Passionate (20 page)

“You and James? But you are mistaken. It is not about him I worry. Your James, he is a good man.”

“He is not mine.”

“No? But I think he is.” She paused, letting the silence add its weight to her words. “It is the other one that worries. Lord Reginald. Tell Miss Isabella she does not want to learn what this man can teach. She does not want to know.” The baronessa shook her head as she spoke, and Lily felt a bond of sympathy with this woman who had learned the hard lessons love can teach.

Lily leaned forward. “Know what? What do you mean?”

“He is full of shadows, and your cousin’s brightness will not be enough to keep them at bay. Her heart is in danger. Perhaps more.”

“I know. I will look out for her, I promise.”

“That is well—I hope it will be enough.” The baronessa released her hands. “But I am keeping you.” She leaned forward to give Lily a kiss on each cheek. “It has been a delight knowing you,
bella
. You have the courage to find what is in your own heart. I do not doubt it.” With a rustle of skirts she rose and went to the door.

Lily leaned back against the burgundy velvet cushions after the baronessa had gone.
Your James
. If only he could be. But why deceive herself? What future could they have? Even now her wedding dress was being stitched for her marriage to Lord Buckley. Her mother and future mother-in-law were busy with arrangements. This voyage was just a dream, a season that would end too soon.

Besides, James had made no indication that he had intentions of a lasting nature. He had not spoken of the future. Only kissed her, caressed her until she felt as if her entire body were made of starlight. Her life was now, today, this week, this journey. She had paid dearly enough for it.

Lily went to her stateroom and began gathering art supplies. She would begin a fresh sketchbook to celebrate their arrival. As she rummaged in her valise a small brass box fell to the floor spilling out a length of fine gold chain and the locket Countess Buckley had pressed upon her. Bother! Lily had nearly left it behind, but her mother would certainly have noticed. She knelt to retrieve it and caught a quick glimpse of Lord Buckley’s pale eyes before snapping it shut.

Even if James did speak, she was not free to give her heart in that direction.

She replaced the locket in the box and tucked it deep in a corner of her valise. She had no time for this. Her fingers tight around the fabric binding her sketchbook, Lily abandoned her room for the sunlight and air above.

James was still there, wind playing in his thick, brown hair. He leaned with casual grace against the railing, his form set boldly against the backdrop of the ruins, and she suddenly was on fire to draw him again, like this, to take hold of time and make it stand still. With a pang she realized that soon the day would come where she would not see him each morning at the breakfast table. At best they might cross paths in society, introduce their spouses and children and pretend never to have held one another on the dark waters of the Mediterranean.

She studied the line of his jaw, his lips. Lips she remembered on hers. Her traitorous heart knocked against the door of her ribcage, but she refused to answer. She drew in a shaky breath.

“Lily?” His gaze was intent.

“We are here at last.” She summoned up a smile. “I can’t wait to sketch Tunis.”

“By all means.” But he remained looking at her, a questioning light in his eyes.

She turned away, staring at the city now coming into view. Domes and square minarets rose against a painfully blue sky. The huge bulk of the mosque dominated the tangle of streets and buildings in the
medina
, and a short distance outside the old city the Bey’s palace sprawled, surrounded by high walls. Near the palace were the European accommodations—more French than British. The party would stay in the hotel Le Palais before setting out.

Sketching the skyline, Lily tried to let the familiar rhythm of her work soothe her jagged emotions, but the lines did not flow smoothly—the buildings were too blocky, the shadows too deep. She could feel James near, his concern and his quiet strength. If only she could lean into him. Her pencil stuttered across the page.

The conversation around her abruptly ceased. Lily looked up to see Lord Reginald approaching, immaculate in his frock coat and pressed trousers. Immaculate, except for the dark bruise beneath his left eye.

“You’re not welcome here, Reggie.” James drew himself up to his full height. “Be on your way.”

Lord Reginald shook his head, as if his cousin’s words deeply saddened him. Then he turned to Isabelle.

“Oh, you have been injured!” She rushed to his side. “What has happened to you?”

Lily stiffened, but James signaled with a barely perceptible shake of his head. They could do nothing except wait.

