Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Usually, Ethan bounded into Tilly's bed before daybreak. Some days, he dressed as a pirate and on others, he insisted she look at his drawing when her eyes could barely focus from being at the theater too late.

But his pudgy hands would wrap around her cheeks and draw her gaze to his, and her heart would melt.

Always.

Only two days until Christmas and she would be forced to spend the holiday with a group of strangers. Well, except for Mrs. Craven. But Mrs. Craven might as well have been a stranger. Tilly didn't dare utter a word of the truth to the old woman for fear of what she could do. Being old and crotchety had enough power, and she didn't wish to share that Ethan was Tilly's illegitimate son. So much of protecting her reputation meant balancing how others regarded her, including which roles she selected, which parties she attended, and which charities she supported. A careless whisper from Mrs. Craven could send ripples throughout the beau monde, and the delicate balance Tilly had fought for to maintain the public's favor would be gone.

Five years and that secret never grew lighter.

If anything, it became something of a chain, binding her to Roger these past few months now that he knew.

But it helped that her family was supportive of her acting. The seven Brennan brothers and sisters stormed into London's theater scene after Ethan's first birthday with a story that Ethan was her mother's youngest, but with their father gravely ill, Imogen and Tilly agreed to care for him.

And the story stuck.

Imogen eventually married a vicar and left London, and Tilly's performances garnered enough attention that London adored her. For the moment, anyhow.

She was fortunate that she wasn't immediately cast off for being an actress. The ton embraced her and delighted in her company, and she had hung on to that for as long as she could.

But Tilly was tired.

Bone tired of pretending. Of not letting her guard slip. Of performing for everyone on and off the stage.

Of being alone.

She was so alone.

Tilly wiped at her cheeks, annoyed with herself for being overly sentimental. She would celebrate Christmas with the others when she returned to London, and Ethan would be delighted at having the opportunity to celebrate twice. And she would do as Roger wished so that Ethan could do just that.

"Miss, I hope I am not bothering you. Mrs. Craven insisted I bring up a breakfast tray for you before you expired from hunger." The lady's maid floated into the room and set the tray by her bed.

Tilly propped herself up, forcing on a sleepy smile.

She had practiced lines far too late last evening. While she appreciated Mrs. Craven's thoughtfulness, she needed more sleep now that she had the opportunity. Though, if she were being honest, five years of mothering Ethan had turned her into a reluctant morning person. There was not much sleep to be had with a rowdy five-year-old in the house.

The maid threw back the velvet curtains to reveal a bright white light. "Oh, I know the weather made travel difficult, but there is nothing more magical than a fresh coat of snow before Christmas."

"I have only experienced snow for Christmas once before now. Has the storm finally lifted? The wind was horrible last evening."

"It has, m'lady. And Haddington looks beautiful. If you wish to go for a sleigh ride later, I would be happy to arrange it for you."

"Thank you." Tilly reached for the teacup on the tray and drank it without a touch of cream or sugar. She preferred the bitterness in the morning to jolt her awake. "That sounds grand."

"The duke might also have a pair of skates for you if you wish to skate the pond. The winters at Haddington can seem as if they drag on and on, but I find if one can dress for the weather, there is fun to be had. Is there anything else you need, miss?"

Tilly eyed her toast with butter and jam, and her stomach gurgled. "No, thank you."

The lady's maid whisked out of her room just as quickly as she had whisked in, and Tilly enjoyed breakfast in bed all the while knowing the earl was somewhere in this vast house.

Did he prefer the mornings or the evenings? What did he enjoy doing? She couldn't see him singing along as she played the piano. Maybe he preferred the library or a game of chess?

It made no difference because she had no right to know. They were strangers, and a snowstorm saw them snowed in together in some cruel twist of fate, but they must remain strangers.

They must, or surely, she would lose her heart to him. If she hadn't already.

She quickly dressed, visited with Mrs. Craven, then decided to spend some time out in the country air.

The stone stairs were shoveled but slick as she made her way down to the sleigh.

"Would you like to join me?" a deep voice asked from behind her.

Tilly turned, holding her skirts tight to stop herself from throwing arms around the earl. What luck to find him again. And what horrible timing.

"Join you? I was going to enjoy a sleigh ride by myself."

"I had arranged for a ride as well. I apologize. I didn't realize…"

She had never been so tongue-tied in her life as she met his stare and swallowed in his earnest manners. Damn him and his gentlemanly ways.

"I will go skating. Please, enjoy?—"

"I insist. I don't wish to interfere—" he said, speaking over her.

"—the ride. It's a beautiful day." She laughed. Well, not laughed. That would have required dignity, which she had none at the moment because she tittered like a schoolgirl. She couldn't speak around the earl, couldn't think around him. And now she couldn't act as if she hadn't already lived lifetimes in her twenty-one years.

"I will go skating," she insisted again, avoiding eye contact. "You can tell me all about the sleigh ride later."

"Very well."

The earl climbed up into the sleigh and settled beneath a blanket.

"Are you avoiding me, Miss Brennan?"

