Fourteen

In the estate orchard

A sunny autumn afternoon six days later

A month .

An entire month.

Zander had been at Kelston Hall Children’s Home for an entire month. Lilly could scarcely remember what life had been like before his arrival.

How could that be?

He fit in so well; it was as if he had always been here.

She really ought to sketch his image, now that he had completely healed from the brutal beating. Except, once the likenesses were passed around, someone would likely recognize him, and then he would go.

Out of her life forever.

That thought eviscerated her.

Things at Kelston Hall would return to the way they had been before Zander disrupted her orderly existence. Only, life would never be completely the same.

She had changed.

Zander meant much more to her than a mere stranger rescued from certain death or another capable instructor at the home.

More fool her for not promptly crushing the tender sentiments when they first sprouted, which she would have done forthwith, had she recognized her feelings for what they were.

That was the trouble with never having been infatuated, enamored, or in love before.

One did not know what had overcome one until it was too deuced late.

Still, she had determined to better control her emotions in the future. The night she had fled from him in tears still mortified her.

Stupid ninny .

When he had vowed that he would never mock her, something inside Lilly unfurled, and longings she had suppressed for years burst forth with such angst and yearning, she could not hold back her tears.

And she detested waterworks.

Useless, exasperating histrionics that until a week ago, she believed herself immune from.

Zander, dash him to ribbons, had proven her so very wrong.

Not so long ago, she had wanted him gone.

Now a vice squeezed her heart until she could not draw a breath whenever she imagined never seeing him again.

Despite her untenable fascination with him, Lilly remained a practical woman.

Of course, he would go.

What else would he do, for pity’s sake?

Even if Zander could not remember precisely what it entailed, he had a life apart from Kelston Hall.

Women in her circumstances— on the shelf spinsters —illegitimate with a pockmarked face and a figure that ran toward plumpness, did not dare hope for anything more than a comfortable position to occupy their time until they became too aged to continue working.

Was she not already tremendously blessed?

Yes. Yes.

Of course, she was, silly goose .

For reasons known only to her, Miss Davenport had ensured Lilly a stable future.

So, why then, this past week since Zander said he wanted to kiss her—Lord, how Lilly wanted him to kiss her—had every waking moment been consumed with daydreams and woolgathering fantasies?

Wistful, fantastical notions that could never be, but she still yearned for with all of her being?

And the nights?

The nights were far worse.

She dreamed of Zander.

Heated, chaotic, tormentingly sensual visions, and in her scandalous dreams, Zander kissed her.

And…once upon a midnight dream…he had done more.

So much more.

Forbidden, wanton, unchaste things.

Heat scorched Lilly’s cheeks, and she swiftly glanced around.

The unseasonably warm day brought a flush to the faces of many of the adults and children, picking fruit and gathering nuts.

Thank goodness.

She could blame her rosy complexion on the warm, late September afternoon and not the improper thoughts about the virile man a few feet away.

Much to her relief, the sheriff still had not called.

Lilly did not intend to contact him again, either.

Should Sheriff Wrottesley inquire why she had wanted to see him, she would mention the man she had recently seen twice, studying the house. Or at least he seemed to observe Kelston Hall.

In point of fact, he simply might be another newcomer to Prudhoe and wanted to familiarize himself with the area.

She had not mentioned the incidents to Charles or Zander. Nevertheless, a tiny worry rooted around in the back of her mind that, although highly unlikely, the loiterer could be connected to Zander’s abduction.

Though her stomach turned and her lungs cramped at the pain he had endured, she could not regret the dire circumstances that had sent him to her doorstep.

Well, perhaps not on her doorstep, but onto Kelston Hall’s lands.

Lilly likely would never have met him otherwise.

Children’s laughter carried through the fresh, fragrant air as they scampered about the orchard and up and down ladders. Everyone in the household, except the stable boy and Mrs. B, busy cooking their supper, helped harvest the Golden Pippen and Ashmead’s Kernal apples, Warden and Bergamot pears, and walnuts.

They would not harvest the quince until October, but in the meantime, cider and preserves must be made, fruit preserved, and walnuts dried for the winter.

