A Lord's Dream (A Lord's Kiss Book 3) Page 3

  Her father didn’t ask why she now chose the front parlor over the library. Her mother only shrugged when she cried off dances, the theater and dinner parties. Liza was misery itself, and no one seemed to notice, let alone care. It seemed as if Lord Thomas’s abandonment signaled to the world that they should cast her aside, leave her alone.

  Finally, no longer able to bear the strange limbo Lord Thomas had created, Liza returned to the library to seek her father. She found him at the same table he and Lord Thomas always used. He was attempting to draw a perfect heptadecagon with only a compass and a straightedge. He was calm, composed, and looked up with a cheerful smile to greet her. How she wanted to snatch his work from him and tear it into a thousand little pieces.

  “Papa,” she greeted in as normal a tone as she could muster. She closed the library door behind her.

  “Liza, I think I have it.” He grinned at her. “This will show Thomas.”

  She started at Lord Thomas’s name. She rushed across the room to her father. “Where is Lord Thomas? He hasn’t been to see you in ages.”

  Her father shrugged. “Said he’s working on a project.”

  “A project?” How could some project be more important than her? Her stomach roiled at the realization that his so-called project must be an excuse to stay away. She grasped the back of a chair, her knees weak.

  Her father returned his attention to the page before him. “A project.”

  “I see,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes. She whirled and walked to the shelves on shaky legs. If her father saw her tears, he would demand to know what had upset her, and Liza couldn’t tell him the truth. If Papa knew she’d kissed Lord Thomas, he would force them to wed. Liza didn’t want a man forced to have her, especially not one whose happiness she cared about more than her own. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  Behind her, the library door opened. Liza tried to stem her tears.

  “Ah, there you are,” her father said. “It is time?”

  “It is,” Lord Thomas said.

  Liza spun at the sound of his voice. He strode across the room toward her. He stopped inches from her, his expression stunned. Behind him, her father wore a ridiculous grin.

  “You’re crying.” Worry draped his beloved face.

  “No,” she lied. Tears slid down her cheeks.

  He brushed her tears away, looking at her with warm, concerned eyes. “Why are you crying?”

  “You said… and we… and then you never came back.” Her voice was thick with grief.

  Lord Thomas captured her hand in his, but turned to her father. “You didn’t tell her?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Wanted it to be a surprise.” Her father’s foolish grin didn’t waver, despite her tears.

  “But she’s crying.”

  Lord Thomas put enough reprimand into those words to make Liza’s eyes go wide. No one spoke to her papa like that.

  Her father’s affable expression didn’t falter. “She’ll stop soon enough. Go on now.”

  “I don’t understand.” Liza made the words a plea. Why was her father so cheerful? What hadn’t he told her, and where had Lord Thomas been?

  “Come with me.” Lord Thomas exerted gentle pressure on the hand he held.

  Baffled, but bolstered by the warmth of his hand and her father’s cheer, Liza let Lord Thomas lead her from the library. He didn’t relinquish her hand, nor did she wish him to. He took her through the house, to the foyer, and out the door.

  He kept up the pace across the street, where his butler waited, door already open. Liza was aware of gawking passersby, but then they crossed the threshold and entered Lord Thomas’s home. It was brightly lit, as lovely as she remembered from her few brief visits, and he was headed toward the ballroom.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, breathless from his rapid pace.

  “You will see.”

  Liza couldn’t recall the exact layout of Lord Thomas’s home, but as they neared the ballroom, the hall took a turn she was sure hadn’t been there. It ended at a set of double doors, thrown wide. He led her through them, and into a grand, two-story-tall library.

  She craned her neck, looking up, and around. Book-lined shelves soared toward the ceiling. The second level was ringed with a walkway. Evening sunlight filtered through tall windows. Soft carpets covered the floor. Plush couches and chairs were arranged in small groups, candlelight on every table.

  There had not been a library there before, that much she knew. This was, “Impossible,” she breathed.

