Lillian's Deceit

12. The best choice.

chapter 12.

They sat down to a light supper in a small but attractive dining room at the rear of the summer cottage. Silver candelabras filled with lighted beeswax candles were arranged to dispel the darkness. From the quaint English garden that lay just beyond the half opened windows, the heady scent of roses drifted in to gently perfume the air. The mellow sound of night creatures added a soothing natural music

Lily stared into her bowl of cold cucumber soup, tension straining her nerves so that she was barely aware of the pleasant atmosphere surrounding her.

It was her wedding night.

She squeezed her eyes closed for a second at the thought. It cast her to memories she long hoped would never rise to the surface again,

"Little sweet--ting... you are enchanting.. god how much i want you.."

"Let go of me Lord Walter..."

"Oh cease the formality sweetheart, there is only me and you here.."

the stupid teenage years of her sprawled back, a bitter taste left her mouth as she couldn't swallow down the food, dear god, would it always be like this? would the past haunt her forever?.

She could feel the intense gaze across her, Evan regarded her as he finished his soup, signaling permission to a nearby footman to clear then serve the next course.

A lovely poached whitefish accompianed by a creamy dill sauce and a selection of tender summer vegetables was offered. Lily accepted servings of each, then stared down at her plate as if it might somehow infuse her with a courage she needed. That night ended with her loosing everything and him nothing, she never told a soul, not even her sister. She knew that speaking of it would mean it happened, coming to terms with with reality. till this day she had not came to understandment, no she didn't want to think about her reckless years.

"Perhaps the turbot will be more to your liking than the soup," Evan said.

Her gaze flew upward to meet his. She cursed inwardly as she felt a flush of color rise her cheeks, trying to sound like her pure sister, "Oh, the soup was fine. D-delicious in fact,"

"Ah, so delicious i noted you took all of two bites," Humor softened his tone.

So the man could see her rattlement?

Lily smiled awkwardly, "I don't seem to have much appetite tonight, i confess"

"Shall i confess something to you as well?"

she nodded.

"I am not terribly hungry either. Still, I believe both of us ought to try to consume a little of this excellent fare Armitage's cook has labored to provide. Otherwise I fear we'll find ourselves in the bad graces of the kitchen staff come morning"

Her eyes widened. So astonished by the notion that some of her nerves melted away without her realising. Not once in her life had anyone voiced concern to the servants, and she never expected let alone thought it was possible for an earl to care for his workers. But Evan seemed to consider such matters.

"You believe cook might serve us cold tea?" she ventued.

"Oh, most definitely. And burned scones as well unless we take precautions now to ensure her pleasure"

Lily considered his statement, then picked her fork, "We had best give this a try, then, before it turns cold"

Evan lifted his own fork, "Right you are,"

She managed to eat most of the food on her plate. The first actual meal she had consumed since early morning. She had eaten nothing at the reception other than a single bite of cake forced upon her by the requirements of tradition. Meanwhile Evan engaged her in light, undemanding conversation. She found to her surprise that she was able to keep up, even volunteer a comment or two of her own. For a short while, she forgot her earlier trepidation and simply enjoyed being in his presence.

Sprawled casually in his chair, Evan watched his new wife spear a minusucle bite of apple tartlet with her fork. The silver tines slipped in and out from between her rosy lips with unconscious yet suggestive provocation. His loins tighetened, fresh blood flowing to parts of his body that had nothing to do with digestion.

Plates were cleared. Coffee served. Along with a snifter of brandy for Evan. Both of them refused the very luscious looking dessert that was offered.

The room grew quiet as their conversation wound down of its own accord. Evan relaxed back in his chair, observing her out suddenly pensive eyes.

They would muddle along together well enough, he decided, a swallow of liquor warming his throat. He did not love her, he admitted. Nor did he expect her to love him. But that was all right. Love was ridiculous, a self serving, destructive emotion better left to fools and half mad poets. Hadn't his past been a perfect example of that?.

Married for love, he had been of twenty six age before his beloved wife was found dead, five years ago and he still could remember the accident that tore him and left him scarred,

"Katherine, your not going on that hunt"

his fiancee, Katherine walddorf, laughed and pouted playfully, She was a lovely girl, with bright hazel eyes and peach coloured skin, hair the dark amber of cloved honey, "Darling you wouldnt deprive me of such fun would you? There's no chance of danger. I'm a superb rider, I'll let you know i was the unbeatable one in my school days,"

"You don't know what it's like, riding to a leap in company. There are collisions, refusals, or you could be thrown down---"

"I'll ride with the utmost disrection. What do you suppose, that I'll ride neck-or-nothing across every hurdle?, I'll have you know, dearest, that common sense is one of my strongest virtues. Besides you know it's impossible to change my mind once i'm set on something" Katherine sighed melodramatically, "Why must you be so difficult?"

"Because I love you"

"Then don't love me. At least not tommorrow morning...."

Evan tried to close the memories of the past from being brought back to surface, he wondered for how long he would be tormented. Perhaps till his deathbed.

It reminded him off the power love had on him. How it changed everything in his life. He would never let another woman be that important to him. It had been told that the Hartwick male blood let their women hold such power over them, his own father became a drunk old man after the death of his wife, refusing to come terms with reality. Evan hadn't even the time to grief the death of his mother, he had to take care of his brother John. His father left behind a mountain of responsibilites. Since the age of eighteen Evan had been occupied with managing business, interets, tentants and land agents, houehold staff and family. He had property in Buckinghamshire estate, set among fertile wheat and corn fields and rivers filled with salmon.

Evan had devoted himself to caring for and educating his younger brother, his own needs had been neglected and put aside to be taken care of at some future date. When he had found a woman to love, the feeling he had pennt up for so long were overwhelming, Losing Katherine nearly killed him. He would never subject himself to such pain again.

That was why he had deliberately sought out Eleanor Windsor hand. A demure blonde girl, with an english blood that run deeper than his ancestors. After all she were from the royal family. She had attracted him with her gentle manner at many society balls in London. Her father was a well known man that he respected, some would call the old man stern and hard to approach, but Lord Windsor was like an uncle to him, who helped him in need.

Marrying his well-bred daughter would tighteen the business as well.

He studied her as she sat glowing in the candlelight. Eleanor had been the unatainbale prize every man had desired for the past two seasons, it was said that the man who married her would never lift a finger, her dowry was higher than any other. Truth be told that had not tempted or even moved slightest bit in Evan, he was wealthy and had connections.

No it was the way he knew that Eleanor would never tempt him or awake something inside of him, she was beautiful, but she was not bold. There were things she would never dare to cross.
She would never dare to cross him.

He knew that the only thing they would have between them was an understanding and civilised manner.

He had made the best choice, he decided.

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