Chapter 14
“Wake up, Lily dear.”
“Go away,” Lily tried to swat away the hand before it finally registered that it was her aunt’s voice.
She’d tossed and turned throughout the night, finally falling asleep when dawn had put out its pale fingers and lifted the black canopy of night.
She sat up, trying to force away the cobwebs of her dreams.
Her Aunt Celestria stood beside the bed and beamed, her plain face pink with excitement.
“What do you think, my lamb?” she said, clapping her hands, “you are coming to Holt with me. We’re leaving now—today. We’re to have months and months together. Right up until the wedding, and I am to supervise your gown for you.”
Lily gawked at her aunt. “B-but you know my mother would never allow it. Why, we’ve not been allowed to utter your name these four years past.”
“Don’t I know it?” said Aunt Celestria with asperity. “I have tasted the bitter dregs of that quarrel for every hour of every day. Indeed, I was astonished to have been allowed to attend the betrothal.”
Lily nodded. She, too, had been amazed. It was impossible to think of Lady Elizabeth and Aunt Celestria as sisters.
Her aunt was as kind as her mother was hostile, as ordinary as her mother was beautiful.
And she had been missing from Lily’s life for the crime of taking Lily’s side in a family argument.
Not for the first time, either. It had been that way on and off for all of Lily’s young life.
Lily enjoyed painting miniature likenesses that were really quite good.
Her parents called it witchcraft and forbade her to do it, but Aunt Celestria had protested their unreasonable and small-minded restrictions.
That had earned her banishment. And banishment from Lily in particular meant loneliness for them both.
“Make haste, make haste,” Aunt Celestria said in a harried voice. “My sister can change her mind, quick as a weathercock.”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Lily. It didn’t do to put too much hope in such things. As her aunt said, Lady Elizabeth could so easily change her mind. Lily didn’t think she could cope with yet another disappointment. Her nerves were frayed as it was.
Her aunt shrugged. “Who knows with Elizabeth. First, it’s this, then it’s that.
You can’t marry; you must marry. I’ve never heard more nonsense in my life than what has come from their uncharitable mouths over the past short while.
What objection could they possibly have to one of England’s greatest knights?
“I have a few, myself,” said Lily. “Only no one wishes to hear them.” She climbed reluctantly from beneath the covers.
Her aunt looked taken aback. “Now, now, you are confused, my lamb. A word of advice. Do not look to your muddle-headed parents for guidance. They do not have your best interests at heart, I am sorry to say.”
“Aunt Celestria—” Lily began to protest.
“Nay, listen to me, child. I have had the most charming conversation with your affianced husband, and he most decidedly does.”
“Does what?” asked Lily.
“Have your best interests at heart. He is just right for you, Lily. A most auspicious future awaits you as his countess. You don’t believe me, I can plainly see, but trust me, you will. Now, hurry, call your maid to you, and I will begin your packing. Mine is all but done.”
Lily choked in despair. Why would no one listen to her? “But, Aunt, you don’t know—” she said and swallowed. “He’s a tyrant.”
“Most men are, in one way or another, but some women can gentle them. You have the right heart, Lily, and will manage him well, once you get the hang of it.”
“But he’s our enemy. Father said so.”
She wondered what the elderly lady would make of his wicked seduction. She would likely faint.
Aunt Celestria humphed, making it quite clear what she thought of her brother-in-law.
“As if,” she snorted. “What he fosters is sheer folly. Don’t you go near that flame, child.
‘Tis too close to treason. Our dear king wished to see your marriage done, and thankfully, that’s going to happen.
Your father has chaff for brains to even think of contesting it. ”
“Lambert told me ‘twas my duty to refuse his suit.”
He told her a lot more besides, including that he thought her too weak-minded to outsmart Ravensworth. His voice still stung her ears with its taunts.
“Drivel, child,” said Aunt Celestria with growing anger. “Stanbury treads an ill path. And my sister is only too happy to stir things up. It’s all too bad of them. Too bad indeed, and sinful to lay it on you, an innocent young girl.”
