The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

by Stacy Reid

  Taking a deep breath, she stood and squared her shoulders. The realities must be faced, and she truly could no longer continue to keep him in the dark. But first, she would respond to the multitude of invitations awaiting her and read the report from madam Marie Delacroix, the head seamstress at Lily’s shop on High Holborn. While she did not partake in the day to day running of the business, Lily sent her designs and creations to Marie, a wonderful artist who brought Lily’s genius to life in the most incredible way. She had achieved her dream and had been featured several times in fashion magazines for the daring and unique styles she wore. Little did society know that she wore styles fashioned by her, and that was why she seemed to be the pioneer of the latest fashions.

  She was also due to visit tenants with Oliver before they departed next week to London for the season. Lily turned and gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. Her love entered her chamber and slowly closed the door.

  “You startled me, my lord. I’d not heard you.”

  His expression was guarded as he sauntered toward her. “Is everything well, my love?”

  Warmth tunneled through her, and she hurried to his arms. With a relieved groan, he enfolded her into a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. The tension leaked from her, and she inhaled his wonderful scent into her lungs.

  “Lily, my darling, you’ve been out of sorts for a while now, and I can see your unhappiness.”

  She lifted her lips to his mutely, hating that tears spilled down her cheeks. How he would resent her once she admitted her sin. Why had she persuaded herself that it would be different? Dear God, why? The anger and disappointment he would feel that she could not do her duty to him would be horrible. If her marquess so desired, he had the wealth and power to divorce her and find another who would be more suitable to be his marchioness. But the resulting scandal would be terrible. More so than Oliver marrying his mistress, a woman of inferior rank. No doubt those who did not approve of their unlikely match would now celebrate.

  He eased her from him, his thumb caressing the tear across her cheeks. “Have I been too rough with my passions?” he asked gruffly. “That night in the gazebo…”

  Her heart lurched. “No! You were more forceful, but I loved every moment. When I am in your arms, it’s the best place on earth. I thought the four times I climaxed was proof of that.”

  He lifted her chin with his finger, and his eyes searched her face in a thoroughly disturbing fashion. “Then why have you been pulling from me? Why do you creep from my embrace and come to this room to weep as if your heart is breaking?”

  She hadn’t realized he’d been aware she cried when she left their bed. “I…we’ve been married for nine months,” she said softly, pulling away, hating that she was leaving the safe shelter of his arms.

  “I would think that was cause for celebration and not the sorrow I can see in your gaze. Tell me, my love…I will slay all your dragons.”

  Unexpectedly, Lily burst into raw, ugly tears.

  Alarm flared in Oliver’s eyes, and he scooped her into his arms and sat in the chaise lounge by the fire, cradling her protectively against his chest. “Lily, my sweet, you are killing me.”

  “I deceived you in the most horrid manner, and you’ll have no choice but to banish me from your life and heart.”

  He stiffened and then relaxed, hugging her even closer. “You are being dramatic. There is nothing in this world that can kill my love for you. Now, tell me, my sweet, why you are crying?” he asked gruffly.

  A ragged breath tore from her. “Do you want children, a beloved son to groom as your heir, a daughter to cherish and spoil?

  “Of course I desire children.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed tightly. Taking a deep breath, she pried them open and pushed from his lap. Clasping her hand together in front of her, she lifted her chin and tried to feel brave. Instead, she felt like a prisoner going to the executioner block. “I am barren.”

  He jerked as if she had punched him in the gut. “Lily, sweetheart, you cannot know that—”

  “No,” she whispered fiercely. “I do know, Oliver. I’ve been married twice and have produced no issue. The vicar wanted children, so the village doctor was summoned. He confirmed that…that I cannot fall with child.”

  A flash of pain, so deep it seared her soul, flared in his eyes before his expression shuttered.

  Lily almost fell to her knees, wanting to scream her regret and fear. “I was never fit to be your marchioness. Perhaps your soiled dove, but nothing more, and I allowed my foolish heart and desperate hopes to convince me otherwise…and now…I’ve trapped you in a doomed marriage. How can I ask your forgiveness and expect it?” She thrust trembling fingers through her hair. “I cannot… I cannot grant you…us a family.”

  He remained remarkably still.

  Lily had no notion of why she waited. There was nothing he could say, for she saw the truth in his eyes.