"I don't know you," she hissed, glancing toward the driver. "We have only met. And I cannot be in your company without Mrs. Craven as my chaperone."

He nodded. "I understand."

Guilt swallowed her up. First, she acted a fool, and now she was no better than a pretentious shrew. He was much too polite to make light of her excuse.

"I will go skating," she repeated, this time softer. "And though I should not say it, I am glad to see you once again."

For a moment, he was quiet. Seriousness settled over his features. "Are you warm enough to go skating? Should I send for more blankets?"

"I don't believe I need blankets to go skating. I will be fine."

"Fine," he said. It settled over his lips like he had swallowed a fly. He signaled for the driver to move forward, and the sleigh took off, leaving Tilly there in the courtyard.

Alone.

And she only had herself to blame.

Miss Matilda Brennan.

While at dinner last evening, dining on the most delicious roast he'd ever had the pleasure to eat, Mrs. Craven had referred to her as Tilly after one too many clarets.

Henry would have preferred to have enjoyed dinner with Miss Brennan, but she had taken dinner in her room. Leaving him alone with her crusty chaperone and giving him the distinct impression that she was avoiding him.

She could tell him otherwise, but she could hardly look him in the eye. She acted as if she were afraid of him, which was odd considering they had kissed in a dark forest when they first met.

He didn't understand.

The sleigh rounded the corner, perched above the pond down below. Miss Brennan stood observing the pond, her arms akimbo on her hips. She was dressed in a beautiful burgundy cloak that only offset her fair coloring and bright fire-red hair. Her shoulders dropped with a deep sigh before she pushed off across the ice. With her arms wide out to catch her balance, she glided carefully across the ice before she waved her arms in giant circles and crashed onto her bottom.

He chuckled to himself the moment she tossed her head back and groaned.

Slowly, she struggled to stand back up as each limb went in the opposite direction she intended.

Henry climbed out of the sleigh and made his way to the freshly shoveled path down to the pond. He stood by, afraid to distract her.

She whirled around, her arms flailing and her eyes wide. "What are you…"

He rushed out onto the ice in his boots, instantly slipping and landing sprawled out on his stomach across the ice. The ice burned his cheek, and he was certain he would have a bruise on his jaw from the way he landed.

"I came to assist you," he mumbled, reluctantly pushing up to his knees.

"It appears as if you are the one who needs assisting, my lord."

Just as suddenly, she was on her back staring up at the sky and mumbling under her breath. "Oh, drat."

"Perhaps we both need help."

"It's unnatural for humans to be on ice. That is what the matter is."

"I believe you are wearing skates, are you not?"

"Pfft, would you care to try them?"

Henry inched across the ice and stood above her with a small grin tugging at his lips. "Mrs. Craven is well asleep for the afternoon. Can you trust me enough to skate with me for a few minutes?"

"How are you certain?"

"Because I watched her insist on a second claret jug be produced at luncheon, then finish it while spewing the most ridiculous diatribe regarding the current wallflowers of London. She had many opinions. We have become meal companions, it seems."

A beautiful smile teased at her lips. He had foolishly thought she was beautiful with her mask the first night they met, but now?

Well, he wasn't certain how he had been knocked over by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen but sure enough, that was just his luck. And he had never considered himself lucky. Hard-working, yes? Confident, well he more often toed the line of arrogant. He didn't care much for semantics right now.

Not when she reached up and grasped his gloved hand with hers, and he helped her to stand.

"My lord, I mean this in the most respectful way possible. Please leave me alone."

He blinked hard. She was a puzzle.

"Have I offended you?"

"No, you have been kind and earnest. And I will admit, I am still recovering from the shock of discovering you here after searching for you in London. I knew it was you instantly, and I appreciate you not letting on."

Something within his chest shifted. As if his heart was preparing to make room. Which was a problem. If only he could care at the moment, but he couldn't look away.

"You searched for me?"

"I…" she glanced toward the sky and puffed out her cheeks in frustration. It was a cute quirk of hers that made her long graceful nose bunch. "I wished to inquire after your head. It was a nasty fall."

"My head is fine, thank you."

She clasped her hands in front of her and swung her skirts from left and right. She had done the same that night. "I am glad to hear it."

"Will you tell me what you are so afraid of?"

"I am not afraid, my lord."

"I wish you would stop calling me that."

"I will not. I cannot afford to lend any appearance of familiarity with you when we never had a proper introduction. I will not invite a scandal into my life. I cannot be around you for fear…"

Henry shifted his feet, instantly regretting it as his boots slipped. He pulled what he feared was an unattractive face as he struggled to regain his center of balance. At least he didn't fall again.

"I can assure you that my life is free of scandal. I only recently inherited an earldom and a crumbling estate. When we met that evening, I was simply Henry Davies."

He liked that name best anyhow.

Henry Davies once had a rosier outlook on life, before his father died and he was sent to live with his strict uncle instead of being sent to sea as an apprentice to follow in his father's footsteps. He had dreamed of doing so since being a young boy, so his disappointment was sharp when he was sent to London instead. His mother once confessed he was made for books and arguments, whereas his younger brother, Rafe, was to become a sailor. And after bravely fighting the French for years, Henry was actively discussing his brother's possible promotion to captain with anyone who would spare him a few minutes.

