Lilith inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her teeth as she poured the boiling water into the teapot. The tea leaves steeped while she gripped the edge of the counter, answering him with silence.
He didn’t act the least perturbed by her silence. On the contrary, his eyes twinkled malevolently when she carried the tray to the table. After a dash of milk in his cup, she poured the tea, focusing her eyes on her task rather than his stare.
He had always been her spiritual advisor, the single person to whom she confessed her troubles, but her confessions over the past year had been twisted from spiritual to personal confidences, which was never how she intended them to be taken. Everything she had told him about the recent discoveries of her identity had led to persistent presses for marriage on his part, all in the guise of helping her.
While he may turn out to be a devoted husband, and while she may become content as his wife, she resented his pity and questioned his motives.
“Now, Harry,” she admonished lightheartedly, “Let’s not revisit that now.”
Sitting across from him, she hid her displeasure behind a steaming cup.
“You can’t possibly be happy at the prospect of spending time with him. I know how you feel about aristocracy.” He cast her a knowing glance. “And I cannot imagine his wife’s family being kind to you.” His hand slid across the table to take hers.
She ignored the outstretched hand, averting her eyes back to the contents of her cup. “I’m afraid I can’t see that,” she said, returning her cup to its saucer with a clink. “I’m positive they’ll welcome me. I believe they want me there as a family member, not a servant.”
At least that’s what she hoped.
It had been a shock earlier that year to learn she had a half-brother, the legitimate heir of her father. While she had the privilege many orphans didn’t of learning her family identity, that privilege came with the rude discovery that not only had her father been an earl, but she had been the by-blow of a premarital affair with a groomsman’s daughter. The only person unperturbed by the details was her brother who was determined to treat her as a legitimate sister regardless of the facts.
“But what of her family?” Harold huffed, pulling his hand back to his side of the table. “They’re members of the peerage! Has your brother been truthful with them about your lineage? I cannot believe they would accept an invitation to stay in the same house with you if they knew. Your visit will be a lie, and that is hardly Christian behavior.”
Leaning forward in his chair, he tapped his cup with a dirty fingernail.
With another huff, he altered his plea. “Be sensible, Miss Chambers, Lilith, oh, my dearest Lilith,” he implored. “Be sensible and marry me so we can remove the impediments to your happiness. If you delayed your departure, we could marry before your visit. You would go as a respectable woman.”
“Stop pressing me,” she snapped, exasperated. “You’re my closest confidante so I appreciate your offer, but no.”
He shook his head. “You’re not being sensible. Who will ever offer you what I’m willing to provide? There is not an honorable soul who would offer you marriage, not once they find out you’ve spent your life in an orphanage.” Lowering his voice, he said conspiratorially, “Not once they learn you’re illegitimate.”
She turned from him, tipping her cup to her lips for the comforting liquid.
He continued unabated, “Your age is no great attribute, either. Three and thirty is not an attractive age, Lilith. Men marry for breeding, and you’re past your bloom.”
Ire heated her cheeks in what might have been mistaken as a blush if not accompanied by her pursed lips. Although she knew the truth of his words, she hated that he held her past over her head like the sword of Damocles. Couldn’t he admit undying love, woo her like a proper suitor? No, he wouldn’t feel the need to woo an aging spinster of questionable birth. From his perspective, he offered her an irresistible proposition.
She traded her teacup for a currant cake but only tasted her frustration.
“Can’t you see what I’m offering you?” The rector laid a clammy hand on her arm. “I only wish to help. Let me care for you. I will not hold these facts of your life against you as other men will.”
No, he would never woo her like a proper suitor. He wanted her to believe the offer an honor, for he, a respected man of God, was willing to look past her faults and provide her security and a home. Hadn’t he already proven his willingness by letting the cottage to her? Oh, but she couldn’t live daily with the look of pity in his eyes. Then, it wasn’t pity that motivated his offer.
Glaring at his hand with its spindly fingers tightening around her forearm, she suspected she knew his motive. She swallowed against the suspicion, such an unchristian notion to have of a man of the cloth, but she couldn’t help using it as a shield against his so-called honorable intentions.
Lilith remembered vividly her confessions to the reverend of her brother’s wealth and the sizable donation he gave to the orphanage. There had been little doubt of the rector’s intentions when persistent offers of marriage began within days of her confessions about a promised inheritance, a dowry, even an estate to do with as she pleased. Such generosity of coin couldn’t be ignored by a rector.
Her stomach lurched at the thought of her spiritual advisor and the pillar of the community being so conniving. He wanted her for the titled affiliation and for the promise of wealth beyond measure at the behest of her brother.
Straightening her spine and freeing her arm from his grasp, she looked into his beady eyes. “Your offer is kindness itself, Mr. Sands, but I must decline. If your offer is sincere, you will give me time to accustom myself to my family.”
She wanted to throw the tea in his face. Her better judgement won. Unless she truly wished to anger the parish rector, an act that would ostracize her from the community, she was obligated to show kindness and consideration.
They sat in lingering silence, the rector tracing a finger around the edge of his cup, steam encircling his hand. All sounds were magnified in the silence, even the clomping of a horse moving past the cottage, wafting in the scent of sweaty horseflesh. Lilith wrinkled her nose, finding it an appropriate aroma for the conversation. After all, his offer reeked.
Finally, he broke the silence with a cheerful smile and change of subject. “Who is covering your position at the orphanage while you’re away?”
Lilith favored his question with a return smile to reassure him of her good spirits and friendship before replying. “Miss Tolkey will serve as both the orphanage’s teacher and the parish’s midwife in my absence. I believe she’s looking forward to both tasks. She even pressed me to extend my stay,” Lilith replied with a forced chuckle.
“Good. Miss Tolkey is a perfect substitute.” He paused before adding, “If they treat you with disdain, send me word, and I will renew my offer.”
“Thank you. You are too kind, Harry.” She emphasized his name, hoping to smooth over any earlier displays of irritation. Her livelihood in Allshire depended on him. “My brother has made ample effort to get to know me. I look forward to this opportunity to be part of a family and piece together the memories of my childhood,” she spoke truthfully albeit understatedly.
“Well, then, there is nothing more to be said.” The Reverend Sands stood to leave, his tea untasted and his currant cake untouched. “I wish you all the best and will count the days until your return. I promise to check on the orphanage daily.”
He took her hand between both of his before turning to the door and departing, leaving Lilith to wonder which would be more unpleasant—spending more time with Harold Sands or spending over a month in a house with aristocrats who, despite her brother’s best efforts, may refuse to acknowledge the presence of a bastard.
About the Author
Celebrated for her complex characters, realistic conflicts, and sensual love scenes
, Paullett Golden has put a spin on historical romance. Her novels, set primarily in Georgian and Regency England with some dabbling in Ireland, Scotland, and France, challenge the norm by involving characters who are loved for their flaws, imperfections, and idiosyncrasies. Her stories show love overcoming adversity. Whatever our self-doubts, love will out.
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