Her Secret Fantasy (15 page)

Derek rose, gave her a gentlemanly bow, and then left her without a backward glance to return to Lily Balfour.

When he made his way through the crowd to the row of garden seats where she had been sitting, however, he found her chaperone alone.

Mrs. Clearwell directed him toward the tall, white trellis mounded with creamy pink roses, where he saw Miss Balfour standing by herself, admiring the lush cascade of flowers. Derek thanked her with a nod, then strolled toward the girl just as Miss Balfour leaned in to inhale the blooms’ exquisite fragrance.

“A lily among the roses,” Derek teased in soft greeting as he intruded upon her solitude.

She turned in surprise, and then smiled uncertainly when she saw him. “They’re beautiful. Smell.” She cupped her hand beneath a flower and lifted it gently toward him, as far as its green tether of vine would allow.

Holding her gaze, mesmerized by her grace, he leaned down obediently and inhaled its sweet perfume, then smiled at her with a low sound of pleasure.

He straightened up again, unsure how to begin. Lord, was he tongue-tied with this girl?

Extraordinary.

“I see you have your earrings on,” he offered in guarded warmth. “Both of them.”

“Yes.” She quickly touched both of her diamonds, making sure they were both still safely clasped. “I brought them to a jeweler to have the backs tightened. I—wouldn’t want to lose one again.”

“If you did, I’d help you find it,” he said with a rueful half-smile. “Look, I’m not very good at apologies, but I know when I was wrong. The other day at Hyde Park, I was a little free with my opinions. I had no right to judge you. I did not know about your father. Will you…accept my apology?”

“If you’ll accept mine,” she answered softly.

He looked at her in question.

She lowered her gaze with a tentative shrug. “I don’t really see you as a mercenary, Major. Your military service is entirely honorable, of course, and you had every right to point out the facts about how operations in India helped to keep us safe here throughout the conflict with Napoleon. I guess I got angry for fear that you’d end up like my father. And,” she admitted in chagrin, “I was insulted. I wanted to insult you back.”

“Well, it worked,” he murmured with an amiable lift of one eyebrow.

She looked at him and covered her lips with her hand as they both started laughing—both at each other and themselves.

“Truce, then?” he asked, smiling. “Are we all done trading insults, or should I summon my diplomat brother-in-law to negotiate a treaty between us?”

“Truce,” she answered firmly, holding out her hand.

Derek accepted it and shook her hand in amusement.

Under normal circumstances, he would have kissed a lady’s knuckles rather than shaken her hand, but somehow with Lily Balfour, the smooth gallantry he exercised in his usual dealings with females did not seem to apply.

When she released his hand, he gestured toward the garden path. “Shall we go exploring, Miss Balfour?”

Her eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“I meant the garden,” he chided. “Someone told me this path goes down to the river.”

“The Thames?” she asked with a nervous glance.

“No, the Blue Nile,” he said dryly. “I am no longer trying to seduce you, believe me. I merely thought I’d go and have a look. You are welcome to join me.”

“Oh. Right. Very well, then.” She nodded, clearing her throat a little. “That sounds very pleasant, but I don’t know if my chaperone will…” One glance in Mrs. Clearwell’s direction answered that question before she could utter it.

When they looked over, Mrs. Clearwell was engaged in conversation with another matron while simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on the two of them. Noting her charge’s questioning glance, the matron waggled her fingers cheerfully at them, showing no signs of concern for her charge’s virtue while under his care.

“Mrs. Clearwell, um, doesn’t seem to mind,” she mumbled shyly. “I don’t suppose a few minutes can do too much harm.”

“No.”

With this matter decided, she relaxed considerably, gave him a nod, and then set out on the garden path.

As he fell into step alongside her, he almost offered his arm to escort her, but then he decided against it. She was so very tentative with him, so unsure; he did not want to do anything to scare her away or to make her nervous again. He wanted her to know she was safe beside him.

Oddly enough, he discovered that he wanted her to trust him.

They strolled under the stone arch that led out of the courtyard and into the sculpted grounds. Other guests clustered here and there, waiting for the next portion of the concert to begin. Ahead, the graveled walk snaked through the stands of windy trees down to the dark river, silver-spangled with moonlight.

