A Timeless Romance Anthology Part 22

I will not fraternize with any men, single or married.

I will not speak to any male guests or visitors.

I will complete all ch.o.r.es in a timely manner.

I will read from the Good Book twice daily.

I will complete samplers for the Ladies Auxiliary.

I will only speak when addressed and not refer to anything personal.

Lila stared at the list in the early morning light, her heart turning cold as Aunt Eugenia leaned over her left shoulder, reading each item out loud. Her voice grated on Lila's nerves until she wanted to scream and rip the paper into tiny bits.

Her father had left just a few minutes before, and that was when Eugenia produced the list with a triumphant smile. Peter was nowhere to be seen this morning, and now it seemed that Lila was forbidden to even speak to him if they met again.

Her eyes burned with frustration. She'd slept poorly on the lumpy farm mattress. What had been in it? Stone eggs?

A voice came from the doorway of the kitchen. "And what if the house catches fire, and Lila needs to warn me to get out?"

Lila's heart about jumped out of her chest. She looked up and wanted to laugh, or at least smile gratefully, at Peter. Seeing him the in light of the day, his intense black eyes no lighter than the night before, she realized it was good that she hadn't had such a full view of him. He would have certainly invaded her dreams-which was the complete opposite of what she wanted. If she couldn't return to her parents newly minted, she'd have to suffer in this creaky place for far too long.

One night here had been plenty.

She pursed her lips together, because, officially, she wasn't allowed to fraternize with this man of men. Maybe her aunt really was inspired, since it was true that the Lila of last week would have not held much back. But, the new Lila was refined, restrained, and focused on restoring her reputation.

"Peter, you are still home?" her aunt said.

Lila didn't need to see the woman's face to sense that she was more than fl.u.s.tered.

"I overslept. Cla.s.ses are finished, and my final exams don't start until the afternoon." His gaze landed on Lila, and she wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Oh," Aunt Eugenia said. "Would you like breakfast?"

"I'll eat in town," Peter said, his eyes going to the paper Lila was about to sign. He crossed to the table. "Well, what should it be, Mrs. Payne? Will Miss Townsend be able to warn us of our eminent deaths?"

Lila would give anything to see the expression on her aunt's face, but she didn't dare look.

"Of course." Aunt Eugenia's voice was quietly controlled. "In any sort of emergency like that, she may speak to you."

"So this line needs to be nixed." Peter took the pen from Lila's hand, their fingers brushing. He leaned over and made a bold line through: I will not speak to any male guests or visitors.

That musky male scent was back, although it was lighter this morning. Lila nearly shivered as b.u.mps broke out on her arms. She was grateful for her heavy shawl that concealed them. Peter seemed to be taking an inordinately long time leaning over her to cross out the single line. He was so close that she felt his warm breath against her cheek.

I should rewrite that line, she thought. Fire or no fire.

With the pen, Peter then crossed out the top line: I will not fraternize with any men, single or married.

"There. That's more reasonable and something we can all live with." He straightened and moved around the table so he was facing both women. "I'll see you this evening, ladies."

Lila and her aunt were silent after Peter left. Warmth spread through Lila at the way he'd taken command over her aunt's unreasonableness. She hid a smile as she touched the pen to the list of agreements and signed her name.

"First ch.o.r.e of the day is to make the bread dough and set it to rise," Aunt Eugenia said in a tone that must have been what sent her older daughter to the nunnery.

The warmth dissipated as Lila followed her aunt to the pantry to measure out flour. She was about to ask if they had to grind the flour as well, but kept her lips pressed tightly together. She didn't want to give her aunt any ideas.

Lila followed her aunt's direction as best she could, but soon she had flour and bits of dough in her hair, underneath her fingernails, and on various spots on her face and arms. As a little girl, Lila had watched her parents' cook make bread. Lila had always been fascinated with the process, but she hadn't realized how much muscle power kneading took.

As she pushed back a pale strand of stray hair for the umpteenth time, Aunt Eugenia said, "I'll be dining at Phyllis and Pastor Wallace's tonight."

Lila thought it odd for her aunt to refer to her son-in-law as Pastor Wallace, but she supposed the position demanded it.

"How is Phyllis doing?" Lila asked.

"Oh, splendidly," Eugenia said, the pride obvious in her voice. "She's expecting late spring."

"So soon?" Lila said then clamped her mouth shut. Phyllis had been married only that summer.

"Pastor Wallace believes family is the most important inst.i.tution on earth." Her tone was back to its usual sharpness.

"Yes, of course," Lila said. "I didn't mean-"

"I'll be going alone. You'll have to stay in your room while I'm gone. I can't rightly say when Peter will return or whether or not he'll be alone." Her aunt sc.r.a.ped bits of dough from the bowl and patted them onto the mound she was kneading. "And you must lock your door."

