Hint of Desire (15 page)

Lady Julia Wentworth had been
his mother’s school friend. When Arthur first heard she was coming to stay for a few weeks at the end of the summer, it made no impression on him. What did he care if some stuffy, old friend of his mother’s came to stay? If she was a widow and the daughter of a marquess, that meant nothing to a seventeen year old boy. He was far more concerned with the furtive glances of the newest dairy maid, a woman of remarkable attributes, than the latest matron to call upon his old mother.

Then Lady Julia stepped out of her carriage and his world turned on its axis
. He could still see the wide, easy smile as she threw her arms around his mother in a gesture that took the duchess aback. It threw him, too. The simple act of raising her arms thrust her full breasts into prominence beneath her crimson velvet carriage dress, and revealed a waist he could span with his hands. His adolescent fever for all things feminine overwhelmed him.

And her joy
. Julia exuded joy and vigor like no one he’d ever met. She would laugh at anything, and not just a ladylike titter, but a deep full-bodied laugh that set him aquiver.

He followed her like an eager puppy
, glad for any sign of affection. And she showed affection. She couldn’t move without touching someone. A hand upon his wrist or shoulder, a finger running through his hair: it came to her as naturally as breathing. Only later did he realize that she was that way with everyone, so unlike his own mother. She let her feelings show, and she had no scruples about whom they touched.

Arthur
worshipped Lady Julia with all the lust in his young heart. Looking back now, he almost smiled at the rank immaturity of those feelings. He’d never actually wanted to know Lady Julia, he’d only wanted to bask in her presence.

Then on
a crisp day in late summer, he poured all the longing and love of his young heart out to her . . . and she laughed. Not cruelly – he knew that now – but with the delight of an older woman feeling herself still attractive.

“No
, you don’t. You’re very sweet, and if things were different, I might enjoy finding out just how sweet, but you’re Clara’s son. You’ll outgrow me quickly and find someone much more appropriate.”

Arthur blushed as he recalled how he refused to believe her
. “How can you be so cruel? I am a man and I know what I feel. I know you’re older, but I love you. If we could just be together, I would prove it to you.”

She smiled quietly at him
, then and laid her soft palm against his face. “I know you believe that now, but the dreams of youth are best left to the young, and I am no longer young.”

He
saw that glimpse of darkness in her clear eyes as she spoke, but then she turned and it was gone.

“You are still young
,” he retorted, his voice breaking. “You only need someone to appreciate you, to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“It
cannot be. Even if I wanted to, I could never take you away from here, couldn’t do that to your mother, and your father would never approve.”

“We’ll run away then
. I have some funds and my father can’t disinherit me.”

He reached for her then, and she c
ame to him, not with passion, but with a strange solemn quietness. She laid her lips gently against his, and brushed a bittersweet kiss over his mouth.

Then she pulled away
. “You really are so young, so sweet. Don’t give up too much, too fast. Your time will come, I promise you. Allow yourself, first, to grow into a wonderful man.”

She
ran one hand through his hair then, before pulling away from him. Without another word she turned and left.

He
was silent for a moment, overcome with the bitterness of her rejection. He had offered her everything and she had turned him down. To a boy who never had to ask for anything, it was unfathomable.

Then Arthur
turned and saw his father standing in the doorway. He’d just come in from a ride, and the sweat still dampened his brow. The old duke’s eyes shone an icy blue. Anger curled the duke’s lips and his teeth flashed. Arthur had never seen his father lose command of himself. In that instant, everything changed. The old duke strode into the room, his shiny boots clicking against the waxed floors. For a moment, he stood towering over his son, his jaw tightening and releasing as he fought for words. Then, before Arthur could speak, he saw the crop rise, his father’s arm caught upraised, the momentary expectation of agony. Then it fell, slicing through the air, whistling. He felt the speed with which it broke though his flesh, cutting, scarring.

Arthur fell to his knees at his father’s feet, both hands grasping at his face, blood pouring through his fingers
. His eye swelled rapidly, cutting off sight. Arthur peered through his fingers, watching as his father turned and left the room, the crop swinging against his leg.

“Arthur
? Arthur?” For the first time in almost ten years, Lily uttered his given name, breaking into his memories. Her arms pressed against the chair as she attempted to rise, the lace at her cuffs fluttering with the effort. She paused as if she’d seen something in him that startled her. Then, sinking back onto the chair, she asked, “Could you hand Simon to me? He’s starting to fuss.”

As if
under the influence of a hypnotic, he complied with her request, his mind still locked on that afternoon long ago. He settled the warm, wiggling child into her arms, careful not to press her ribs.

“You’re Julia’s daughter.
” It was a statement, not a question.

She lowered her head to the baby
. “Yes.” Her reply was hardly more than a breath.

Lily knew Arthur had remembered her, had remembered everything. His face froze for a moment, and only his eyes darted back and forth. Lily felt the memories with him, and longed to reach out and soothe him. She’d seen the quiver of his lips as he thought of Julia; she’d seen his body stiffen and his fingers clench as he thought of his father.

Being a ghost who hid under tables and behind curtains had given her a view of the world
that might otherwise have been denied her. Lily recalled the exact day she’d first heard her mother laugh, the exact hour that those silk-clad arms had first ruffled her hair and spun her in circles, the very moment those sweet lips had first brushed her brow and whispered words of love. Afraid that if she left her mother for a moment she might retreat again to that quiet still stranger who never played or hugged her daughter, Lily had followed her mother everywhere, hiding when necessary to be sure that nobody could harm the woman who encompassed her world. She’d lived in fear that her beautiful, soft, laughing mother would retreat again into that silent blackness that Lily remembered from her earliest childhood.

