The Rake’s Christmas Wager (Spinsters and their Suitors #2)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

L ily Ashworth smoothed the skirts of her day dress, her fingers brushing over the soft green fabric as she stood by the window, watching the garden below. The snowfall had picked up overnight, leaving a thick blanket of white over the grounds of Wintervale Manor. It was beautiful, serene—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.

Her conversation with Lady Beatrice still lingered, like an echo she couldn’t quite shake. Beatrice had been kind, of course—she always was—but her words had pricked at something Lily had long kept buried. The idea that she might be missing out on something, that her contentment was little more than a carefully constructed facade, was unsettling. And then there was the dance with Lord Brinton, and the surprising amount of depth to his character, which had hitherto remained unseen.

A knock at the door drew Lily from her thoughts, and she turned to see Lady Beatrice enter the room, a warm smile on her face.

“Lily, dearest,” Beatrice greeted, her tone light. “I’ve just come from the breakfast room, and I must say, you missed quite the lively conversation.”

Lily smiled, fastening the last buttons on her long winter cloak. “I thought to take a walk in the garden before breakfast.”

Beatrice’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “A walk? In this snow? My dear, you are determined to freeze yourself, aren’t you? But perhaps a brisk stroll would do you some good. And who knows, you might find some company along the way.” Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “There was more than one gentleman this morning that said they missed your company.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “How can that possibly be, Beatrice? They do not even know me. Besides, I am perfectly content to enjoy this house party without forming any sort of attachment.”

“Perfectly content?” Beatrice tilted her head. “Beware, cousin. Contentment is little more than a carefully constructed facade to protect us against the possibility of true happiness.”

“I assure you, I am not protecting myself against happiness. I am happy,” she said. At least, she believed she was happy. True, her life hadn’t quite gone according to her perfectly designed plan that she’d thought of … but she was over that heartbreak—that humiliation. It wasn’t her sisters’ faults that they were sought after before she was. She had already made her choice, and that had turned out to be a mistake—and she wouldn’t do that again. She wouldn’t lean into possibility simply because it could hold something more. Experience had already taught her that when hopes were pinned up too high, they only came crashing down with more force.

Beatrice’s brows drew together. “Are you truly happy?”

Lily mustered a smile. “I’m as happy as can be expected.” And she was happy. Just because she’d suffered heartbreak in the past didn’t mean she was still suffering from it. She was fine. She was happy. She was content. At least, that is what she told herself regularly.

“I am happy to hear that. But please do not spend the entire house party without opening yourself to new opportunities. This is your chance to be social.”

“I know that, Beatrice, but we have several days ahead of us, and with the new snowfall, I thought it would be the perfect time to enjoy the grounds.”

“Very well, but just remember, at Wintervale it snows very often. And if you are going outside, you should take someone with you. Lord Brinton has been most attentive to you, and even mentioned that he had hoped to save you a seat at breakfast.”

Lily sighed heavily, her heart warring between these new feelings about Lord Brinton and old memories which still stung, pricking the back of her mind. “No, I know enough of the world now to be cautious.”

Beatrice’s expression softened, and she reached out to squeeze Lily’s hand. “I understand your caution, Lily. But my dear, not everyone will break your heart the way Francis did. Do not dismiss Lord Brinton because you equate him with Francis.”

Lily nodded, though she remained unconvinced. “I know that, and I will consider your words, Beatrice. But for now, a quiet walk alone will suffice. I won’t go far, just a small walk through the sunken garden.”

Beatrice smiled and patted her hand once more. “Very well, my dear. Just remember, sometimes, we must take risks to find happiness. Even if it’s just a small step outside of where we are comfortable. I won’t push you too much during this house party, but I would very much appreciate your help in making all of my guests feel welcome. I only invite those that I esteem highly to my house parties.”

Lily nodded. Her cousin’s slight chastening struck her. She should not think harshly of her cousin’s guests. “I will keep that in mind, Beatrice. And I promise that I will not dismiss any of your guests.” At least not without cause. It didn’t mean that she had to invite someone to walk with her in the gardens. It meant that she would make the effort to socialize with everyone equally while she was here.

