Romancing a Wallflower Read online

  “But we are not in there yet. Are you sure she is watching you?” Max spoke low, although there was no one but Simmons to hear.

  “Not with any certainty. However, do you not think it is a bit strange? London seems too large a place to run into the same person so often—three times in almost as many days.” Harlow reduced his own voice to a loud whisper. “We are approaching the saloon again. I shall signal for Simmons to stop this time.” He rapped the cane on the roof of the coach. “We have a code,” he said, chuckling at Max, who had confusion etched all over his face.

  The carriage came to a stop and the two men hopped out. The woman in question stood staring at the door to the boxing academy.

  “Good morning, Lady Poinz,” Harlow and Max said almost together. Both tipped their hats.

  “Good morning!” Her tone was all sugary. “What are you two gentlemen doing at the saloon? Do you plan to work up a good sweat?” She casually licked her bottom lip as she gazed in Harlow’s direction.

  If he had ever found anything remotely fascinating about the woman, it was a thing of the past. Her unsubtle coquetry filled his stomach with disgust, a feeling he was not used to experiencing when with a female—but this woman was no lady.

  “Such an odd place to run into you, Lady Poinz,” Harlow retorted lightly. “We do not see too many women outside Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon.”

  “That is a shame, because I think this is a most wonderful part of London. Men go in, and men come out…looking as though they need a little extra attention,” she added, a sardonic gleam in her eyes. Seductively, she stepped closer and ran her gloved finger down the front of Harlow’s shirt, stopping at the fall of his breeches. He grabbed her hand.

  “Lady Poinz…” Harlow’s tone was menacing. “…never touch my body unless you are invited to do so. I do not know what game it is you are playing, but I want nothing to do with it.”

  “So you say, dearest, but I fear you may be mistaken.” She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his lower half.

  “We have business to attend, Lady Poinz. Good day to you.” Harlow tugged on his hat, refusing to give her any more courtesy, and walked into the building. What was her game?

  Max followed Harlow inside. “She seems to be looking for someone. Give me a minute. Harlow gave his hat and cane to a footman who was waiting to assist them and then walked to the side of the nearest window to look out. She continued to stare at the door of the academy until a weathered black carriage pulled up. A short man with a moustache opened the door and hopped out of the vehicle, before holding it open for her. The two black horses pulling the carriage looked similar to the ones from the other day, however, he could not be certain. The carriage was different.

  How curious. Why is she stalking me like a stricken deer? And how did she know I would be here, unless she had someone to tell her? His mind turned over and over everything he remembered from White’s. His careless accident had brought undue attention his way, so he could not be sure who was the informant. He rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the ring determined to focus his attention on his boxing, lest he end up on his back.

  Two hours later, emerging from the boxing saloon, Harlow squinted up at the sun.

  “Thank you, my friend. You have performed a valiant service,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I confess I found it hard to concentrate. Lady Poinz’s appearance weighed heavily on my mind.”

  “That could explain the bruise you gave me with your uppercut,” Max guffawed good-naturedly. “I thought faces were without one’s bounds.”

  “My aim was for your shoulder. You ducked and caught my fist.” Harlow replied cheerfully. “On a serious note, I would like to find out the name of the man with whom Lady Poinz rode in that carriage. How did she know to look for me here? And, indeed, why was she doing so? Was she following one of us, or both of us? I have several questions,” he contended.

  “Those are very good questions. I would also like to discover the man’s identity. It could be connected with our investigation.”

  “There are quite a few loose ends. I will have Dean discreetly look into Lady Poinz’s investments. As my man of business, he should know who to ask,” Harlow stressed.

  “We need to discover her recent dealings and try to determine her motive. I teased you earlier, but this could be serious. Let me see what I may learn at Headquarters before we leave tomorrow,” Max proposed. “If she has her claws into you for some reason, then you may need to be careful with whom you associate.”

  Lady Lilian. Harlow’s breath caught in his throat.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, the house buzzed with activity.

  “Pardon me, m’lady. I have your chocolate and biscuits here. Would you like me to pack the books ye have laid out on your table?” The maid moved into the room with a tray and tipped her head towards the books.

