A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection Page 22

  I can’t leave the city. What if Roland comes to propose? She stared past her father into the driving snow. Surely he wouldn’t send me out in such a storm.

  Lila’s father turned from the window, and she lowered her gaze. “She’ll leave first thing in the morning with a letter of explanation to Eugenia. Send Fay up to pack her things. As far as society will know, our daughter is spending the holidays with her widowed aunt.”

  Her mother murmured assent; Lila wanted to crumple up on the floor. Instead, she turned and slowly walked out of the room then up the stairs to the second floor. Her heart hammered as she thought desperately for some sort of plan. Should I send another letter? Could I bribe our driver to deliver it in the storm?

  Tears started immediately after shutting her bedroom door. Not tears of shame like another girl would shed at being discovered with the most notorious bachelor in the city, but tears of anger. How dare her father send her away? She was certainly not the only woman in the world to make a mistake. Her father had made plenty of his own.

  His own sister refused to come visit their home because of the corruption in the city—at least that’s what she called it. I know otherwise. Aunt Eugenia doesn’t approve of my father, or his associates, or his business practices. I’ll admit that I’d been pretty innocent before meeting Roland—innocent of all things. But no longer. He taught me a thing or two about the ways of men, and I’ll never look at my father, or any other man, the same way again. What will my aunt think when she learns about Roland?

  Lila sat at her ivory painted dressing table and absently moved the trinkets and perfumes around. Everything in her room was ivory and gold, patterned after a distant cousin’s bedroom in Paris. When Lila had visited France in the summer, she’d fallen in love with the opulent décor. Her father had ordered furniture from as far as India to achieve the right ambience, and now she’d be trading this divine room for one of splintered furniture and moldy linens.

  A light knock sounded at the door. Lila didn’t have the voice to answer, so she wasn’t surprised when Fay opened the door anyway.

  Fay shut it with a firm click before turning to Lila. The sorrow in the maid’s eyes about did Lila in. Fay was her oldest friend and confidante. Only she had known about Lila’s secret escapades. Fay might have been twenty years Lila’s senior and would never live life beyond a personal maid, but she never judged Lila.

  The tip of Fay’s nose was red, and her pale blue eyes watered. “This came for you, Miss Lila, when you were in with your parents.”

  Lila stared at the folded envelope in Fay’s hand. “Someone delivered it to the door?” She’d heard nothing. Even over her father’s yelling, she would have heard if someone had arrived in the front hall.

  “It was delivered to the stable boy. He brought it to me.”

  Lila held out her hand. She’d have to thank Tim later, since he’d done the proper thing with this sort of letter. But when she took it from Fay, her heart stuttered. It was the same envelope she’d sent Roland. Had he returned it unopened?

  Lila turned it over and saw the broken seal. Her heart thundered in her ears as she slid the letter out. She knew without opening it that it was the one she’d sent. Her throat pinched as she skimmed her note, then read his answer below.

  Dearest Roland,

  Do I dare believe the words you spoke to me this fortnight past? I know there have been other women for you in previous years, but I hope that I was different. My feelings are true, and I can only hope that yours are too. My father wants to send me away. Probably someplace like Africa to live among natives and to grow crops in the dry dirt.

  I didn’t mean for us to be discovered, and I’m sorry that it happened this way. To be forced upon you when you’ve lived in bachelorhood for so many years. But I hope you do not feel forced and will consider my father’s request. I would be most honored to accept your offer.

  Affectionately Yours,

  Lillian Beth Townsend

  Below her carefully constructed letter were the scrawled words:

  L—.

  I depart on the next steamship to England and will be gone for an undetermined time. My deepest regrets to you and your family. You knew who I was when you involved yourself with me, and I never gave you any promise. Your expectations are your own.

  Best wishes in Africa,

  R—.

  Lila read Roland’s note a second time, then a third. Disbelief pulsed through her, then sorrow, anger, more disbelief. He was leaving for England. He was leaving her.

