Hint of Desire (38 page)

A sudden tap at the door drew his attention
. He hurried to the door and slipped through it, not wanting to wake his sleeping bride. He had not allowed her much sleep the night before.

“
Your grace, you have a caller.” Thompson’s tone made it clear what he thought of anyone who would call before breakfast. “His card.”

Arthur took the heavy ivory vellum, twisting it between his fingers, before glancing at the name.

“I’ll receive him in the study.”

He walked down the stairs and into the room
. A moment later Wulf’s large frame slipped through the door. A sling held one arm immobile.

Arthur thrust
out his arms to embrace the man. “Wulf. My friend, I am so pleased you’re here. I looked for you when I arrived in town, but was told you’d departed. What happened to your arm? I hadn’t heard of any injury.”

His companion avoided the embrace and stood before him
, shifting uneasily. “Before you claim me still as a friend you must hear me out. I fear I’ve done you a grave injustice and a betrayal.”

“What nonsense
!  You’ve never done an injustice in your life. A more honorable man I’ve never known.”

“No, you must listen
. I came this early so that you’d have time to call me out and return for breakfast.”

“As if I’d have a chance of victory against you, sword or pistol
!” Arthur attempted to lighten Wulf’s grim tone.

Wulf
, however, evidently felt the need to bare his soul, so Arthur jovially gestured him into a well-stuffed wingchair.

“If you’re going to try my temper before I’ve eaten
, the least you can do is share my coffee. No, I’ve a better idea. Walk with me to White’s and we can share coffee and conversation there. I’ve a betting book I need to check on.”

Wulf
swallowed. “I should refuse, but my tale will be easier if I am free to move as I speak. Call for your coat and let us be off.”

Lily woke alone. She stretched and rolled over, her hand stroking Arthur’s spot on the bed. She slipped from the bed and, without trying to suppress her grin, wandered to the window. Once she had fed Simon, she would join Arthur for breakfast. She had hoped to find him beside her when she awakened.

She stopped, nearly stumbling, as she spotted Arthur
departing below. For once her gaze did not stop with him. Her heart fluttered as she recognized the silhouette beside him. The dark angel!  What was he doing with Arthur? Before she could absorb this apparition, Arthur clasped the man’s hand in a hearty shake. Then, they turned down the street together, matching stride for stride.

What was happening
? It made no sense. What had he not told her? She paced the room, her hands trembling. How could she wait until Arthur returned to confront him?

After a barely-touched breakfast, Lily went up to the nursery to play with Simon, then listlessly followed the housekeeper around, ostensibly to learn the lay of the house. It was much larger than Blythemoor, and had the heightened grandeur appropriate to town life. After the tour, she had a solitary light repast. The memorial was scheduled for 3:00, with a long procession first to St. Paul’s. Lily dressed with care in a high-necked, black bombazine gown that had appeared in her wardrobe. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Arthur had elves working for him. The maids helped pull the gown over her head and tighten the laces.

Arthur had not returned since his morning departure
. Lily assumed he would arrive to escort her and Lady Smythe-Burke to the memorial. Yet the morning’s strange apparition had left her unmoored. Seeking distraction, she turned her thoughts to the imminent memorial. She wondered how Lord Burberry would have taken all the fuss. He had been mild and simple, had never valued the limelight, and was always ready to listen to a friend. Despite his attainments in war, she had heard him remark that all he wanted was to retire with his books. As she examined a pair of fine jet earbobs, she wondered if that was not really what had made him a hero.

A
t least he had been granted a few years to hide in his library. He had been severely wounded in the Battle of Basque Roads and, after duly receiving his promotion to Admiral, had retired. Now, with Bonaparte safely exiled to Elba, society was ready again to celebrate a hero, even if only by giving due honors after a peaceful death.

Lily
touched her lips as she looked in the mirror. She certainly looked a duchess in the stiff black fabric and layered petticoats. She was unaccustomed to such a constraining garment; not even her other gowns had held her so straight or draped so long. The mischievous girl she’d discovered over the past months was well hidden. She wondered if Arthur would catch a glimpse of that sprite lurking in the corners of her eyes.

Lily
inhaled deeply to ease the tension that grew with the thought of appearing for the first time as the Duchess of Westlake. Arthur would be at her side, and with his arm to hang upon, she could face even the dragons of society.
He would be there, wouldn’t he?

Chapter Twenty
-One

She had survived the first hurdle. The somber service had been more elaborate and well attended than Lily had expected. Even the Regent attended. Lily curtailed a gasp of awe when he glided down the aisle, moments before the honor guard. She’d never seen royalty before, and was surprised at his – relative, if large – ordinariness. Somehow she’d expected the Prince to be more than a man, an epitome of nobility. She certainly hadn’t been prepared for an ordinary chap in ornate dress.

She had more conf
idence in her ability to appear as a duchess now. If that was what a Prince Royal looked like, she could certainly be a duchess. She turned her face to Arthur’s shoulder to hide the color that rose at the traitorous thought. Even in the privacy of his carriage, she couldn’t believe she was thinking such things about her future king.

“Wh
y of such strange mien, my dear?” Arthur chided.

As soon as they were home
, she would ask him about his morning’s companion, and he would explain everything. They would laugh together about her foolishness. She would have asked before, but for Lady Smythe-Burke’s presence in the coach. Somehow she could not bring herself to risk further discord in front of such an audience.

“Nothing really
. I am starting to feel a little more comfortable.”

“Were you uncomfortable
? I never realized it. Should I get out another blanket?”

