Then Came You

  It was pleasant to have him praise her accomplishments, and she was gratified by his respect for her opinions. She even enjoyed the way he provoked her at times, spurring her into unladylike behavior and then mocking her for it. But there were other times when he disconcerted her by treating her like a rare, easily bruised flower. Some evenings when she was in the bath, he would wash her hair and dry her with soft towels as if she were a child, and rub perfumed oil over her body until her skin glowed.

  Lily had never been so thoroughly indulged and spoiled in her life. After years of fending for herself, it was a constant surprise to have someone take her side in all things. She had only to wish aloud for something and it was hers, whether it was more horses in the stable, tickets for the theatre, or just the comfort of being held by him. When she had nightmares, he awakened her with kisses and soothed her back to sleep in his arms. When she sought to please him in bed, he was lovingly patient as he guided her in erotic lessons that aroused and fulfilled them both. His love-making was infinitely varied, ranging from savage plundering to gentle seduction that took hours to unfold. Whatever his mood, she was always left completely satisfied. Day by day he was stripping away her defenses, leaving her soft, open, and frighteningly vulnerable. Yet she was happier than she had ever thought she could be.

  Alex could change from arrogance to gentleness in the blink of an eye, luring her to confide private things she had never thought anyone would want to know about her. He saw through her with terrifying clarity, understanding the shyness beneath her facade. Countless times she was tempted to tell him about Nicole, but she held back in fear. The time with him was becoming too precious. She couldn’t lose him yet.

  She waited in vain for word from Giuseppe, warning Burton privately to bring her any messages from him. Although she had considered the idea of rehiring the Leary officer, Mr. Knox, to look for Nicole, she was afraid he might inadvertently jeopardize her chances of regaining her daughter. All she could do was wait. Sometimes the strain caused her to lash out irritably at those around her, even at Alex. On one occasion he responded with a sharpness that nearly moved her to tears, and they had a bitter argument. She was hardly able to meet his eyes the next morning, embarrassed by her outburst. She was also afraid that he would demand an explanation for her unreasonable behavior. Instead Alex behaved as if nothing had happened, his manner gentle and warm. Lily realized that he made allowances for her that he would make for no one else. He was the kind of husband she had never imagined existed—generous, quick to forgive, concerned more for her needs than his own.

  But as she discovered, Alex did have his faults. He was overprotective and jealous, scowling at any man he perceived to be staring at his wife too closely or taking her hand too long. It amused Lily, his attitude that every man in London must be lusting after her. He took special pains to warn her away from his own cousin, Roscoe Lyon, who made charmingly outrageous overtures to her every time they met. At a magnificent ball they attended, Ross made her laugh by seizing her hand and bestowing a multitude of kisses on the back, as if he were a starving fox in the company of a delectable hen. “Lady Raiford,” he sighed eloquently, “your beauty is so luminous that we have no need of moonlight. It fairly humbles me.”

  “I’ll humble you,” Alex interrupted grimly, retrieving his wife’s hand in short order.

  Ross encompassed Lily with a beguiling smile. “He doesn’t trust me.”

  “Neither do I,” she murmured.

  He affected a wounded look. “All I wish for is a waltz with you, madam,” he protested, and added with a seductive grin, “I’ve never danced with an angel before.”

  “She’s promised this one to me,” Alex said darkly, and began to pull his wife away.

  “What of the next?” Ross called after them.

  Alex answered over his shoulder. “She’s promised all of them to me.”

  Laughing, Lily tried to warn him as he led her toward the waltzing couples. “Alex, there’s something I should tell you. Mother always tried to teach me to glide gracefully, but it was no use. She said my style of dancing is comparable to the romping of an unbroken horse.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “I promise you, it can!”

  Alex thought she was jesting, but to his amusement he discovered that it was true. It took all of his skill to restrain his athletic wife’s vigor upon the dance floor, not to mention several firm maneuvers to keep her from trying to lead. “Follow me,” he said, slowing his pace and guiding her through the steps.