  Her face burned, the heat spreading down her neck, to her chest. The things he had whispered to her, promised her, and the way he had kissed her . . .

  “Fay,” she croaked. “Tell Collings to have the carriage ready at midnight. I’ll be paying a visit to Roland.”

  “Your father—”

  “Shh! He’ll know nothing!” Lila hissed. “I deserve a better answer than this.” She held out the scribbled letter. “Roland didn’t even use his own stationery.”

  Fay’s face paled, and she peered at the letter, although she couldn’t read it.

  “We will pack just as father ordered,” Lila said in a hurried whisper. “But my things will not be going to Connecticut to reside with my suffocating aunt. We’ll be taking the same ship as Roland to England.”

  “There will be many expenses,” Fay cut in, her eyes wide with horror.

  “Roland will be sponsoring our fare.” Lila’s voice sounded confident, final, but inside, her heart was breaking.

  “But, miss, everything I know is here.”

  “Then you’ll stay here. I’ll go alone,” Lila said in a sharp voice. “I’ll be a married woman soon enough, and I won’t have to answer to you or anyone.” She closed her eyes against Fay’s stunned expression. I hurt my only friend, but it has to be done. She went behind her dressing screen if only to get away from Fay’s gloomy face.

  Once Roland saw her again, he’d remember how much he loved her. How perfect they were for each other. How she made him laugh, and how when they kissed, everything transformed into the most beautiful dream.

  Chapter Two

  When the midnight bell chimes came through the window, Lila was dressed in her heavy cloak. She pulled on her warmest gloves as Fay tiptoed inside her room.

  “Everything’s ready,” Fay whispered.

  Behind her, Tim entered. The twelve-year-old’s eyes were huge in the near dark. He and Fay silently picked up the trunk together and carried it out of the room.

  With a final glance at her ivory and gold bedroom, Lila slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. If Lila had been a religious woman like Aunt Eugenia, she might have realized that sneaking out of her home with a large trunk, without being detected, was a miracle. But Lila had only one worry on her mind—how to convince Roland to marry her.

  Roland Graves was the most notorious bachelor in New York City. He broke women’s hearts like a spoiled toddler broke a trinket, with little thought, knowing another would be handed him. But Lila had refused to believe he could break her heart. Even during that first waltz they’d danced on All Hallow’s Eve only six weeks previous, Lila hadn’t intended to fall in love with him. After all, he was a man twice her age, and he’d made it more than clear in society that he never intended to marry.

  Lila slipped through the back kitchen door and walked around the side of the house, where the carriage waited. The snow had accumulated to several inches, and Fay and Tim already stood next to the carriage, shivering. Lila gave Fay a quick embrace and handed Tim a few coins then patted him on the head. She didn’t dare meet Collings’ stern gaze. She could very well guess what he thought—that this was a charade. Even the horses looked put out. As it was, she’d given Fay all of her spending money to keep quiet with the promise if they were caught, Lila would take complete blame. Pushing back the guilt of involving so many people in her plans, Lila climbed into the freezing carriage and pulled a thick wool blanket over her.

  The rug di
d nothing to warm her feet, and her Italian high-button boots were no match for the snow. As the carriage lumbered down the middle of the avenue, her toes started to ache from the cold.

  It seemed ages before they reached the corner house Roland had rented for the past two weeks—To be closer to you, he’d said. The lower bank of windows was bright, shedding a welcoming glow onto the snowy lawn. Lila’s heart leapt. He was awake. Most likely packing for England, but the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  Lila rapped on the carriage window, and it slowed. She wanted to speak to Roland without Collings serving as audience. The carriage stopped about half a block down, and Lila climbed out. She hiked up her long skirt and trudged through the snow-covered walk. The Italians knew nothing about warm boots.

  Just as she reached the edge of Roland’s property, a buggy came around the opposite corner. It pulled to a stop in front, and the bundled driver gave a whistle.

