He cleared his throat. ‘So—let’s talk about your plans for the future,’ he said briefly, in a way that he hoped wouldn’t appear intrusive. ‘In spite of what you’ve said, I feel sure you’ve got some good ideas floating around.’
Lily looked across at him, the soft candlelight enhancing the delicate shape of her face. ‘No, I haven’t—not yet,’ she replied honestly. ‘I’m waiting for some inspiration—but so far nothing.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t wait for ever, of course,’ she admitted. ‘My funds will keep me going for a month or two, but not for much longer.’ She stopped what she was saying abruptly. This man was a stranger, she reminded herself again. Or nearly. Be careful. Don’t get close. Don’t let him get close.
She sat back, steeling herself not to become enraptured with the situation she was in—the atmosphere, the company…and the penetrating blackness of those eyes which seemed to enter her very soul. ‘Tell me about your children,’ she said firmly. ‘You said you’ve got three?’
He paused for a moment before replying. ‘Yes. Tom is three, Alexander is five, and Freya is nine.’
‘Your wife must have her hands full,’ Lily said lightly.
‘My wife—Elspeth—is dead,’ he said flatly, not looking at her as he spoke, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder into the far distance. ‘Fourteen months ago she succumbed to a virus and was gone in three days.’ His expression was impassive as he spoke, but those dark windows of his soul said it all, becoming blacker and even more intense as he relived the ordeal.
Lily felt a huge wave of compassion sweep over her. What a shock—what a tragedy for anyone to have to suffer, she thought. She let a moment pass before saying anything. Then, ‘I am…so…sorry,’ she said quietly.
He shrugged. ‘We’re surviving it together, the four of us,’ he remarked briefly. ‘Tom and Alex are just young enough to weather the storm fairly easily—but Freya…’ He sighed and looked at Lily, noting that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. ‘Freya has taken it very badly, I’m afraid. There was never any problem with her when Elspeth was alive—she was a bright, easygoing child—but my daughter seems to have a huge, resentful chip on her shoulder all the time now.’
‘That’s understandable…’ Lily murmured.
‘Of course,’ he replied quickly. ‘And, because of that, when she asked I allowed her to be a weekly boarder at her school, to be with her friends. I must say she seems easier now when she’s back home—which she is full-time now, naturally, because it’s the school holidays. I know she misses her mother, but I can’t take her place, and—well…I’m not sure I understand women,’ he added, looking thoughtful for a second.
‘Are there grandparents around?’ Lily asked.
‘No—’ fraid not. My parents are dead,’ he said slowly. ‘They were both well into middle age when I came along…’ His lip curled. ‘I was probably a very unpleasant surprise.’ He shrugged. ‘They were both practising doctors with busy lives—I never actually saw too much of them during my childhood.’
So, Lily thought, he might have known his parents, but in essence he’d been almost as alone as she had.
‘And Elspeth’s parents…?’ she ventured hesitantly.
‘Her father is alive, but he lives in South Africa. We seldom see him.’
‘So—who takes care of the children?’ Lily asked. ‘When you’re at work?’
‘Well, of course I’ve had to employ nannies…though they’ve seldom been asked to stay overnight.’ The strong mouth tightened as he spoke. ‘As soon as I come home, I’m the one in charge.’
And how, Lily thought.
‘But luckily for me I have Beatrice—or Bea—and her husband,’ he went on. ‘They live nearby. Bea used to help my wife in the house, and then with the babies as they came along. But she’s over seventy, and I don’t want to take advantage of her good nature, even though she says she loves helping out. Which she’s doing while I’m here,’ he added. ‘She and Joe move in and sleep over until I come back—the kids adore them. But—as I said—I don’t want to wear them out.’ He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. ‘It was a good job we hadn’t any more offspring, because three are about as many as I can handle… We’d intended having a much larger family, but—well—fate had other ideas,’ he said.
‘Well—you may yet have more one day…’ Lily began.
‘Oh, that won’t happen,’ Theo replied at once. ‘I shan’t marry again. That’s not on the cards.’ He paused for a second. ‘I have no plans for myself. The children and their welfare, their future—that’s all I care about, all that keeps me going.’ Who could ever take the place of his beloved Elspeth? Who would he ever want to take her place?
Lily shrugged to herself. He was still young, and a very marriageable prospect for any deserving female, she thought. But it was obvious that his mind was made up, and she somehow knew that he wasn’t likely to change it.
Thinking that he’d divulged far more of himself than he ever had before to anyone—certainly not to a random female—Theo leaned forward.
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘D’you have any other siblings?’
‘No. It’s just Sam and me,’ Lily replied. ‘Though it would have been nice if there’d been more of us.’
‘I’m sure you’ll make up for that one day,’ he said easily. ‘Have lots of kids of your own, and—’
‘No. I don’t want children,’ Lily said bluntly. She paused. ‘If you’d seen me with those twins…I just don’t think I’m a natural mother, that’s all. It wouldn’t be fair—to any of us.’ And I’m never going to be a natural wife, either, she added silently to herself, recoiling at the thought, remembering her past with something approaching revulsion.
‘And your parents—they’re obviously still alive…?’ he went on, making the presumption as Lily could only be in her early twenties.
Lily’s spine began to tingle, and she tore her gaze away from his. She didn’t want to discuss any more of her life with anyone—certainly not with him. Yet he had been surprisingly honest about his own position, so she found it difficult to be evasive.
‘Our parents are no longer living,’ she said. Well, who knew where their father was? ‘So, you see, we’re both orphans, you and I.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t even remember them.’
‘Who brought you up?’
‘Oh, an assortment of aunties and uncles,’ Lily said, looking away. There was no need to say that she’d been a human reject, despaired of by foster carers. Because it hurt her to think it—even to herself.
Theo looked at her for a long moment, sensing an undercurrent of something he couldn’t explain passing between them. She was bright, obviously articulate and intelligent—yet there was something about her that reminded him of Freya. She was sad, too, he thought. Not just about being an orphan, as she’d said, but for other, deeper reasons.