Hint of Desire (34 page)

             
Lily,

             
              I know you will not be pleased that I have already departed. Please trust that it is best this way. I shall find St. Aubin and put everything to rights. I will return as soon as possible.

             
Take care of Simon.

Arthur.

Lily stared at the note, trying to read more into the words. Something was heavily crossed out between
Take care of
and
Simon
. She held the note up to the window trying to distinguish the missing words. It looked like it began with a
‘my’
but beyond that she couldn’t make out anything. At least he had signed it “Arthur.” The signature was inscribed less forcefully, as if it weren’t natural for him. She lifted the paper to her face, imagining she smelled Arthur in its weave.

But s
he grew somber as she considered the rest of Arthur’s note. He would find St. Aubin. There was no proof of what had happened. What could Arthur hope to accomplish? Lily could not bear to think what would happen if constables appeared, nor could she bear to be responsible for further violence.

As Gertrude approached
, bearing a gown, Lily attempted a smile. She would just have to trust that her husband knew what he was about.

Chapter
Nineteen

Lily wished she could sneak down to breakfast. She was not looking forward to her encounter with Lady Smythe-Burke. Although the lady normally took a morning tray in her room, Lily was sure she would appear promptly this morning.

As if on cue
, Lady Smythe-Burke entered the dining room. “You’ve managed to do it again.”

“Yes.
” Lily made no pretense that she had not understood.

“The two of you have me doubting my own abilities
. Not normal at all. Never had this problem before. You must not be telling me everything.” Lady Smythe-Burke sat at the table and reached for a piece of toast. “What do I need to know?”

“
I am not sure what you mean?”

“
Of course, you know what I mean. You simply don’t want to tell me. Not surprising, that. The young never do take the easy path.”

Lily shifted uncomfortably under Lady Smythe-Burke
’s steady gaze. She played with her eggs.

“I’d
have you after my nephew were it not for the young one. Pity about your son. Didn’t mean that the way it sounded. He’s a lovely lad, but a baby can be rather an obstacle. I’ll have to think about the proper course of action. The vicar’s wife was most complimentary about how you’ve comported yourself. Good to hear. My training, of course. Now I just need to teach you to manage a duke. My sister never did learn the lessons well. Refused to listen to me. I hope you’ll be a better pupil. There should be schools for dealing with men. We teach girls how to dress and flirt, and think that’s enough. Definitely need a school. Good idea, that.”

Lily
nodded, and continued to nod. She ate her breakfast quietly as she listened to Lady Smythe-Burke. Once started, there was no need for Lily to do more than smile and concur. Lady Smythe-Burke would carry the conversation on alone.

Lily strove to keep her peace of mind through the first week. She survived the second. During the third, her doubts grew. He had said he would return soon. Why didn’t he at least write?

With each day the w
eather grew colder and darker. How was she to be a wife, as Arthur said he wished, if he wasn’t even there?

S
he stormed through the connecting door into his empty room. She was tired of being a timid mouse. She sat on the massive bed and bounced violently, once, twice.

That gesture availed her nothing.

She stood up again, and strode toward the empty fireplace. Perhaps if she had a fire lit, banished the chill from the room . . .

No, that wouldn’t do it either
. Nothing would do but to have her husband back.

Lady Smythe-Burke was right
. He was a foolish, incomprehensible man. How could they possibly come to an understanding when he wasn’t here?

She sat in his wing chair and swung her feet up on the table, imitating a posture she’d seen him take
. That made her smile. Now all she needed was a cheroot and a glass of brandy.

The cheroot she couldn’t manage, but the brandy . . .
she leaned over the table and hefted the decanter. She grabbed a glass and poured a good measure. Replacing the decanter, she lifted the glass to toast her absent husband. She brought the glass to her lips and downed a gulp.

And choked.

Not on the burn, but on the memories. As the scent and taste filled her, so did Worthington. She could see him, smell him, feel him. The glass dropped to the floor and she huddled into the chair. She fought to pull air into her lungs, to push the memories back into the past.

Yet
, the sickly odor of the spill reached her from the floor and threatened to send her back. On trembling legs, she scurried back to her room, shutting the door behind.

Then she knew
. It was the brandy. The scent. The taste. It triggered her memories. That was why she’d been fine with Arthur’s kisses, his touches, his . . . . it wasn’t him. It was the brandy.

Her knees shook again
. Why hadn’t she ever realized this before? She raced through the door. She had to tell someone. But, who?

“Where are you off to, racing like a banshee?
” Lady Smythe-Burke stood at the top of the stairs.

“It’s the brandy.
” Lily could not contain herself.

“What’s the brandy
? Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking at this hour. It’s not much past noon. I do hope you haven’t been tibbling. A most unattractive habit. I’ve always believed a lady should never drink more than madeira or sherry. Perhaps a glass of champagne. I mean, there are instances . . . injuries, a bad tooth, death, perhaps even childbirth . . . I’ve never formed a firm opinion on that. Most unusual, but then I haven’t the experience and my observations have leaned in both directions . . .”

“No, you don’t understand
. It’s the brandy.” Happiness caught up with Lily and she twirled in a circle. “It’s the brandy.”

“Slow down
. You are quite correct that I do not understand. What is the brandy?”

