The Secret Heart, page 8
She walked briskly on. The next door on her right was open. Was it the box they had just left? Or an unused one? The latter, surely, for no light escaped it. As she moved toward it, she finally made out Hill’s words for the first time, thrown with mingled anger and contempt at his companion. “…damned money! You—”
Abruptly, a hand grasped her arm and jerked her into the darkened box.
Her mouth opened in instant protest. Her free arm flew out to fight back. But an urgent finger closed over her parted lips. “It’s me,” a voice breathed in her ear. His voice. His scent in her nostrils.
Emotion swamped her, but it wasn’t enough to blot out the frustration that he had prevented her hearing something important to him. But then she noticed the change in the passage. Their voices had fallen silent, but their footsteps strode in her direction.
Hill had been about to see her. Perhaps he already had.
He still would, for the light from the passage penetrated into the box. In panic, she reached for the door handle pressing into her back, but there was no time to close it. God, she had given them both away, unless by some miracle, they did not glance in their direction, did not suspect they had been eavesdropping.
Lord Torbridge swung her around so that she faced the passage, though she could see nothing but him. His arms went around her, protective, strangely comforting, and his face swooped nearer.
“Play along,” he breathed, the only warning she had before his mouth sank on hers, and she couldn’t think at all.
She knew why he did it, of course. But he had no way of knowing she had dreamed so long and so secretly of his kiss. In her wildest dreams, even in that brief moment in the Hart, she had never imagined he would actually do it.
Cooperating with his plans had never been easier or more natural. She flung one arm around his neck, opening wide to the blatant, overwhelming sensuality of his lips, of his body pressed so close to hers. He caught her hand at his nape, dragging it to his cheek, perhaps to hide even her glove from the men outside.
At that moment, she didn’t care. Their footsteps passed on, along with some ribald commentary inspired by the sight she and Torbridge presented. But he did not end the kiss. Instead, he deepened it, caressing her tongue with his, stroking her back and her waist, gathering her so close she might have been glued to him. He filled her senses, and she never wanted it to end.
But it did. He pressed his cheek against hers.
“They’re going downstairs,” he whispered in her ear, and even that played havoc with her heightened senses. Her lips tingled from his stunning kiss. Butterflies still danced in her stomach, mingling with the heat of desire.
She swallowed but could not speak. Very slowly, he detached himself from her body. She hoped he couldn’t feel it tremble. But he wasn’t unmoved himself. She had felt his hardness against her.
“What the devil were you doing?” he demanded.
“You told me to kiss you,” she said indignantly.
He let out a soft sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Not that. Following him in the first place. You must not put yourself in danger!”
She stared at him. “What else am I here for? Do you imagine this search is going to get less dangerous when I’m where you want me to be?”
His eyes, glittering in the darkness, stared at her.
She took advantage of his rare speechlessness to pat her hair and deal with a loose pin. Then, she stepped around him and peered up and down the corridor. She emerged and set off briskly back toward their own box. Before she had taken two steps, he was beside her, placing her hand on his arm.
But he did not speak, and she wondered miserably if he was regretting asking for her help. Regretting touching her, kissing her… With desperation, she hung on to the reason they had both been there.
“Who was that man?” she blurted. “Did you hear what they said?”
“We’ll talk later in privacy,” he murmured. “Let’s see the last act and go back to Brook Street.”
As he took his seat beside her, he murmured to Millie, “She needed some air.”
For the first time, the stage and the music took second place to her own feelings. Her heart seemed to soar and plummet continually, and there was a new edge to her awareness of his physical nearness. And that was without touching.
She was actually glad when the opera ended, and they made a dash to beat the main crush to the exit. As they waited for the carriage, she kept a smile on her face and somehow joined in the conversation, though afterward, she had no idea what it had been about.
In the carriage, she and Millie sat together, with the men opposite. Stupidly, she found it hard to look at Lord Torbridge at all. If she avoided his face and looked down, there were his long, elegant legs which had pressed against her, surprisingly hard and muscled. It was safest to gaze out of the window.
“I heard an interesting on-dit this evening,” Sir Gorge drawled as the carriage fought its way out of Covent Garden.
“What was that?” Torbridge asked.
“Why, that although Cousin Lily is Millie’s companion for now, you are apparently prepared to do something quite handsome for her should she choose to be married instead.”
Lily’s mouth fell open.
“Are you?” Millie asked, equally startled. “Is that a good idea, Dolph?”
“No, it isn’t,” Lily said, incensed. “I have a perfectly good father to provide a dowry should I ever wish to marry!”
“Of course you have.” Torbridge sounded amused. “I’m afraid I spread the rumor myself—only to keep Hill on the hook, so don’t eat me, Lily.”
“What hook?” Millie asked suspiciously. “You are up to something, Torbridge, and I won’t have you upsetting Lily or the Hills!”
“I never upset people,” Torbridge protested.
“Not visibly,” Sir George said. “But it seems to me you’ve certainly caused a few upsets.”