  “Not impossible,” Lord Thomas said. “If you ask it, I’ll turn the entire house into a library.”

  Her eyes sought his as he dropped to one knee before her. Tears threatened once more, this time from joy. Lord Thomas clasped her hands in his.

  “Liza Milton, will you marry me?”

  Epilogue

  Liza turned in a slow circle in the middle of the library, taking in the ribbons, silk bunting and elaborate flower arrangements. That morning, the room had been alive with their friends and family as she and Thomas made their vows. Now, both sun and candles bathed the library in less festive but more mysterious light.

  Behind her, the doors clicked closed and she turned. Thomas, impeccable save for the disarray of his hair, strode across the room to join her.

  “I still can’t believe you built this for me.” She smoothed his hair back into place, more for the excuse to touch him than to tame the velvety soft locks.

  “It was your only requirement in a husband.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Her flesh tingled where his mouth touched her. “I could have offered you wealth and a title, but all you asked for was a library, the one thing I didn’t have.”

  “I also asked for someone kind and handsome,” she teased. “You’re undeniably handsome, but it wasn’t kind to leave me with no notion why you disappeared.”

  “That was your father’s doing.” Thomas spoke with mild asperity. In the weeks that led to their wedding, he hadn’t forgiven her father for making her cry. “He was meant to tell you I’d asked for your hand.”

  “Well, I know now.” Which was all that mattered.

  “Yes, you know now.” He kissed the inside of her wrist.

  Liza’s eyes drifted closed as she drank in the warm press of his lips. She opened them again, unable to resist the beauty of the room. Her room. Her library, festooned for their wedding. It would never look so lovely again. She sighed.

  “Missing your wedding day already?” he asked. He placed a kiss on the inside of her forearm. A shiver raced up her arm.

  “I want to fix today firmly in my mind, to cherish forever.”

  He looked around. She noticed how his gaze lingered on the beautifully bound works of Shakespeare he’d purchased and given over several shelves to. He brought his attention back to her face.

  “Do you know the doors to our library lock?” he asked.

  Liza tilted her head to one side. “I never gave it a thought.”

  “I did.” To her surprise, he scooped her effortlessly into his arms. “And I used those locks after I entered.”

  Liza’s eyed flew wide as she guessed his intension. “Thomas,” she gasped.

  “You may have the room decorated like this as often as you like, my love,” he said. “But I’ve watched you for years, dreaming of that night in the library, and I have my own ideas of how to make our wedding day one you shall never forget.”

  Scandalized as she was, Liza couldn’t help but laugh. Surely it was true. Her wedding day would burn forever bright in her memory.

  ###

  A sneak peek at Deceived by a Lord

  Chapter One

  Tilly knew it was wrong, knew she should try to change her feelings, but she hated her older sister Prudence. The only good thing about Prudence was that she’d married a year and a half ago and her husband, Lord Erwin, had decided she should spend time overseeing charitable works around his country seat. The
day Lord Erwin had Prudence carted off to the country was the happiest of Tilly’s life.

  No more Prudence being prettier, blonder, less freckled, and better at every task put before her. No more Prudence to sabotage Tilly’s happiness and mock her every decision. No more Prudence at all, except in letters Tilly didn’t read.

  Until now. In celebration of Tilly’s coming out, Prudence had returned to London. For a month. Which ought to give her plenty of opportunity to ruin the most important event in Tilly’s life. Not that she hadn’t already. In view of Prudence’s cruel treatment of just about every young lady in London, no one trusted Tilly enough to befriend her.

  Midmorning sunlight bathed the small parlor in which Tilly sat with her mother, Prudence and their elderly neighbor, Missus Clarke. While they chatted, Tilly waged an internal battle not to glare at her sister over the top of the tiered dessert platter. Prudence acknowledged her forbearance with smug glances.