“Yes
,” she said again, louder. “I am Lady Julia’s daughter.

At first, Arthur seemed to start at her words, as if he had been lost in reverie
. Then, almost as if reading her thoughts, he said, “Before, when you spoke of your mother, of not being secure in her love, that was Lady Julia you spoke of?”

Lily
drew a deep breath. “Yes, I was speaking of Lady Julia. Does it seem unbelievable, that I could have doubted her love, needed reassurance?”

He didn’t answer,
his face emotionless, but Lily could see his throat clench as he, too, remembered the quiet, mischievous girl she had been. Sometimes Lily had been trapped for hours, hidden flat beneath a sofa as her mother chatted with the ladies, or played a hand of whist. It hadn’t mattered, all that mattered was that she’d been able to stick close.

Because of this, she’d seen the gentlemen woo her mother,
the soft kisses they’d laid upon her palms, the way their eyes had caressed her curves. Her mother would laugh and charm, and then go upstairs alone. Maybe not always alone, but Lily didn’t like to think about those times.

Simon stirred against her breast
, indicating his desires. She brushed her fingers over his fuzzy hair, glad of the comfort, and gave him her thumb to suck. Momentarily comforted, he became still.

She pe
eked back at Arthur, who still stood above her, his eyes dazed. He stared at Simon’s tiny wiggling feet.

“I’ll call Nanny to help you
. I need to go.” Arthur gasped the words out. Then, with carefully measured his steps, he left the room.

Lily bent her head to nuzzle her son
. She refused to feel deserted. She was no longer that little child, in need of reassurance.

A sudden dampness
staining her lap drew Lily’s attention, and she picked up the bell and rang. Arthur, in his unusual emotional state, must have forgotten to call Nanny. Lily would have liked to care for Simon herself, but she couldn’t even get him back to his cradle; anything more was out of the question. She stoked Simon under the chin, amazed as always by his perfection. Maybe she could finally persuade Nanny to teach her how to change him.

She glanced up at the sudden stomp of feet in the hall
. Muffled voices whispered, but after a moment she returned her attention to Simon. A sudden rap at the door startled her.

“Yes.”

“I am sorry, my lady, but there are several men asking for you.” Jeffers spoke with cool formality.

“Men asking for me?
” Lily’s stomach dropped a foot.

“Yes, they are asking for Lady Worthington
. Normally I’d direct them to his grace first, but he’s still out and Lady Smythe-Burke has gone into the village.”

“Oh.
” Lily swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry mouth. “Should I receive them? Who are they?”

Jeffers reddened, looking slightly abashed
. “Well, one of them says he’s Sir Drake, the new magistrate.” He hesitated, and then added, “Lord Dudley St. Aubin is with them.”

Lily felt her gorge rising
. Was this to be her comeuppance? Forcing herself to display a calm she did not feel, she rose stiffly.

“I’d better see them, then
. If you would have Nanny come and take Simon first, I’ll see them. Thank you, Jeffers.”

She wrapped her shawl tightly about her shoulders as a sudden chill shook her
. She straightened her shoulders back like the lady she been trained to be, and with her most practiced smile, waited to meet the foe.

Three men entered and stood uncomfortably amid the feminine appointments of the room
. St. Aubin stood at the back. His expression hesitant.

“Gentlemen, I understand you’re asking for me.”

“Yes, my lady,” the shortest of the men answered. “I wanted to assure myself of your safety after the tragedy that befell your husband. I am Sir Drake, newly appointed magistrate.”

“As you can see, I am well
. I suffered no grave injury. Was that all?” Lily tucked her hand behind her, pressing the back of the chair for support.

The short man shifted, and his eyes darted under her polite glance
. He shot a look at St. Aubin before speaking.

“Actually, my lady, I need to ask that you come with us
. There are some questions that need answering. I understand there’s a young child, also. St. Aubin, his uncle and guardian, has offered to care for him for whatever time the questions take.”

Lily shifted in her chair, her back ramrod straight
. Not by any movement would she betray the anxiety that threatened her composure.

“Surely, any questions can be asked here
. I am sure his grace would be happy to accommodate any needs you might have. Should I ring for tea?” She hoped they couldn’t detect the tightening of her voice as she fought her fear.

“No, I am afraid I’ll have to insist that you come.”

She widened her eyes. “I am quite afraid I don’t understand.”

“You need to come with us now
. Once all my questions are asked and I am satisfied with your answers, you can return. Concerns have been raised about your late husband’s death, and I would like your views on the matter.” Sir Drake glanced at St. Aubin. “Should I have the baby fetched?”

Lily fought hard to keep from shaking, so great was her terror
. Her mind emptied of all but one thought. She could not let them get Simon. She wrapped her hands in her skirts so that her trembling would not betray her.

“I am afraid I still don’t understand
. You expect me to go with you? With three men? I don’t see how I could possibly do that.” She injected every bit of haughtiness she could into her tone. “Also, as you can see,” she gestured at her wrapped ankle, “I am injured and unable to be moved.”

St. Aubin stepped forward
. “I tried to dissuade them, dear Sister. It only met them by chance on my way to pay you a call. I certainly do not believe a word of what they say, but to be here to lend my support and watch out for my small nephew.” St. Aubin spoke sweetly as he moved to stand over the settee.

“
I thank you for your efforts,” Lily articulated, letting her words drag out, “dear Brother. But, I do think it best to wait here for Westlake’s return.”