“You malign me,” Torbridge insisted.
Perhaps fortunately, the carriage pulled up at the Mastertons’ front door.
Sir George alighted and looked faintly surprised to be handing down his wife. “Not going on somewhere else this evening, my dear?”
“No. I want to know what Torbridge is up to.”
Her brother laughed. Lily felt his breath on the back of her neck as she stepped down with Sir George’s aid.
Inside, they repaired to the drawing room, where Sir George poured glasses of wine for Millie and Lily, and brandies for Torbridge and himself.
“Well?” Millie demanded, seating herself by the fire and glaring at her brother.
“Well, what?” he asked, amused. “I told you, it suited my purpose to have Lily invited to Pennington Place.”
“Why? Why throw her at Jack’s head? Unless for some kind of revenge, which I own would surprise me, for you were never vengeful, but what else am I to think?”
“Perhaps that you owe Lily an apology,” Torbridge said. “For implying it would be some kind of punishment to be thrust into her company.”
Millie flushed and caught hold of Lily’s hand. “You know perfectly well I meant no such thing. Or perhaps I did, in a way, for we all know Lily is…” She lowered her voice. “… an innkeeper’s daughter. No matter how perfect a lady she makes in this pretense, we all know she cannot marry Jack Hill.” She glanced up at Lily. “I hope that does not upset you, my dear, but you should know where you stand.”
“I have always known that, and I am not remotely upset.”
“She is too good for your schemes, Dolph,” Millie said fiercely.
Torbridge strolled to the sofa facing the hearth and sat down. “I shan’t quarrel with you there, but we have an agreement.”
Lily lowered herself onto the arm of Millie’s chair. “Who was the man with Mr. Hill?” she demanded.
“A banker named Stanley.”
“A banker?” she repeated. It explained the talk of money and Hill’s contempt for a social inferior.
“We shouldn’t be so picky these days,” Millie observed, distracted. “Didn’t one of the Overtons’ girls marry a banker?”
“Captain Cromarty,” Lily agreed. “Although he is also the Earl of Silford’s grandson and heir.”
Torbridge smiled into his brandy but said nothing.
“What did they discuss?” Lily prompted. “Did it tell you anything helpful?”
“Not terribly. Just that Hill owes him money—rather more than I had imagined, so he is certainly open to alternative sources of income. He is promising to pay Stanley back by the end of the month.”
“Which means something really might happen while we are at Pennington Place,” Lily guessed. “If he is expecting to have more money by then.”
“Then you are no longer quite so opposed to him being the villain of the piece?” Torbridge asked.
“I was never opposed to the idea,” she insisted. “I merely considered it unlikely. I still do, although I have to admit unlikely things do happen. And lack of money makes people desperate.”
“Exactly,” Torbridge said. He set down his glass and stood up. “And now, I must bid you good night. Thank you for your company this evening. Lily, will you walk with me to the door?”
She rose at once, although once out of the drawing room, she dragged her heels. “Are you going to scold me again for following them at the opera?”
He looked surprised. “No, I have said my piece on that score.” He began to descend the stairs and lowered his voice. “I want to apologize for my own…rough handling. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Of course, she understood him, was even grateful for his care of her. Yet, some part of her was furious that he should be sorry for what was the most delightful experience of her life. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely shook her head.
“Good. You understand I had to hide you from Hill at all costs? It seemed the simplest solution.”
She nodded.
“And the most delightful,” he breathed and jumped down the steps three at a time, so that she could not possibly keep up. He snatched up his hat from the hall table and was gone before she had even reached the bottom of the stairs.
Chapter Eight
The following morning, Lily was surprised to discover not only Sir George but his lady in the breakfast parlor.
“Yes, I know, I am up before eleven,” Millie said, breaking the seal on one of a pile of letters by her side. “But it seems when one retires early, one wakes early, too. What does one do so early in the day?”
“You could tell me which invitations you wish to accept and which to decline on your behalf,” Lily suggested.
“I could,” Millie agreed without notable enthusiasm. She glanced down at her letter, while Lily helped herself to ham and eggs and cheese. “Ah, this is what Torbridge has been hoping for! Lady Pennington invites us to bring our charming cousin with us to her party at Pennington Place. Which is very kind of her,” Millie added, pushing the letter across to her husband, “when I suspect I haven’t yet answered her original invitation.”
“You haven’t,” Lily said, sitting down beside her. “But I can accept for all of us, if you wish.”
“Oh, yes, that would be excellent,” Millie said. She glanced at her husband. “That is, you are coming, are you not, George?”
“Apparently,” Sir George said, glancing toward the opening door.
Lord Torbridge strolled in, causing Lily’s heart to jolt.
It seemed the simplest solution. And the most delightful. His words had come back to her frequently during the night, along with the memory of his astonishing kiss. She knew the words were, in all likelihood, mere politeness on his part, but it didn’t stop them repeating in her head or in her foolish heart.
“Aha, well-timed, Dolph!” his sister greeted him. “Lady Pennington has asked us to bring Lily with us.”