“Mrs. Coates won’t mind your absence?” she asked, glancing at him in amusement.

“I told her I would rather talk to you.”

“I’m flattered,” she drawled, then paused. “She’s very beautiful. But they always are, aren’t they?”

Derek shrugged with a low, cynical laugh and kept his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Did your Mr. Lundy enjoy the sonata?” he teased in a grave tone as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“Please.” She succumbed to a wry chuckle. “I’m afraid my Mr. Lundy is not a great appreciator of the musical arts as of yet. We’re working on it,” she added. “I’m fairly sure he was bored senseless. For my part, I thought it was beautiful.”

“Yes.” Derek pushed his blowing hair out of his face and considered his next move. “I…wonder if I might ask you a question of a personal nature, Miss Balfour.”

“As if I could stop you?” She sent him a look of amusement. “Very well, Major. You may ask, though I may not answer.”

“Why him?”

“Pardon?”

“Why Lundy? And don’t give me all that rot that you spouted in the park about all his fine qualities. There are highborn, cultured men of wealth who’ve been eyeing you all night. Surely you have noticed.”

She snorted.

“Why not some young lordling instead of the self-made man?”

She walked along beside him, silent for a moment as she debated, it seemed, on how much to say. “The men you speak of, yes, I’ve noticed them. The rakes, the fribbles, the frequenters of White’s. Frankly, Major, I find them loathsome as a breed.”

“Loathsome?” he exclaimed with a laugh, puzzled by her vehemence. “Why?”

“I just do.”

“Very well. So, what about you and Lundy, then? I see you are openly courting, but is it true you are not yet engaged?”

“Yes. That is true.” She eyed him skeptically. “Why do you ask?”

Derek shrugged in cool nonchalance. “I only wonder why he hasn’t yet proposed.”

“He will, when he is ready,” she assured him.

“Are
you
ready?” he countered, turning to her.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her head. “Of course I am.”

He frowned down at her. Unable to resist just one small touch, he captured her chin with his fingertips. “Such determination,” he remarked in a low murmur. “I’ve seen that look before. On my young soldiers heading into battle.”

She furrowed her brow, but he dropped his hand before she could rebuke him for the light contact.

They walked on.

“When did you lose your father?” he asked.

“Fifteen years ago.”

“You were a child.”

“Yes.”

“Truly, I am sorry for your loss. India’s a…hard place.”

“You would know.”

“He fell in battle?”

“No. No.” She let out a sigh. “Nothing so glorious as that. He died of monsoon fever.”

He looked askance at her. “Death in battle is not always as glorious as you may have heard,” he remarked, then he paused, hesitating. “Still, it’s rather odd that the same phenomenon orphaned us both.”

She glanced at him in surprise.

“My mother died in a monsoon flood. Floods, fevers. They always go hand in hand, I’m afraid. Fever season always follows on the heels of the annual monsoon floods,” he explained in answer to her inquiring look. “All that stagnant water left behind after the rains have moved on. The doctors say it breeds disease.”

She shuddered. “And this happens every year?”

“Without fail.”

“My word, that sounds terribly unpleasant.”

“It is,” he agreed with a low laugh. “Insects the size of rabbits. Man-eating tigers. Maharajahs firing a rain of swords down on us from their cannons. A nonstop festival of fun.”

She shot him a wry smile. “Well, you must have a death wish, Major, because the other day at Hyde Park, you seemed awfully eager to get back there.”

“It’s home,” he replied. “Besides, there’s a war on. My men need me.”

“And opportunity awaits,” she reminded him with a cheeky little smile.

Derek did not take offense. “Oh, I think you understand about ambition, Lily Balfour.” He deemed it a reasonable time to offer his arm, and when he did so, she warily accepted. “In fact,” he continued, pleased to find her warming up to him, “I think we have more in common than either of us cares to admit.”

“How so?”

“We are in the same boat. Money-grubbing in London, for a cause larger than ourselves. You to save your family, I, to get the military funds released. Still it is a rather galling duty, is it not?”

She just looked at him.

