One Night for Love

belonged in such surroundings. She was a beauty, a diamond of the first water. He could not—he would not—take his eyes from her.

He had come to London with hopes, albeit anxious ones. He had expected to find her miserable. He had hoped to be able to gather her—both figuratively and literally, perhaps—into his arms and assure her that he would protect her for the rest of his life even if she would not marry him. But she looked as if she belonged in Lady Ashton's ballroom. She looked poised and relaxed.

He felt almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. She had recovered the weight she had lost before coming to Newbury, weight she had never regained there. She was still small and slender, but she was all pleasing, enticing curves now. There were no traces left of the coltish, carefree girl he remembered so well. And none either of the beautiful, rather gaunt woman who had stepped into the church at Newbury. She looked now—

There were no words adequate to the task. She was femininity personified. No, too tame. She was everything he had ever wanted, could even want. Not just a companion, a wife, a soulmate. She was everything his body craved. She was—she was woman.

If this were only a waltz, he thought, he would maneuver her close to the French windows, twirl her through them, dance her into the shadows beyond the candlelight, and kiss both her and himself senseless.

It was not a waltz. They danced toward each other, moved about each other back to back, and returned to their respective lines without once touching, though he felt her body heat curl about him like a warm blanket. She held the smile she had worn from the start, but her eyes surely smoldered with an answering awareness to his own.

Thank God it was not a waltz. Her eyes merely smiled.

Honor dictated that he not even try to take advantage of her without her full and free consent.

Ah, Lily.

It was the supper dance, Neville realized as the set drew to an end, and she clearly knew what that meant. She took his arm without protest and allowed him to lead her into the dining room, where he was fortunate enough to procure them two places at a table slightly apart from any other guests. He seated her and brought her a plate of food and a cup of tea.

'Lily,' he asked her, taking the seat beside her and resisting the impulse to take her hand in his, 'how are you?'

'I am very well, I thank you, my lord,' she said. Her eyes, which had smiled into his throughout the dance, were focused somewhere in the region of his chin.

'You look lovely,' he told her. 'But I could weep for your hair.'

That drew her eyes to his, and he saw the old Lily in the amusement that lit them. 'Dolly did weep, the silly girl,' she said, 'until I promised that I would still need her services. She used to spend hours on my hair. She is still always busy, though. I no longer iron my own clothes or do any alterations or mending.'

'Or make your own bed or help peel potatoes or chop onions?' he asked her.

'Or those things,' she agreed. 'Ladies do not do such things.'

'Unless they choose to,' he said, smiling.

'They are too busy with other things,' she told him.

'Are they, Lily?' he asked her. 'Such as?'

But she would not tell him what had kept her so busy during the past month—apart from having her hair cut and learning to dance and behave like a lady. She changed the subject.

'I thank you for repaying the money I borrowed from Captain Harris, my lord,' she said, 'even though you were under no obligation to do so. I have called on them a number of times. Elizabeth said she would willingly spare me to visit them.'

'Is she a hard taskmaster in general, then?' he asked.

'Of course not,' she said. 'Would I offend you, my lord, if I offered to repay what you sent to Captain Harris as soon as I am able?'

'I would be offended, Lily,' he said. He added a further truth. 'I would be hurt, my dear.'

She nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'I thought you would. So I will not insist.'

'Thank you,' he said.

She had been toying with her food, he noticed. But then he had not even touched his own.

'May I call upon you, Lily?' he asked her. 'Tomorrow afternoon?'

'Why?' Her eyes looked fully into his again. He was jolted by the question. Was she going to say no?

'I have something for you,' he said. 'Something in the nature of a gift.'

'I may not accept gifts from you, my lord,' she said.

'This is different,' he assured her. 'It is not personal. It is something you will certainly accept and delight in. May I bring it myself and put it into your hands? Please?'

Her eyes brightened for a moment with what might have been tears, but she looked down before he could be sure. 'Very well, then,' she said, 'if Elizabeth will permit your call. You must remember, my lord, that I am her paid companion.'

'I will apply to her for permission,' he said. And after all he could not resist the self-indulgence of possessing himself of one of her hands and raising it briefly to his lips. 'Lily, my dear…'

Her eyelids came down faster this time, but not before he was quite sure of the tears she hid from him. He forced himself to stop what he had been about to say. Even if her feelings were still engaged, he knew she would