It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(94)

“It’s almost daybreak,” Marcus whispered in her ear. “Open your eyes. I have to take you to your room.”

“No,” she said groggily. “In a few minutes. Later.” She tried to burrow back into his arms. The bed was so warm, and the air was cold, and she knew that the floor would feel like ice beneath her feet.

Marcus kissed the top of her head and eased her to a sitting position. “Now,” he insisted gently, rubbing circles on her back. “The maid will be up to light the grate…and many of the guests will go shooting this morning, which means they will rise soon.”

“Someday,” Lillian said grumpily, huddling against his powerful chest, “you’ll have to explain why men find it such an unholy joy to go outside before it’s light, and wander through muddy fields to kill small animals.”

“Because we like to test ourselves against nature. And more importantly, it gives us an excuse to drink before noon.”

She smiled and nuzzled into his shoulder, rubbing her lips against the sleek male skin. “I’m cold,” she whispered. “Lie with me under the covers.”

Marcus groaned at the temptation she offered, and forced himself to leave the bed. Lillian immediately tunneled beneath the covers, clutching the soft folds of Marcus’s shirt more tightly around herself. However, he returned soon, fully dressed, and he dug her out of the bedclothes. “There’s no use complaining,” he said, wrapping her in one of his robes. “You’re going back to your room. You can’t be seen with me at this hour.”

“Are you afraid of scandal?” Lillian asked.

“No. However, it is in my nature to behave with discretion whenever possible.”

“Such a gentleman,” she mocked, holding her arms up as he tied the belt of the robe. “You should marry a girl of equal discretion.”

“Ah, but they’re not half so entertaining as the wicked ones.”

“Is that what I am?” she asked, draping her arms around his shoulders. “A wicked girl?”

“Oh yes,” Marcus said softly, and covered her mouth with his.

Daisy awakened to a scratching sound at the door. Squinting her eyes open, she saw by the color of the light that it was still early morning, and that her sister was busy at the dressing table, brushing snarls from her hair. Sitting up and pushing her own hair from her eyes, she asked, “Who could that be?”

“I’ll see.” Already dressed in a dark red corded-silk day gown, Lillian went to the door and opened it a few inches. From what Daisy could see, a housemaid had come to deliver a message. A murmured conversation ensued, and though Daisy could not quite hear their words, she heard the mild surprise in her sister’s voice, followed by an edge of annoyance. “Very well,” Lillian said crisply. “Tell her I will. Though I hardly see the need for all this skulking about.”

The housemaid disappeared, and Lillian closed the door, frowning.

“What?” Daisy asked. “What did she tell you? Who sent her?”

“It was nothing,” Lillian replied, and added with heavy irony, “I’m not supposed to say.”

“I overheard something about skulking.”

“Oh, it’s just a bothersome piece of business that I have to take care of. I’ll explain it later this afternoon— no doubt I’ll have some highly entertaining and colorful story to tell.”

“Does it involve Lord Westcliff?”

“Indirectly.” Lillian’s frown cleared, and suddenly she looked radiantly happy. Perhaps more so than Daisy had ever seen her. “Oh, Daisy, it’s revolting, the way I want to fawn all over him. I’m afraid that I’m going to do something dreadfully silly today. Burst into song or something. For God’s sake, don’t let me.”

“I won’t,” Daisy promised, smiling back at her. “Are you in love, then?”

“That word is not to be mentioned,” Lillian said swiftly. “Even if I were—and I am not admitting anything—I would never be the first to say it. It’s a matter of pride. And there’s every chance that he won’t say it back, but just respond with a polite ‘thank you,’ in which case I would have to murder him. Or myself.”

“I hope the earl is not equally as stubborn as you,” Daisy commented.

“He isn’t,” Lillian assured her. “Although he thinks he is.” Some private memory caused her to chortle, clasping a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Daisy,” she said with devilish glee, “I’m going to be such an abominable countess.”

“Let’s not put it that way,” Daisy said diplomatically. “Rather, we’ll say ‘unconventional countess.’ “

“I can be any kind of countess I want,” Lillian said, half in delight, half in wonder. “Westcliff said so. And what’s more…I actually think he means it.”

After a light breakfast of tea and toast, Lillian went out to the back terrace of the manor. Resting her elbows on the balcony, she stared at their extensive gardens with their carefully edged paths, and broad margins of low box hedges lavished with roses, and ancient manicured yews that provided so many delightful hidden places to explore. Her smile faded as she reflected that at this moment, the countess was waiting for her at Butterfly Court, after having sent one of the housemaids to deliver her summons.