Lily and the Duke (Sex and the Season #1)(82)

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Lady Ashford said.

Daniel sat down in his leather chair which had been moved to Lily’s side of the bed. “More than my own life.”

The countess sat down next to Lily, facing Daniel, and took one of her daughter’s hands in her own. “She’s not an easy one to love, you know. She’s stubborn as a mule, impatient, impulsive, quick to anger. She has little respect for authority or convention. She gave her father and me more trouble than Thomas and Rose combined.”

The countess laughed softly, smiling, drawing her daughter’s hand to her lips and kissing it lightly. “Oh, but she’s worth it. She’s so very intelligent and strong, so avidly curious. She has a passion and excitement for life that I’ve always envied. She finds joy and beauty in the simplest things.” She looked up at Daniel. “When she was younger, she used to share her journals with me. She wrote about everything, sometimes about the most mundane things, a cricket chirping, or a clump of weed growing in one of the gardens. Yet her descriptions made me feel as though I were experiencing something amazing for the first time. She has a manner of wriggling her way into one’s heart.”

She took one of Daniel’s hands and joined it to hers and Lily’s. “She has a big heart, you know. There’s room for you. Just be patient with her. She’ll come around.”

Daniel nodded numbly.

“Come now,” the countess continued. “You need to take care of yourself. You need a bath, a decent meal, and some sleep. Go to your father’s old chamber. I’ll send Putney to attend you.”

Daniel shook his head. “I can’t leave her.”

“You’re no good to her in this condition.”

Daniel stood up. Lily’s mother was right. “If anything changes…”

“I’ll send for you. Now go.”

“But—”

“Goodness, let me be her mother a little while longer. You’ll take care of her for the rest of her life.”

“I hope so.” Daniel raked his fingers through his disheveled hair moist with sweat and oil. “I want nothing more than to be her husband. But I won’t force her to marry me. I was wrong to go behind her back and arrange it with the earl.”

Lady Ashford rose from the bed and fetched the basket she had brought with her. “Some of Lily’s things,” she said. “To make her feel more comfortable when she wakes up.” She pulled out the Dickens novel. “From you?”

“Yes.”

She pulled out another book. “This is Lily’s journal. I couldn’t resist sneaking a quick peek. Her writing used to give me so much pleasure. I’d like to show you something.” She opened the book and leafed through the pages until she found the entry she sought. “I want you to read this.”

“I couldn’t,” Daniel said. “It’s too personal.”

“Under the circumstances, I don’t think she would mind.”

Daniel took the journal and began to read.

Daniel has the most remarkable green eyes I’ve ever seen. He no doubt inherited them from his mother, whose vivid eyes are striking, but Daniel’s are unique. On the surface, the color is like a flawless emerald, but beneath is a darker green, and then a layer of light violet, which is especially apparent around the edge of his irises. Beneath the violet is a sea of midnight blue, adding depth. When I stare into his eyes, I’m almost positive that I can see the very innermost chambers of his soul.

Were I a musician, I would compose a symphony for his eyes. The violins and violas would be the emerald green, floating over everything else, giving the music its structure, with the cello and bass viols providing the darker forest color that lies just under the surface. A trio of flutes, joined by a clarinet and oboe, would be the flutter of violet beneath the green, and the brass and percussion would be the ocean of midnight blue, thundering under all the rest, giving the orchestration its profound depth and meaning.

As an artist, I don’t think I could ever do justice to his beautiful eyes. How could I? The angels themselves must have come to earth to paint them in his mother’s womb. They have a celestial quality, as if I can see heaven when I look into them. Yet they’re reflective as well, like a looking glass wherein I can see not only his soul but my own. I feel defenseless, looking at him and knowing that my hidden thoughts and emotions, the very recesses of my heart, are visible to him. But I can’t look away. I don’t want to. My greatest desire is to lose myself in his eyes forever. It frightens me.

Daniel looked up at the countess, tears misting in the corners of his fatigued eyes.

“You should be proud, you know.” Lady Ashford smiled. “The chirping crickets didn’t merit half that much detail.”

Daniel began to smile. The countess was so different from Lily, but she shared a strength with her daughter. Lily’s strength was like a bolt of lightning, cascading down when she needed it, while her mother’s was like the soft glow of a candle in the fog, with quiet and patient determination. The countess had a sense of humor as well, so much like her daughter’s.

“There’s an ode to your hair on the next page,” Lady Ashford continued, “but we’ll save that for another time.” She took the journal from him, replaced it in the basket, and patted his hand lightly. “Dear boy, do you truly think my daughter could write about your eyes like that if she didn’t love you?”