The elderly woman took Lily’s hand and patted it. “But think on it, a full season with me at Holt. It’s just what you need, Lily dear. You need to realize that you are not alone, that there’s someone on your side. Two someones, the earl and me. We want you to be happy.”
The gesture, so kind, so unexpected, triggered Lily’s tears. She refused to shed them, but they remained locked in her heart. She did not believe her aunt’s assertion that the earl had her best interests at heart, but she could not resist accepting that in her aunt, she had one supporter, at least.
* * *
They had only been on the westward road for a few hours, and Lily already felt faint from lack of air.
They were in Aunt Celestria’s traveling carriage, and it rattled and shook most dreadfully.
How she would endure a full day of this, she did not know, but they could not reach Holt much before dusk.
The day was very fine. Lily would have preferred to ride alongside her aunt’s escort of outriders, or in the baggage cart along with the maids.
But it would have been inexcusably rude to leave Aunt Celestria by herself.
So, she suffered the cramped and airless contraption along with the rut and racket.
All about them, the gentle countryside revealed itself.
Spring spilled into leaf and thorn. White hawthorn gave out its perfume in breezy waves, and everywhere along the borders of woods, early dog roses ran riot.
The sweet grasses, cropped close, were dotted with sheep.
High above the cap of the sky was pale blue, and from the heights came the call of rooks.
Aunt Celestria, Lily noticed, did not mind the jostling and juddering. She chatted on like a canary, happy as can be. Lily supposed that was what loneliness did to people. Really, her mother had been thoughtless in her punishment of the kindly, gentle soul. It wrung Lily’s heart.
The carriage rolled on at a snail’s pace over the appalling roads. Lily’s head grew thick with sleep. So did her aunt’s, apparently, for soon enough, both of them nodded off.
At noon they halted. The captain of the outriders seemed reluctant, but the horses and the women needed a respite.
More than half their journey lay ahead, and they had to be in Holt before sundown. This close to the Welsh border, precautions were necessary.
Their meal consisted of bread and cheese and stored apples that were still sound and rosy.
Lily and her aunt sat on a verge close to the road.
There, under the boughs of a spreading oak bedecked in sticky yellow-green, they ate in some privacy.
A golden day fell about them, warm and soothing.
Pleasantly replenished and thankfully motionless, they almost dozed off again, their backs to the trunk.
“Lily,” her aunt said, sitting up after a while and shielding her eyes from the dazzling sun. “I thought you said Ravensworth had returned home?”
“He did? Why?” asked Lily.
“Because unless my eyes are failing more rapidly than I think they are, I believe those are his colors coming down the road—at quite a lick, too.”
“Impossible,” said Lily, but she stood up all the same and gaped. There indeed came Edward Rowley, Earl of Ravensworth, with a large troop of riders. Fifty at least.
Her gaze fixed on him. She could tell nothing from his expression as it was carefully blank. Even so, she felt a little shiver streak through her blood. She watched as the earl dismounted. The horse, a huge beast the color of midnight, nuzzled his master’s neck.
The earl, it was well known, had a passion for his horses. It was rumored that many of the animals in his stables understood the speech of men. Further, it was said that some of his horses had the ability to carry their riders through enemy lines unseen. Lily did not believe a word of it.
With a flick of his hand, Edward threw the reins to his squire.
His eyes found her even before he dismounted, his unwavering gaze fixed on her.
She had the strangest sensation of him peering at her insides as well as her outsides.
For a moment, he stood there waiting, she supposed, for her to go to him.
Lily stiffened her spine and remained still, determined that this time, she would stand her ground. After a brief pause, he inclined his head, and she thought she saw the slightest wink of the dimple in his cheek.
Having silently conceded, he approached.
He seemed to prowl, not walk. His shadowed beard emphasized his mouth and intensified the sensual coral of his lips.
He was, Lily realized, shockingly, brazenly handsome.
Dark brows thundered across his high forehead, and when he smiled, that dimple appeared in the corner near his mouth, making his wicked intentions known to all who looked upon him.