  Already, with Prudence in the room, Tilly was once more invisible. Their mother lavished attention on Prudence, her better-loved daughter. Tilly could have stood from the stiff settee and walked out of the room without her actions being noted. She could have gotten away with glaring, except that Prudence would turn their mother’s attention Tilly’s way the moment she let her bland expression falter.

  “Of course, I would wish to remain longer than a month, except for the attentions of my husband,” Prudence said in a dramatic whisper, just loud enough for Tilly to hear. “We aren’t together often, I know, but when we are, he lavishes me with affection. He quite wears me out.” She arched a delicate eyebrow.

  “So, all is well on that front?” their mother asked. “I don’t mean to pry, dear, but I have worried.”

  “There’s no need to fret, Mama.” Prudence adopted a haughty look. “I know how to manage a man.”

  “Oh, I do worry, too, dear,” Missus Clarke said. “He’s seen so often in the park in the company of that—”

  “Ah hem,” Mother cleared her throat, her expression warning as she nodded in Tilly’s direction.

  Apparently, Tilly had been remembered just in time to keep her from learning anything of interest.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Missus Clarke said. She smoothed her grey skirts and turned a frown upon Tilly. “I all but forgot you’re here, child. Why don’t you speak up on occasion? How will you ever learn to socialize?”

  Tilly set down her teacup, eager for the chance to speak. “In the company of whom? Whose company is Lord Erwin in?”

  “Don’t interrupt, Tilly,” Mother snapped.

  “Really, Tilly.” Prudence looked down her nose, a talent she’d mastered even though her stature forced her to look up to nearly everyone. “There are three married women here, and you are a not-quite-out miss. In such company, you should only speak when spoken to. I’d hoped to find your manners more improved in the months since my wedding.” She turned to their mother, letting out a sigh. “I’m so sorry for you, Mama, that you must labor against Tilly’s poor manners.”

  “She is a chore after you, dear, but she’ll improve with a little sternness.”

  “Now, now,” Missus Clarke said, “I think Tilly is quite lovely.”

  Tilly glared at her sister and picked up her teacup. Missus Clarke had spoken to her, and she wanted to know who her brother-by-marriage was going about the park with. Someone scandalous, if the white lines around Prudence’s mouth were any indication. She always clenched her smile when she was angry.

  “Mama, is this a new tea service?” Prudence asked brightly.

  Tilly let her mind wander as the three discussed fine china. She would never admit the fact, but she’d be hard pressed to pick Lord Erwin out of a group of gentlemen. She’d only seen him once, the day of Prudence’s and his wedding. She recalled he wasn’t very tall, or very comely, but his garments seemed expensive. Given how rarely her sister saw him, Tilly wondered if Prudence knew much more about him than she did.

  Taking another sip of tea, Tilly let her gaze wander past the three women to the window. The roses that climbed beside the leaded panes bobbed in a gentle breeze, petals bright against the blue sky and dark leaves without. Her gaze went beyond the roses to the garden swing that hung from a looming oak.

  Without Prudence there to tease her for being a child, Tilly loved to swing in the warm sun. It was invigorating, how the world rushed past, then back again. She imagined the sensation was like what a gentleman experienced when riding a horse. Though she couldn’t know, for she was made to ride sidesaddle at a walk.

  She brought her attention back to the tea setting, thoroughly bored. The three married women had their heads together now, whispering advice on how to keep a man’s attention where it belonged. Try as she might, she could only make out a few words murmured on the other side of the low table.

  “I said I have it in hand,” Prudence snapped, her angry tone rising above the whispers.

  Mother and Missus Clarke straightened. They exchanged a startled look. Missus Clarke shrugged.

  “Of course you do, dear,” Mother said. She helped herself to another sandwich.

  “Speaking of a wandering eye.” Missus Clarke reached for a slice of cake. “Your new neighbor, Lord James, has been in London for over a month now. Have you seen him? They say he’s even more handsome than reputed.”

  Tilly frowned. How could someone be rumored to be more handsome than they were rumored? She bit her tongue, knowing the reprimand such a question would bring.