  “I’ll summon Dr. Bramwell and—”

  “I’ve already seen a doctor. My brother-in-law. He is the most respected doctor in the village, and he is quite knowledgeable. He…he told me that it may never happen, given how long we’ve been married while I remain childless.” She kept her face averted, unable to bear seeing the abject disappointment and betrayal in his eyes. “I knew before we married there was the strongest possibility of me not being able to produce an heir, but I truly thought it would be different this time.”

  Finally, he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She sobbed. “I was afraid, and I was hopeful that the problem wasn’t me. In one week, you made love to me more than my two husbands combined. I had hoped…how I hoped that was the reason I never swelled with child. I thought, with how often we were wrapped in each other’s arms, I would most certainly give you a child to love…an heir. I prayed the hollowness inside me would be filled.”

  She had expected him to shout his anger and frustration. Instead, his face was a mask of cold, studied indifference, which hurt far worse than his anticipated anger. She did not deserve the honesty of his reactions now, but dear God, she needed them. “Do not hate me,” she said hoarsely. Which was an impossible request. “I…I’ve been reading, and I know it is your right to seek an annulment based on the circumstances.”

  She braved looking at him and flinched. He’d stood, and there was a bleakness in his eyes she had never seen before. “Oliver…I…I don’t know what to do. I am not brave enough to walk over to you now and hug you, but that is what I want to do more than anything in this world.”

  Her husband remained silent, and in that moment, Lily knew he would never be able to forgive her. She saw the dreams in his heart for a family shatter.

  “I made a mistake, I should not have married you. I’ll leave… Oh God, I’ll leave. I will pack my trunk and leave immediately,” she cried.

  Her husband was chillingly detached, and she wanted to howl from the pain tearing through her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, then turned from the room and ran.

  Lily ran away from her actions, the pain, the fear, and the cold condemnation in her husband’s eyes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Oliver stared at the open doorway his wife had just fled through. Good God, how had it all come to this? It had never once occurred to him that such a possibility existed. Even when his mother had complained a few times that she heard no news of his nursery being filled, he’d firmly told her to direct her energies to her own life, considering she had moved to the dowager cottage in Kent.

  There was piercing pain in his heart that he hardly knew what to do with. He left the chambers and made his way downstairs and outside into the bracing cold. Inhaling deeply, he walked along the path that would take him to the lake. Taking a wife and then having children was simply an expectation he’d had from childhood—the necessity of his rank and his duty to his title. He had craved a family, but the idea of a wife, a woman to fulfill his needs had been a more tangible dream than imagining children.
Over the last few months, though, he had thought of them, of the pride he would feel seeing Lily swollen, the joy of having a daughter as radiant and intelligent as her, of having a son who would possibly emulate his ways. The loss of a dream he had just allowed into his heart felt like a blunt stake being hammered through his chest. He touched the spot above his heart that ached like a physical wound.

  And Lily had known there was the possibility of them never having a child, of them never fulfilling his duty.

  He absorbed the pain filling his soul and was mildly shocked at the tears that smarted his eyes. How did his wife feel? She would have been aware of this loss for years. The pain she must have endured, and what she must feel now at revealing all to him, gutted Oliver.

  Anguish rolled through him like poison coursing through his veins, and he wanted to release the brutal hold he had on his emotions and weep. For he understood that he had lost his Lily. She expected him to divorce her, and she would push him to it, for what lord did not hunger for a spare and an heir.

  How could she even think for a moment he would let her go?

  She would not allow him to comfort her, protect her, and share the pain. She would withdraw as she had been doing for the last week, cutting off her love and emotions from him. Ah, fuck.

  A crunch against snow had him shifting to see who had intruded. Radbourne. He’d forgotten the earl and Lady Wimbledon had planned a visit. Oliver was going to be a discourteous ass, but now was not the time for guests.

  The earl assessed him with a frown. “Good God, Ambrose, has someone died?”

  The boulder pressing on his chest grew heavier. “No, but I fear now is not the time for a visit. Please extend my apologies to Lady Wimbledon .”

  Concern flashed in his friend’s eyes as he said, “We had a row. She did not come down with me.”