“Oh
, no. I was intimidated by the thought of facing society. They weren’t always kind to my mother, and with our marriage so shortly after Worthington died . . .” She let her voice trail off.

“
What nonsense,” Lady Smythe-Burke spoke up. “Your marriage met my approval. There is nothing more to say.”

“
If anybody says anything, you must tell them, as firmly as you can, that Westlake insisted,” Arthur added. “I’d like to meet the matron ready to have at me, face to face. I’ll challenge her to pistols at dawn.”

“I’ve heard a proper lady is never out before noon
. Do you think you could make it pistols at tea?”

“I am normally at my club then
. I don’t suppose we could pace off at Almack’s during an assembly?”

Lily
forced a chuckle. As the coach pulled up before the large manor house where the reception was to be held, she placed her fears at bay. She concentrated on the image Arthur left, a grand and redoubtable lady taking aim over a bowl of lemonade, while holding a fan in the other hand.

Before the footman could open the door
, Arthur took Lily’s hand between his, and brought it to his lips. His formal expression caught her attention.

“Lily,
I hope to finish things with St. Aubin tonight. You do have faith in me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she answered. “You know I trust you. And love you.”

She had not meant to say the last, but could not hold back
. It was time to risk it all.

His face froze
. One moment he was her Arthur, and the next, the unfathomable duke returned. It was like watching the curtain fall at the end of the opera. Arthur swallowed uncomfortably and pulled at his tight neckcloth. He opened his mouth as if to reply, and then shut it with a snap.

Lady Smythe-Burke turned to him and glared
. Lily was almost sure she whispered a curse under her breath.

The coach jarred to a stop and the footman lowered the step
. Arthur smiled stiffly and offered his arm to help her down. Lily’s earlier social trepidation resurfaced. She could face society willingly with Arthur, but with the duke, the task was daunting. She faltered on the first step. Her fingers shivered on his arm, but then Arthur, catching her eye, turned his hand into a pistol and blew lightly across the muzzle. She choked back a giggle as they proceeded up the stairs.

“That’s Lady Burberry, the widow.” Arthur motioned to the woman standing near the fire, her back to them, only the hanging lace of her veils visible.

Inwardly, he was struggling
to control an overwhelming emotion. She loved him. Nobody had ever protested love to him, neither mother nor mistress. Truly, he knew not how to respond. He had not planned for this, not yet.

N
ot before his plans reached fruition. He’d spotted St. Aubin lurking among the crowd at the ceremony, and that must be his only concern. Later, he would think about Lily and her avowal of love.

Arthur
concentrated on the task at hand. He placed his hand gently on Lily’s elbow and guided her towards the widow. Although he had only met Lady Rosalind Burberry on one other occasion, it was only proper to pay their respects.

“I didn’t see her at the service
,” Lily said.

“It’s often customary for the widow not to attend
,” Lady Smythe-Burke replied. “I know Lady Nelson didn’t attend her husband’s funeral. Even this reception is rather an oddity, but I understand the Lady Burberry wishes to retire to the country as quickly as possible – hence the opportunity for all to pay their respects at once. Oh, there’s Minerva Clarington. I’ve been meaning to give her some advice. Excuse me a moment.”

As
Arthur approached with Lily, Lady Burberry turned from the fire. A bust of her husband, carved in translucent white marble, rested on the mantle. Even through the veils, grief could be observed etched on her pallid features, and the contrast between her womanly bloom and the aged figure carved in stone was marked.

“Lady Burberry.”

“Your grace.”

“I wish to offer you my condolences, as does my wife
. Her father, Lieutenant Simon Wentworth, served with the Admiral.”

Lady Burberry turned her tear-stained eyes to Lily.

“I am sorry, I am less familiar than I should be with my husband’s career. We met only after his retirement.”

O
bviously, Lady Burberry was struggling to regain self-control. With the natural kindness that Arthur was starting to take for granted, Lily patted Lady Burberry’s hand and murmured further condolences.

A sudden
flicker behind them caught Arthur’s attention. Half hidden behind a pillar stood St. Aubin, his eyes fixed on the two women. Malice and desire competed in his gaze. And greed. Arthur had to suppress an urge to step between Lily and those wicked eyes.

Instead
, feigning an ennui he hardly felt, Arthur patted Lily on the shoulder and walked away. He scanned the room for Wulf, but found no sign of him. Arthur debated whether to proceed with his plan alone, but with Lily present, he would have preferred reinforcements. Before he could make a decision, he spotted Wulf leaning against a pillar, opposite St. Aubin.

Arthur started towards them and
then halted, stunned. Wulf was staring toward Lily, gazing with a level of malice that radiated through the room. His lips drew back in a sneer, and for a moment Arthur feared for her safety. He maneuvered around the edge of the room and approached Wulf from behind.

Arthur chose his words carefully
. “Are you watching St. Aubin or the ladies?”

“Did you know she has a child?”

Arthur did not attempt to hide his confusion. “Yes, of course. She is, after all, my wife.”

Wulf turned towards him
. “Not her, the widow. She has a three year old daughter.”

“
Lady Burberry?” The focus of Wulf’s glare was the widow. It still made no sense to Arthur, but it was irrelevant to the current matter.

“Never mind the widow
. The game’s afoot and I need to know your attention’s focused.”

For the briefest moment
, Arthur thought he saw a flash of pain in Wulf’s eyes, but it passed, and Wulf displayed an expression of such fierce concentration, Arthur was sure it was the same face he’d worn in battle.