Taming the Wild Duke

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

S eptember was being unusually kind. It was yet another perfect afternoon: clear and warm with just a hint of a breeze stirring the bright leaves from the trees. Lilian stretched and shifted positions on the blanket she had spread just past the hedge in the back of the house. With no one to see or judge her, she let herself lie on her stomach, pressing her book flat on the ground in front of her.

It had been a long time since she’d had time to spend more than an hour reading alone, and she felt more relaxed than she had in two long years. She smiled, tilting her face up to the sun and closing her eyes for a moment.

This is what my life will be once Jane is married, and it’s just Father and I, she thought contentedly. I’ll mind the house and spend the rest of my time just reading and painting and walking and riding—just enjoying life as it’s meant to be enjoyed.

“Lily! Where are you? Li-ly!”

Jane’s voice stretched faintly across the garden, interrupting Lilian’s musings. She sat up and arranged her skirts before calling out. “Over here, Jane.”

A moment later, Jane tripped around the side of the hedge. “At last!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you for ages! What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Just reading,” Lilian said. She picked up a brilliant orange maple leaf that had drifted down to the blanket and slipped it into her book to mark her page. “And enjoying the sunshine.”

“Yes, isn’t it divine?” Jane plopped down beside her, stretching her legs out so that the toes of her shoes peeked out from beneath the hem of her skirt. “What are you reading?”

Lilian held up the book, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Alas, the blathering of a love-sick boy,” she chuckled. “Lord Byron is but nineteen and has published his first collection of poetry. Here, listen to this.” She opened the book and flipped to the page she sought. She read aloud with dramatic intonation.

I would not say, “I love,” but still

My senses struggle with my will;

In vain to drive thee from my breast,

My thoughts are more and more repressed;

In vain I check the rising sighs ? —

Another to the last replies;

Perhaps this is not love, but yet

Our meeting I can ne’er forget.

“Well, I think that’s quite decent for a nineteen-year-old,” Jane commented when Lilian had tossed the book aside. “It seems to me to contain much genuine sweetness and emotion.”

“Ah, the Duke of Thorne said similar,” Lilian sighed. “I just don’t see it. Any boy may feel his heart beat fast at the sight of a woman he thinks beautiful. The only thing I see to admire here is the fact that he admits he might not be in love quite yet.” She laughed. “And I suppose he has a better understanding of rhyme and rhythm than I did at nineteen.”

“You’re such a critic, Lil,” Jane sighed. “I’m just waiting for the day you publish your own volume of poetry.”

“God save us from such a day.” Lilian chuckled again, dropping her eyes to hide her inner reaction to the comment. Her heart fluttered, and she felt a flush rise in her throat.

“So, you and the Wild Duke were talking about poetry when we were walking the other day?” Jane said, her voice carefully light. “I wondered. You both seemed very engrossed.”

“Yes. Poetry and the rights of a women and…a surprising number of topics.” Lilian looked back up and shook her head at her sister’s expression. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. There were ups and downs, certainly, but it wasn’t completely awful.”

In fact, her unexpected and somewhat tumultuous exchange with the Duke of Thorne had completely changed the way she viewed him. It was as if she had learned to see him as a real person for the first time. He no longer fit in the box to which she’d assigned him. It was an unsettling but ultimately interesting development. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it yet.

“I thought maybe you were just lecturing him on how he could behave better and not be a bad influence on Mun—Lord Munro and I,” Jane said, tilting her head shyly.

“What?” Lilian felt the flush that had already been rising in her cheeks grow hotter as she stared at her sister. “Goodness, Jane, I’m not a shrew.”

“Of course not,” Jane agreed. “You’re just a protective older sister… who often thinks she knows best.”

“You’re saying I’m bossy,” Lilian accused. “Well, maybe I am with you and Nancy, but you won’t catch me out ordering dukes about. Good heavens, Jane.”

“I’m sorry, Lil!” Jane did indeed look contrite as she studied Lilian’s ruby cheeks and mortified expression. “It was stupid, I know. I’m just your stupid little sister, all right?”

“You’re not stupid, Jane. Just…Oh, dear me.” Lilian put a hand over her face, taking deep breaths and reminding herself that she hadn’t actually embarrassed herself and her family by lecturing the Duke of Thorne. She struggled to control her features, not wanting Jane to see how uncharacteristically flustered she was. “Let’s just talk about someone else, something else, anything else, please.”

