Gentlemen Prefer Mischief (18 page)

Ian, Delia, Hal, Lily, and Freddy appeared in the doorway as well. “Shall we go down to the card party now?” Ian said.

“Yes,” Donwell said. “I believe Ivorwood was called away.”

Dear
God, what a fool she’d been.
She’d almost unthinkingly forced Ivorwood into the position of having to marry her whether he wanted to or not. And it was
not
, she knew that now.

She squeezed her brimming eyes shut and dashed at the tears spilling out with the back of her hand. She was bitter and disappointed and hurt, and the only thing she wanted in that moment was her bedchamber.

Not waiting for the others, she fled down the stairs.

“Eloise?” Delia called.

“I think she has a headache,” came Donwell’s reply. And in that moment, she hated him.

***

Lily had been avoiding Hal ever since their conversation in the garden—she’d kept to her room for much of the afternoon and spent most of her time on the roof talking to Freddy and Ian. She could feel Hal’s eyes on her frequently, but he did not come near, for which she’d been grateful. When she was with him, she said and did far too much.

But she’d seen the earl go into the stairway, and now with the distress in Eloise’s voice and the rushing footsteps disappearing down the darkened stairs, she guessed something had happened. Hal was behind her, the last one of the roof party, and she turned and said quietly to him, “Eloise is upset. You should go to her.”

“Me?” They slowed their steps while the others continued down the stairs in front of them.

“I think something may have happened between her and Ivorwood,” she whispered.

“Surely not. Ivorwood is a thorough gentleman.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t something he did. Maybe words passed between them that upset her.”

“Even supposing that’s the case, surely it would be something for her to discuss with a female friend.”

“No, you’re the perfect person.”

“Don’t be absurd—we never talk about things like this.”

“She’s upset, possibly over a man. Who better than you to provide her a perspective into a group of people she may not understand?”

“Her sister-in-law? You?”

“Go find her.”

And remarkably, he went.

***

Standing outside Eloise’s door, Hal thought he must be the last person who should be there. Putting aside his lack of experience or desire for discussing girlish feelings, he had been miserably aware all day of a weight in his chest that was his need for Lily. She was avoiding him, which he hated. In the garden that morning she’d let him know that she didn’t want to like him, but he couldn’t seem to accept this. She felt something deep for him, he was almost certain, even if it couldn’t have been half so intense as what he felt for her.

If he’d believed that she truly didn’t care for him—if he’d felt his presence left her cold—he would, he thought, have been better able to turn away from her. But she did want him.

He couldn’t think about a blessed thing but Lily, so how was he supposed to talk any kind of sense to Eloise?

He knocked quietly on her bedchamber door.

No reply.

“It’s Hal, child. Let me in.”

“I’m not a child,” came the muffled reply.

He smiled a little and turned the knob.

She was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn up, her head resting on them. Her face was splotchy.

“So,” he said, coming to sit at the edge of the bed, “is something amiss?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said in a husky voice that tugged at his heart. Sixteen was so young. It was not lost on him that Lily had been this age when she’d come to care for him, and he gathered she’d suffered acutely. He’d never suffered over a woman in his life. Until now.

“I see.” He gave her foot a jovial pat. “Well, that’s it then. We’ll see you downstairs for cards shortly?” He made as if to stand.

“Wait,” she said piteously.

He sat back down.

She gave a huge sigh, as if the world were a place that would never be right. “I don’t understand gentlemen.”

He forced himself not to smile. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Her eyes dropped to the coverlet, where her index finger prodded a loose thread. “You won’t like it.”

“I’m sure it can’t be anything that awful.”

“What if it is? You have to promise you won’t be angry.”

That sounded a bit ominous, especially considering how she’d been flirting with Ivorwood and Donwell at the breakfast table. Still, he could hardly play the moralist. “I promise.”

“I kissed Ivorwood. In the roof stairway.”

“You did
what
?”

“You said you wouldn’t get angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he said carefully, refusing to entertain an image of her pressed up against Ivorwood. “But what exactly do you mean?”

“I told him I’d dropped my ear bob on the stairs, and he said he’d look for it, and I followed him and kissed him. He was as surprised as you are,” she said miserably, her voice going thicker, “and not happy about it. It wasn’t his fault—he didn’t know I was going to do it.”

“And how did he respond?”