  “Thank you, Mary. Yes, put them in the bottom of my valise, please.” Lilian glanced out of the window at the street, feeling discouraged. It was a beautiful, late summer day without clouds in the sky, something that London rarely experienced. She would normally feel blissful at the sight. It seemed as if the last several years had been cloudier and chillier, so a cloudless sky should feel inspiring. Instead, she felt bereft. There had been no word from Lord Harlow—John—in three days and she chided herself for allowing herself to think there had been some affinity between them. Yet something tugged at her heart…hope, maybe?

  A small bark from the doorway grabbed her attention. “Cooper! There you are, my little one. I have something for you.” Lilian lifted up her pillow and pulled out the fabric ball she had made for her puppy. She had carefully taken old sheeting and wrapped it over discarded paper stuffing that she had already secured in some of Father’s discarded news sheets, sewing the fabric down until she formed a perfect ball shape. She had noticed Cooper’s affection for playing ball and had decided he needed a larger one that he could chase, thinking it would be easier to see and retrieve for him. He would get it dirty, but she would worry about that later.

  At the sight of the ball, the little puppy stood up on his hind-legs and balancing, yapped in hopeful delight. Surely, he has never had one of these toys, but he knows it is for him.

  “You are such a keen puppy, Cooper.” Lilian tossed the ball out of the door of her room, towards the wall opposite, and he ran after it. A minute later, he returned, holding it in his teeth and spinning his tail around. His tail wagged in a circular motion. “Oh, good gracious, your tail twirls around when you are as happy as this!” Pleased with his reaction, she laughed and clapped as Cooper’s tail continued to whirl.

  “M’lady, I don’t think as I have ever seen a dog wag ’is tail like that,” Mary remarked, pausing while packing books. “A true treasure ye have there, m’lady.”

  “He brings a smile to my lips.” This little dog lifted her heart. “I dare not consider what he has been through.” She called Cooper to her side and lifted him to her lap, ball and all. They had already this morning bathed his neck with vinegar and applied the tincture to it. She lifted the thin band of sheeting which loosely covered his injuries. “They look much better today, Cooper. You will be as good as new in another day or so. Mr. Whitten did a good job.” She fleetingly wondered if he enjoyed working with animals. He must do, she decided, as it could be both a cheering and disheartening task. She tugged on the blue velvet bell-pull near the settee to summon help and Winston arrived with Clara bustling behind.

  The tall, broad-shouldered footman waited while Clara scurried about, grabbing Cooper’s basket, pillow and his little blue ball.

  “I declare, the young master is already leaving his things about,” she chuckled. “I was on my way ’ere to tell you, m’lady. Ye ’ave company in the parlour,” Clara whispered, winking in a familiar fashion which Lilian ignored.

  “A visitor? I did not see anyone arrive. How unusual.” Casting off her earlier low spirits, she picked up the book she was reading
and nodded her head, signalling to Winston she was ready. He carried her downstairs, with Cooper running ahead, hugging the wall and holding his new ball between his teeth—tail spinning in circles behind him. Clara followed everyone. She usually did so in case Lilian dropped something.

  “Yer dog has a fancy tail, m’lady,” Winston remarked lightly as they made their way down the second flight of stairs. “I am sure as I have never seen a tail spin around on a dog before.”

  “He is entertaining, Winston, and a hearty encouragement in my life. He makes me smile.” Winston rarely spoke, except brief words. Cooper was affecting everyone’s mood.

  Winston placed her in the chair and released the brake. Clara walked up from behind and pushed the chair in the parlour's direction. The yellow floral paper on the hall walls cast the area in a happy light, elevating her mood further as they passed into the parlour. At her entrance a tall, brown-haired man handed his coat to Chambers and turned around, smiling. He was holding a posy of forget-me-knots.

  “These are for you, my lady.” Harlow offered the flowers to Lilian, his eyes glittering with some kind of emotion she could not decipher. “I would have come yesterday, but business kept me away. It is my fondest hope that you will forgive me that oversight.”

