shall see what happens. In any case, you do know now that you are included in my plans, don’t you?”

She paused, overwhelmed by the barrage of change taking place in her life. “Yes, I do, and I thank you for thinking of me, but I have my own plans, perhaps not as definite as yours but every bit as important to me. I am afraid that Italy is not part of them.”

Felicity lifted her eyebrows. “Perhaps you have a better offer?”

“I have no offer of any kind,” she said, mindful not to imply that Tristan might take her under his wing in the way Goldoni had her cousin. “‘Tis only that for years I have dreamed of living in Paris, earning my own living with my writing.”

“You could just as easily write in Italy.”

“I suppose so, but...I don’t know.” She stopped to ponder why the idea held no appeal. Though Felicity’s future with the count seemed dubious, she still believed her cousin should do as she pleased. And she couldn’t say that Italy itself didn’t have its charm. She would like to visit...someday. “Italy just seems so far away.”

Felicity studied her for a moment, a hint of a grin pulling at her lips. “Far away from
whom
?”

Lila blinked. Was that why she didn’t want to move? Was she still secretly hoping she might have a relationship of some sort with Tristan? She had to admit she wanted him, though she couldn’t imagine a way to work out their differences.

“Never mind,” her cousin said. “I understand. But you must promise to keep in touch with me.”

“And you with me.” Lila gave her a half-smile, the best she could manage at present. “I would love to visit you, once we’ve both settled into our new lives.”

“I would love to have you.” Felicity bent and kissed her cheek. “I shall let you get dressed now. You must have as many plans to make as I.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

As she watched her cousin swish out of the room, the full truth of the statement struck her. She needed to arrange for her own lodgings without delay...and to do so she would first need her trust money.

She frowned. When she’d last asked Tristan, he’d told her transferring the funds would take weeks. Meanwhile, her finances would dwindle rapidly, especially once her cousin left Paris.

Good Lord.
She leaned on the bed, chin in hand. Once Felicity moved, the city would seem very lonely. With her gone, Lila wasn’t even certain she had a reason to be in Paris.

Maybe she didn’t have a reason.

She jerked into an upright position. When she’d asked about her trust, Tristan had also said he would prefer she go back to London with him to close it. And only the other day, he had tried to convince her to return with him rather than remain with Felicity. She wondered if now his offer would still stand...and if she could catch him before he left the city.

Jumping to her feet, she darted to the wardrobe and grabbed a random gown. As she slipped the sprigged muslin over her head, a dizzy mixture of emotion washed over her. Relief comprised the bulk, which told her how much she wanted to go with him, but worry and confusion also made up large parts. Would she be able to catch him? If she did catch him, would he be too angry to take her? And if he took her, what kind of life would she have in London? She had spent years planning her move to Paris, while she had made this decision in a flash.

She wrested her hair into a bun, donned a hat and boots and scurried downstairs. An empty hackney was passing the house, and she called to the driver from the door.

In a stroke of good fortune, he saw her and stopped. The break boosted her spirits. Perhaps this portended that she would get to go with Tristan.

Snatching a spencer from the coat rack, she bounded outside and down the walk. Only when she had settled into the hack did she consider how difficult another journey with Tristan would be. The last twenty-four hours had left their relationship undefined. With their traveling as mere companions, the air between them would be tense with denied desire.

The driver made quick progress to D’Anjou, and as they pulled up to the hotel she pushed aside all but hope. Despite how much of the future loomed doubtful, she knew one thing for certain: Tense or not, going with Tristan wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as parting from him.