“This is madness. We have already decided.”
She nodded. She agreed. He needed an aristocratic wife. It was the only way to further his political passions. And she wanted respectability and the family that came from a marriage. She had to remain a virgin for that. She could not be what he needed, and he could not give her what she wanted.
“What if I chose differently?” she asked. “What if I want to be your mistress?”
“You would give up everything you want for me?”
Would she? Did she love him that much? “Maybe,” she whispered. She had lived all her life as illegitimate. How hard would it be to become a courtesan? If she were his mistress, it would not be so bad.
Until he found a wife. Then it would be unbearable.
She needed to back away. She could not do this. And yet, she found herself staring into his eyes with longing. What cost for one more night?
“I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone,” he said, “but I will not dishonor you.” He cleared his throat as if his words pained him. “I. Will. Not.”
She was startled by the force of his words. Surprised more by the way he stepped back from her. His arm was still extended, but now at the maximum distance. And when she touched her fingers to his forearm, he walked her out of the room and up to her bedroom. The moment they arrived at her door, he bowed to her and stepped away.
When she looked at him, she felt all her clashing emotions inside her. Confusion, desire, resolve, and love. None of them would settle, and she couldn’t find the words to sort through them.
“You deserve everything, Lilah,” he rasped. “Everything.”
Then he walked away. Ten minutes later she heard him leave the house for his club.
Chapter Twenty-Two
How odd thatwith time and repetition, even the most overwhelming emotions become the mundane fabric of life. Such was Lilah’s thoughts two weeks later. That first day in Aaron’s home, Lilah had experienced such violent shifts of emotions from grief to gratitude to lust. Those same feelings had continued the next morning when he had arrived with his carriage to drive her to the registry office. He had stayed with her that day, along with Mr. Reuben Bates, as they had cleaned and sorted the place into a healthy if not quite orderly office.
The two men had then departed together as they discussed London’s lack of urban planning while Lilah got to the business of organizing the classes she would teach to people who looked for work. Fortunately, word of the office’s new ownership had already spread, and possible employers arrived hourly if only to get a look at her.
Naturally, she took advantage of that, placing as many servants as she could after they proved to her that they could perform the job. It was time-consuming but rewarding work. Good people needed good jobs throughout London, and she was doing her part to see that it happened.
Every evening, Aaron arrived with his carriage and waited while she closed up the office. They spoke about their days in the companionship of the carriage. They came home at the same time to an excellently prepared meal and a brand-new butler who was proving his worth every day. He’d been refused a post time and time again because he’d lost his arm at Waterloo. No one would hire a one-armed butler, but neither Aaron nor Clara had cared. And better yet, the man’s wife had leaped at the position of housekeeper. Soon Aaron’s home was running with an efficiency that made everyone happy.
Clara rarely joined them in the evenings as she was off on her own amusements. That clearly worried her brother, but he took no steps to limit her beyond making sure she had adequate escort wherever she went. With Reuben’s help, Lilah suggested he employ a burly new footman—also a veteran—to accompany her wherever she chose to go. It wasn’t exactly proper, but it kept his sister safe and so Aaron relaxed. That allowed Lilah and Aaron to have an amiable evening together before their inevitable before-bed routine.
Every night they hovered on the edge of kissing. Every night the longing felt like it would bury her. And every night he looked at her as if she were the answer to all his prayers.
Until the moment he escorted her to her bedroom and backed away. She was beginning to despise the words, “Sleep well, Lilah” because she never did. After he left for his club, she spent the night tortured by dreams of his hands on her body, his organ filling her belly with children, and of the bliss they could have in each other’s arms.
And so it went for two weeks until the night that Clara informed her that she was having a few respectable gentlemen for dinner in two nights’ time. “My first true dinner party,” she said with pride. “Will you be able to attend?”
Lilah frowned. It wasn’t exactly a true dinner party since—as far as she was aware—there had been no formal invitations, no discussion of the meal in question, and no adjustments to the staff to accommodate the extra work. Worse, the new staff livery had yet to be delivered and the current uniforms were sadly outdated. Clara didn’t seem to care as she waved at her brother. “You won’t approve of anyone I’ve invited, Aaron, so you should probably remain at your club.”
Aaron shook his head sadly. “This is not the way things are done, Clara. I’m sure you know this.”
“It’s the way I want to do things,” she said firmly. “I have chosen the wilder path, and we don’t go for all that folderol. There’s food enough for those who want to join. And those who don’t, needn’t come.” She pointed a finger at him. “That means you.”
Lilah winced. She had heard all about the wild path versus the organized one, and personally she preferred the organized one but understood her friend’s need to do things her own way. “You can’t bar him from his own home, Clara,” she chided.
“It’s my home, too, and he’s made his opinion of my friends abundantly clear.”
“I like Lilah,” Aaron said, his tone heavy. “She’s your friend.”
“Yes, she is,” Clara said with a grin. “And this night is for her.” She turned toward Lilah. “Ask me who’s coming.”
Lilah smiled. It was hard not to in the face of Clara’s obvious excitement. “Very well. Who will be in attendance?”
“Gentlemen!” Clara said with a cat-in-the-cream grin. “Eligible ones. Smart ones. Funny ones.” She clapped her hands. “I’ve a few lady friends who will round out the evening, of course. They want to talk about a fascinating novel we’ve all just read.” She waved at her brother. “You’d hate it.”