“Thank you, Lily.” With that, Beatrice took her leave.

Lily picked up her gloves, determined to clear her head outside. The corridors were empty as she made her way down the stairs and toward the back door. She stepped outside into the frosty air, the crisp air nipping at her cheeks as she made her way toward the garden. The snow crunched softly beneath her feet, the quiet of the morning a welcome respite from the noise of her thoughts. The sun was already high overhead in a clear blue expanse, giving the appearance that the outdoors was warmer than it actually was.

As she wandered the garden paths, she thought about her cousin’s words. I only invite those that I esteem highly to my house parties. Which meant that all the guests here met that requirement—including the infamous Lord Brinton.

Without her approval, the image of Lord Brinton drifted into her mind. His smile was captivating. She could admit that. He was, without a doubt, charming—a fact of which he was all too aware. But there was something else there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was as though he wore his confidence like a mask, hiding whatever lay beneath. Could there be something beyond his superficial flirtations?

Lily was so lost in her musings that she didn’t notice Lord Brinton approaching until he was nearly upon her. Startled, she glanced up to find him watching her with a smile that was both teasing and genuine. Had her thoughts conjured him into existence?

“Miss Ashworth,” he greeted, his voice smooth as ever. “Out for a stroll, I see. Or perhaps avoiding the chaos of the breakfast room?”

Lily arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “A bit of both, I suppose. And you, Lord Brinton? Are you not usually the center of such chaos?”

Lord Brinton chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “Only when it suits me. But today, I thought I might enjoy the peace of the morning.” He glanced around the snowy garden, his expression turning thoughtful. He held out his arm to her. “May I walk with you, Miss Ashworth, if I promise not to recite poetry?”

“You may. And perhaps I could be convinced of the virtues of poetry.” She looped her arm through his, surprised when he covered her gloved hand with his own. The movement shouldn’t have caused such burst of tingles to run from her fingertips to her ears, but it did. They walked for a few moments in silence around the sunken garden. The snowy bushes looked like lumps of cream.

“That is not true. I perfectly remember your sentiments on the subject.”

“I do not think you caught my meaning,” she said, feeling the weight of the words and accusations that she had slung at him. She’d called him a rake, and he had made little defense. In fact, he had defended poetry more than his own reputation. And yet, Beatrice’s words from earlier this morning stung when she thought about them. Lord Brinton was an invited guest, and this was not her home.

“I apologize for the thoughtless way I spoke about poetry.”

“Which words?” he asked.

She waved a hand in the air. “All the offensive ones.”

He laughed. “I have learned my lesson to be careful in reciting poetry around you. But you will likely hear me recite more during this house party, and I pray I don’t offend you, even if you do not think the words are sincere. I am very fond of poetry.”

“That was not my intent.” She grasped for a way to change the subject from her. “Tell me how you came to enjoy poetry?”

He stopped walking. “That is not usually the question I’m asked about poetry. Some will ask how many poems I have memorized, or how old I was when I first memorized a poem. But you have asked a perceptive question. One I haven’t shared much.”

Heat touched her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to pry. You do not have to answer the question.”

He smiled. “I am not trying to get out of answering your question. When I was young, my governess loved poetry. She would teach me verses, and I’d recite them to her after our lessons. I’d watch her smile, and for some reason, that meant everything to me. It felt like, through those words, I could make her happy. It became something … real, in a way. For me, poetry has never just been a collection of memorized words.”

Lily watched as Lord Brinton talked about his childhood memory. There was a different light in his eyes as he spoke of that happy time. She had misjudged him. “I am truly sorry for what I said. I hope you will continue to recite poetry as often as you would like.”

“Do I need your permission for such things?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks grew warmer. “Of course not. I just didn’t want to you to stop on account of me.”

He took her arm in his again, and they continued. “Very well, Miss Ashworth. Thank you for your blessing.”

“And how many poems have you memorized?” she asked, curiosity overcoming her.

He leaned closer to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “That, Miss Ashworth, is a closely guarded secret.”

