People had drifted away to sleep off an excellent luncheon, not to mention a huge pot of tea boiled in the Windermere steam kettle. Lily prepared to do the same, the sun warm on her neck. She settled herself in a comfortable wicker chair on deck, trying not to notice that Nathan was still engrossed in close conversation with Selene. Even the line of their bodies, sitting so close together, made her feel all hot and prickly. She closed her eyes so she couldn’t watch.
It must have been an hour later that she woke and knew at once that something was wrong.
Lily could see nothing at all. Where once had been the lake, green woodlands and craggy rocks, there now lay a blank whiteness. Fog! An autumn mist had settled on the water, blotting out everything in sight. Ignorant as she was of these matters, even Lily understood its dangers. A boat could drift for hours in such conditions, its passengers growing steadily colder and more confused.
She sensed Nathan’s presence beside her even before he gently touched her arm, almost as if she had silently begged him to come to her and he had obeyed. ‘What are we to do?’ she asked him. ‘Where’s Bertie?’
‘Doing his best to steer in a straight line by keeping an eye on his wash. Far from ideal. I’ve come to tell you to go below.’
‘No, I want to help. What can I do?’
‘I’ve told you,’ Nathan said, his voice calm but firm. ‘Go into the saloon with the other ladies.’
From the depths of the fog, the steam-yacht’s whistle shrieked and a small cry escaped her throat. Lily hastily began to do as she was bid but Nathan’s hold on her arm tightened, easily preventing her from moving, though he had just told her to do so. He jerked his head in Bertie’s direction, invisible even the short length of the boat, swallowed up by the fog. It was as if she and Nathan were alone in a silent white world.
‘Has it been a success then, this marriage?’
‘Of course.’
‘Does he make you happy?’
‘We’re perfectly matched, thank you very much. Bertie is a dear. Though his mother and sister are less so, admittedly.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t let them interfere. If you were my wife, I’d protect you against all comers. Were I a marrying sort of man, that is, and the girl I wanted was still available,’ he added, rather more quietly.
Lily stared as the meaning behind his words slowly penetrated.
She longed suddenly to lean her head against those broad shoulders as she had done once before and pour out the confusion she felt at being a part of two worlds and belonging to neither. Every bit of her cried out for him to stroke her brow, her cheek, her throat, as she so clearly recalled him doing as she had wept upon his shoulder. And to caress her in less discreet ways, to help her unleash the passion she felt battened down deep inside, if only to prove that she, at least, was still alive. But she must never, never permit such a thing to happen. What was she thinking of? She must concentrate on Bertie.
‘We’re very content.’ She pulled her arm free and stepped quickly away, so hastily in fact that she half stumbled as she came up against the deck rope looped along the side of the boat.
Instinctively, Nathan reached for her. ‘Are you sure?’
With immense strength of will, Lily shook him off as she straightened her spine, thankful in that moment for Margot’s strict training. ‘I’ve told you, we’re perfectly content.
‘Content? Ah, yes, of course. Safe and unemotional. But is it enough?’
‘Of course it is enough,’ Lily sharply responded, pricked once more into irritation by his calm.
‘Wouldn’t your prefer passion?’ Then before she guessed what he was about he had pulled her hard against him and covered her mouth with his own. Warm, moist and dangerously exciting, it was the most outrageous, most cataclysmic, moment of Lily’s entire life. As the kiss deepened she felt as if her whole body had spun out of control, held in a soft limbo by the mist. Her fingers clung to him, grasping his neck for support she drank in the taste of him as if her very life depended upon it. Then quite abruptly he let her go, leaving her bruised and wounded, knowing she would never recover.
‘That wasn’t the kiss of a happily married woman.’
On impulse Lily lifted one hand and struck him. Nathan didn’t even flinch.
From a great distance the steam whistle shrieked and from close by came the sound of Bertie’s voice, calling for Nathan. He and Lily stepped apart.
‘Ah, there you are, old chap. Thought you’d slipped overboard. What are you up to? Trying to steal off with my wife, eh?’
‘Would you blame me?’
‘Not at all, you old rogue. But the elopement will have to wait,’ joked Bertie. ‘Got to get out of this pickle first. Stand up on the cabin roof, will you? You might be able to see over the mist and direct me, old sport.’
Bertie was instantly swallowed up again by the white fog as he hurried back to his post.
For a moment neither of them moved, then Lily turned away, anxious now to seek the company of the others. But she could not escape Nathan’s last words, for all they were barely above a whisper.
‘I’ll make you mine, Lily. Make no mistake about it, you belong to me. Always have and always will. And one day I mean to collect.’
Lily’s whole life had changed. What could she have been thinking of? Had she completely lost her reason?
She felt cold and shivery and strangely light-headed. Yet the warmth of Bertie’s body beside her in the big double bed offered no comfort that night. If Lily slept, she was not aware of it. Her heart pounded, she felt ill and sick, and her eyes stared up into the darkness till they were gritty and sore, yet still she could not rest.
What would one kiss mean to him? A great deal. Hadn’t he told her so?
She knew in her heart that these feelings had already been there between them, unacknowledged.
Perhaps, because of Nathan’s outrageous behaviour to her as a boy, she’d refused to admit
that he might have had good reason for being such a rebel: problems at home perhaps, or some other unhappiness. Nor had she accepted that he might have changed now that he was a man.
Could the reaction she’d felt each time she looked into those blue eyes have been simple attraction then and not fear at all?
Lily put her head under the pillow and tried to bury her thoughts. Yet she could not banish from her mind the memory of the pent-up desire that had trembled through his body as he had held her close, or the matching excitement that had burst within herself like sunrise after a dank day.
How could you? she scolded herself. You’re married to Bertie, a fine gentleman, and don’t you ever forget it. But she wanted to forget - oh, she did indeed.