“He didn’t like it—or me. Ohhh,” she moaned, hiding her head in her hands. “I shall never be able to look at him again. I shall have to leave Mayfield immediately—I can’t see him.” She looked up. “Or could you send him away? And Donwell too?”

Hal’s eyes widened. “Donwell? What’s he got to do with this?”

“He saw us. Saw Ivorwood trying to put me off.”

Ah. He asked as casually as possible, “Did anyone else see?”

“No, just Donwell. And he rather arranged it so that Ivorwood could escape and I wouldn’t be compromised.”

Well, that was a relief. And he knew he could trust Donwell never to speak of this.

But he was struck with how right Lily had been, that harm might easily have come tonight of Eloise’s misguided affections. Her
unguided
actions. She and Ivorwood might have been forced to wed, something nobody had wanted. Well, he hoped at least that hadn’t been Eloise’s plan. And all this time he’d been so busy with his own affairs, his own diversions, that he’d made it easy for himself to take no notice.

She pulled at the loose thread on the counterpane and it unraveled several inches, which she twisted around her fingers and broke off. “How Donwell must be laughing.”

“I’m sure he’s not. Why should he laugh?”

“Because he told me Ivorwood was wrong for me, and he was right.” She sobbed a little. “And now I hate him.”

“Ivorwood?”

“No! Donwell.”

What a soup. “Eloise, what on earth is going on?”

“I don’t
know
, can’t you see? I don’t know anything at all.”

He thought of how he’d been content enough until he came to Mayfield and met Lily again. “I’m somewhat familiar with the sensation. Perhaps… perhaps it’s even something we are meant to experience.”

“Ugh, I hate it. And now Donwell will know he was right. And Ivorwood will think I’m a lovesick ninny.”

This thing with Donwell seemed to be bothering her almost more than the kiss Ivorwood hadn’t wanted. But he could put at least one of her concerns to bed.

“Ivorwood won’t think you’re a ninny. You’re not the first young lady to be so overcome in his presence.” She moaned in shame. “I’ll have a word with him on your behalf.”

She lifted her head off her knees, her eyes brightening a little. “Would you? And would you tell him I’m sorry? And that it was a mistake that won’t be repeated?”

“Certainly,” he said, envisioning an awkward conversation. He felt awkward himself, seeing this inside view of a smitten female after having been on the receiving end of so many tendres. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Lily had a point about his careless flirting. Not that he felt himself to be in need of any more uncomfortable feelings.

“What about Donwell?” he said. “Do you want me to speak to him as well?”

“Good God, no!”

***

In the drawing room, Lily sat with a book in a window seat and watched for Eloise to come to the card party. She was worried about her, and she couldn’t shake the thought that she herself was somehow at fault for what had happened, because it seemed to involve Donwell and Ivorwood. Was there some sort of love triangle? Though that seemed unlikely, in that Ivorwood appeared almost studiously not to pay particular attention to Eloise. And perhaps that was intentional; perhaps he understood that she fancied him. In which case, Ivorwood’s lack of notice was a deliberate way to spare Eloise’s feelings, and Lily had to respect him for that, when all along she’d been judging him.

She was also looking out for Dr. Fforde’s arrival, because she was counting on his steadying presence to keep her thoughts turned from Hal. But Diana, sitting out a game of piquet, stopped with her at the window seat and said that the doctor would not come after all because he’d been called to a patient.

Hal appeared in the corridor and beckoned to Lily from outside the doorway, and she guessed he had news of Eloise that must be kept quiet. She made for the door, pausing on the way to tell Diana she needed something from her bedchamber.

Once in the hallway, they moved down the corridor, at the outside edge of the light provided by the sconces on the wall. No one else was about.

“How is Eloise?” Lily whispered.

“Well enough,” he said. “She rather declared herself to Ivorwood—sixteen, and she’s kissing a man of almost thirty!”

“Goodness! Rather impulsive of her.”

“Yes, and don’t say ‘I told you so,’ and ‘this is what comes of flirting.’ I do see the irony in my speaking to a heartbroken young lady—though I find it hard to believe I’ve ever actually done more than dented an occasional heart.”

Lily chose not to respond to that. “What did Ivorwood do?”

“Behaved nobly. But they were almost discovered by Hyacinth—she suspected something—but Donwell bought him time to disappear. She would have been compromised otherwise, because Hyacinth is a tremendous gossip.”

“Do you even
like
Hyacinth Whyte?”