Jane nodded quickly, chestnut ringlets bouncing about her temples. “Yes, of course. Um… Oh, what I came out here to talk to you about. We’ve been invited to a ball to see out September. It’s being thrown by the Lord and Lady Bennington.” She spoke quickly, rushing forward, her eyes on Lilian’s still flushed face. “I was thinking you should have a new dress.”

“What? Why?” The comment succeeded in snapping Lilian out of some of her embarrassment. “I have plenty of dresses,” she protested, “and you know how I hate standing for fittings and all that folderol.”

Jane tucked her chin, giving Lilian a stern look, as if she were suddenly the elder sister. “Lilian, you haven’t had a new dress in two seasons,” she admonished. “It’s ridiculous, and no doubt people have started to talk.”

“Let them talk,” Lilian sighed. She lay back on the blanket, putting a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun. “I’m an old spinster, Jane, remember? That’s what spinsters are for—giving people someone queer to gossip over.”

“You’re barely twenty-five, Lil. I don’t see why you can’t make an effort for a least a few more years.”

Lilian frowned under her hand, her thoughts slowly shifting in a new direction. She dropped the hand and propped herself on her elbow, studying her sister.

“Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of me, Janey,” she said. “You don’t want people talking about me because it will reflect badly on you and Lord Munro?”

“I think it’s very unfair of you to assume that,” Jane said immediately, her brows crinkling across her fair forehead. She reached out, touching Lilian’s hand lightly. “I’m not ashamed of you, Lil. I could never be ashamed of you. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to cut yourself off completely from society just because you feel you’ve done your duty to me and Nancy. I trust you respect yourself enough to do your duty to yourself.”

Lilian sighed and flopped back on the blanket. “In truth, I’m tired of doing my duty. I just want to see you happily married and then curl up with a good book for the rest of my life.”

“How can you curl up with a good book if you don’t have any friends left to give you recommendations?” Jane queried. She reached for the thin tome next to Lilian on the blanket, but Lilian slapped her hand away.

“I can find my own reading material,” she tossed back. “I already told you, I’m unimpressed with the most recent recommendation I received.”

“Well, I am impressed you could draw such a civil conversation from the Wild Duke that he would recommend you anything,” Jane said emphatically, “And I’m not ready to let you sit back and disappear.” She took a quick, almost nervous breath before continuing. “Which is why I have engaged Miss Thomson to come by and take your measurements tomorrow morning?—”

“Oh, you haven’t! Jane!” Lilian sat up abruptly, shocked at her sister’s initiative. Jane tilted her pretty chin up stubbornly.

“Oh, I have,” she said. “You’re getting a new dress, Lily, whether you want it or not, so you might as well plan to wear it to the Bennington’s ball come the end of September.”

“My obligation to the ton is over, Jane. I’m not going to the ball,” Lilian said, beginning to grow annoyed. “And that’s my final word on it.”

The carriage smelled of wet shoes and upholstery, mingled with Lilian’s and Jane’s chosen fragrances for the evening—Jasmine for Jane and Orange Blossom for Lilian. The cloying combination made Lilian’s stomach turn. Outside, the fine mist that had been falling all evening struck the carriage with a soft hissing sound.

Lilian leaned her head back against the seat, careless of the curls Jane had so carefully arranged for her. “I would give anything to be back beside the fireplace with my book and a plate of biscuits right now,” she sighed.

Seated across from her, next to their father, Jane merely laughed. “You’ll feel better once we get there,” she assured Lilian. “Just think of it—the lights and music and dancing. All things you love just as well as books, Lilian, admit it.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort,” Lilian protested.

“Well, there will be refreshments as well,” Jane said. “You’ll have your biscuits, never fear.”

Lilian sighed. She was in a sorry temper, and she felt a pang of guilt for making Jane work so hard to try and pull her out of it. But Jane didn’t need her here, not tonight. Their father could be a chaperone as could any number of their good friends that were sure to be in attendance.

“I’m still not sure how I let you bully me into coming,” she said, opening one eye to peek at Jane in the dim lantern light. “And in this dress besides.” She pulled her wrap closer about her as she spoke. Underneath was the new dress—a flowing violet garment in the latest fashion. Jane had somehow had more of a hand in designing it than herself.

Lilian had strange flutters in her stomach when she thought about divesting herself of the familiar old shawl and letting the dress—and everything it didn’t cover—show.