Lily’s breath caught as she tried to focus on his words. She waited for his answer, but he did not share. She blinked. “You aren’t going to tell me?”

He shook his head. “It is a very closely guarded secret.”

“Well, that is most disagreeable,” she said.

He smiled that disarming smile of his. “It appears I must be disagreeable then.”

“That is hardly a gentlemanly thing to be.”

He laughed. “There’s something quite magical about the first snowfall, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked, completely changing the subject.

“It is lovely,” Lily admitted, though her tone was cautious. “But it also has a way of hiding things. Paths become obscured, and what once seemed clear is suddenly uncertain.”

Lord Brinton looked at her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. “I suppose that’s true. But sometimes, a little uncertainty can be a good thing.”

“How is that ever considered a good thing?”

“It forces us to step carefully, to see things we might have missed if the way was too clear.” He pulled her closer toward him, so she avoided being scratched by the branches next to the snowy path.

Lily ducked under the branches and thanked him. She met his gaze, surprised by the depth of his words. “You speak as though uncertainty is something you welcome, Lord Brinton. I would have thought a man like you preferred a more straightforward path.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “Life is far more interesting when we allow for the unexpected. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I’ve found that the best things are often hidden beneath the surface.”

“And what of those who prefer the safety of the known?” Lily asked, her voice steady. “Is there no value in a life lived with caution?”

Lord Brinton’s smile softened, and for a moment, he seemed to consider her question with genuine thoughtfulness. “Caution has its place, certainly. But it can also keep us from reaching for what we truly desire. Sometimes, Miss Ashworth, we must take a leap of faith, even if it means risking a fall.”

Lily’s breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, and she looked away, her gaze fixed on the snow-covered roses. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve spent so long holding everything together, making sure everyone else is taken care of. I don’t know how to … let go.”

He stepped closer, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to do it all at once. Just take it one step at a time. And if you ever feel like you’re going to fall, well …” He hesitated, then smiled gently. “I’ll be here to catch you.”

Lily turned to face him, her eyes searching his as if trying to determine the truth of his words. There was no mockery in his gaze, no hint of the playful rake she had expected. Instead, she saw only earnestness, a sincerity that unnerved her as much as it warmed her.

“You surprise me, Lord Brinton,” she said at last, her voice soft but steady. “Perhaps there’s more to you than your reputation would imply.”

His smile widened, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “I’d like to think so, Miss Ashworth. And perhaps, in time, you’ll see it too.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the garden wrapping around them like a gentle embrace. It was a fragile peace, delicate and new, but Lily found herself unwilling to break it. For the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that there might be more to Lord Brinton than just charm and flirtation—that there might be something real beneath the surface.

As the cold began to seep through her cloak, Lily shivered slightly, breaking the spell. “I should head back inside before I freeze out here,” she said, her tone light but sincere.

“Let us take the shorter way back,” he said, pivoting and choosing a different path.

It didn’t take them long to navigate back toward Wintervale. They were nearly at the house when Eliza’s half boots slid on a patch of slippery ice.

Lord Brinton’s arm was immediately around her, keeping her upright as she moved her feet together again.

She clutched his strong arms and inhaled sharply. “Thank you, Lord Brinton. I believe I would have tumbled without you here.”

He smiled warmly. “I told you I could catch you, were you ever to find yourself falling.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, burning the cold away that had been there only moments before. Perhaps she had misjudged him, and his sincerity. “Thank you again for the assistance, and for the company, Lord Brinton.”

“Anytime, Miss Ashworth,” Lord Brinton replied, his smile warm. He tipped his hat to her. “And remember, the snow doesn’t last forever. Sometimes, it’s worth getting a little lost to find the right path.” He held the door open to her, and she stepped inside, the warmth of nearby fire a welcome reprieve from the frigid air.

Lord Brinton bowed deeply and took his leave. Lily handed her cloak and gloves to a servant and made her way to the breakfast room. But as she walked, Lord Brinton’s words echoed in her mind, mingling with Beatrice’s gentle encouragement and her own uncertain hopes.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to take a step into the unknown. And maybe, if she was brave enough to risk it, she might find something wonderful waiting on the other side.