  Despite the strong guidance of his hand, Lily kept moving in the wrong direction. “This might be easier if you just followed me,” she suggested impishly.

  He bent his head and whispered in her ear, telling her to think of the last time they made love. The unorthodox advice caused her to giggle, but as she stared into his eyes and concentrated on being together with him, it was suddenly easy to allow him full control of their movements. She relaxed enough to allow something approaching a glide. “Why, we’re very good at this!” she exclaimed. Grinning at her expression of pleased surprise, Alex claimed her for several more waltzes, causing more than a few raised eyebrows.

  It was unfashionable for a husband to dote openly on his wife, but Alex didn’t seem to care. Lily was amused by the sophisticated society women who mocked enviously behind their fans at the close attention Alex paid to her. Their own husbands spoke indifferently to them, if at all, and spent every night in their mistresses’ beds. To Lily’s surprise, even Penelope remarked on Alex’s possessiveness, declaring that Zachary never sought out her company the way Alex did with Lily.

  “What do you talk with him about all the time?” Penelope asked curiously during the intermission of the most recent play at Drury Lane. “What do you say that interests him so?” The two sisters stood together in a corner of the domed foyer on the first floor, fanning themselves. Before Lily could answer, they were joined by Lady Elizabeth Burghley and Mrs. Gwyneth Dawson, both of them respectable young matrons Lily had begun friendships with. Lily especially liked Elizabeth, who had a lively sense of humor.

  “I must hear the answer to this,” Elizabeth declared with a laugh. “All of us have been wondering how to keep our husbands planted firmly by our sides as Lily does. What do you say that he finds so enthralling, dear?”

  Lily shrugged, glancing at Alex. He was standing with a group of men across the room, all of them involved in idle conversation. As if he felt her gaze, he glanced back at her and smiled slightly. She turned her attention back to the women. “We talk about everything,” she said with a grin. “Billiards, beeswax, and Bentham. I never hesitate to give him my opinion, even when he doesn’t like it.”

  “But we shouldn’t talk to men about politicians such as Mr. Bentham,” Gwyneth said, puzzled. “That’s what they have their friends for.”

  “It seems I’ve made yet another faux pas,” Lily said with a laugh, pretending to cross the subject off an invisible list. “No more improper discussions of politicians.”

  “Lily, don’t change a thing,” Elizabeth hastened to tell her, her eyes twinkling. “It’s clear Lord Raiford likes things just as they are. Perhaps I should ask my husband his opinions of beeswax and Mr. Bentham!”

  Smiling, Lily let her gaze wander over the crowd in the foyer once more. She was startled by a glimpse of inky black hair, a flash of familiar features. A shudder of uneasiness went through her. Blinking hard, she searched again for the vision, but it was gone. She felt a soft hand on her arm.

  “Lily?” Penelope questioned. “Is something wrong?”

  Chapter 12

  Lily continued to stare absently at the crowd. Recovering herself, she pasted a smile on her face and shook her head. It couldn’t have been Giuseppe. Over the course of the past years he had become too seedy to mingle in a gathering such as this. Aristocratic bloodlines or not, he wouldn’t be allowed to associate with the guests in here, only with the lower classes outside. “No, Penny, it’s nothing. I t
hought I saw a familiar face.”

  She managed to dispel the dark feeling enough to enjoy the rest of the performance, but she was definitely relieved when it was over. Reading the expression on her face, Alex refused several invitations to gather with friends after the play, and he took Lily back to Swans’ Court.

  Lily stared hard at Burton as he welcomed them inside and took Alex’s gloves and hat. It was the same look she gave him whenever she asked if a particular message had arrived for her that day. In response to her silent question, Burton shook his head slightly. The negative motion sent her heart plummeting. She didn’t know how much more she could take, how many more silent nights of waiting for news of her daughter.