  Lila froze in place. Was he signaling her? Or Roland? She looked back at Collings, but he seemed lost in his wool muff.

  Roland’s door opened, and a woman stepped out, followed by Roland. He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned, and his feet were bare. His sandy blond hair looked mussed up, his jaw darkened by a day’s growth. The woman’s hair was a deep brown or perhaps black, left down and reaching her narrow waist. She turned with a smile and gazed up at him. Roland grinned in that lopsided way of his and leaned toward her.

  Lila’s breath halted. If she hadn’t seen the kiss for herself, she never would have believed it. She’d heard rumors of course of Roland’s escapades; he’d been a bachelor for a long time, but when a man’s eyes were all for you, it was hard to believe gossip. Roland kissed the woman longer and deeper than one would kiss any relative, so that couldn’t be an explanation.

  The woman pressed against him, then quite possessively pulled him closer until there was no distinction between their bodies.

  Heart thundering, Lila looked at the buggy driver who’d whistled. He didn’t seem to be paying attention, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a woman to come out of a man’s house at midnight then garishly kiss him in a manner definitely not fit for public viewing.

  What irked Lila even more was that she’d been in Roland’s arms just two days before at their secret rendezvous place at a reclusive café. He hadn’t wasted a moment finding another love after sending back Lila’s letter with his reply. Or was this woman someone he’d been seeing all along, even when he was with Lila?

  She wanted to scream, but mostly she wanted to close her eyes and make the image disappear. She wanted to arrive again at his house and for the door to open, but this time only Roland would be standing there. No one else. Especially not a woman who did not hesitate to wrap her arms around him and kiss him like a—

  “Lila?” It was his voice. He’d seen her.

  She turned away, her feet blistering with cold as she stumbled back to the carriage.

  A woman’s muffled laughter sounded, and Roland called out again. “Wait, Lila!”

  He was coming after her. Lila’s heart skipped. Roland would tell her that he’d made a terrible mistake. He’d propose, and they’d elope to England. He’d . . .

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What are you doing here? Your father will have my head if he finds out.”

  Lila blinked up at him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the buggy pull away, the horses’ hooves growing fainter, a woman’s voice laughing and calling out good-bye.

  “Who is she?” Lila said above the sob choking her throat.

  His eyes narrowed, and she literally felt his animosity. Lila had never seen him like this, angry at her. His grip tightened. “Didn’t you get my letter?”

  “You mean the scribbled note you returned on top of mine?”

  He pulled her toward the carriage. “You need to get home.”

  Lila tugged away. “What about that woman? Is she your... lover?”

  “That’s none of your concern, Lila.” He grabbed for her again.

  “Am I nothing to you then?” The tears refused to stay put, and her voice shook as it rose. “When you kissed me—it meant nothing?”

  Roland stared at her as if she was his worst nightmare. “I explained in my letter. You knew who I was when we met.” His voice was fierce now. “You knew who I was when you agreed to see me. I never lied about it.”

  “You said you loved me,” Lila whispered, tears streaking down her face.

  “I love women. Nearly everything about a woman... except for this part.” His face twisted into a half-smile, pitying her.

  Lila took a step back. “You used me. You didn’t care.”

  “Of course I cared,” he growled. “But just because we shared a few kisses doesn’t mean I’m obligated to marry you. You can’t be idiotic enough to believe that. I knew you were a starry-eyed innocent, but this is ridiculous.” He paused, his voice softening. “Any woman would be miserable being my wife. I wouldn’t ask it of anyone.”

  “What about that woman?” she asked with a sniffle.

  “She’s not looking for marriage.”

  Lila stared at him. She’d thought she’d been the exception. She didn’t understand how he could act one way, and now another.

  “If you really want to know, that woman has been my lover for years. We have a mutual agreement.” There was a twisted amusement in his eyes, and his voice dropped a notch. “In fact, she’s married. And if that doesn’t convince you to leave my property, she’s not the only one.”