“Ah, well.” He did not see fit to press the issue overmuch. “At least now that I know about your sire, I can understand why you would hate all things Indian, but I assure you, in spite of its many dangers, it is a land of astounding beauty.”

“That’s partly why my father was obsessed with it. He promised to bring back a sack full of rubies for Mother and one full of diamonds for me,” she said wryly.

“Ah, one of those, was he? Well, I think I have the picture now.” Derek shook his head. “If I had a shilling for every new recruit I’ve had to educate about the realities versus the myths concerning the treasures of the East…”

“Yes, well, Papa didn’t have much use for stark realities, Major. That was the heart of the problem. He was a dreamer—which is why my family should’ve never let him go. My mother, my grandfather. They both should have known perfectly well that he was not the sort of man who could survive it. Papa was not—like you,” she added haltingly. “He did not have—your qualities.”

“What qualities?” he demanded when she immediately protested with a mumbled, “Never mind.” “No, I am altogether intrigued now,” he said in amusement. “What
qualities
do you mean, Miss Balfour?”

“Well—ruthlessness, for one thing.”

Not exactly a compliment, then. “Me? Ruthless?” he exclaimed, all innocence.

They both started laughing.

“Perhaps not entirely, but you must admit you do have a ruthless side, at least.”

“Never!”

“Don’t lie. Oh, yes, it shows,” she assured him. “Somehow I can easily picture you in battle.”

“I’d rather you didn’t try. It might give you nightmares.”

“Well, I certainly can’t picture Papa fighting a war. It’s funny, though. I was thinking about him that night at the garden folly before I met you. He built me a garden folly to play in when I was a little girl—or half built it, I should say. Papa never quite finished anything.”

Abruptly, she fell silent—at which moment Derek leaned down and kissed her head.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered, based on absolutely nothing. He didn’t even believe it himself half the time, but somehow, those few words always seemed to work. She gave him a strange, grateful little half-smile.

Releasing his arm, she stood beside him as they came to the river’s edge and watched its relentless current.

“Life, Miss Balfour,” Derek said after a long pause, “is not for the faint of heart, is it?”

“No,” she whispered, turning to hold his grave glance.

Emotion came from nowhere as he stared at her. Unshed tears that could have strangled him; the echo of a thousand screams that he had never given voice; the profound despair left behind after unfathomable violence. Sometimes he wondered how he was still standing. The night sky spun like the darkness that enveloped him. He just stood there beside her, completely at a loss.

After a moment, she slowly reached out and took his hand.

Her light eyes were locked on his face, searching his very soul, it seemed, with her exquisite gentleness.

“Come,” she murmured, taking a firmer hold on his arm, turning him around to face the house, its distant lanterns and music.

Derek gazed at her.

He did not say another word throughout their slow, somber march back to the realm of light.

She did, however.

She chatted away as blithely as a canary, as if she knew her voice was the only thread he had left to follow to keep him from getting lost in the darkness. She made casual remarks about the flower beds here, the ornate birdbath over there, the hors d’oeuvres that awaited them back at the house. He didn’t pay much attention to the words, but somehow her reassuring tone brought him back safely from the savage deserts that had formed inside him over the years.

When they approached the stone arch that would take them back into the courtyard, back into the hustle and bustle of ton civility, he finally managed a smile.

And back we go to our appointed partners.

She stopped and turned to him, searching his face with a probing stare that could not hide her obvious distress for him. Her concern made it hurt a little less. Why it hurt tonight, that was the question. He had gotten so good at ignoring his feelings, but that was harder to do in her presence.

“You know, Major,” she said with a bolstering smile, “I never did get to say thank you for rescuing my earring. Thanks.”

He bowed to her, all the more captivated. “If anything else needs rescuing, Miss Balfour, you let me know.”

“I will. And Major—” she added as he turned to go.

Derek paused and looked at her in question.

She bit her lip and smiled. “I think now you can call me Lily.”

He raised his eyebrows. “May I, indeed?”

“Well—only when no one else is present, of course.”

“Of course…Lily,” he echoed, savoring her little gift. He did not want to leave her, but it couldn’t be helped. He contented himself with a discreet, appreciative glance over the alluring length of her. Then he smiled wryly. “Give Edward my best.”