Stepping out of the carriage, she looked toward the house. It was completely dark, the only light coming from the two lanterns hanging from the carriage. Lila dreaded surprising her aunt, but there was no way a letter would have made it through the storm before them. Their visit would be twice the surprise this time of night.

Collings was already at work unloading the trunks, two for her, and a smaller one for her father. He'd stay one night then leave her to her doom. Her father strode toward the house, across the rutted drive and up the porch steps. Lila hesitated between staying with Collings or joining her father on the porch.

"Go on, Miss," Collings said.

Lila picked her way to the house, a plain two-story stone construction. It might have appeared quaint now, but she couldn't forget the horrible smell of manure used to fertilize the surrounding fields in the spring. Thankfully, it wasn't spring now.

Her father knocked on the door again as Lila joined him, standing off to the side. The door creaked open, and a faint light spilled out.

Aunt Eugenia wore a dark robe over a white nightgown, her eyes wide and dazed above the flicker of the candle she held in one hand.

Lila wanted to ask if the electricity was out, but didn't dare speak first. Her aunt stared at them for a few seconds. "James?" Her eyes narrowed as they landed on Lila. "Lillian?" Her hand came to her chest. "What's happened? Is it Annabelle?"

"No, nothing like that," her father said. "I've brought Lila to stay with you for a short time. Sorry we weren't able to get word to you before our arrival."

Her aunt's full attention went to Lila. "What is it?" Her tone rose, bordering on panic.

"Let's go inside and talk, shall we?" her father said.

Eugenia backed away from the door, opening it wide.

"Are the electric lights out?"

"No." Eugenia turned on a hall lamp. She threw Lila a furtive glance as she became her bustling self, so different from Lila's mother, who moved like a whisper about the house.

Without a fire laid, the parlor was freezing. Lila wished she'd brought in the wool blankets from the carriage. As it was, she sat on the edge of a loveseat that had seen better days. She wouldn't be surprised if it was handed down from a grander home.

Aunt Eugenia had no qualms being the object of charitable acts.

Lila had spied her father's ledger once and seen money drawn and sent to his sister. Of course, she was a widow, and it would be impossible for her to maintain the farm by herself and pay for hired laborers... Lila wrinkled her nose as a spoiled scent reached her. Something brushed against her legs, and she nearly cried out.

It was only her aunt's little pug-an ugly dog, much too affectionate for Lila's taste. But dutifully she reached down and scratched the top of its head while Eugenia kept her mouth in a firm line as her brother delivered the unwelcome news.

Once her father ended his recitation, followed by the request for Lila to stay at the farm, she waited for Eugenia's shocked p.r.o.nouncement, then the inevitable, I will do my best to salvage your daughter's soul.

But Aunt Eugenia did nothing of the sort. She stood, pulling her robe tightly about her, chin lifted and said, "Absolutely not."

Both Lila and her father stared at Eugenia.

"W-What?" her father sputtered.

"My dear husband's cousin's son is staying with me-a Yale man," Eugenia said with a disdainful sniff. "Peter Weathers."

Lila reeled as she tried to understand who her aunt was speaking about.

"Larson's boy?" her father asked.

"No, Ruth's son. From Vermont."

"Ah," her father said, his thick brows drawn together. "You've become quite the abode of hospitality. How long has this Weathers fellow been staying with you?"

"He arrived for fall term and was planning on taking up residence at the University after the holidays, but it seems to have fallen through. He'll stay on until something opens up." Her appraising eyes darted in Lila's direction. "So you can see, with all his comings and goings, sometimes with a whole group of friends, it would be quite inappropriate for Lila to stay here, especially while she is trying to salvage her reputation. It simply won't do to have her in one of the spare bedrooms."

Lila vaguely remembered that all of the bedrooms were on the second floor of the farmhouse. There were three or four. A larger bedroom at one end of the house, and the other, smaller ones grouped together at the other end.

The barely concealed triumph on Aunt Eugenia's face made Lila's stomach turn over. Her aunt was positively gloating.

"Eugenia," her father said in a measured tone. "I'm surprised that you allowed Ruth to put her son upon you for so long."

Eugenia's hands flew up. "You're one to criticize my hospitality, barging into my home in the middle of the night-"

"Lila," her father called.

She jumped at her father's voice.

"Please wait in the other room while your aunt and I discuss arrangements."

Eugenia looked as if she might boil over like a teapot at any moment, and Lila was more than grateful to escape the impending storm. She rose from the loveseat and left the parlor, shutting the door between rooms. Her father's low tones resumed, mellow, but firm.

