Lily and the Duke (Sex and the Season #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,11
reacting this way?”
“Perhaps I have been faithful to you. Have you considered that possibility?”
“Really, Amelia. I was gone for a year. I know your appetites.”
“Of all the… How can you insult me that way?”
Daniel began to lose patience. “Insult you? For God’s sake, this is probably the most we’ve spoken to each other since we met. We never had any relationship other than in bed, and it is not my wish for that relationship to continue.”
Amelia got out of bed, strode slowly across the chamber to the leather armchair where her garments lay, and began to dress. “You know, tomorrow night when you’re lonely, don’t bother coming to me. I will likely find a gentleman who appreciates what I have to offer. I already have my eye on someone. Perhaps you know him. Lord Jameson? He is quite devastatingly handsome, and I do believe he will be receptive.”
Lily’s brother. Lily’s brother who was obviously taken with the blond woman who had monopolized him all evening. Clearly Amelia was bluffing, trying to hurt him. Daniel didn’t blame her for the attempt.
“By all means. I hope you do find someone. I wish you nothing but happiness, Amelia. However, I think it might be best if you left Laurel Ridge on the morrow.”
“You can’t be serious! You invited me here, Daniel!”
She was right of course. He had invited her, and she had done nothing to merit being sent away. “I spoke in haste. Of course you don’t have to leave. Please make yourself welcome, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.”
“Fine.” She walked to the door, her dress unbuttoned in the back.
“Wait, I’ll fasten you,” Daniel said.
“Please, don’t bother. I’ll go straight to my chamber.” She slammed the door.
Daniel turned over, burying his face into his pillow, clenching his hands into fists. His unsated erection throbbed. He imagined a pair of soft white hands caressing it, ruby lips enfolding it.
“Lily,” he groaned aloud. “Lily.”
CHAPTER 3
Lily woke early the next morning. She smiled to herself, remembering the ball. She had enjoyed it, to her surprise. Lord Victor had been charming company, although she didn’t wish to encourage him. Somehow, she had to get him interested in Alexandra.
And the duke. His kiss and his dance edged their way into Lily’s mind more often than she desired. Consciously, she banished them.
Lily brushed out her hair and plaited it, letting the long braid hang down her back. She dressed in a morning gown of pale orange and put on her ankle boots. The men would no doubt be meeting to begin their hunt. She decided to give them a few more moments before descending. Most of the women would still be abed due to the late hour of the ball last evening. Lily intended to take her art supplies and do some painting. She gathered her leather case that held her watercolors and paper. She took out a pint-sized jar, filled it with water from the basin, and capped it and put it in her case. She dropped her writing journal into the case as well. Then she left the room quietly. Rose was still breathing steadily in slumber.
She enlisted a young servant to carry her supplies and walked toward the alcove. Servants were hurrying about on the front lawn, setting up tables and chairs for the ladies’ lawn party that afternoon. In about ten minutes, she found the rocky path she had walked across eight years ago, and in the distance the stony alcove beckoned. The bench was still there, although foliage had grown over parts of it.
Lily dismissed the servant and hummed softly to herself as she set up her easel, placed a watercolor board upon it, and tied an apron around her waist. She opened her jar of water and saturated the paper. Delving in to the case again for her colors, she spied the painting she had brought from home. She looked beyond at the landscape she had painted. Remarkably, it hadn’t changed much in eight years, except no color bloomed now. It had been early autumn during her last visit. She put the painting back in her case and decided to start fresh. She continued humming as she mixed color for the sky, which was scattered with wispy white clouds. A bird twittered in the distance, and Lily stopped in mid stroke. She jotted a few sentences in her journal describing the sounds in the alcove and then went back to her painting.