  Although Lily made an effort to chat lightly about the play, Alex sensed her bleak mood. She asked for brandy, but he told the maid to bring up a glass of hot milk instead. Lily frowned at him but didn’t argue. After downing the milk, she undressed and climbed into bed, nestling in Alex’s arms. He kissed her, and she pressed against him willingly, but for the first time she couldn’t respond when he made love to her. Gently he asked what was wrong, but she shook her head. “I’m tired,” she whispered apologetically. “Please just hold me.” Alex relented with a sigh, and she rested her head on his shoulder, desperately willing sleep to come.

  The image of her daughter floated around her, dancing before her in darkness and mist. Lily cried out her name and reached for her, but she was always a few steps away, just out of her grasp. Eerie laughter echoed around her, and she recoiled from an evil, mocking whisper. “You’ll never have her…never…never…”

  “Nicole,” she called out in despair. She ran faster, her arms outstretched, she stumbled and fought against vines that crept around her legs, pulling her down, keeping her from moving. Sobbing with anger, she screamed out for her daughter, and then she heard a child’s frightened wail.

  “Mama…”

  “Lily.” A calm, quiet voice cut through the mist and darkness. She swayed dizzily, flailing with her arms. Suddenly Alex was there, holding her steady. She relaxed and leaned against him, breathing unevenly. It had been a nightmare. Pressing her ear against his solid chest, she listened to the strong beat of his heart. As she blinked and wakened fully, she realized they weren’t in bed. They were standing by the wrought-iron balustrade at the top of a long flight of stairs. She exclaimed softly, her brow furrowing. She had been sleepwalking again.

  Alex tilted her head back with his hand. His face was remote, his voice almost detached. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he said flatly. “I found you at the top of the stairs. You almost fell. What were you dreaming about?”

  It wasn’t fair of him, asking questions when he knew she was disoriented. Lily tried to dispel the grogginess that still clung to her. “I was trying to reach something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” she said unhappily.

  “I can’t help you if you won’t trust me,” he said with quiet intensity. “I can’t protect you from shadows, or keep you safe from dreams.”

  “I’ve told you everything…I…I don’t know.”

  There was a long silence. “Have I ever mentioned,” he said coldly, “how much I hate being lied to?”

  She averted her gaze, looking at the carpet, the wall, the door, anywhere but his face. “I’m sorry.” She wanted him to hold and cuddle her as he always did after her bad dreams. She wanted him to make love to her, so that for a little while she could forget everything but the powerful warmth of him inside her. “Alex, take me back to bed.”

  With impersonal gentleness, he eased her away and turned her in the direction of the bedroom. “Go on. I’m going to stay up for a while.”

  She was surprised by his refusal. “And do what?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Read. Drink. I don’t know yet.” He went downstairs without looking back at her.

  Lily wandered to the bedroom and crawled beneath the rumpled covers, feeling guilty and annoyed and worried. She buried her head in a pillow, making a new discovery about herself. “You may hate being lied to, my lord,” she muttered, “but not half as much as I hate going to bed alone!”

  The slight chill between them persisted the next day. Lily took her morning ride in Hyde Park without him, accompanied by a groom. Later she busied herself with correspondence, a chore she detested. There were piles of calling cards, announcing at-home times at which she would be welcome to call, and lightly penciled requests for when she planned to receive visitors. There was a stack of invitations to balls, dinners, and musical evenings. They had been asked to join the Clevelands in Shropshire for autumn grouse shooting, to stay at the Pakingtons’ shooting lodge on the moors, and to visit friends in Bath. Lily was at a loss to know how to respond to the requests. How could she accept invitations for a future she wouldn’t be part of? It was tempting to let herself pretend she would always be with Alex, but glumly she reminded herself that it would all end someday.