Lord Reginald paused for what seemed an eternity, then spoke loud enough for the entire family to hear. “I was surprised on deck last night by an assailant who attempted to murder me. I drove him off, but he left me with this souvenir.” He lifted his face, displaying the bruise to better effect.

“Oh heavens.” Isabelle’s eyes were wide. “Lord Reginald, you must have that wound tended. Mrs. Hodges, go at once and fetch a poultice. Someone, bring cool water and a damp cloth.”

He sighed. “It’s too late—the damage has already been done. I had the ship’s doctor look at it. The disfigurement will heal in time, but little can be done for the loss of vision.”

Richard stepped closer. “I would never have thought it that serious. We must tell the captain—it won’t do to have a ruffian running loose on deck and attacking the passengers. Did you get a look at the fellow?”

Lily bit her lip, her heart flipping desperately between anger and fear. The man was an incorrigible liar—standing here in the midst of her family and eye-witnesses, spinning the grandest exaggerations. He deserved to be called out and exposed, except—except that would require explaining why she had been on deck, and with whom. It was a trap and Lord Reginald was baiting it with his outrageous lies.

“Did I recognize the assailant?” Reginald rubbed his temples and shot James and Lily a sly look. “I’m not certain—perhaps it was the force of his blow, but my recollection on that point is hazy. Although I understand such lapses are often temporary. You can be sure I will name the villain if the opportunity arises.”

Isabelle placed her hand on Reginald’s arm. “You ought to be resting, my lord. You have suffered greatly.”

“Indeed,” Aunt Mary said. “Blinded and bruised and with a loss of memory. Sir, you should not be standing here in the sun. You must go below and rest at once. Mrs. Hodges, do you have anything for Lord Reginald’s ills among your medicines?”

Mrs. Hodges pursed her lips. “A double dose of castor and cod-liver as a general curative. A very potent combination. I’ll fetch my dosing ladle straight away.”

Aunt Mary stepped forward and plucked her daughter’s hand from Lord Reginald’s sleeve. “I am certain that will be most helpful. Don’t you agree, sir?”

“It will not be necessary.” He showed his teeth, very white and even. “Perhaps another time—I was just about to go below. Good day to you all. Farewell, Isabelle.” He bowed and turned away.

Lily let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding. She felt as though she had narrowly avoided being bitten by something poisonous. No wonder James reacted as he did when Reginald was present. The man was despicable.

“Goodness,” Aunt Mary said. “He moves rather quickly for one so grievously injured.”

“Well, I trust that’s the last of him.” Uncle Edward brushed his hands together.

“I wish I shared your optimism.” James frowned after his cousin’s departing back.

“Well I for one am comforted he will be close by,” Isabelle said. “Lord Reginald is everything that is noble. It is
you
, Mr. Huntington, whom I’m not sure of. It is evident you do not want him in Tunisia. To what lengths are you willing to go?”

“Isabelle!” Aunt Mary’s voice was shocked.

“Now, now, my dear girl—” Uncle Edward began, but Isabelle would not be quieted.

“This expedition is a horrible mistake.” Her voice rose.

“Can’t you see that Reginald is the only one we can trust? Father, Mother, I must tell you that James is dishonorable—a complete scoundrel. To begin with, his family forced him to leave England because he was dueling—”

“Isabelle, I explained it to you,” Lily broke in. “He was defending his sister. It was not dishonorable in the least.”

“Quite right,” Uncle Edward said. “I am fully aware of his actions prior to leaving London—his uncle sent a letter that made it all clear. Isabelle, you are mistaken. I think you owe James an apology.”

She glared at them. “You have to listen. Lord Reginald told me—”

“My dear.” Aunt Mary took her daughter’s arm. “Quite plainly, Lord Reginald is not fond of James. You must consider what he hoped to gain by such accusations. I do not believe the man is completely honest.”

“How can you say such things!” Isabelle’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Don’t you understand?”

“Isabelle.” It was James, and the concern written on his face only strengthened Lily’s conviction that he was not the villain his cousin made him out to be. “I know how persuasive Reggie can be, but we are about to land on a foreign shore and it’s imperative that we trust one another. I promise you that I take my responsibility to your family seriously. Let me answer to Reggie’s charges, whatever they are.”