Lila decided to step outside, although the air was freezing. She could do with a bit of fresh air. She opened the front door and stepped onto the wide porch.

"Collings, you must be frozen," she said to the man silhouetted against the cold moonlight.

"Pardon me?" a deep voice said.

"Oh." It was definitely not Collings. "I thought you were our driver."

The man turned around fully; this man was anything but their driver. He was at least a head taller than she, which was saying something, as Lila had always been tall. It was hard to make out his features in the dark, with his back was to the moon, but she could almost see inquisitiveness in his eyes.

"I let your man in through the kitchen. Told him to make himself comfortable." His voice washed over her, and curiosity consumed her-she wanted to see his features clearly. "And you are... an acquaintance of Mrs. Payne?"

"Her niece. My father is her brother, James Townsend." Lila bit her lip. Who was this man? Then she realized that it had to be the relative spoken of. Peter something...

His hand extended toward her. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Peter Weathers, from-"

"Vermont," she said, taking his hand.

His fingers wrapped around hers, and she suddenly felt small, an unusual feeling.

"Your hands are cold," he said, his tone soft and deep.

"So are yours." Lila realized she was still holding hands with the man and quickly withdrew hers.

"It's an unusual time of night to pay a visit to your aunt," he said. She thought she detected a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice.

"I'm here to visit for a couple of weeks," she said, although she didn't know exactly how long she'd be there. By the time New Year's. .h.i.t, she hoped the society papers would be on to grander and more scandalous topics. Her heart fell just thinking of spending the holiday season in this dreary place. If I'm allowed to stay here at all. The man in front of her had superseded any welcome that Lila might have had.

"Welcome to the farm," Peter said, with a mock bow.

He was definitely amused now. Lila smiled and curtseyed right back, as ridiculous as doing so was under the circ.u.mstances. "Interesting you should call it as such. My parents don't care for that description."

Peter folded his arms and leaned against a post as if he had all the time and was most interested in what she had to say. "Oh? What do they call it?"

"An estate."

The moonlight caught the edge of his grin, and again Lila felt the urge to see what he looked like in broad daylight. His voice was certainly pleasing, most unlike Roland's, which was a bit feminine, if she was to own the truth of it.

Why are you comparing this man to Roland? Lila chastised herself. You are one step away from a nunnery, and after all the tears and heartache, a quiet nunnery far away from any good-looking bachelor is just what I need.

"Well, then," Peter said. "Shall we go inside? Or shall we stand here until we can no longer feel our toes?"

Lila's heart thumped. "I quite value my toes; let's go inside."

Peter moved past her and reached for the door, but not before she caught his scent of musk and earth blended into something decidedly masculine and natural. Roland preferred expensive imported colognes. In a room full of people, the combatting scents could be overwhelming.

Peter would probably fade in the background in a room full of socialites-such as a ball. Did he dance, and if so, how well?

"After you, Miss," he said, breaking into her thoughts.

What am I thinking now-dancing with this man? Fool. She moved past him, ignoring the way his scent once again touched her senses and spun her thoughts.

The low murmur of voices continued from the parlor. Nothing sounded hysterical, so that was a relief on Lila's part. It wouldn't do well for Peter to overhear an argument between her father and Aunt Eugenia. Lila turned to face Peter as he shut the front door. Her breath caught as she gazed into the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. In the light of the single entry lamp, she realized his hair was lighter than she'd first thought-more of a medium brown-but his eyes . . . they were the sort a woman could get lost in.

His cropped sideburns reached to mid-cheek, and his strong jaw was shadowed with several days' growth. Perhaps Yale was lax about such things. He shrugged off his overcoat, his height becoming even more apparent. His narrow vest did nothing to minimize the breadth of his shoulders.

Lila flushed when she realized Peter was watching her appraise him. When her eyes roamed back to his, he smiled. At that instant, she knew that Peter would never go unnoticed at any ball.

She opened her mouth to say something, to say anything, but found herself at a loss.

Peter tilted his head, as if waiting for her to come up with a speech. When she said nothing, he offered, "How will society ever do without Lillian Townsend this holiday season?"

As unattractive as it might have been, she gaped at him. "How do you know-?"

"I've heard about you, of course. When you told me your father's name, it all fell into place."

Does this University man read the gossip columns? Dread pulsed through her at what he might know about her.

"Please accept my apologies. I didn't realize I was in the presence of such an esteemed lady." He bowed dramatically, and she didn't know what to make of it.

Was he funning with her? His eyes were so dark when they once again settled on her, that she couldn't decipher his intent.

