Page 11 of The Valentine Skates

“Why? Why would I see Frederick?” Lili’s words were harsher than she’d intended.

“Well, youarewalking all that way, disguised, just to see his child, and protect both of them from gossip.” She took a small sip from her steaming cup and then set it back down. “I assumed your paths would cross occasionally?”

Later, she’d wonder why, and berate herself for being weak, but in that moment, she could no longer hide her misery and collapsed weeping into Helena’s open arms.

Frederick had ridden Rowan as far as the outskirts of London, and then had put him up in the mews of a comfortable inn. He didn’t want to inflict the wild sights and sounds of the city on his poor, tired mount. He hired a hack to take him as far as St. James Square before alighting in the dusk just as the lamplighter was making his way around the square.

He walked the rest of the way and was greeted by Howick’s butler, Hamish, when he knocked at the door of their imposing townhouse at the far end of the square.

Howick kept his desk in his second-floor library where a cozy fire sputtered in the grate. Although it was a hot London night outside Howick House, somehow the fire felt right with the marble floors and high, carved ceilings.

“Where the devil have you been keeping yourself, Meredith?” Howick rose and met him halfway, giving him a solid handshake and indicating one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace. “Care for a brandy before you tell me what is so serious to drag you into London at the height of the growing season in Surrey?”

Frederick had been so sure of the right of forging his way to London and pleading Lili’s plight with her brother. But now that he was in the marquess’s library and the man’s searing gaze had him snared like a rabbit in a fox’s deadly glare, he was no longer so sure. Although he waved away the offer of brandy, Howick did substantial pours for each of them.

“Saints preserve us. Out with it, man.” He paused a few seconds more in light of Frederick’s silence. “Surely it can’t be that bad. Some of my stock wandered into one of your meadows and your men butchered it by mistake? Or maybe one those cantankerous bulls of mine got loose and ruined a field of flax?” Howick handed him his glass.

“It’s…it’s about Lili.” Frederick set the glass down on a small table between the two chairs and nearly choked in the effort to say what he must without losing his nerve.

The look of sadness that passed across Howick’s face conveyed more than words could pay justice to the situation they had to discuss. “I knew this moment would come, but I’ve tried to tell myself she was happy shut away from the world.”

“Lili’s a beautiful, caring woman who deserves a life of her own.” Frederick dropped his head. “I want to make her happy, but she won’t let me.” He paused a moment, and Howick sat before shifting uncomfortably. He pointed to the opposite chair with a look that brooked no disagreement. Frederick collapsed his tall frame onto the chair next to him.

After a few half-hearted sips at her tea, Lili retired to her writing table in the sitting room in her bedchamber. She’d send Emily a note thanking her for the watercolor, and then she’d send Frederick a second note. Would he mind if she took Emily in her carriage to see all the new lambs frolicking in the fields with their mothers at Weyford? She’d cover his daughter carefully with blankets and make sure she didn’t take her away on a day her grandfather, the vicar, would be visiting. She swiped at more tears rolling down her cheek. God, she thought she’d cried herself out to Helena. She’d turned into a watering pot.

She wasn’t sure when Frederick would return from Guildford after negotiating with the intermediaries there for sale of his lavender, but surely he’d get the note in a day or two. After their heated encounter in the woods along the towpath, she’d not been in a mood to linger. He’d climbed back onto Rowan’s saddle and had cantered forward to catch up to the lavender-filled barge while she’d plodded on toward Guildford, alone.

Now, in her room, writing by candlelight and listening to the sounds of the summer night outside her window, she regretted not completing their lovemaking. The memory tore at her gut like a jagged piece of glass. Would she never be whole again?

She’d yearned to peel off each piece of Frederick’s clothing while she touched his body in all the ways she’d been taught to please a man in the Dey’s harem. There were so many things she wanted to share with him, but for the rest of her life, all she would be able to do would be to think of the beloved planes of his face and those of his body she imagined in her dreams. She knew in her heart the offer she’d flung at him before she left him on the towpath, would never be accepted. Frederick Meredith was an honorable man.

He’d never take her to his bed unless she was his wife. Unless…unless she could convince him there was no other way.

Chapter Seven

A Way Forward

Frederick rode briskly alongthe canal towpath leading back to Wembledon and Weyford. He did not relish the talk he would have to have with Lili, but he and his mount, Rowan, were both eager to get back to the safety and comfort of the Weyford stables.

He had to agree with the sense of the way forward proposed by Lili’s brother, Howick. The return to society which she dreaded was a two-edged sword. The leaders of thetonwho could destroy her were the same high-in-the-instep ladies who could just as easily choose to defend and elevate her.

If Lady Lilianne Howick’s mother, the dowager Marchioness of Howick, could persuade her highly placed friends to support her daughter in her return to society after an absence of four years, then there might be a slim chance for her acceptance, and Emily’s, once Lili was his wife. And shewouldbe his wife. That was the one thing of which Frederick was certain.

The love he felt for Lili was like the beacon of a lighthouse. When seen from seaward during a storm, the light might waver with the turbulent waves between the ship and the shore, but the beacon was still there, bright and strong through the night.

The closer he came to Guildford, the more he realized he could not pass by the house where the woman he loved abided. He couldn’t wait until the following morning to tell her how he and her brother had decided on a plan to smooth the way for her acceptance back into the bosom of Mayfair society.

The hazy afternoon sun warmed him, a contrast to the crisp bite of the late July breeze. It was the sort of day when one could be forgiven for believing anything might be possible. A hollow thump in his gut reminded him the probability was small that everything would go their way, but they had to try.

The most difficult part of setting the plan in motion would be convincing Lili of the wisdom of returning to the same circle of societal forces who had eviscerated her four years earlier. And then there were the vile cartoonists and gossip sheets. They might resurrect their earlier vicious attacks for profit.

Was her love as strong as his? Would she be willing to sacrifice her peace and anonymity to make him and Emily her family? There was only one way to find out. He dismounted and looped Rowan’s reins through the post outside the tiny Guildford cottage belonging to Lili’s former governess, Helena Kittredge.

Lili heard the firm rap at the cottage door but decided to let her lady’s maid, Margaret, receive the visitor. Although she had a pretty good idea of the identity of the caller. She’d heard the clopping of Rowan’s hooves from the moment Frederick turned down their street.

She drew a golden length of embroidery thread through the center of a daisy she was stitching to decorate a pillow covering as a surprise for Helena. Stuffing the project into a basket next to her chair, she rose to greet the man she’d been thinking of ever since they’d parted that fateful day on the towpath.

“How did you fare with your lavender crop in London?”