Isabelle folded her arms. She sent a dagger of a look at her parents, but said nothing. Lily hoped her cousin would remain silent. Already other passengers had edged closer, attracted by the scent of impending scandal. Publicly accusing James, however false the charges, could only cause a scene.

Isabelle seemed to sense the truth of it and dropped her gaze. “I apologize, Mr. Huntington.”

“No harm done,” he said. “But in future, come to me with your concerns. Give me the opportunity to answer any questions you might have.”

She only nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the deck.

“Come, my dear.” Aunt Mary wrapped her arm about Isabelle’s shoulders. “We will retire to the ladies’ cabin where it is not so bright. We are not accustomed to such an exuberance of sunshine. You will feel better soon. Mrs. Hodges, would you care to accompany us?”

“Of course. I am sure I have something that will restore her spirits in my medicine bag.

“Sorry about that, Huntington,” Uncle Edward said when they had gone. “You were right about your cousin, I’d say. Imagine, telling Isabelle such lies.” He peered at James through his spectacles. “You do know we trust you.”

“Yes, and I thank you.” James glanced at Lily, his eyes searching.

She met his gaze squarely. “Isabelle is the one who is confused, not I.”

His look eased. “We must all take care. When we land it will be apparent how far from England we really are.”

“We’ll be on guard,” Uncle Edward said. “If that rascal causes trouble he’ll have to answer to me. I was considered quite handy with fisticuffs in my day, you know.”

Richard grinned. “And if that fails, there’s always Mrs. Hodges’s tonics and dosing ladle.”

Lily closed her sketchbook, picture unfinished. At least they would no longer be confined on a ship with Lord Reginald. She hoped Isabelle would see sense once she was away from his influence. The baronessa was right—he offered nothing but ruin and heartbreak.

The rising wind teased a strand of her hair loose, tickling it against her cheek. She tucked it firmly back under her bonnet, aware that James was watching her. Unable to meet his eyes any longer, she turned her attention to the bright bay, the city, the exotic land that awaited them.

Chapter 15

Tunis, Tunisia, April 1847

Lily closed her eyes and took a sip of tea. It was Aunt Mary’s favorite blend, retrieved from somewhere in her satchel and provided to their hotel’s mâitre d’ with strict instructions on brewing and service. Its taste evoked rainy afternoons at Brookdale.

That in itself spoke well for the beverage since nothing else here was even remotely like England.

Sliced figs and sweet almond cakes accompanied their tea and the air was deliciously warm. The murmur of French spoken at the other tables on the hotel’s terrace was punctuated now and again by shouted Arabic floating up from the crowded street outside. A pomegranate tree was flowering in the courtyard, and the scents of honeysuckle and jasmine hung heavy in the air.

Lily opened her eyes. This was it. This was what she had fought for and promised for—to be here in this strange new place with her senses alive to everything around her. She traced the intricate pattern of the tile tabletop with her finger. Even the furniture was different, decorated by artisans with a sensibility so alien to her own. Tunisia was everything she had dreamed of.

She should be content, not feel as though her heart were as fragile as that thin glass bowl holding figs. But oh, how could she be content when thoughts of James followed her constantly, when the memory of his touch burned through her, leaving her wanting more? And when she knew it was only ephemeral—a mirage that soon would vanish into the desert air.

“I hope James returns soon,” Aunt Mary said. “It was good of him to see us settled before returning with Richard for the baggage. You don’t suppose they have run into trouble?”

“Not to worry, my dear.” Uncle Edward helped himself to another fig slice. “Huntington knows his way about foreign places. We all saw how he managed the bedlam at the docks this morning. Richard will be fine with him. We all will.”

Her uncle was right. James had been quite resourceful. As soon as the family disembarked they had been met with a chaos of carts and conveyances. Drivers shouted at them in Arabic and broken French, pushing each other to get to the baggage and load it into their vehicles. It was all very unsettling, but James had quickly taken charge. His piercing whistle startled everyone into silence and, seizing the advantage, he quickly selected several drivers to transport them. With the newly appointed drivers’ help, he was able to shoo the others away. Lily had to admit that he had been both commanding and impressive. And thoughtful—he had insisted on finding suitable transport for Dr. Fenton and his wife before they left.