One Night for Love

'Only England in the springtime,' Elizabeth said. 'And that is not more splendid, I declare, only as splendid.'

It had been springtime when Lily had come here first. It was autumn now—October. How much had happened in the months between, Lily thought. She could remember trudging along this driveway at night, her bag clutched in her hand…

She had written to him at the beginning of September, as he had asked her to do. She had asked Elizabeth if it was unexceptionable to do so—for her to write to a single gentleman. Elizabeth had answered, with a twinkle in her eye, that it was really not the thing at all. But Father, who had also been present at the time, had reminded them all that she was Lily and was quite adept at stretching every rule almost to the breaking point without ever doing anything shockingly improper—that was her chief charm, he had added with the smiling indulgence that had surprised her about him at first. And so she had written—with laborious care and round, childish handwriting. She was working on her penmanship but it was going to take time.

She was happy with her father, she had written. She was happy with Elizabeth's company. She had been to Nuttall Grange and met her grandfather. She had put flowers on her mother's grave. She hoped Lady Kilbourne was well and Lauren and Gwendoline too. She hoped he was well. She was his obedient servant.

He had written back to invite her and her father to come as guests to Newbury Abbey for the celebration of his mother's fiftieth birthday in October. Elizabeth had already made arrangements to attend.

And so here they were. They were merely guests. But it felt like a homecoming. And Lily, looking suddenly with shining eyes at her father as the house came into view, saw that he understood and was a little saddened, though he smiled at her.

'Father.' She leaned forward impulsively and took his hand. 'Thank you for agreeing that we might come. I do love you so.'

He patted her hand with his free one. 'Lily,' he said, 'you are one-and-twenty, my dear. Shockingly old to be still at home with your father. I do not expect to have you all to myself for much longer.'

But that was far too explicit a thing to say. She sat back, her smile fading a little. She would take nothing for granted. Several months had passed. A great deal had changed in her life and might have changed in his also. He had invited them out of courtesy. Doubtless there were to be many other guests too. She would not set great store by the fact that he had invited her.

If she told herself those foolish things often enough, perhaps she would come to believe them in the end.

Their carriage had been spotted. The great double doors opened as it approached, and people spilled out of the house—Gwendoline, Joseph, the countess, and… him.

It was the marquess who opened the carriage door and set down the steps. The duke was out almost before they had been lowered and turned to hand Elizabeth down. The countess came forward to hug her. Everyone was trying to talk at once.

Then someone leaned inside the carriage and reached out a hand toward Lily—and they might as easily have been alone. Everything else faded from sight and sound. He was gazing at her with shining eyes and tightly compressed lips. She was beaming foolishly back at him.

'Lily,' he said.

'Yes.' And suddenly she knew that all her anxieties had been very foolish indeed. 'Hello, Neville.'

She set her hand in his.

***

There were a number of guests already at the house even though the birthday party was still one day away. Dinner was a crowded and noisy affair. His mother, Neville was pleased to note, had seated Portfrey at her right hand, Lily at her left. They were far distant from his place at the head of the table. Apart from those moments on the terrace during the afternoon, there had been scarcely a chance to exchange a word with her.

He did not really mind. He was content for the moment to observe, to watch her, to note the changes a few months had wrought in her. He remembered Elizabeth telling him at one time that new knowledge and skills did not change a person but merely added to what was already there. It was true of Lily. She was fashionable and poised and animated. Gone was the terrible sense of inadequacy that had tongue-tied her in genteel company—in female company, at least—when she was last at Newbury Abbey. She talked as much as anyone and more than many. She smiled and laughed.

But she was still Lily. She was Lily as she had been created to be—but free now to find joy in any company and in any surroundings.

He caught snippets of her conversation for the simple reason that she seemed somehow to be the focus of attention with everyone and there was often near silence along the length of the table as everyone leaned forward to hear her—when Joseph asked her how her reading skills were coming along, for example.

'Oh, you would lose a very large wager if you were foolish enough to make one now, I do assure you,' she told him. 'I read very well indeed. Do I not, Elizabeth? I can read a whole page in half an hour, I daresay, if there are no distractions and no very long words. And I do not have to say the words aloud or even mouth them silently. What do you think of that, Joseph?' She laughed merrily at her own expense, a sound that was echoed along the table.

'I think I would fall asleep long before you reached the end of the page, Lily,' Joseph said, yawning, the fingers of one hand delicately patting his mouth.

She was delightful, Neville thought, trying to take his eyes off her occasionally so that he could keep up a conversation with the relatives who sat closer to him. It was not easy to do.

Oh, yes, she was still Lily, he thought a few minutes later. One of the footmen leaned across the table beside her to remove a dish, and she looked up at him, her face brightening with recognition.

'Mr. Jones!' she exclaimed. 'How do you do?'

Poor Jones almost dropped the dish. He blushed scarlet and mumbled something that Neville did not catch.

'Oh, I know,' Lily said, instantly contrite. 'I do apologize for embarrassing you. I shall come down to the kitchen tomorrow morning if I may and chat with everyone. It seems an age since I saw you all.'

His mother, Neville noticed, was smiling at Lily with what looked to be genuine affection.