"Lock it?" Was this another thing to add to her list of duties? Stay home from dinner invitations and lock herself in her room?

"There's no telling who Peter will bring back. Sometimes his gentlemen friends are a bit on the rowdy side. Fortunately he's never included lady friends in his party, and he hasn't spoken a word about any particular lady since the engagement."

"Peter's engaged?"

"Not anymore." Her aunt pursed her lips together and laid a length of cheese cloth over the loaf, then took the ball of dough Lila had been kneading and started to rework it.

Lila waited for Eugenia to continue, curiosity burning through her. But she was quickly realizing that, after spending the morning with her aunt, too many questions had caused her to clam up. So Lila began to clean the mess of flour and dried dough.

Her reward came a moment later when her aunt said, "High society girl she was."

Lila found herself met with a narrow-eyed gaze from her aunt.

"Much like yourself, I suppose. My cousin Ruth said the lady's father was opposed, but he allowed the spoiled girl to have her way with most things." Eugenia carried one of the loaves to a shelf above the stove, motioning for Lila to follow with the second. "It was all hushed up before the society papers could get much information, and the lady apparently left for France. Of course, that left Peter in quite the lurch back home."

Lila paused by the window and looked out at the frozen fields. She wondered what the woman who'd steamrolled Peter was like. Something unpleasant tugged at the back of Lila's mind-did Peter see her as the same? He'd been quite courteous and amused to make her acquaintance last evening, and this morning . . . well, he certainly had his own ideas of what her restrictions should be.

He was a gentleman, it seemed; the fact that he attended Yale attested to that. But money was another matter, of course. If Roland had had any honorable intentions toward her, her father would have accepted him as a son-in-law, for Roland could well afford to live in style on more than one continent.

Eugenia continued to prattle on, and Lila listened only with half a mind as she scrubbed the kitchen table and chairs, lorded over by her aunt. By noon-time, she was worn to the bone. It seemed her aunt had waited until her untimely arrival to do any ch.o.r.es. She'd never spent a day with so many physical demands, and all she wanted to do was rest.

"I should probably read from the Good Book; I missed it this morning," she said, as she dusted the parlor while her aunt sat reading. Normally Lila preferred novels, the more adventurous the better, but reading the Bible was better than sneezing from dust every half minute.

Fortunately her aunt agreed, and Lila took the heavy book into the kitchen, away from her aunt's speculating eyes. Turning to the table of contents, she scanned the headings, stopping when she reached the first Book of Peter in the New Testament. Her stomach flipped as she thought about the way Peter taken over this morning and with two bold strokes of the pen, made her life more bearable.

The only problem with reading instead of cleaning was that her mind wouldn't stay focused. Instead of comprehending the tight verses of prose, she thought of the man with black eyes.

Chapter Seven.

"d.a.m.nation!" Peter muttered as he pushed through the door and left the cla.s.sroom where he was sure he'd failed the economics final test. The questions had been in Russian, or maybe German. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he hadn't been able to concentrate one whit. That blasted woman staying with his mother's cousin had completely drowned out any sense left in his head.

He fished into the inner pocket of his overcoat where he kept the tightly folded envelope that contained Dannelle's letter, in which she told him he wasn't good enough for her after all. Well, not in those words, but the meaning was plain and clear. He wished her all the best with Monsieur Lover. Just touching the letter with his fingers reminded him of why he should stay clear of Miss Lila Townsend.

A man like her father certainly had grand plans for his only surviving daughter. Yes, Peter admitted to himself, he'd asked a few questions about campus this afternoon about the Townsend family to add to his scant knowledge. And the conclusion he came to: Completely off limits.

A twinge of hope entered his chest as he imagined securing a prestigious position after Yale, and in a year or two, encountering Lila at some fantastic ball. Their eyes would meet across the room, and at first her pretty little brow would pucker in question. Then a smile would spread across her face as she recognized him. They'd dance, they'd talk, they'd laugh, and by the end of the evening, he'd be courting her.

A cold wind gusted about his legs, which fittingly pulled him from his reverie. He couldn't put his mother through another failed engagement. He'd find a wife eventually, but he could ill-afford one now. He couldn't even keep his mother secure at the moment. If his father were still alive, Peter would have more than a few questions for him.

Peter turned up the collar of his overcoat, shielding his neck against the increasing wind. Today, he'd walk back to Mrs. Payne's farmhouse instead of hiring a carriage, if only to freeze out the image of an alabaster face with violet eyes.

It was twilight by the time he trudged up the porch steps, and only a single light shone from the parlor. The rest of the house was dark.