His voice had followed her even as she’d run from him. ‘Come to me when you’re ready, Lily. I’ll be waiting.’
Shocked and indignant at her own reaction as much as his effrontery, Lily made a vow that she would never go to him, no matter what her own weakness might crave. She would never see him again, if she could avoid it.
Bertie snuggled down beside her, his curly head deep in the soft pillows. He gave a gentle snore and Lily groaned. Who was she fooling? She longed even now for this to be Nathan in bed with her. To have him take off her clothes and make love to her with a fierce, all-consuming passion. She knew by that intimate smile, by the way his fingers had lingered upon her arm, and the heat that had flared between them when he’d kissed her, that he wanted it too.
Yet had he wanted Selene as well? Now the sickness inside her grew worse. If she’d still hated him, still been seeking revenge against the Clermont-Reads, what better way than to encourage their precious daughter to become involved with a ne’er-do-well like Nathan Monroe?
But it was long past time to let the dead rest, to forget her quest for revenge and concentrate on the living. Time to build a new life.
W
hat kind of a life that could be when she was married to one man and loved another whom she had always professed to hate, was quite unanswerable.
At the end of October came the Autumn Ball, the highlight of Margot’s social calendar. It was very much a country affair, with dowagers smiling proudly upon their lively offspring while they sat and contentedly chatted about the state of their gardens, the hunt, or who had won the Yacht Club Trophies this year.
A three-piece orchestra played the dances of the season: the waltz, polka, quadrille and lancers. Margot stood proudly at the door welcoming every guest personally, as if she were Queen Mary herself.
Lily, with little heart for such delights, was on her very best behaviour, saying little and eating less. She curtseyed, smiled, nodded to all and sundry, while Bertie remarked how beautiful she looked.
She wore a blue silk gown trimmed with cream roses about the hem and sleeves, its décolletage low and daring. Yet she did not feel beautiful. Lily felt like a waxwork with a painted smile upon her face, and a manufactured heart in her breast.
How she longed to feel happy again. She’d longed to escape from The Cobbles, move out of one world into another. Now, glancing about at the pretty young girls in their pale frocks, Lily knew that she was an outsider still, would always be so. She’d also failed to protect her own precious child in this clean, scented world from being tainted by the one she had left. Entirely her own fault.
Tears filled her eyes on a sudden rush of guilt and sadness, and Bertie was beside her on the instant. ‘Don’t cry, Lily. We both miss our little Amy, I know, but life must go on. Not forget exactly, but carry on, for her sake.’ He slipped an arm about Lily’s waist. ‘Maybe start another baby soon, eh? When you’re ready.’
She felt a surge of gratitude for his kindness. ‘It’s just that on top of everything I find these events rather overwhelming.’
‘All a bit strange, eh? Miss the old Cobbles?’
‘That would be silly.’
‘Course not. I miss it too. You were different there.’
‘Was I?’
‘We both were,’ he said, an echo of sadness in his voice. ‘I only want you to be happy, Lily. You’ve been so down lately.’
‘I am happy.’ And she danced a waltz with him to prove that it was true.
Lily couldn’t bring herself to think of having another child. Not just yet. The long cold months of winter seemed endless but she continued her valiant struggle to make Bertie a good wife in every other respect. She wrote down and memorised Margot’s instructions. She accepted every invitation, practised her grammar, her curtseys and deportment. Her punctiliousness in manners and grasp of current affairs were entirely suitable to her place in genteel society, and no one could fault her smiles.
Most importantly, she never permitted herself to think of Nathan Monroe. Not for more than the odd unguarded moment anyway.
Nor did she visit The Cobbles, not even to admire the new improvements or see her family. Lily decided that the only way for her to settle to her new life, was to put the old one firmly behind her for good. She confined her contact with them to a regular weekly letter, filled with news of her new activities and entertainments. It was meant to explain why she was too busy to call.
She thought herself very brave and noble, but none of her endeavours quite worked. Lily could see it in Bertie’s eyes whenever he looked at her. In the way he paused, as if thinking twice before speaking to her, often changing his mind and saying nothing at all. And the times he spent away from home grew ever longer.
It was Selene who supplied the reason.
Lily was sitting in the summer house struggling to understand world affairs by reading a newspaper article in preparation for a dinner party that evening with the local Member of Parliament.
She was, for once, quite pleased to be interrupted by her sister-in-law. ‘Heavens, Selene, I can make nothing of this. It appears to applaud Britain’s diplomacy as the way forward to peace, yet to me it seems riddled with complacency.’
Selene draped herself comfortably upon a wrought-iron garden seat, smiling with a charm which should have set alarm bells ringing. Lily was too engrossed in the newspaper’s views on a possible war to notice.
‘As if Britain alone knows what’s best for the world, and can solve all of its problems with a sound scolding.’
‘I haven’t seen my brother around much lately?’
‘It says here that the Balkan States need a good talking to. Perhaps we should loan them Margot?’ Lily giggled, expecting Selene to join in her little joke. Instead she fidgeted with the bobble-trim on her peach linen gown and emitted a heavy sigh.
‘Is Bertie home today?’ When Lily said nothing, she continued, ‘You know where he goes, don’t you?’
Lily, still frowning over the article which she was following with the tip of one finger, smiled abstractedly. ‘I’m sure you are going to enjoy telling me.’
Selene did so love to make trouble, Lily thought. No doubt she was jealous, if Nathan Monroe was out fishing with Bertie, it meant he wasn’t with her. Lily knew the friendship existed, certainly on Selene’s part, because she’d seen her taking detours to the pier to watch for him.
‘Of course, it’s perfectly fashionable for a man to have a mistress. Kings and princes do it all the time. And Bertie does like to be fashionable.’