  Lila staggered back, his words like icy shards through her. “You... you’re a scoundrel. You’re a cheater. You—” Her voice broke off into a sob. She turned away and stumbled to the carriage. She grabbed the handle, using it to hold herself upright as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I warned you that you’d hate me,” Roland said.

  Her body felt as if it had been wrenched inside out. The memories flooded through her. His immaculately tailored tux and her favorite ocean-blue gown complemented each other in such a way on the dance floor that it had been raved about in the society column the next day. Lila remembered Roland leaning toward her at the Gallivans’ ball, that lopsided grin on his face, saying, “All the women hate me. If you spend enough time with me, then you will too.”

  She’d laughed and taken another sip of champagne. She’d never seen a man so handsome as he’d been that night, and she’d been determined to never hate him. Her father had been in Chicago that week, and her mother home with one of her headaches. Lila’s chaperone had been Widow Godfrey from down the street. That was also the night Roland had kissed her for the first time, a slow and startling kiss on the Gallivans’ terrace, the music floating all around, and every possibility stretching out before them.

  By the time her father had returned and her mother had recovered, it was too late for Lila. She had fallen in love with the notorious bachelor.

  Now, it seemed her father had been right. Roland Graves was the worst man possible for her. She yanked open the carriage door then turned to look at him once more. This time she saw signs of aging along his neck—the lackluster eyes, his too-thin lips. An aging man who would be forever alone. By his choice.

  “You may have told me that I’d hate you.” Her voice trembled in the white stillness. “But I didn’t believe you. Until now.”

  Chapter Three

  The snowstorm lasted two days, and it took two more days before the roads were passable. Lila spent every minute in her bedroom, all the lamps off, covers pulled over her head. The night she’d come home from Roland’s, her father had been waiting for her. He hadn’t said a word, and neither had she.

  Fay brought her meals up, and when she tried to give Lila any news, she shushed Fay. It didn’t take a notice in the newspaper to tell her that Roland had truly sailed to England; her father had informed her through the closed door of her room. His voice had been soft, matter-of-fact, and for a moment, she believed he might actually feel compassion for
her.

  But that didn’t change the plans to leave for Connecticut. And even worse, her father was now determined to travel with her, saying he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The fateful morning dawned cold and gray. Lila’s mother came to her room early to bid a feeble farewell. She had another headache and wouldn’t be seeing her off at the carriage.

  “Time with Aunt Eugenia will sort all of this out,” she said, twisting the handkerchief in her pale hands.

  “I’ll be sure to write home about which nunnery I choose.”

  “Lillian!” Her mother’s voice was sharp, which would bring on an even greater headache now.

  “What else is there for me, Mother?” Lila asked, not repentant at all. “Father says I’m ruined, and I’ll be spending who knows how long on a chicken farm.”

  “It’s not a chicken farm.”

  “Father doesn’t even like his sister. Why would he send his only daughter to live with her?”

  “It’s temporary, Lillian, and only until—”

  “I know, the society papers. It’s all that you and Father really care about anyway.” She knew she was being cruel, but the pain of her broken heart had dulled her sensitivity to lesser infractions.

  When her mother left in tears, Lila closed her eyes and berated herself. How had she allowed herself to step so low as to make her mother cry even more? Deep down she knew her parents were right, but the anger of Roland’s betrayal was still fierce, and she didn’t want to trust in anyone or believe that things could ever get back to normal.

  There would certainly be no balls at her aunt’s farm. Her father had told her to pack her plainest clothing, but she’d slipped in two of her favorite ball gowns, even if the only time she could wear them would be in the middle of the night by herself in her room.

  With her mother returned to the recesses of her rooms, Lila took a final look at her bedroom. She was leaving everything behind except for the clothing she was taking with her. The brocaded drapes, the guilt-edged furniture, and the massive canopy bed with its silk coverings, would all soon be a distant memory.