Jane clasped her hands, looking positively giddy with delight—like a cat who had gotten into the cream and eaten her fill. Her voice was full of false sympathy as she exclaimed, “Ah, yes, poor Lilian has a beautiful new dress, and everyone will be looking at her tonight. She shall be the belle of the ball! Poor Lilian!”

Lilian groaned. Before she could remonstrate, however, the carriage rolled to a stop, and the sound of the coachman’s boots thumping on the wet drive approached.

“I shall repay you handsomely for this someday, Jane. You can be sure of that,” Lilian said, but her voice held no conviction. Jane simply laughed merrily again and stood as the coachman opened the door. She stepped out under the umbrella and skipped off next to him toward the wide-open doors of the Bennington manor.

Light spilled out across the piazza, glinting on the wet stones. The thin, haunting clash of stringed instruments tuning mingled with the patter of the heartless rain. Lilian looked across at her father, hoping he would read the silent plea in her eyes.

“I could just stay here,” she said. “The coachman could drive me straight back home.”

The Earl chuckled, shaking his head. Then, he leaned forward and to Lilian’s surprise, took her hand. She gazed wide-eyed at her father as his smile faded.

“Lilian, my dear girl,” he said gently, “I don’t believe I have ever thanked you properly for all the time and energy and love you have expended these past two seasons to see your sisters safely engaged and married. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, and yet you’ve done it with a smile and exactly the grace and courage I imagine your mother would have had.”

The words were so unexpected and yet exactly what Lilian needed to hear that tears immediately welled to flood her eyes. She blinked, barely aware of the continued splashing of the rain just beside them or the sound of the coachman’s boots as he returned with the umbrella.

“I’m thanking you now, Lily,” the Earl said. “I am so deeply grateful for the sacrifices you have made. And I know tonight seems like simply another sacrifice to you.” His eyes crinkled with laughter as he searched her astonished face. “Yes, you get your love of hiding away with books and a fireplace from your father.

“But you are not a tottering old man who has little good left to lend, Lily. You’re a beautiful young woman full of life and energy, and you have much to give the world yet.” He quirked a wiry, gray eyebrow. “The world has much to give you . That’s why I can’t let you hide away and rot at home with your old father.

“This is not about making more sacrifices for your family.” He waved a hand toward the watery light of the manor door and the approaching umbrella. “This is your turn to have a good time, my girl. Your time to enjoy yourself and perhaps start looking for someone who can give you the life you deserve.”

Lilian felt her mouth dropping open. Was he truly saying what she thought he was saying?

“But Father—” she started to protest.

“No buts, my dear,” he interrupted. “Look, here is John with the umbrella. Go in with him.” He put his hand on her elbow, helping her from her seat. The next moment, Lilian found herself picking her way across the wet stones to the piazza where Jane waited, bouncing on her tiptoes with excitement.

“Jane,” Lilian hissed, grabbing her sister’s arm, “have you and Father been conspiring against me?”

“Conspiring? Goodness, Lil, you make us sound like secret government intelligence agents,” Jane giggled. “We just want you to be happy. Is that a capital offense nowadays?”

“I am happy!” Lilian exclaimed. She couldn’t seem to keep the edge of panic she was beginning to feel from creeping into her voice. “How many times do I need to tell you that I’m perfectly happy to be a spinster and stay at home and take care of Father…” She trailed off as Jane gave her an arch look. When her sister spoke, though, her voice was gentle.

“Of course, you’re happy, Lil, because you choose to be happy.” She suddenly tucked her arm around Lilian’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “It’s one of your most admirable qualities—and you have many, my beautiful sister. But maybe you could be happier. Happier than you’ve ever yet imagined.”

Jane closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, a euphoric smile on her lips. Then she opened them and leaned in to whisper confidingly in Lilian’s ear.

“That’s how I’ve felt ever since I fell in love with the Lord Munro.” When she pulled back, it was with an expression so earnest that Lilian almost didn’t recognize her sweet little sister for a moment. “Please don’t rule out love till you’ve given it a chance, Lilian.”

Lilian had no chance to respond before their father arrived under the umbrella with the coachman. Jane tucked one arm through Lilian’s and the other through the Earl’s.

“Well,” she exclaimed, “shall we enter?”

Lilian felt dazed. She vaguely heard their names being announced as they entered, and then a maid was offering to take her wrap. Reluctantly, she parted with it. The air in the big house was warm—they must have had a fire burning in every room to keep it so on such a chilly evening—but still, she felt exposed as she was left standing in her gauzy new gown in the foyer. She had to conscientiously fight not to wrap her bare arms around herself in a gesture of comfort.