He stepped inside, expecting to hear voices coming from the parlor, but when he walked into the room, no one was in there. The fire was low, and the room silent. It was barely supper time, so he a.s.sumed the women had gone out for their meal. Peter moved to the kitchen. A plate was left on the warming stove, and he peeked beneath the cloth. He'd been right. Mrs. Payne had left him supper and taken Lila with her to dine elsewhere. He realized he was ravenous and without taking off his coat, ate quickly.

Peter bypa.s.sed the parlor on his way to the staircase. He planned to go over his economics notes, hoping to discover that he hadn't botched the test as much as he at first thought. When he reached the second floor, he thought he heard a door shut. Pausing, he listened for any other sound.

Then he noticed light spilling from beneath the door at the far end of the hallway. It was her door. Were the women home after all? It was a bit early for either of them to retire for the night. Curiosity took over, and Peter walked to Lila's room, but then hesitated. The light was definitely on inside her room, but he heard no other sound.

"Miss Townsend? Mrs. Payne?" He heard an unmistakable shuffle.

"Did you get your supper?" a m.u.f.fled voice said.

"Yes, thank you." Peter stared at the door. "Is everything fine? Why aren't you in the parlor with Mrs. Payne?"

"Oh! Has she returned?" Her voice was clearer. Lila must be standing closer to the door.

"No, I thought... Where is Mrs. Payne?"

"She's at her daughter's for supper."

Peter frowned. "She left you here alone?"

There was a pause, and Peter wondered why she didn't just open the door to talk to him. Then he remembered the contract Mrs. Payne had written up this morning. It was about the strangest business ever-Lila was a grown woman being treated like she was a nursery child.

"Mrs. Payne told me to stay home and keep my door locked in case you..."

"In case I returned?" Peter guessed. His shirt collar was suddenly too tight and held in too much heat. He loosened his neck tie and undid the top b.u.t.tons of his shirt. Was he really such a beast of a man that Mrs. Payne had made this lady afraid of him? When Lila said nothing, he said, "I don't know whether to laugh or pound your door off the hinges at the ridiculousness of this. What in the world did you ever do to deserve such censure?"

To his surprise, the door clicked open. A sliver of vertical light spilled out.

"Peter," she nearly whispered.

b.u.mps rose on Peter's arms at the intimacy of her voice so close to him.

"I'm sorry to seem so impolite, but I dare not disobey my aunt. She is giving me no chances, and I fear that my next stop might be the nunnery if I don't keep her rules." She let out a soft sigh. "No matter how ridiculous they may seem."

"What you're saying is that I must fear for my life, sprint to my room, and barricade the door?"

Lila laughed. The sound reached through the door and warmed him through.

"What I am saying is that I cannot bring more scandal to my name. And if that means staying behind this locked door when I'm alone, with a man in the house, so be it."

Scandal? Surrounding Lila? That only made her more intriguing. "The door is not exactly locked," Peter said, grinning into the darkness.

"Oh." A shuffle, then the door started to move.

But Peter was quicker and stopped it with his foot. "Leave it be. I promise not to barge in and be the cause of your swift dismissal."

Lila's slim fingers curled around the edge of the door, and Peter had the sudden urge to touch them. Instead he moved closer to the opening and said, "I'll just sit out here in the hall, and you can tell me your story. I'll try not to be too scandalized."

She laughed again, and Peter found himself laughing with her.

"Prepare yourself." Her voice was quiet, and he caught a glimpse of her undone hair as it waved across her shoulders.

He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, turning his head toward her door. Her voice was melodic and soothing as she spoke of her family and how she'd fallen in love with the wrong man. "Wrong in the sense that he would not offer me marriage. I should have known from the beginning because of his reputation, but naively I thought I might be different."

You are different, Peter wanted to say, but he didn't. "Were you in love with him, then?"

Her fingers wrapped around the door again, and he waited for her answer.

"I thought so at the time, but after I saw him with that other woman... I guess I realized that he viewed me as another of his... flirts."

The pain in her voice tugged at his heart. He wouldn't mind coming face to face with Roland Graves one day and giving him the what for. "I'm sorry you lost what you thought was real," Peter said.

"Thank you," Lila whispered. She cracked the door open a few more inches. "Thank you for acknowledging that. It was very real to me, despite all of the warnings."

Peter couldn't help staring at her. She gazed at him with those incredible violet eyes, and something thawed in his heart-something that had been frozen solid since receiving that rejection letter. Lila did not have the refined looks of some of the women he'd met, but she also didn't have the hardened, calculating ways that they did either. She was innocence at its finest-which had been a detriment to her.

It was plain to see that she'd had her heart broken, her feelings had been truly affected, and now she was simply being punished for falling in love with the wrong man.

Peter exhaled. "Roland is a dastardly fool."

The smile was slow on her face, but when it reached her eyes, Peter had trouble staying on his side of the hall.

"You are being too kind," she said.