  Prudence gave a disdainful sniff. “I spoke with him at the theatre last evening. Duke or not, he’s a rake. It’s a pity the old duke hadn’t a proper heir. Now we must all suffer a cad to take the title. Between us, we among the peerage are not overjoyed.”

  Tilly took another sip of tea to keep from rolling her eyes. Yes, Prudence was married to a baron and now wore gaudy, jewel spattered gowns, but that did not put her on level with a duke. Tilly was a bit jealous her sister had met Lord James, though. Their London homes shared a garden wall, but she had yet to set eyes on him. Prudence had not only seen him, but had been introduced.

  “Was he handsome, though, dear?” Missus Clarke asked.

  Prudence shrugged. “If you care for that sort of overdone, devil-may-care look and unfashionably dark attire. My Erwin would never be caught in anything so drab.” Prudence angled her nose farther into the air. “I’ll tell you one thing about him, he was quite rude.”

  Tilly sighed. There was another person who’d met Prudence before her. Another who would dislike Tilly by association.

  “Tilly, what did I tell you about sighing in company?” her mother snapped.

  Tilly blinked. Now she was noticed again? “Not to.”

  “That is correct.” Mother offered one of her more formidable frowns. “You can’t make proper conversation. You speak without being spoken to. Now, you have sighed. I think you must excuse yourself and go to your room. It’s time for you to consult your etiquette handbook once more. After Missus Clarke leaves, I shall examine you on it.”

  Tilly set down her tea and bounced to her feet in a rustle of rose-colored muslin. Finally, she was excused.

  “Oh no, Mama, I know you have more important concerns,” Prudence said. She cast Tilly a vindictive smirk. “I will examine Tilly on her manners.”

  Mother smiled at Prudence. “Thank you, dear. It a blessing to have a considerate daughter in the house again.” She turned back to Tilly with a shooing gesture. “Run along now, Tilly.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Tilly curtsied to Missus Clarke, who offered a grave nod. Ignoring Prudence’s smug expression, Tilly marched from the parlor.

  Chapter Two

  Tilly did not go to her room. It wasn’t as if her mother would check, after all. She may not even recall the command. Prudence surely would, but studying the etiquette handbook wouldn’t be of any use. Tilly already knew the book back to front. Prudence did as well, and would make up questions and situations that were impossible to resolve.

>   Taking advantage of her freedom, Tilly headed out into the garden. She forwent a shawl or bonnet. She knew the sun would bring out the freckles across her nose, but to confront a beautiful day swaddled like a porcelain figurine was criminal. All those layers of fabric ruined the enjoyment of being outdoors.

  After a reassuring glance through the parlor window at the backs of the three women’s heads, Tilly strode to the dappled sunlight under the great oak. She settled on the swing and kicked off, then pumped her legs until she’d worked up momentum. Green grass rushed past. Wind whipped her brown curls back from her face. She leaned back, hands clutching the ropes, and watched the tree branches speed by above.

  Unlike most days, the freedom of the swing didn’t conjure a smile. Not with her sister home. For a short while, Tilly’s curtsey had been good enough, her manners acceptable. Mother had taken her to be fitted for three new gowns, the first ones she’d ever owned that were not hand-me-downs. To have dresses that hadn’t been let down at the hem and taken in on top, a constant reminder that she was a second-rate daughter and a beanpole to Prudence’s petite, womanly figure, made Tilly feel pretty.

  “Why the frown, sweetling?” a man asked, voice warm and smooth. “Has your smile failed to get you the attention you want?”

  Tilly let out a squeak, scaring several roosting birds into flight. She dug her heels into the ground to halt her swing, likely ruining her slippers. Her gaze caught on a tall, startlingly handsome gentleman to her right. He leaned against the wall separating their garden from the duke’s, heedless of his fine garments pressed against the rough stone.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. Not good manners, she knew, but neither was sneaking into a garden. She glanced toward the house, wondering if she should call for help.