Make Her Wish Come True Collection. Ann Lethbridge
Читать онлайн книгу.
‘Lily?’ Laurus prodded as she struggled to bring her thoughts under control like she always did at her easel, when everything around her was a whirlwind of noise and motion.
‘Nothing’s wrong, only we must go down for breakfast. If we don’t eat soon we’ll be late for church and you know how Father is about Christmas service.’
As Lily began to descend, she glanced back at her sister’s room to catch Rose standing in the doorway. Petunia watched anxiously over her shoulder, the pity in her expression as irksome as the worry drawing Rose’s lips thin.
Lily hurried down the stairs, refusing to give them any hint she’d heard their conversation, though it was plain to all she had. She gripped the banister tight as she descended, trying to fight back the panic and not let it trip her on the stairs. She’d made yet another mistake trusting Gregor, one which would heap more derision on her if it was ever made known. She might not mention it, not even to Laurus, but what might Gregor say to his friends or at his club in London? He might laugh and talk about Lily’s morals being as clumsy as her dance steps. Such a story would ruin her reputation for good. She’d worried last night about Daisy’s behaviour reflecting badly on the Rutherfords. Her father had been right to scold her for it, especially since it was Lily’s behaviour which risked tainting them now.
* * *
Overhead, grey clouds began to blot out the blue sky which had greeted them this morning. There would be snowfall by this evening, nature’s decoration for the Rutherford ball. For now, ice clung to the bare branches of the trees and the top of the portico balustrade. Gregor paced back and forth across the cold stone, his boots crushing the ice as he moved, his leg a touch stiff this morning because of the cold and his exuberant dancing last night. Pygmalion sat inside at the window watching him, willing to remain his constant companion, but not loyal enough to wander too far from the hearth. Gregor didn’t blame the little creature. If he possessed any sense, he’d be inside too with a cup of tea instead of torturing himself out here in the frost.
The distant bells of the church began to toll, bringing Gregor to a halt. Church was over and soon the family would return to the house and their Christmas celebration. Their happiness would help lift the dreariness which had descended over him while he’d composed a letter to his estate manager, instructing the man to distribute the beef as Gregor had promised his tenants. Then, it’d taken time for the Rutherford’s butler to find a man willing to travel so far to deliver the missive on this festive day. A few pounds from Gregor’s pocket had at last persuaded a local farmer with no family to ride south to Marbrook Manor and undo the damage of Gregor’s absence.
Turning to make his way back across the portico, he vowed some day to see the kind of joy he experienced at Helkirk Place light up the halls of Marbrook Manor. There would be children to laugh and run through the halls like the ones did here, sons and daughters he would raise up to care for one another without fear of expressing it. They’d be kind to those around them and as full of life and love as a woman like Lily. He stopped at the far end, the image of Lily as a mother as startling as the scratch of Pygmalion’s paws against the glass urging him to come back inside. Gregor hadn’t come to Yorkshire with the intention of finding a wife, only forgiveness, yet the thought of pursuing the young lady with the eyes like coal and an open, welcoming nature warmed him more than his thick redingote. In the eagerness of her kisses he’d tasted her passion not for the Viscount Marbrook, but for Gregor, the soldier and the second son, and he didn’t want to let it go.
The image of her troubled face as he’d closed the bedroom door on her this morning rose up to disturb him. He wanted to enjoy again the lively woman from last night, the one who’d danced and laughed with him as he’d shrugged off the shadows of the last few years. He’d never experienced such freedom and mirth with anyone. He paused to take in the white-and-grey garden, wondering how different the last few years might have been if he’d defied his father, helped Lily to her feet, then stood beside her in her embarrassment and furthered the friendship they’d started.
As beautiful a fantasy as it was, he knew it would never have come to pass. His father would have seen to its end, one way or another, and at the time there was no way of knowing if he would survive France. Nor could he have imagined inheriting the title and the freedom it offered. With both in his possession, he was determined to not let the next few years slip away without Lily in his life.
The crunch of carriage wheels on gravel and the jangle of equipage carried through the chill air, announcing the return of the Rutherfords. Gregor stepped inside, pausing before the fire to warm his hands as he considered what to do next. Pygmalion watched him from his place on the hearthrug, the small bells on his collar tinkling each time he moved. Gregor could hardly rush down the hallway to greet Lily, not with her whole family watching. Perhaps she could be tempted out to the greenhouse and he might taste again her sweet lips. Or they could walk down the snow-covered lawn and engage in the lively sport which had sent her laughing over the garden path yesterday. Her bright smile and glittering eyes would drive back the blackness brought on by his mother’s callousness.
The twins’ voices filled the hall, joined by the noise of the adults and the patter of the dogs’ feet as they hurried down the stairs to meet their mistress. Gregor wanted to rush with them, but with measured steps made his way to the entrance hall, Pygmalion jingling at his side.
He spied Lily before she noticed him, watching in amazement as she pushed the red-velvet hood of her cloak off her hair. She adjusted a couple of pins holding the luscious mahogany curls against the back of her head, then turned, catching his eye from across the room. She didn’t smile as she had this morning, but appeared troubled, as if something had happened between their parting and this meeting. He thought of last night at dinner and wondered if someone had said something to her to dull the excitement of the morning.
Gregor exchanged Merry Christmas greetings with the other ladies and gentlemen as he pressed through the Rutherfords to reach her. She watched him with more anxiety than anticipation, and the gut feeling it was he and not her family which had brought about the change in her mood began to creep in beneath his desire to be near her. Then she flicked a glance at her second-eldest sister, the one Gregor knew the least. He dared to follow the line of her gaze, noting the wariness in Lady Winford’s eyes before the demands of her small daughter drew her attention away. When Gregor looked back, Lily was gone. He hurried to the front door to see her walking quickly down the drive and he dashed out into the chill to follow her.
‘Lily,’ he called when they were some way from the house.
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. He came to stand in front of her, the cloud of their breaths mingling in the crisp air between them. ‘What’s wrong?’
She drew the hood back over her hair, settling it just above her forehead so it framed her face. ‘Nothing is wrong, only the carriage was so crowded, I needed some fresh air.’
‘Then allow me to escort you in your walk.’
‘No.’ She looked back at the house, twisting her gloved hands in front of her before fixing him with a wan smile. ‘I’ll only be out here a moment. Father always likes me to help him oversee the last arrangements for the ball. He says I have a mind for organising things.’
Gregor laid one hand over hers, squeezing it gently. It was a bold move, especially here in the open where anyone upstairs might see them, but he couldn’t let her get away, not with such worry shadowing her. ‘Lily, please tell me what’s troubling you.’
She pressed her lips tight together, studying his face as though debating whether to trust him with her concerns. Then the hesitation fled, replaced by irritation, and she pulled away her hand. ‘Don’t be so intimate with me. Have you no care for my reputation?’
‘I care very much for it and you.’
‘If you did, then you wouldn’t have taken such liberties, not last night and not this morning.’ She stomped off down the drive and Gregor rushed to fall into step beside her, not caring for the cold or the way it cut through his coat.
‘Did someone see us? Did someone say something to you?’