Song thrushes, blackbirds, and robins chirped and bobbed among the laden branches, eager for the humans to depart so the birds could gorge themselves on fallen fruit too bruised to save.

Tonight, everyone would indulge in apple dumplings, served with cream, a tradition Lilly began several years ago as a reward for the children’s and staff’s hard work in harvesting the estate’s bounty.

She loved this time of year, when the English countryside blushed with the fiery golds and crimsons of autumn, and morning mist clung to the hillsides like a comforting blanket. The orchard brimmed with ripened fruit, and the cooler air made for cozy, shawl-wrapped walks beneath canopies of russet and amber as leaves crunched beneath her boots.

The hearth fires seemed more inviting and a cup of steaming tea or apple cider more calming, as the earth celebrated one last time in preparation for facing winter’s starkness and harshness once again.

This year was even more special because of Zander’s presence.

He had taken to teaching as if he had been instructing children for decades, rather than days. It was apparent from the worshipful looks the boys kept sending him, Zander had already made a mark upon the lads who needed a male mentor in their lives.

Charles, bless his kind heart, tried his best. However, given he was absent most days and did not interact with the children in the same capacity as an instructor, his relationship with the orphans was not as close.

Even the shyest girls slipped their little hands into Zander’s, and Lilly had caught more than one female instructor ogling him like a French Mille-feuille or custard tart they would like to gobble up.

Drucilla Wobblecroft, five and fifty if she was a day, sidled next to Zander and batted her almost non-existent gray eyelashes. She added half a dozen apples to the already full basket he held, then coyly angled her head so that her hideous straw bonnet slid to the ground.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured in mock dismay while pressing a hand to her ample bosom. “My bonnet has fallen.”

Yes, that tends to happen when you untie the ribbons and then tilt your head.

Lilly made a mental note to have a conversation about appropriate and acceptable behaviors with the female instructors as soon as possible. It would not do to have enamored teachers mooning about and perhaps, causing a scandal, because while she had worked hard to make the home self-sufficient, a handful of benevolent patrons regularly donated funds.

Still, she could not help but admire the way Zander’s too-small shirt tightened across his broad back as he lifted a full produce basket onto the wagon before bending to retrieve the bonnet. Unlike Drucilla, however, Lilly covertly observed him from beneath her eyelashes, rather than openly gawking like an infatuated schoolgirl.

Just to ensure her secret was safe, however, she sent a swift glance around to see if anyone had noticed her appreciation. Everyone seemed engrossed in activities elsewhere, and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Really, hiding her feelings became more difficult each day that Zander remained at Kelston Hall. As headmistress, she should set an example, not engage in the same untenable goggling of the home’s only male instructor.

Not that she could blame the other teaching staff.

Plopping a fine specimen of masculinity in the middle of a bunch of spinsters was akin to tossing dry, brittle fodder on a toasty fire, and then pretending to be surprised when the blaze raged hotter.

Lilly ought to have foreseen the chaos hiring Zander would cause, but her secret feelings had blinded her.

True, she repeatedly told herself, she had hired him because doing so was practical, logical, wise, and prudent. However, when alone and forced to face the undeniable truth head-on, she must admit she had fairly jumped at the opportunity to keep him at Kelston Hall.

He brushed a leaf off the ratty atrocity that passed for a hat, then handed it to Miss Wobblecroft. “Here you are.”

“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Brook,” Miss Wobblecroft gushed, her chins folding into themselves and the mole with the black wiry hair near her mouth twitching with a life of its own. “What a pleasure to have a gentleman so close at hand.”

She placed her plump hand on his rippling shoulder and tipped her mouth up into what could only be described as an improper invitation.

Lilly’s stomach clenched tighter than a beggar’s fist.

I am not jealous , she told herself sternly.

Her position as director demanded she nip this type of behavior in the bud at once.

That was all.

She had better have that conversation with the instructors as soon as possible.

“I do believe I am offended,” Charles whispered in Lilly’s ear. “Am I not also a gentleman?”

Lilly yelped in surprise, then playfully slapped his forearm in the manner a sister would an annoying younger brother.

“Do not sneak up on me, Charles. I nearly had an apoplexy.”

Grinning, he winked. “If you had not been staring at Zander as if he were a licorice drop, you would have seen me approach.”