"There's nothing to apologize for. We are- I am-" She cut herself off with embarra.s.sment. If he really had heard about her, it couldn't be good, especially if it was from the society papers. And her Aunt Eugenia would be an even worse source. She broke her gaze from his just as the voices from the parlor rose to a crescendo.

Her aunt was apparently not in the least pleased, and her voice rang clear. "There will be no chances, James. If she but does one thing that I deem inappropriate in my household, she'll be sent back immediately!"

Lila's stomach clenched. Not only had her aunt made threats, but Peter had just overheard her. She couldn't meet his gaze now, so she stared at the floor, wishing one of them would disappear.

Something tugged at her hand.

"If it were up to me, I'd let you stay," he whispered. "In fact, I'd move Mrs. Payne into a smaller bedroom and give you the largest room all to yourself."

Lila blinked up at him, her eyes burning. Was he teasing her? But when she met his gaze, it appeared full of concern. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her skin.

"I hope to see you in the morning, Lila." He released her and turned away.

Before she could respond, he'd gone up the stairs, out of sight. Her hand tingled where he'd kissed it, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. What had that kiss been about? But she didn't have time to consider the events further because the parlor door flew open.

Aunt Eugenia stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing. "Your father will speak to you now."

Lila walked into the room, feeling as if her aunt were p.r.i.c.king her in the back with knives.

Her father didn't waste a moment. "Your aunt will allow you to stay here. In the morning, she'll have a list of agreements for you to sign. The first sign of trouble... which you undoubtedly overheard... will be cause for sending you home." His gaze faltered, and for a moment, she saw the concern in his eyes. "It will take a few weeks, maybe longer, for things to be cleared up at home."

Then he was all business again.

Chapter Five.

Peter paused on the second-floor landing, just out of view from the main hall of the house. The voices floating upward were easy to distinguish. Mrs. Payne's high-pitched nasally tone, and the lower ba.s.s of what had to be Mr. James Townsend. He strained to hear Lila's, but there was nothing.

The young lady had looked like an ethereal fawn with those doe-eyes when she stepped out onto the porch earlier, the light spilling out behind her. Although she had been quick to reply to his questions, he sensed a naivety about her. She had seemed a bit unsure around him, which didn't make sense.

Surely she was used to conversing with the upper crust of New York. A simple man such as Peter shouldn't prove to be any sort of challenge for a woman skilled in the art of conversation, especially now that he lived in reduced circ.u.mstances. His dear widowed mother had been in for the shock of her life when he went through his father's financials. Father had significant business debts that neither Peter nor his mother knew about.

Peter had offered to leave Yale, though he had only one more year left, but his mother wouldn't hear of it. She'd insisted they sell most of their furnishings and pay down the debts as much as possible. The creditors had allowed her to stay in their home for one more year. Half of that time was gone now.

The three came out of the parlor. Mrs. Payne's face was drawn and tight-lipped, but Mr. Townsend looked calm despite his flushed complexion. It was Lila's expression that tugged at something deep inside him. She looked like she was at a funeral. What could have possibly happened in the young lady's life to make her look so dismal?

It's none of my concern. Courting one high-brow society woman is enough to last me a lifetime, Peter decided, yet he couldn't leave his hiding spot. Lila seemed different than Dannelle. They were both well-bred ladies of society and came from wealth, but their looks, mannerisms, and conversation were vastly different. Where Lila seemed innocent and vulnerable, Dannelle had been cold and calculating. Lila was tall and willowy, Dannelle compact and fierce. Lila was fair like a bright star, while Dannelle had been olive-skinned with hair as black as her nature.

It was with some trepidation that Peter accepted her advances and eventually proposed, making his mother exceedingly grateful. They'd planned to live on one of Dannelle's family estates, so his mother would always have a place with him.

Then Peter discovered that Dannelle's interest in him was only to anger her family and get what she really wanted-a chateau in France, to live near her French lover and, most likely, have the opportunity to entertain many more admirers.

Peter drew back farther into the shadows as Lila turned toward the stairs. Her chin lifted, and he saw a tear drip onto her cheek. He had to clench his hands to stop himself from moving onto the landing and asking what was wrong.

With a grimace, he hurried down the hall to his bedroom and slipped inside. He was suddenly glad he didn't have the funds to live on Yale's campus. Shutting the door quietly, he ran a hand through his hair. It would do no good to get involved with another high-brow lady. They were nothing but trouble. He climbed in bed and tried to sleep, but instead, he listened for any sound that might be coming from Lila.

Chapter Six.