the house, Lily locked the front door and then turned to Edward, looking up at him, her light green eyes questioning, her expression puzzled.
In the past he had always sent notes to her by messenger, asking if he could visit her, and she had responded by return using the same messenger, either declining or acquiescing to his request to see her. It was usually the latter. His arrival tonight was unannounced, and unexpected, and she was quite obviously surprised, he realized that. He said quickly, ‘Excuse me, Lily, for coming to see you without prior warning, and at this very late hour. I hope I have not inconvenienced you.’
‘No, not at all. Perhaps I misunderstood the letter you posted from Yorkshire…I was expecting you on Friday…before you went back to Oxford the next day.’
‘I did plan that. But I returned to London earlier than I expected—this evening, in fact, and I had such a need to see you, to be in your company, if only for a short while, I just had to come here.’
He had spoken softly, in a low tone, and there was a seriousness about him tonight which was unusual. She suddenly wondered what was wrong, for surely something was amiss. Lily Overton was not a stupid woman by anybody’s standards, and she detected a strange and unfamiliar sadness in Edward; it seemed to her that sorrow shadowed his brilliant blue eyes, dulling them, and his demeanour was quiet, reflective almost, which was unlike him.
Since their first meeting last year she had found him irresistible, and readily succumbed to his charms whenever he wanted to be with her, whatever the circumstances. Even though he was so young, far too young for her, she cared about him deeply and he was the only man who had ever satisfied her sexually.
Reaching out, instinctively understanding he needed comforting for some reason, she put a hand on his arm and said gently, ‘Hang up your coat and scarf and let us go to the sitting room upstairs where we can talk for a while. I was reading there when you arrived on my doorstep, and there’s a lovely fire. It’s cosy.’
Edward nodded, put his coat in the closet and followed her up the staircase into her private haven. He liked this small but charming room with its dark-rose coloured walls, rose-damask covered sofa and chairs and moss-green carpet. Rose-coloured velvet draperies covered the window, banished the foggy winter’s night from sight, and the room was warm and inviting as he remembered.
‘May I turn down the gas lights?’ Edward asked. ‘It’s rather bright in here.’
‘Of course,’ Lily answered, added, ‘And could you please throw another log on the fire while I pour you a glass of brandy.’
He smiled at her, added logs to the grate and, reaching up, he lowered the gas lights on either side of the mirror above the mantelpiece; instantly the sitting room was shadowy and more restful, intimate.
Walking over to the sofa Edward sat down. He leaned back against the needlepoint pillows hoping he could relax here with Lily; his nerves were taut and he had developed a raging headache. But she was always calm, warm and affectionate with him, and she had never failed to have a soothing effect on him.
Within the space of a few minutes she was handing him the balloon of brandy, and seating herself next to him on the sofa.
Looking at him intently, studying him through narrowed green eyes, Lily said finally, ‘I know there’s something wrong. You are troubled, I can tell that.’ When he was silent, she asked, ‘Would you care to talk to me about it, Edward?’
For a moment he did not answer, and then he said in a subdued voice, ‘There has been a terrible tragedy in my family. We are all devastated, Lily, grief stricken—’ He broke off, shook his head, as if he still disbelieved the veracity of what he was about to say. And then slowly, still speaking in that same low monotone, he told her about his father and brother, uncle and cousin, and their sudden and unexpected deaths in the fire at Carrara.
Lily was so aghast she was stunned into total silence. She found it hard to take it in, to comprehend what he was telling her…to lose four close family members in one stroke was something quite unimaginable. She sat staring at him through tearful eyes, and it took her a moment or two to recover her composure, to find the right words. But at last she said, ‘Oh, Ned, Ned darling, I’m so very sorry. It is heartbreaking for you and your family, I understand that…a great tragedy, catastrophic. Words are such cold comfort at a time like this, words are just…hopeless.’ She blinked back her tears, and went on in a quavering voice, ‘What can I do? How can I help you? Is there anything I can do to comfort you?’
Ned sighed, shook his head. ‘Not really…just being here with you is enough. You have always been so kind and loving—’ His voice trailed off, and he took a swallow of the brandy, put the glass back on the side table. When he turned his face to hers, he looked at her carefully. ‘Thank you for being…well, for being here. So understanding, so compassionate.’
Lily took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips and pressed it against her mouth, moved closer to him. Placing his hand in her lap, she stroked it. After a few minutes of mutual silence, she murmured, ‘Do you want to be with me? To stay here tonight?’
‘I really can’t,’ he answered swiftly, frowning. ‘I am meeting my cousin very early tomorrow morning, so I must leave here soon. I haven’t slept at all since we received the news.’
‘I understand…’ She paused, hesitated, then remarked quietly, leaning into him, ‘You are so tense, overwrought really, Ned. At least let me give you a massage before you go, you know how much my massages help you to relax, to feel better.’
Now it was his turn to hesitate before speaking. After a moment of thought, he said, ‘I’ll stay for an hour, Lily, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Whatever you want, my darling.’
At thirty-two Lily Overton was a wise woman, and over the years she had acquired a degree of sophistication and worldliness. She had been married and widowed twice. Her first husband had been a surgeon and her second a solicitor who was head of his own law firm, and both men had left her their considerable wealth. She was a widow well placed.
During her marriage to Oscar Overton, the solicitor, she had met all manner of people from all walks of life, and she had benefitted enormously from this. It was because of her wisdom, insight and bright intelligence that she had rapidly come to understand Edward Deravenel, from the first moment they had met.
Their initial encounter had been a year ago, and she found herself thinking about that evening now, reliving it, as she waited for him to return to the upstairs sitting room after going down to talk to the hansom cab driver.
Last January she had been invited to a small dinner party at the Kensington home of her dear friend Vicky Forth, the newly-married sister of Will Hasling. Will had arrived with his best friend Edward Deravenel, and it had been patently obvious to Lily that Edward was instantly drawn to her the moment he set eyes on her. He had gravitated to her at once, making a beeline across the long stretch of drawing room, and had remained glued to her side until they had gone in for dinner, not saying much but focused on her to the exclusion of all else.
Much to her surprise, she had been filled with genuine disappointment when she had found herself seated between Will and a middle-aged banker with a walrus moustache and a slight lisp in his speech; a moment later, she had smiled with delight as Edward was shown to the chair opposite her.
His
