The release tore through her like a wave breaking against rock, and a cry escaped her lips that she could not have silenced if her life depended on it. Her knees buckled. Her fingers, still tangled in his hair, gripped hard, and Hugo rose to catch her. His arms closed around her waist as her body sagged against his chest.
“I have you,” he whispered against her hair. “I have you.”
She pressed her face into the warm linen of his shirt and trembled. He held her there, steady and solid. His breath was ragged against her hair, his heart hammering beneath her cheek as hard as her own.
Hugo steadied her against the wall. His hands moved to her skirts, smoothing the sapphire silk back into place with a care that made her chest ache. He straightened the neckline. Tucked a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her temple for half a second, then dropped.
“We got carried away,” Lily whispered. “Again.”
“We did.”
The name landed between them like a blade. Something shuttered behind his eyes. His jaw tightened. He nodded.
“This stays between us,” he said. “Go. I will follow in a few minutes.”
Lily turned and ran into the house.
She did not look back.
CHAPTER 22
“You are too kind, Your Grace. A magnificent few days.”
Lord Pemberton clasped Hugo’s hand in the entrance hall of Thornwaite Hall and pumped it with the vigor of a man who had eaten well, drunk better, and intended to tell everyone he knew about both.
Lady Pemberton stood behind him, already pulling on her gloves. Her smile carried the satisfied warmth of a guest who had thoroughly enjoyed herself and wished to be invited back.
“The pleasure was mine, Pemberton.” Hugo returned the handshake and turned to Lady Pemberton. “I do hope the rooms were to your liking.”
“Perfection, Your Grace. The view from the south wing alone was worth the journey.”
Hugo straightened his cravat and moved to the next group.
The breakfast room had been cleared an hour ago, trunks were loaded onto carriages, and now the guests filed through the entrance hall in a procession of well-wishes and warm farewells. Hugo stationed himself by the door and played the part of the gracious host. His smile was polished, his handshake firm, and his compliments were tailored to each guest.
Sir Philip and Lady Hale left in a flurry of praise and promises to return. Mr. and Mrs. Thorne departed with quieter gratitude. Edward and Sophia lingered near the staircase, waiting for the crowd to thin.
Lady Stapleton approached with Miss Stapleton lingering at her shoulder.
“Your Grace.” Lady Stapleton extended her hand, and Hugo bowed over it. “A splendid affair. You are a credit to Thornwaite Hall.”
“You are generous, Lady Stapleton.”
“I am honest.” Her dark eyes swept the entrance hall with the measured appraisal she brought to every surface she encountered. “Beatrice enjoyed herself immensely. Particularly the evening entertainments.”
Beatrice curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace. It was a lovely party.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it, Miss Stapleton.”
Lady Stapleton’s gaze flicked toward the corridor where Lord Wilfrey was collecting his leather case from a footman. The look lasted half a second, but Hugo caught the calculation behind it. She was taking inventory. Measuring distances. Filing away who had spoken to whom and for how long.
She turned back to Hugo with a smile that gave away nothing.
“We must have you and Lady Lily to dinner when you return to London, Your Grace. Beatrice and I would so enjoy it.”
“We would be honored.”
Hugo watched their carriage pull away and felt the familiar prickle of unease that accompanied every interaction with Lady Stapleton.
