Lily and the Lion (20 page)

Lily had said she would stay at Ashton House for a day or two if necessary to get Peter settled in. Julian determined that in that short amount of time he would try to make a little indentation on her heart and somehow prove to her that though he was a sinner and a cynic, he wasn't
all
bad!

CHAPTER TEN

L
ILY THOUGHT HER HEART
would explode. She had never felt so full of diverse feelings, and all of them bumping about inside of her, demanding to be understood and somehow acted upon. But Lily hadn't the slightest idea how to act upon feelings she'd never experienced before in her lifetime. For they all had to do with Julian, Lord Ashton, Lion of the ton, self-described sinner and cynic. In Lily's eyes, he was a man whose character was a delightful mixture of droll humour, practicality and an innate, empathetic love for and tolerance of the common man—and all this despite the tragedies he'd had to endure! But he saw himself quite differently.

Lily almost wished she shared the deprecating view he had of himself. Perhaps then she wouldn't see him as the perfect man. She was quite sure that in his eyes
she
was a perfect nuisance! If they were to marry-quite an absurd, wishful thought, of course!—she would be forever putting him in situations where he would be compelled to use that wonderful ability he possessed of mixing compassion with good sense to come up with a minor miracle. As in the case of Nort. But, at this point in his life, perhaps Lord Ashton had rather not be expected to create miracles on a daily basis. It would be too fatiguing.

Lily sighed and reached across the carriage to pet Sebastian, curled up at Peter's feet. The feline opened his slumberous eyes to narrow crescents and peered at her for a moment, then closed them again. Peter did not stir at all; he'd been asleep for the past hour. With dusk fast approaching, they were within easy distance of Ashton House.

As she leaned forward, she heard Lord Ashton shift a little in his seat. She could feel his eyes upon her like burning coals, but she dared not return his look for fear of exposing her yearning to be held in his arms and to have his lips pressed to hers. Oh, dear,
what
would Papa say of such intemperate thoughts? But a part of her knew that her mother had probably felt— and still felt—those identical yearnings for her father. It was a natural consequence of falling in love. There, she'd admitted it. She was in love.

"We have arrived."

Lily started and turned towards Lord Ashton, thankful of the gathering shadows which must be obscuring her face just as effectively as they obscured the viscount's. He was a grey blur in a dark high-crowned beaver, his striking features indistinct, but he still exuded a vital presence. "We have?" was her intelligent reply.

"Yes, in about two minutes we'll turn in at the lodge gates. I wish it were lighter outside so that you could see better. The countryside round and about Ashton House is beautiful."

"I'm sure it is," Lily murmured. She turned again to look out her window and saw inky outlines of tree branches against a pinkish-grey sky. Then, on the right side of the road, a tall lodge tower emerged from the twilight gloom. The gate was open and they turned neatly in, but the sway of the carriage awakened Peter.

As if he knew exactly where they were, Peter quickly became alert and sat up, nudging Sebastian gently out of the way as he swung his legs to the floor. "We're here!" he stated in a voice vibrating with suppressed excitement. "I think I can smell the Christmas punch already!"

Lord Ashton laughed. "Then you're still asleep, Peter! We've only just turned in at the gates and are going down the avenue. Look!"

Peter needed no further encouragement. He pushed his face as close as possible to the carriage window glass and stared out. "Dear, dear, Ashton House!" he said fondly. "How good it is to see your lawns and gardens again, even though it is nearly dark outside and the middle of winter! During the war, I dreamed of Ashton House as much as I did my own estate in Derbyshire, Lily," Peter told her, turning with a boyish, confiding smile she could just barely see in the dim light from the window. "I spent many happy summers here mucking about the grounds and playing shuttlecock and battledore with the Cavendish twins, Lucinda and Lizzy. Are they still about, Julian?"

"Still about and still unmarried," Lord Ashton replied drily. "Most probably nursing their tendres for you, Peter.'' Lord Ashton spoke into the darkness in the general direction of Lily. "They were both of them in love with him, you see."

