Lily’s heart went out to him. She couldn’t imagine marrying a person someone else had chosen. “Tell me what it is you fear.”
His golden eyes came to rest on her face. “Inside it seems as if we are two completely different people. It is difficult to explain. It is just that we seem to think differently, view the world in a different manner.” He sighed and shook his head. “As I said, it really doesn’t matter. We shall marry and afterward we will make the best of things. Jocelyn will gain a title and high-ranking social position and I will gain the money I need to rebuild Bransford Castle and reestablish the Bransford fortune. That is the way it works.”
But he was looking at her as if he had hoped for much more. Looking at her as he had that single instant when their eyes had met that day in the entry. Looking at her as if she was the one who could give him the happiness of which he had dreamed.
Lily’s heart twisted. Dear God, even were there the slimmest possibility those were his thoughts, she had to stop them. She wasn’t the person he believed her to be. She wasn’t worthy of marrying a duke. She had to tell him the truth.
“I think your father chose very well,” she forced herself to say. “Jocelyn was raised in society. She knows how to behave in those circles, how to mingle with people in the upper classes. I, on the other hand, was raised by a poor schoolteacher and his wife—and an uncle who stole for a living.”
His head came up. “What?”
Lily took a deep breath, determined that she would tell him all and end this mad attraction they both seemed to feel.
“My mother’s grandfather was the Earl of Kingsley. The way Mother told it, the earl’s daughter—my grandmother—ignored her father’s wishes and ran off with a commoner, a farmer, I believe. The earl disowned her and she never saw him again. My mother also married a commoner—as I said, my father was a teacher.” She managed a smile. “Thanks to him, I had a very happy childhood and a wonderful education, but then he and my mother fell ill and died of the cholera, and then …” Her voice trailed off at the tightness constricting her throat.
“Go on, Lily,” he gently urged. “Tell me what happened after your parents died.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Then I went to live with the only relative I knew, my father’s brother, Jack Moran. The problem was, Uncle Jack had even less money than my parents. Where I had lived in a neat little cottage in the country, Uncle Jack lived in a tiny attic garret above a tavern in London.”
She looked up at him, bracing herself to finish the story. “Uncle Jack was a sharper, Your Grace. From the time I was twelve until he left me on my cousin Henry’s doorstep, I lived the same sort of life he did.”
Royal straightened on the bench, his tawny gaze searching her face. “You aren’t saying—?”
“I was a pickpocket at thirteen—one of the very best. I could run a three-card monte and never get caught. I was an accomplished thief who stole whatever we needed in order to pay the rent. When Uncle Jack ran a confidence game, I helped him by playing whatever role he needed. I had always been shy, but I learned to overcome it. By the time I was sixteen, I could play a dozen different parts and in time, I got very good at those, too.”
Royal said nothing, but his jaw looked tight. Lily steeled herself against the disgust she knew he must be feeling. Fighting back tears, she forced herself to go on.
“I had hardly been raised to be dishonest and at first I was sick at the thought of stealing. But then we ran out of food and it looked as if we were going to be cast out in the street. Hunger is an amazing motivator, Your Grace. Though Uncle Jack did his best to take care of me, I realized if I wanted to survive, I would have to learn the things my uncle wished to teach me. I would have to do whatever it took to make ends meet. And so I did.”
She forced herself to smile, but her bottom lip trembled. “So you see, Your Grace. At least with Jo, you will get exactly the woman you see. With me … I am not at all what I appear.”
Her eyes welled. She thought that he would look away from her, perhaps even leave her there in the maze, but instead his big hands reached out and very gently framed her face. “Lily …”
The tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. Royal tilted her head back and his mouth covered hers in an achingly tender, breath-stealing kiss. A little sound came from her throat at the jolt of yearning that tore through her, the fierce rush of longing. And though she knew what they were doing was wrong, she couldn’t stop her fingers from curling around his lapel, from leaning closer to press herself against him.
Royal groaned and deepened the kiss, their lips melding perfectly together. Lily had kissed men before. As she grew older, playing the role of seductress was sometimes part of a confidence scheme. But Uncle Jack was ever protective and never let things get out of hand.
Lily knew the feel of a kiss, but she had never been touched by one, never felt the sweet unfurling that blossomed inside her now.
“Lily …” Royal repeated, kissing the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, then returning to her lips. The kiss turned wild and reckless, his tongue gliding over her lips, sliding inside to taste her. She could smell the lime of his shaving soap and the starch of his cravat. His woolen riding jacket warmed the tips of her fingers.
A soft moan escaped as he moved to the side of her neck, trailed kisses along her throat, gently nibbled the lobe of an ear. Pleasure washed through her and a deep, burning desire. Royal kissed her one way and then the other, kissed her and kissed her, branding her with the heat of his mouth as if he claimed her in some primal way.
Lily trembled. She slid her arms around his neck and clung to him, felt the solid muscles across his chest where her breasts pillowed against him, and inside her chemise, her nipples went hard. The insane thought occurred that she wanted no barriers between them, wanted to press her mouth against his skin, learn the texture, the scent of him. It was madness, she knew, but the thought remained until her body took over and it became impossible to think, and all she could do was feel.
She had no idea how long the kiss went on, or what might have happened if she hadn’t heard a man outside the maze calling Royal’s name. She recognized the voice as belonging to his friend, Sheridan Knowles, and the knowledge of what she was doing hit her like a harsh winter wind.
Lily jerked away. She stared into Royal’s face, saw that he had also been jolted into awareness. His cheeks were flushed, he was breathing hard, and Lily realized her breathing was as ragged as his.
“It—it is your friend.”
He glanced in that direction, his body tense. “They must be looking for us. Sherry came to warn us.” He rose to his feet and adjusted his coat over the front of his riding breeches, reached for her hand and urged her up off the bench. “This shouldn’t have happened. It was completely wrong of me to take advantage. I am terribly sorry, Lily.”
She glanced away, her eyes stinging. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have stopped you. You belong to Jocelyn and she is my cousin. Once you knew the life I had led, you must have presumed that I—”
“God, no! I just … I wanted you, Lily. Hearing what you had been through made me ache for you. I wanted to erase those years, protect you in some way.” He laughed bitterly. “I certainly did a fine job of that.”
He surveyed her dishevelment, wiped the wetness from her cheeks, reached up and straightened her bonnet, tucked away a lock of her pale blond hair.
“We’ve got to go.” Taking her hand, he started walking, leading her rapidly back through the maze. He stopped just before they reached the entrance. “I’ll leave first. Sheridan and I were supposed to go riding. Wait a few minutes then go back inside the house.”
Lily nodded. Royal didn’t say more, but guilt was stamped into his face. Clearly, he regretted his momentary lapse in the maze.
Lily didn’t tell him that long after he was married, she would remember his passionate