Jane and the Earl both seemed to be in unusually high spirits; they almost immediately abandoned her to mingle with the revelers who had already gathered. Candlelight glittered from the many candelabras and the Bennington’s lovely chandelier. The ladies in their bright gowns were like flowers scattered among the dark coats of the men.

Lilian wandered along the edge of the ballroom, letting the lively chatter wash over her, hoping to blend in with the shadows there. Her father’s and Jane’s disclosure about their ulterior motives in dragging her here had made her uncharacteristically self-conscious. As the string quartet began a lively reel, she found herself dodging away at the slightest movement of a man in her direction.

It won’t be the end of the world if someone asks you to dance, Lil, she admonished herself. But it did no good. In the past few years, she had seen the occasional dance as a chance to feel out the man’s character and the character of those he associated with, her sisters in mind. Without that purpose, and with the thought in her mind that anyone might be interested in her , she felt vulnerable—like some kind of prey animal.

“Lilian Weston,” a clear, high voice said from behind her. Lilian turned to see Priscilla Talbot gliding toward her. Priscilla looked like a fairy in her gauzy pink gown, her auburn-hued hair glinting with tiny crystals. Slight and fragile with haughty features, Priscilla had always made Lilian feel like something of a homely giant next to her.

“Hello, Priscilla,” she said, managing what she hoped was a cordial smile. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”

“It’s not the most fascinating event of the season, that’s for sure.” Priscilla’s laughter rang out, bell-like and clear enough to carry across the room, turning several heads toward them. Lilian tensed, keeping her smile firmly in place. “But I do so love to dance. The quartet is quite fine. Don’t you agree?”

“Not being a skilled musician myself, I am in constant awe of anyone who can draw such sounds from a bit of wood and string,” Lilian replied with perhaps more warmth than necessary.

“Surely you don’t mean to say you don’t play any instruments?” Priscilla exclaimed. Priscilla feigned an expression of shock. Lilian noted that the smaller woman’s eyes dashed about the room as Lilian was speaking. She was taking stock of who was there, perhaps, or looking for someone in particular.

“They are not my special talent,” Lilian replied. Priscilla’s flighty gaze seemed to be contagious. Lilian found herself glancing out across the ballroom as well, and panic reignited in her heart when she saw Lord Fiording’s 26-year-old son, Emmanuel, heading in her direction.

“And neither is dancing to be frank,” she added hurriedly. “Which is assuredly why Mr. Emmanuel Fields is coming to ask you for the honor and not me.”

As Priscilla fluttered and turned toward the approaching gentleman, Lilian took the opportunity to slip along the side of the room and into a hallway. She took a breath, leaning back against the wall. Only once the string quartet had swept into the beginning of the dance and she heard the swish of gowns and the rhythmic tapping of feet did she risk glancing back into the room.

There was Priscilla, dancing with Mr. Fields, although she didn’t look as pleased as her effusive claim to love the art would have suggested. Then Lilian caught sight of Jane, whirling in and out of Lord Munro’s arms. They were smiling at one another with a warmth that momentarily made Lilian’s chest tighten.

Turning away, she slipped along the hallway toward the library to check on her father. He had likely retired there immediately to smoke cigars and enjoy the warmth close to the fire. It had become his habit whenever he accompanied them to balls anymore. Tonight in particular, Lilian wished she could join him.

As she approached the library door, the sounds of the music and dancing faded into the background. The sound of men’s voices was a low rumble in her ears. Pausing in the doorway, Lilian breathed in the scent of smoke and leather and books. Her eyes flickered over the group gathered before the big fireplace.

Her father was there, looking immensely comfortable in a big, leather armchair. He was brandishing a cigar and talking to a couple of other older men, just as she had suspected. A few men also stood in a loose circle beside the fireplace, glasses of port in their hands.

As Lilian’s eyes flitted over them, her attention was drawn to a man whose back was partially to her. He was broad-shouldered with a head of unruly brown hair that glinted in the flickering lamplight. And he was agitated, tossing his big hands out to either side as he reasoned with Lord Pendleton, who stood opposite him. As she leaned further into the room, Lord Pendleton’s eye caught on Lilian, and the man speaking to him swung around to see what he was looking at.

Lilian found herself staring straight into the intense green eyes of the Duke of Thorne. His jaw was set with frustration, but it was the lostness in his eyes that momentarily froze her. He didn’t look away, and somehow, she found that she couldn’t either.