"Were they indeed?" Lily said, interested and happy to have something to talk about that would divert her from her own painful musings. "Are they nice girls, Peter?"

"Better than 'nice!' They're
jolly
girls, and pretty, too!" Peter answered emphatically. "Almost as good as a regular chum, since they're not averse to a little horseplay!"

"His mama and I expected him to hang up the ladle with one of them, but it seemed he could never make up his mind between the two," Julian further explained.

"It wasn't at all a
settled
thing, you know," Peter defended himself. "And now they are going on to three-and-twenty. Positively on the shelf! I hope I may not have been the reason for
that!
Either of them would have made a fine wife, but I wasn't ready to marry then. However, now that the war's over and I've seen a bit of the world, the idea of settling down to one woman suits me just fine! Only, I don't think either Lizzie or Lucinda is the lady for me!" Even though she couldn't see it, Lily could feel Peter's meaningful look directed towards her.

Neither Lily nor Lord Ashton made a reply to Peter's admission. His infatuation with her troubled Lily all the more now that they were ending their journey, because he would probably do something idiotish like declare himself. She wished there was some way to discourage him without hurting him. But then she did not flatter herself to think the hurt would be of long duration, because she knew his affection for her was only a result of their necessary closeness over the past weeks and his gratitude to her for nursing him.

At that moment, Lily decided that for Peter's sake and for hers, she would leave Ashton House the very next morning. The longer she was in his company, the longer he would perhaps delude himself into thinking that they were destined to be together. And the longer she stayed near Lord Ashton, especially in the interesting and personal surroundings of his own home, the more she would become besotted with him.

She could discuss Peter's health with his mother; and certainly Mrs. Wendover, and the many servants at her disposal, could give Peter all the attention he required.

The avenue curved in front of the house, and Lily looked up at a massive stone building with steep gables and tall windows, all of which seemed to be aglow with welcoming candlelight. The snow had pretty much melted, or perhaps Hampshire had not been as inundated by the wet, white precipitation as had the more easterly counties. Their arrival was anticipated, for as soon as they came to a full stop in front of the entrance, they could see that the main door was open wide and several people were staring out. Then one small female figure detached itself from the crowd and ran down the steps. It had to be Peter's mother.

Peter was trembling with expectation by now and he tried to stand up and exit the carriage on his own. Lord Ashton quickly caught him at the elbow and helped him descend the carriage steps, there to be clasped about the waist and squeezed with as much might as Mrs. Wendover could muster.

"Peter! Oh, Peter! I've missed you so!" she exclaimed tearily, pressing her face into the crumpled folds of his neckcloth.

Peter laughed softly and gazed down fondly at his mother's charmingly capped head, patting that confection of lace and muslin with a tender hand. "No more than I've missed you, Mama!"

"Come, Winny, let's get Peter inside and settled on a sofa by the fire," Lord Ashton interjected, probably concerned that he might collapse on the flagstones and mortify himself. "Then you may fuss over him as much as you like!"

Recalled at once to her motherly duties, Winny wiped her eyes and released her loving stranglehold of Peter, laughing self-consciously. "Oh, dear, yes! Come inside at once!"

So far on their trip, Peter had only walked twice unassisted into the inns they'd stopped at for rest and refreshment, allowing himself to be carried all the other times. But Lily knew—and so, apparently, did Lord Ashton—that Peter would not allow himself to be carried into this particular establishment for all the King's jewels. He undoubtedly wished to show his mama, and all the servants who had gathered in the main hall to welcome him, that he was in fine fettle.

Lily stationed herself to one side of Peter and Julian on the other, lending an arm unobtrusively, allowing Peter to lean on them as he had the need. They walked up the steps and into the hall in this manner, Peter sometimes weaving a bit, other times leaning heavily, once in a while managing a strutting step or two quite without assistance. Lily was proud of his courage and determination. She had no doubt that Peter would recover completely.