  Putting the invitations aside, Lily shuffled through a sheaf of paper on Alex’s desk. He had penned a few notes that morning, before leaving at midday to attend some meeting concerning parliamentary reform. She smiled as her eyes moved across his decisive handwriting—strong, bold marks made with a forward slant. Idly she read a letter he had addressed to one of his estate agents, declaring his wish that the tenants be allowed multiyear leases that would be more beneficial to them instead of the more expensive yearly tenancies. Alex had also instructed the agent to install new ditching and fencing on the land at his own expense. Thoughtfully Lily set the letter down and smoothed the corner with her fingertip. From what she knew of most wealthy landlords’ selfish greed, she was aware that Alex’s sense of honor and fairness were rare. Another letter caught her eye, and she skimmed over it quickly.

  …regarding your new tenant, I will assume responsibility for all of Pokey’s monthly expenses for the duration of the animal’s lifetime. If any particular item for his diet is required, please inform me and I will do what is necessary to ensure a steady supply. With all assurance and respect for your excellent care of him, occasionally I would like to visit and ascertain the bear’s condition myself…

  Lily smiled thoughtfully, recalling the scene a few days ago when they had gone to Raiford Park to send Pokey to his new home. Henry had sat in front of the cage in the garden all morning, looking as dejected as the servants were relieved.

  “Must we give him away?” Henry had asked when Lily came out to join him. “Pokey’s no trouble at all—”

  “He’ll be so much happier at his new home,” Lily replied. “No more chains. Lord Kingsley described the pen they’ve constructed for him, cool and shady, with a little stream running through it.”

  “I guess he’ll like that better than a cage,” Henry conceded, rubbing and scratching the bear’s head. Sighing peacefully, Pokey closed his eyes.

  Suddenly they were interrupted by Alex’s quiet voice. “Henry. Get away from that cage—slowly. And if I catch you with him again, I’ll thrash you until your experiences at Westfield are a pleasant memory by comparison.”

  Henry stifled a grin and obeyed at once. Lily also repressed the urge to smile. As far as she could tell, Henry had been threatened with dire beatings for years, and so far his older brother hadn’t once laid a finger on him.

  “He’s not dangerous at all,” Henry mumbled. “He’s a nice bear, Alex.”

  “That ‘nice bear’ could take your arm off with one snap of his jaws.”

  “He’s tame and too old to be a threat.”

  “He’s an animal,” Alex replied flatly. “One that’s been subject to mistreatment from humans. And it doesn’t matter that he’s old. As you’ll eventually learn, boy, age does little to soften anyone’s temperament. Think of your Aunt Mildred, for example.”

  “But Lily pets the bear,” Henry protested. “I saw her do it this morning.”

  “Turncoat,” Lily muttered, giving him a damning glare. “I’ll remember this, Hen
ry!” She faced Alex with apologetic smile, but it was too late.

  “You’ve been petting that damn animal?” he asked, advancing on her. “After I made it clear that you were not to go near him?”

  Pokey lifted his head with a grumbling whine as he watched them.

  “But Alex,” she said contritely, “I was feeling sorry for him.”

  “In a minute you’re going to be feeling sorrier for yourself.”

  Lily grinned into his stern face and made a sudden dodge to the left. Catching her easily, he swung her in the air, and she shrieked with laughter. Alex lowered her to the ground, clasping her snugly against his body. His gray eyes flickered with amusement as he stared at his rebellious wife. “I’ll teach you what it means to disobey me,” he growled, and kissed her in front of Henry.

  Remembering it now, Lily finally understood the feeling that had rushed over her that day, the feeling that had taken root with startling insistence and permanence since the first moment she had met him. “God help me,” she whispered. “I do love you, Alex.”

  Lily dressed with care for the ball they were attending that night, a celebration of Lady Lyon’s sixty-fifth birthday. There would be six hundred guests, many of them coming from their summer estates in the country for the occasion. Knowing that speculative gazes might turn her way, Lily decided to wear a new gown from Monique’s, modest but delicately beautiful. The garment, with all its intricate stitchery, had taken days of ceaseless labor by two of Monique’s talented assistants. It was made a filmy material of the palest pink, thickly embroidered with gold. The layered skirts of the gown, cut long enough to form a slight train, seemed to float behind her as she walked.