“All the problems
. The brandy is the problem.” Lily twirled again. Then stopped. “This changes everything. I must go to London. Do you think Simon’s old enough? I’ll have to ask Nanny.”

“That is the first
comprehensible thing you’ve said. Yes, I do think a trip to London might be just the thing. If my nephew can’t find his way home, it’s about time you searched him out and settled matters. I am tired of this foolishness. Of course, I’ll come along just to oversee the affair. The two of you are not managing on your own.”

Lady Smythe-Burke
, obviously considering everything settled, was preparing to call her maid to pack her portmanteau when Jeffers suddenly hurried up the stairs.

“There’s a letter, your grace.”

“A letter?”

“From his gra
ce.” Jeffers could not hide a smile.

He had written
. It seemed like a sign that it should arrive now. She could not contain her giddiness as she took the neatly folded parchment from Jeffers. With some impatience she ripped through the seal.

Unfortunate happenings require your presence in London
. Please come as soon as possible, and bring Simon. I will explain all when you are here.

Westlake

Had nobody ever taught the dratted man to write a letter? She was gratified that he had sent for her, but couldn’t he have given some indication why?

And he
had signed it Westlake. He had probably just forgotten, signed without thinking, but not even this thoughtlessness could trouble her now.

“He wants me to come
. It’s a bit confusing, but he wants me to come.” She handed the letter to Lady Smythe-Burke. “I must go to Nanny. Surely, Simon is old enough to travel.”

Lily
ran skipping to the nursery, her mind racing ahead. It had been years since she had been to town, and then she had been still in the nursery herself – or hiding under tables.

What w
ould it be like to arrive as a duchess? Her stomach fluttered briefly with new worries. She’d never been presented, attended a ball, or stood on her own against all the fine ladies of society. The season must be starting soon, and she had no idea how to behave. Thank heaven Lady Smythe-Burke would accompany her.

“Your grace,” Jeffers began, “as you requested, I have inquired into unfortunate happenings that might require your presence. I have been able to learn nothing. There is no time to send a reply before you must depart.”

Lily nodded
. She had not expected better. Of course, there was no time to send to London and await a response.

She had compelled herself to concentrate on
packing all that would be necessary for the travels of one small duchess and her son. Privately, she was horrified at how much Lady Smythe-Burke and Gertrude thought she would require. How could she possibly wear all those gowns and bonnets? Indeed, where had they all come from?

Sensing her lack of attention
, Jeffers cleared his throat. “As I was saying, your grace, there has not been time for a reply. Yet, I have taken the liberty of glancing at his grace’s newspapers, which arrived with the mail, and I noticed this.”

He held out
a crisp, ironed paper to her, pointing at an article. Admiral
Lord Burberry had died. It didn’t seem possible. Not long before, Lily had clung to the thought of seeking refuge with him. She had been so busy with her own affairs that she had not thought to write him.

“
I believe you mentioned that he was your father’s commanding officer?” Jeffers asked.

“Yes, Father served under him for years before I was born
. He started with Burberry when Burberry was only a midshipman. I don’t remember much. Father died when I was only an infant, but Burberry did come to see us later.”

“Did you know him well
, then?”

“Before my mother died
, he was a fairly frequent visitor. He was with Father at St. Vincent. I think somehow he always felt responsible for the piece of shrapnel that killed my father. Burberry was the only one to tell me stories about him. Mother would never talk about him; it made her too sad. Burberry always said he’d be there if we ever needed him.”

Jeffers nodded authoritatively
. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“That’s the unfortunate happening. His grace wants you to attend the memorial. As your father served under Lord Burberry, your attendance would be fitting. Such attendance makes an odd debut but, under the circumstances, is perhaps appropriate.”

Lily looked at Jeffers doubtfully
. She was not sure how Arthur could know her connection to Burberry. They had barely discussed her father. Still, perhaps he had heard her mother say something all those years ago. Or, perhaps, he had it from Burberry himself. It was just the sort of considerate thing Arthur would do. He must have sensed how much Lily would wish to do this last kindness for a man who had helped her mother so much, and spoken so kindly of her father.

Yes
, it was just the sort of wonderful gesture she would expect of her Arthur.

His prey had been sighted.

Arthur relaxed in
his wing chair, the barely-sipped glass of brandy between his fingers. Its sweet scent drifted up. It would not be long before he could return.

In
the weeks spent apart from her, only the thought of Lily brought him joy. None of the entertainments that would have delighted Arthur only a few months before held appeal. He attended one card party and a musical afternoon put on by an elderly friend of his mother, but both events left him indifferent. He sought out his friend Wulf, but was informed he’d left his rooms, leaving no forwarding direction. Arthur had worried about his friend’s dismal mood on their last encounter, but his own concerns were more pressing.

He needed to
be at Blythemoor with Lily. He suppressed the discomfort that arose when he considered how ferocious that need had grown. Instead, he sought refuge and contentment in imagining his future life – the festive Christmas mornings surrounded by a bevy of children, the joy of introducing Lily to his friends, his pleasure in watching her assume her place in society as his duchess when he returned after Easter for the opening of Parliament – and most of all, the passion-filled nights he knew would follow. Somehow he would find a way to fan the flames he knew dwelt in his young bride’s bosom.