The servants smiled and bade Peter respectful "How do you dos," but Lily could see the affection brimming in their eyes, especially from the older servants who must have watched Peter playing battledore and shuttlecock on the front lawn with the Cavendish twins. Peter greeted them by name and grinned as he slowly made his way to the drawing-room. Mrs. Wendover fluttered about like a protective mother hen, her smile sometimes faltering as she observed her son's weakness and his emaciated body. But she remained obstinately cheerful and seemed determined to show Peter nothing but the most optimistic face.

Pleshy and Janet were amongst the crowd of happy servants congregated in the entrance hall, standing close together and beaming. Lily thought it telling that they still seemed a "pair," even with so many other people around. Apparently what had started as a forced togetherness was being continued by them on a perfectly willing basis. Lily dreaded the expedient of having to wrench Janet away from her beloved Pleshy to return to Whitfield on the morrow.

Belle, in a fresh round gown, spanking-clean apron and fetching mob-cap, already blended in quite well with the Ashton servants and appeared to have been readily accepted by them.

At last Peter was on the sofa with a coverlet and a pillow, and with Sebastian, the living hot brick, cuddled against his feet. Peter's face shimmered with perspiration from his efforts and he looked very pale. But the warm, cheerfully bedecked room seemed to help him recover quickly, and after a drink of watered wine and a pastry of mincemeat, he looked much refreshed.

Finally Peter's mother could relax, and she turned to Lily with a smile and extended her hand, saying warmly, "Well, now that we're settled in a little, we can be properly introduced, Miss Clarke! I hope you do not mind my rudeness in quite ignoring you till now, but I was sure you'd agree with me that we must attend to Peter first."

"Indeed, I agree with you completely, Mrs. Wen-dover," Lily replied graciously.

"You must call me Winny," said Mrs. Wendover, gesturing for Lily to sit down in a comfortable-looking wing chair by the sofa. The furniture was arranged in a cosy circle about the fireplace. "All my friends call me Winny, and you, Miss Clarke, must allow me to count you as a friend. I can never, ever thank you sufficiently for taking such excellent care of my son!"

"Then you must call me Lily," she returned, sitting down. Her coat and bonnet had been taken from her by a servant in the hall as she'd entered, and she felt as though she must look a sight with her wrinkled blue kerseymere dress and flyaway hair. But "Winny's" warm smile and friendly manner made her forget her state of disarray—almost. Considering th6 long day they'd had, Lord Ashton still looked posy-fresh, and she was sure
she
looked a fright by comparison. He stood behind Winny's chair, which was opposite Lily's, leaning on the back in a brotherly fashion.

Lord Ashton looked very much at home in the elegant, but inviting drawing-room. Most of the furnishings were made of warm cherrywood, the wall tapestries were rich but not ostentatious, and pictures of pleasant country landscapes hung here and there. Lily liked the room very much and admired the good taste of its owner. She sighed and wished he weren't so very wonderful in every respect.

"You are tired, Miss Clarke?" Julian suggested, his keen eyes affixed to Lily. He had observed her every look and mannerism since she'd entered his house. He had caught her little sigh. She displayed a kind of quiet meekness which seemed out of character for her. He hoped she was not intimidated by Ashton House. Certainly Winny couldn't have made her feel shy, for his sister was all amiability and friendliness. Perhaps she
was
just fatigued.

Lily lifted her eyes to his and a shock of awareness trembled in the air between them. She quickly looked down, saying, "I suppose I
am
a
little tired."

"Then you must by all means go to bed directly after dinner," admonished Winny, standing up abruptly. "Of course you will wish to freshen up before we dine. I'll have Beedle fetch Julian's capable housekeeper, Mrs. Strand. She'll show you to your bedchamber. I'm sure by now your abigail—Janet, is it?—will have pressed and laid out a change of clothes for you. She's a delightful young woman and has made quite an impression on the other servants already, so Beedle tells me!"