He sighed. “I hadn’t much thought about it before. In any case, Eloise seemed wrought up about what Donwell would think, as if he were her worst enemy or something like.”

“I’m sorry this happened,” Lily said seriously. “My matchmaking efforts… I shouldn’t have interfered.”

His features softened. “Come, Lily, you had good intentions. And you were right—I should have done more to guide her, especially where gentlemen are concerned.”

“I was right?” He looked so kind that it tugged her heart, especially now, when he had every right to blame her.

“Eloise is good-hearted,” he said, “but perhaps a little spoiled. Definitely too exuberant at times, and maybe a little scandalous. I should have paid attention to what she was doing and guided her. I’m afraid I’m not a good model for her.”

“That’s not
entirely
true,” she said. She laughed a little, feeling suddenly that she needed to lighten the moment because the intent look in his eyes was making prickles of excitement break out along the back of her neck. “You can be very kind. Old ladies love you.”

“I’m more interested in someone nearer my age.” He smiled, but the tentative tilt of his mouth looked oddly vulnerable. He made as if to say something but stopped himself. She felt close to him—from their shared concern over Eloise, but also from an awareness that they
knew
each other.

Abruptly he took her by the elbow, saying, “Come here,” and tugged her farther down the hallway, away from the light.

“Why?”

But his only answer was to open a door and pull her briskly inside. He shut the door behind them, and they were in darkness.

“What on earth are you about?” she said in an urgent whisper. She was standing in a lightless room alone with a man, in a house full of people. It smelled strongly—if nicely—of lavender; a linen closet?

“I needed to be alone with you.”

“Are you out of your mind? What if someone comes in here?”

Her words were greeted with a heavy pause, and she thought she heard the sound of a diabolical chuckle. If only she could see him. She felt behind her for the door, her hands coming against folded cloth, the edge of a shelf.

He set his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. She couldn’t imagine how he knew where she was; it was so dark she couldn’t see him at all.

“What are you doing?”

“I just told you: I needed to be alone with you.”

His words sank in.
Need
. He wanted her, just as she wanted him. Her breath gave a hitch. Whatever frailty had found its way into her expression, at least he couldn’t see it.

With another tug, he had her against his body. His arms clamped around her waist and shoulders as he crushed her to him. He felt so good against her—a profoundly welcome return of his body against hers, and what could she do, kidnapped as she was? Her grateful arms went around him, and she told herself it didn’t count because they couldn’t see.

Her face was pressed against his chest, and she breathed in his fabulous scent like air she’d been lacking. His head brushed against hers, lowering, and she lifted her face and received his kiss.

And then it was madness.

They thrashed against each other, tugging, sliding hands, grabbing. She ran her hands greedily over his shoulders; he cupped her breasts and groaned. He buried his face against the top of her bodice, the rasp of his incipient whiskers teasing the tender skin of her bosom and making her nipples harden. Rubbing the swollen tips through her gown, he drew soft moans from her.

Their energy pushed them around, and they stumbled against the shelves. He urged her backward to rest against a wall and, lifting her as she clutched him, pushed between her legs and ground against her. His erection pressed hard into the apex of her thighs and his hips rocked into her, into the heat pulsing between her legs.

“Oh God, Lily.” He almost sounded in pain.

Panting, she gripped his backside—everything on him flexed, rocklike—and she tugged him to her harder, moved against him in a way that felt natural and so incredibly good.

He was moving in a rhythm they both needed, and she was meeting his thrusts. But then, abruptly, he stiffened, and with a deep groan slumped against her. A moment later he muttered a curse.

The closet was now remarkably quiet, save for the sound of panting that was returning to normal breathing. Her feet returned to the floor. Still a little dizzy with desire, she understood what had happened, and a little laugh escaped her.

“What are you laughing at?” he demanded softly, making some sort of adjustment in his breeches. He nuzzled her neck where his head rested.

“If I understand rightly…” she began, but his hand started working at her dress, gathering it upward, and her thoughts were growing hazy.

“You sound like a lawyer,” he whispered. He sucked lightly on her neck and she closed her eyes as his bare hand met the back of her bare thigh. She trembled, aching for him.

“Something happened to you just now,” she said in a voice gone husky.

His hand inched toward the beating heart of her.

“An unplanned event the likes of which has not happened to me since I was a youth,” he murmured. “Though not surprising, given the unremitting provocation.” His clever, arrogant fingers slipped among the slick folds between her legs. “Your turn,” he said with a wicked chuckle.