“Excellent,” Torbridge said, sitting down opposite them. “Well done, Lily!” He helped himself to coffee. “That means we are more or less free until next week. What would you like to do, Lily?”
“Well, I should be able to bring Cousin Millie’s correspondence up to date by then…”
Millie frowned. “You will need a riding habit. I never thought of that. And perhaps another walking dress.” She paused. “You do ride, Lily?”
“Well, yes, but not with a lady’s saddle.”
Millie stared at her in horror. “You mean you sit astride?”
“It’s much simpler,” Lily assured her. “And if your skirts are wide enough, or even divided, it does not matter.”
“Oh, it matters,” Millie assured her. “You can’t do it in polite society.”
“Oh. Will it matter?” Lily asked in a small voice.
“No,” Torbridge answered, “for we’ll get you used to a lady’s saddle before we go. I wouldn’t join any hunting expeditions, though.”
“That’s what we’ll do this morning, Lily,” Millie said, pleased. “We’ll order you a riding habit, and you may ride out with Torbridge tomorrow. What did you want in any case, Dolph?”
“I thought Lily might like to see the sights of London,” Torbridge said surprisingly. He sipped his coffee.
Lily’s eyes widened. “The Tower of London?” she asked eagerly. “St. Paul’s Cathedral? Westminster Abbey?”
“Wherever you wish.”
“Oh, my lord, that would be wonderful.”
“Cousin,” he corrected.
“Well, thank God,” Millie said with relief. “I was afraid George or I was going to have to trail around these places. And much as I have grown to love you, Lily, I have my reputation to consider. Come with us to the dressmaker, Dolph, and then you two may go off and bore yourselves silly.”
*
Lily was surprised and not a little embarrassed when Lord Torbridge actually accompanied them into the dressmaker’s establishment. More than that, he was addressed by name and appeared to be on familiar terms with the staff and the modiste herself. It was he who picked out the bottle-green habit and advised her to take it.
“Why that one?” she asked as Millie went to negotiate delivery.
“It brings out the green in your eyes.”
Blood seeped into her cheeks, “Well, I will be glad to have one dress that you like.”
His eyebrows flew up. “One? What makes you think I don’t like the others?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said hastily. “Merely, you seemed disappointed when you came to dinner the other night and saw me in the first evening gown.”
“Disap…” He broke off. “Lily, I wasn’t disappointed. I was stunned.”
“In a good way?” she said anxiously.
A hiss of laughter escaped his lips. “In an excellent way. The gowns are all lovely and tasteful, and your beauty was never in doubt. I just never suspected you would enter my world with such panache. It took me by surprise. You always take me by surprise.” His lips quirked. “In a good way.”
She laughed and left the shop with new confidence. They waved Millie off in the town carriage while she and Torbridge walked on until they picked up a hackney to take them to the Tower of London.
*
From then on, it seemed she was no longer acting. “Lady Lily” had become part of herself, and she could step out in this world as easily as in her own. Moreover, there was intense pleasure in spending so much time with Lord Torbridge.
In the mornings, he took her riding in the park, so that she got used to the awkward lady’s saddle. After the initial strangeness of the position, she actually found it surprisingly comfortable and could control the horse just as easily. Since they rode early, the streets and the parks were quiet, and it was very pleasant to talk undisturbed, without fear of being overheard.
Not that they spoke much about Jack Hill and her task of discovering how information was getting from his office to France. Instead, they tended to be amusing conversations about nothing very much, interspersed, occasionally, with more serious talks about their views of the world. These gave her some hint of what had led him to begin the work he did, although he gave her no details. She understood how much he was torn between it and the ancestral duties that were about to fall upon him.
And then there were her secret moments of pleasure when he lifted her down from the saddle. He was unexpectedly strong, and his hands on her waist thrilled her. These moments when she stood so close to him, set her heart racing, yearning for what she could never have.
In the afternoons, he accompanied her around London’s attractions. She was fascinated by the Tower and its menagerie. She was in awe of Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s. And she wept for the wild beasts at the Exeter Exchange.
The tears took her by surprise, and she tried to hide them from Torbridge. He helped by pretending not to notice as they returned to his carriage. Only there, in relative privacy, did he ask quietly what was wrong.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It just seems so sad to see them alone and trapped.”
“You do know the tiger would eat you?”
“He wouldn’t if he wasn’t here,” she pointed out. “All he can do is pace up and down that tiny cage for our entertainment. It’s horrible for him.”
Torbridge blinked. “Did he tell you that?”
“Didn’t he tell you that?” she retorted.
He was silent a moment. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “But you know, we are all trapped in some way. It might not be a physical cage, but we learn to deal with it. Perhaps he will, too. In any case, I’m sorry to have distressed you.”
“You didn’t distress me,” she said at once. In fact, he distracted her from the imagined pain of the animals. She thought he was probably thinking about the gilded cage of responsibilities that would hem him in when his father died, and he inherited all the lands and titles and responsibilities, “How is your father?”