  Lilian was not sure what to say. She had missed him. Briefly, she considered telling him so, but pride kept her from revealing her feelings.

  “These are lovely, my lord…”

  “John,” he murmured for her ears alone. Clara had taken her needlework and was sitting behind him in the striped chair.

  “Ooh!” she exclaimed, sucking her finger. “Do, please excuse me, m’lord, m’lady. I must attend to this before the blood ruins my piece.” She jumped up from the chair and moved past them in a hurry.

  “It seems we have the room to ourselves for a moment,” he responded.

  “Yes…but if you think to importune me, sir, Chambers will be nearby, in the hall.” She turned and looked at him, hoping her eyes and tone gave the lie to her words as she whispered her response.

  “Never would I—!” he began, before his frown lifted and he continued, “Would you enjoy a turn in the garden? I have a question to ask.” He ventured forward, tilting her chin up to him with his index finger. “Forgive me if I worried you; if you thought I would not be back. I had not considered your feelings enough in my absence.”

  She stared down at the flowers, needing to hide the tears which threatened. Thinking they were gone, she looked up at him again.

  “No, John,” she whispered. “I have been occupied,” she lied. A lump rose in her throat as she spoke. Yes, I spent the days worrying I would not see you again. I cannot tell you that, of course. Involuntarily, she sniffled. “I should thank you, sir, for sending Mr. Whitten. He made a friend in Cooper.” Somehow, she managed a short laugh. “He examined him all over and left us some medicines to help with his injuries.”

  “Mr. Whitten is a good friend of mine. We met while fighting in France. His experience in animal science helped immensely with our horses. He assisted the regiment’s veterinary surgeon and kept many of us mounted, as he was quick to spot difficulties. Another friend of mine, a doctor, introduced us. Lord Maxwell Wilde, the Earl of Worsley, was present and the four of us remain as close as brothers.

  Harlow reached out and touched her hands lightly, causing her stomach to flip.

  “I am sorry to have neglected you, Lilian. I wish I could make amends for that.” He gave her free hand a light squeeze.

  She recognized Clara’s footsteps approaching along the hall and pulled back. Drat! I could smell him, he was so close. Dangerously close. She shivered.

  John stepped back as well, setting them at a proper distance just before Clara reappeared.

  “Did ye tell his lordship we are leaving for Tintagel in an hour?” Clara could be impertinent, owing to the considerable licence she enjoyed with the family. Now Lilian suddenly understood all too well her mother’s difficulty with Clara’s effrontery and was forced to inhale a deep, calming breath.

  “Clara, his lordship has asked me to take a turn about the garden with him. We will be in the rose gardens, should anyone ask. Cooper will act as my chaperone.” At that moment, Cooper walked in, presenting a comical sight. The dog’s teeth firmly gripped the large ball, which banged against his paws on the left side of his body, dragging and impeding his gait.

  Harlow roared with genuine laughter. “He is barely bigger than his new ball—which reminds me…” Breaking off, John reached into his pocket and withdrew a smaller red ball, securing it in Lilian’s palm. “He may enjoy this. I recall that dogs enjoy sport.”

  “Yes, he loves playing with a ball.” She chuckled. “Mama recognized that very quickly. She gave Cooper a ball with a blue tether attached so that I could throw it and retrieve it. Cooper enjoys himself immensely.” Lilian loved her dog. How quickly that had happened, she reflected. I do not want to discuss Cooper. I want to know more about him…about the two of us. Could we be a twosome? She realized she wanted them to be a twosome.

  They opened the side door of the morning room and moved outside onto a small, stoned courtyard. A row of still-green Camellia bushes added an element of privacy to the area. A large elm tree provided shade, while a carpet of bright green moss grew from the bottom of the tree and extended to the lawn, where the sun broke through the leaves. Red and yellow rose bushes lined a stone walk which led to a small white gazebo covered with the foliage of a jasmine that had long since bloomed, which stood behind carpets of pink asters, purple verbena and white daisies.

  “This is beautiful,” Harlow whispered close to her ear. “You have a very insightful gardener.”