And there was that little slice of heaven again. She bit her lip to keep quiet as he stroked, sending her over the mountaintop.

He held her while she floated in the bliss, and it felt wonderful.

But far too soon she had to leave it behind. She knew she could only stay with him for a few moments because they would be missed. Every moment longer in the closet meant taking the chance of discovery.

“Hal,” she began, not knowing what to say. She tried to lean away from him, but he kept her against him.

“I want to court you,” he said. “We mean something to each other, and we are incredibly good together. We could have a future. Let me court you, Lily.”

Her heart jumped at his words. She heard the sincerity in them. She tipped her head up and wished she could see his face and read his eyes, but it was too dark, and that was probably for the best.

She didn’t want to think about how much, actually, she wanted him to care about her, truly care about her. It was madness, and flying in the face of everything she wanted for her life.

But she allowed herself right then to imagine what it would be like for him to court her openly with the goal of marriage. He could become someone special to her, she thought as a certain glow hovering inside her started to spill over. It was a glow that had everything to do with Hal and the way he made her feel—not just his touch but his presence. And really, he already
was
special to her; he already made her heart sing. In a hundred ways that she needed to deny.

She let herself imagine being married to him: sitting across the breakfast table, riding to Town, discussing the servants, sitting together after dinner.

The glow receded. She couldn’t imagine it; she couldn’t imagine him being truly satisfied by the mundane kinds of things she thought were important—the birth of a new lamb, or the church jumble sale, or, most significantly, helping those in need. It wasn’t that she thought him uncaring, but these were unremarkable things—how would he not be bored by them, he who needed merriment and adventure and parties?

And most of all, she couldn’t imagine him caring as deeply and everlastingly for her as she knew herself to be capable of caring for the man to whom she gave her heart. How could she give it to a man who might let it drift through his fingers when the next fresh thing came along?

She leaned away, stepping back a little, and he loosened his hold. “You do me a great honor, Hal, but whatever this has been between us… we
must
call it finished.”

A pause. “Where is your spirit of adventure, Lily?”

“I don’t want adventure, don’t you see? Anyway, I’m only a novelty because I’m different from your usual woman.”

“You are, very much.”

“Exactly. I’m not a woman who’s willing to giggle and flirt and offer herself to you.”

“Like Mrs. Whyte, you mean?”

“Yes, like Mrs. Whyte,” she said, not wanting at all to say another woman’s name right now, but forcing herself, “if that’s what you two are to each other. I don’t wish to know.”

“We are not anything to each other. And I’ve never felt one whit of interest in her as compared to what I feel for you.” A pause. “You can’t trust me, can you?
I
trust
you
.”

Trust between them? Deep, real trust? No. She didn’t know why was he talking about trust, but it made it easier to speak plainly even as a foolish part of her wanted to lean into him again. “We don’t like the same things,” she said. “I like quiet and reflection, you like society and adventure.”

“And why does that mean that I can’t also value charity and usefulness and sacrifice? Will not my time in the army speak for me?”

She didn’t want to weigh his time in the army with the balance of him; she told herself that it had been undertaken because of how fine he would look in a uniform and how he might be admired for valor. A truly unkind, unworthy thought, but she held onto it.

“You like to talk about fashion,” she said.

“Not overly. Women like to, and I am willing to indulge them.”

“Only so you can entrance them. Aren’t you more than a little satisfied about that tally at White’s, of the women who admit you’ve broken their hearts?”

“It’s just in fun. No one is making them do that.”

“You are! It’s what you do—you make people want you. Don’t you see that what you love best is just that—making people want you? That it’s almost a competition for you, and that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to succeed?”

A lump was forming in her throat, emotion pressing against her, wanting to hold sway over her and lead her down all kinds of paths. She forced it aside and reached her hand for the knob behind her. “We have to put all this behind us. We… dabbled, that’s all. Nothing more.”

“We didn’t begin to dabble,” he said in a dark voice that made her glad she couldn’t see his face. “You have no idea.”

“I have to go.” She pushed the door open and left.

***

As Lily walked out the next morning toward the carriages that had been ordered for those who wished to go to church, she wished rather desperately that it were time to leave Mayfield entirely. She liked it far too much here; she accused herself of developing a taste for this grand mansion and all its attendant luxury, of exchanging her values for the pursuit of pleasure… and most serious of all, of becoming besotted with Hal.