"I can't imagine being simply anyone any longer. I am Matilda Brennan to all of London."

"That sounds exhausting, living up to the expectations of others constantly."

With a soft, jaded laugh, she brushed back a piece of hair from her face. "As you likely know."

How she knew, he didn't know. But there was no denying it. Perhaps it was a universal experience to feel that crushing pressure to do as expected.

"What should I call you?"

She gazed down at the ice before darting a glance toward him. "Tilly will do when it's you and me," she said, before she pushed off and attempted another go around the pond. "And when we are with everyone else, I am Miss Brennan. But we should strive not to be alone."

He stood in the middle of the pond beneath the milky cloudy day, clasping his hands in front of him. He was thankful for the wool gloves the footman lent him. He watched her wobble across the ice and flail her arms, and all the while, he had a grin on his face.

It was the strangest thing.

And might have been the longest he had ever caught himself smiling.

Henry did not make a habit of smiling.

"Would you like my help?" he called out.

"Absolutely not."

It wasn't the answer he had hoped for, especially as he appraised his exit.

"What, oops. Oh, Zooks!" Tilly flopped down onto her bottom again and burst into laughter. "I won't be able to sit for a week. Why do others consider this a fun pastime?"

"I asked if you would have liked to join me on a sleigh ride."

She slowly rose to her feet and struggled to right herself fully. "You can say what you wish right now, my lord, but I see you standing there too afraid to move."

"I am too busy watching you."

"No," she said, waving her hand out. "We will not have any flirting. Not allowed."

"There are a lot of rules now to have the pleasure of sharing your company."

"We met during a masquerade where there is mostly none save one. I understand your confusion. Nevertheless."

"Noted." He tested his footing, slowly creeping forward. "I will take my leave then. I wish you a pleasant afternoon."

"Wait," she said behind him.

Henry jumped, surprised by her nearness, and fell clean onto his arse. He sighed, reclined against the bumpy ice on the pond, and stared up at the clouds slowly drifting across the sky.

Tilly lowered to her knees, then lay on her back, her head next to his. "A sleigh ride would be nice."

"I promise to be respectable."

"You are the epitome of respectable, my lord. That is what I like about you."

She was teasing him again.

"So far you have claimed to know me, wish you didn't know me, and asked me to leave you alone. I apologize, but I must ask you to be direct with me and tell me if you wish for me to go, or do you wish to join me on a sleigh ride?"

Everything quieted between them. A trio of crows flew across the sky, but there was only the sound of her shallow breathing surrounding him along with his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

"When I walked through the door of Haddington, I thought something horrible must have happened on our journey here because there was no way you could be waiting for me. But you were. And you rushed up to me to ask if I was well and all I could think of at that moment was that you must have hated me for disappearing when I should have found you."

"Hate is a strong word, Tilly."

She nodded, wiping at the corner of her eye and turning her face to study his. They were so close yet might as well have been worlds away.

"I feel like I must confess something." She swallowed. "It's not that I wish to avoid you, I don't wish that at all, honestly. It's only this house party is important for many reasons, one of which is my family. And I don't wish to complicate things by continuing our flirtation."

Right.

The set down.

Yet, without knowing all the details, he understood. Even if his family despised him for it, he would do anything to see them happy. Often at the sake of his own happiness. Duty didn't discriminate.

"Flirtation." It didn't feel right as soon as he said it. No, he couldn't explain it, and it was certainly something far beyond normal for him, but they shared something deeper than a flirtation. He didn't wish to flirt and kiss. Henry wasn't sure what he wished for exactly, only that he knew he didn't wish to be parted from her and wanted no harm to come to her. Certainly not at his hands.

"And now you think the worst of me."

"No, that's the problem, Tilly. I haven't started to know you yet, but there's nothing I wish for more."

A sweet, sad smile spread across her face. He could lose himself in her light green eyes. They were full of spring and hope, and days that held more promise than the long, dark days of winter. He wondered what it would be like to wake up beside her and see those eyes in the early morning, filling his day with possibility.

His days were always heavy with expectation.

They both assisted each other up to their feet and slowly made their way off the ice. He reached back, led her up the hill to the sleigh, and was about to help her in when something hit his head.

Henry whirled around in time to catch a snowball in his chest. "What's this now?" He bent down and quickly cupped the snow into his hand and padded it into a ball, but Tilly was faster. She hurled another snowball in his direction which he neatly dodged.

"Not so quick now, Miss Brennan," he said, throwing his snowball.

She squeaked, jumping behind the sleigh to take shelter. "I surrender." She tossed her arms up in the air, then slowly poked her head up, her large eyes wide and dancing with mischief.

He reached down for another scoop of snow, as another snowball knocked off his top hat and burst against his neck, sending an avalanche of cold snow down his shirt.

Flirtation, indeed.

Tilly giggled, then jumped and darted around the sleigh as he chased after her. The sun finally poked through the cloud cover, washing the landscape over with dark gold light. The very perfect weather for Henry's first snowball fight.