  His breath sent delicious shivers down her spine. “It is my mother’s passion, mostly. Williams does the heavier work, but you can frequently find my mother out here, wearing a large hat and gardening gloves. She says it is her way of painting.” She pointed ahead. “Would you like to sit in the gazebo? Mama had a small ramp attached to it so I might easily gain access to it. I love to read out here.” Lilian could smell his fragrance of bergamot and bay leaf, even amongst the blooms, and inhaled quietly. She enjoyed his nearness as much as she feared it would be short-lived. They were leaving.

  Harlow pushed her chair into place beside the small iron one in the gazebo and turned her towards him.

  “I have a few things I would like to say, if you will allow it.”

  She did not want to hear bad news. She nodded her head quietly, steeling her insides for what he might say.

  “I must leave Town for the Cornwall coast tomorrow, to hopefully conclude some business. I had hoped you might be willing to continue allowing me to court you.” His throat worked, but he said no more.

  Her pulse quickened. “When will you be leaving?” She swallowed, struggling to control her excitement.

  “Would you mind if I sat next to you?” he asked.

  “Not at all.” She clasped her hands in front of her and glanced around, spotting Cooper chasing a butterfly behind the elm tree. Her throat pulsed wildly. The window to her father’s study opened to the garden, and she speculated if he was in there, but the curtains were closed. She imagined he had drawn them yesterday to keep the sun from overheating the room. This morning he had escorted Mama and Lydia into Town to purchase last-minute items for their journey back to Tintagel, and she had not heard them return.

  “May I kiss you? I have so much to discuss with you, but while we have a moment alone, I would like to kiss you. We may only have a moment before your maid appears.”

  Kiss me? The question startled her back to reality. “Yes,” she breathed, placing her hand over her fluttery stomach. Absently, she wondered how this could be achieved from her wheel-chair. Impulsively, she shuttered her eyes.

  Harlow moved closer and slipped one arm around her, pulling her nearer. She felt his hand slip into her hair, gently moving his fingers among the curls hanging at the back of her neck. His lips touched hers, tenderly at
first, then with more pressure, with his tongue teasing her lips to open.

  Lilian enjoyed his kiss and leaned further into his caress, yielding to the pressure of his mouth. His tongue swiftly entered, parrying and dancing with her own as it explored the recesses of her mouth and stirred up tingling, strange feelings in the very centre of her body, compelling her to want more—of what, she was not sure. However, she knew she did not want this kiss to end.

  A small bark from the corner of the garden brought them back from the heavens, alerting them to visitors, and they pulled apart, both breathing heavily. Cooper barked again, and Lilian saw Clara come through the door from the house and take the bench in the stoned courtyard.

  “I believe we have a champion in that little dog,” Harlow observed. “Thank you. I enjoyed that kiss.”

  “I enjoyed it too,” she said shyly. “I confess I would have liked it to last a moment longer…” She stopped then, suddenly realizing the lack of propriety in her words and behaviour. Whatever was she about, to be enjoying stolen minutes alone with him and a kiss that had singed her to her core. What must he be thinking? She was little better than…than a bird of paradise!

  “Lilian, you are the first woman I have courted in a very long time. I fear I need to dust off my rules of etiquette!” He tried to appear apologetic and failing, laughed instead.

  “Oh…are there written rules for gentlemen, too?” A gurgle of laughter escaped her throat. “I am truly sorry,” she excused herself quickly, lifting a hand to her mouth. “I did not mean to offend—I suddenly visualized a book of rules gentlemen must follow in order to court a lady. It struck me as funny. I apologize.”

  “There is no need to apologize. There are rules, ah…principles, if you will. For example, as boys, our tutors teach us we must be honest, be prompt, even early…that type of thing. My father showed me a book and asked that I read it. I think I may still have it.” He sat back in his chair and laughed. “I have not thought about that book in years. I believe it was called something like, ‘The Gentlemen Instructed…’ He stopped. “There was more to the title, but it escapes me. Anyway, I am endeavouring to adhere to those teachings.”