She’d given in to temptation the night before in the linen closet, and it had felt so good even while it was all wrong. What was worse, she couldn’t even summon enough anger to berate herself properly. She felt askew—even her hair was untidy. She’d sent the maid away, wanting to be alone, and stabbed pins in her coiffure all anyhow.

As she stepped into the carriage with Delia and Rob, she told herself that she could certainly manage two more days at Mayfield without disgracing herself. Just forty-eight hours.

The first thing she would do when she got back to Thistlethwaite would be to contact Nate to find out if there had been any results from his digging, and to concentrate on helping him so the Fiend could go away and she could get back to the shawl work.

Just as the carriage was about to pull away from the drive, Hal appeared and squeezed in among them with a jaunty grin. Rob discreetly lifted an eyebrow at Lily, as if to say that this must have something to do with her. She frowned at him and looked out over the fields.

In church, despite Lily’s intention to sit next to Delia, Hal arranged it so that he was next to her. It was a tight fit in the pew, and as soon as she sat down she found herself pressed against the warm solidness of his leg and arm. When she dropped her hymnal, he bent down to retrieve it and returned it with a smile.

“Why are you here?” she demanded under her breath when the congregation stood to sing “Now Thank We All Our God.”

“The same reason you are, I should think,” he murmured as the music swelled.

“You just want to vex me,” she said.

“That’s not what I want at all,” he said seriously, and joined in the first line of the hymn. She was standing in church, gnashing her teeth. The music rose stirringly around her, and she stumbled over the words, trying not to notice how good Hal’s deep voice sounded.

After the service, coming out of the cool dark of the church and into the late-morning sunlight, Lily saw Nate walking behind his mother and hurried to catch up to him when his mother stopped to talk to someone.

“Your light was seen the other night,” she told him in a low, urgent voice.

“Well, nobody came after me—but I haven’t found anything either.” He shook his head, his expression gloomy. “And time’s running out.”

“But you
must
wait to dig again, at least until the day after tomorrow, when I’ll be back at Thistlethwaite and can be your lookout.” She kept an eye on Hal, who was in conversation with a delighted Vicar. He periodically looked over the top of Vicar’s head at her.

“I’ll be careful,” Nate said.

“But you need me to watch for you!”

“Lily, stop worrying. You’ve already done enough.”

“Nate—” she began, but he’d already turned away.

She watched him pass through the stone gate with his mother, deeply concerned for him, and for what might befall the Becketts if he were discovered.

Hal was making his way toward her.

“Another of your suitors, Lily?”

“An old family friend. He wants to buy a shawl for his mother.” What an accomplished liar she’d become. Only the top of her list of sins. “The Becketts, at least, are not afraid of possessed sheep.”

“He wished to discuss shawls with you?”

“As I said.”

“Right.” Suspicion darkened his eyes. “I wonder,” he began, but just then Eloise came up and linked her arm through his. Lily was glad to see that, aside from a faint puffiness around her eyes, Eloise seemed collected.

“Do let’s get back to Mayfield, brother,” Eloise said. “All the ladies will need time to change before the picnic.”

He could make no reasonable objection, and the party returned to their carriages, leaving him no further chance to quiz Lily. She could only hope he’d forget any suspicions he might have about Nate.

The afternoon came on hot and lacking in breeze, and Lily thought its heaviness rather matched her mood. She knew she should be glad that she’d be leaving Mayfield soon, but the thought of going back to the way things had been before Hal came left her unhappy, and the awareness that she felt that way made her disgusted with herself. She wanted to beg off the picnic, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

The party set off walking in the early afternoon, the servants going ahead with a cart full of food and blankets. Though pretty, the path to the lake didn’t provide much shade from the late resurgence of summer heat.

Lily walked with Delia and Eloise, who had their heads together and were giggling. At one point Delia squealed and tugged Lily close to them.

“Lily!” she said in a heavy whisper. “You’ll never guess what Eloise has just told me about. I wager you’ve never even heard of them.”

“And what is that?” Lily said, supposing she was to be told of a new sort of shoe. She felt rather grouchy; several paces behind them, Mrs. Whyte was strolling with Hal and tittering musically.

“French letters,” Delia said in a whisper that was so quiet she was almost mouthing the words.

“I’m sorry, but are you saying letters from French people? What’s remarkable about that?”