All told, Edward Rowley’s dispassion made him seem invincible, magical even.
Lily felt clumsy and dull next to him. She had the terrible urge to run away and hide.
Stop it, she admonished herself, do not be fanciful. Ordinary men have no such powers. She should worry herself about being at his mercy. Sadly, that threat struck her as entirely real. She could not trust him. Why had he followed her here? What game did he play?
Most likely, she thought, he returned her suspicions.
She had to admit, he had ample reason not to trust her, but there was something in his gaze that was not all dominance and arrogance.
From time to time, she thought she saw a sliver of appreciation, even a thread of sanction, as if he found something pleasing, something that amused him, perhaps.
“Well met, madam, mam’selle,” he called as he closed the distance between them. A pair of his knights followed him. Their heads were bare, and they wore no armor, tunics only. Their hands rested easily on the pommels of their swords, and they bowed politely in court fashion.
“You are well, my lady?” asked Edward, bending over Aunt Celestria’s proffered hand.
The gentle lady tittered in delight.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, madam.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ravensworth.”
“And you, mam’selle, you are also well, I trust?” he said to Lily, stealing her hand from where she had hidden it behind her skirts.
“Trust, my lord? You would do well not to trust,” said Lily with some feeling. “Let go…”
“Do you warn me, my lady?” he asked, ignoring her demand. “Perhaps against some future transgression? That is very sporting of you. I had not thought women were that conversant with the idea of honor. You certainly haven’t displayed this side of yourself before.”
Lily wanted to hit him, his eyebrows lifting in innocent inquiry, as if he were commenting on nothing more important than the weather.
“That is because you know nothing of women,” said Lily, and looked up startled as Sir Dunstan and Sir Lanval turned puce with suppressed laughter.
England’s most practiced charmer glanced over his shoulder, sending them a look that should have curdled their innards. And then, with solicitous care, he bent his head in Lily’s direction.
“I am counting on you to teach me, Lily, I assure you,” he said, insinuating an intimacy with the use of her given name that he had no right to. Not in this setting. “I will be your ever-eager supplicant.”
She colored. “Let go of me…”
Her aunt gave her a befuddled look. “You are most gallant, my lord Ravensworth,” she said, obviously trying to unruffle feathers, “but it seems my niece is fractious this day. Poor lamb, she did not sleep well. All this excitement, you know?”
“Yes, indeed, the excitement. I, too, hardly slept, but then the lovelorn seldom do,” said Edward, straight-faced.
“So the poets tell us. You clearly dote upon her, sir, if there is anything to be gleaned from the fact that you refuse to let go of her hand. And I, for one, would welcome your help in the task of cheering her up. What say you?”
“Aunt Celestria,” wailed Lily, appalled. “What are you saying?”
But Edward flashed his dimple and assured the elderly lady that they were in complete accord.
“My very own thoughts, madam,” he assured her. “Which brings me to—”
Lily reached the end of her patience. “What do you do here, my lord?” she blurted out as her temper spilled. That earned a reprimand from her aunt and a squeeze that threatened to break every one of the small bones in her hand. It clearly said, “behave.”
“There’s been a change of plans, alas. Bandits on the road,” Edward told them. “I have come to escort you and your lady aunt to safety,” he added smoothly.
“For a moment there, Ravensworth, I thought my sister had sent you to fetch us back,” said Aunt Celestria, and her shoulders sagged in relief.
“No indeed, dear lady, do not fret yourself. Your time with your niece is just what is needful to cheer her mood. Bandits on the road, however, require attention of another kind.”
“And we’d best get going, my lord. The day wears on,” added Sir Lanval, and a look passed between the two men.
Lily saw it, swift as it had been. She looked at her affianced husband with narrow eyes.
Aunt Celestria put on her sensible no-nonsense face. “In that case, Ravensworth, let us delay no more. Come along, Lily, at once, now.”
There was nothing for it but to comply.
There’s something going on here that I don’t understand, Lily told herself as she followed her aunt back to the carriage.
There was. But she did not discover what until the next day, and by then it was too late.