  Oliver turned back to the tranquil waters of the lake. Radbourne stood beside him, a silent support Oliver did not desire. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  Radbourne did not reply for several moments, then he said, “The last time I saw such a look in your eyes, you had just learned of your father’s death.”

  Oliver stiffened. There was some truth to the earl’s statement. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his soul had been ripped from his body. He had no notion of how to make Lily see that they could survive whatever storm life threw their way. Hell, he had no notion how they would survive this hurdle, but losing her was not an option for him. Everything in him clamored to go to her, but what would he say? Her eyes had seemed so desolate. “My marchioness is barren.”

  “Christ.” There was a silence, then the earl said, “Will you divorce her?”

  Disbelief scythed through Oliver. “Do you truly believe such a thing possible of me?”

  “You have a duty to your title,” Radbourne rebutted softly. “No one would fault you if you sought an annulment on those grounds. Surely, she must have known. That, my friend, is fraud.”

  He faced his friend. “I believe my wife arrived at the same conclusion.” How little faith she had in him and his love. “I do not feel betrayed that she did not tell me. What I feel is fear I will lose her.”

  Confusion marred his friend’s expression. “Fear?”

  “How do I convince the woman I love more than my title, more than duty and obligation, that she has not failed me? How do I comfort her when her arms will remain empty, her womb hollow, and the one thing she wants more than anything I am unable to grant her?”

  “What will you do?” the earl asked gruffly.

  “Haunt her as the mere idea of losing her haunts me. I cannot…will not let her go.” Even if it meant battling her fears for all the time they would be together.

  …

  Lily stood with her hands pressed against the cool windowpane. Her love stood by the lake, and she so desperately wanted to go to him. But what could she say? What could she do? She didn’t have to imagine the pain and disappointment he felt—she knew it too keenly. Letting him go was the hardest thing she would ever face in her life. She wanted to scream and rail, but he was a peer of the realm and needed an heir. It was also more than that. Oliver was so giving and wonderful, a man like him should have several children to shower with affection.

  It took all of Lily’s fortitude to turn from the window and walk over to the bell pull and ring for her maid.

  A few minutes later the door opened. “You rang, your ladyship?” Millie said with a smile.

  “Yes.” Lily cleared her throat. “My trunks need to be packed and the carriage ordered to be ready.”

  Millie’s eyes widened at the unexpected request. “Yes, my lady,” she said, dipping into a curtsy and rushing from the chamber.

  Lily swallowed and walked stiffly over to the armoire. She opened the door and started to take down her gowns, her mind churning. Where would she go? Not to their townhouse in London or their manor by the seaside in Dover. It would be best if she returned to her parents’ cottage, or perhaps she would stay with Mary Rose for a bit. When the ton got a whiff of their separation, the scandal would be horrible. Her throat went tight, although she truly did not care about the gossip to come. She had lost the man she had fallen so irrevocably in love with.

  She lingered over a dark red wine gown, caressing the taffeta between her thumb and forefinger. Lily recalled the night she had worn this gown, a few weeks past in London. They had strolled through the lantern-lit walks of Vauxhall Gardens, chatting together. Lily had felt so happy and free and cherished as their enchanted evening had captivated her senses. Her marquess had wickedly seduced her, out in the open where anyone could have come upon them. She lifted the dress to her face and inhaled deeply, thinking she could still smell their passion, hear his masculine chuckle of satiation afterward, feel the gentle kiss he had pressed across her brow.

  Anguish tightened her throat. A raw, ugly sound was wrenched from the depth of her being, and the tears came freely. I can’t do it. Dear God, I can’t leave.

  Pressing her hand against her stomach, she inhaled deeply, trying her best to control the pain and doubt tearing through her heart. She would go to him, but what would she say?

  A whisper of sound had her spinning around. Oliver stood in the doorway, his cold blue eyes scanning the gowns dumped on the bed in such disarray. He could possibly banish her from his sight forever, but the knowledge he was trapped without a future for his title would haunt him terribly. It would be an annulment, then. She masked the tumult of her emotions and steeled her spine, waiting for words that she feared would forever wound her most deeply.

  “Have you forgotten our vows so easily?”

  Her lips parted, then quivered slightly. “No, of course not,” Lily said hoarsely.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed; the defeat in the sound dragged a flinch from her. “Have I been such a poor husband, have I been so shallow in character, you believe I would cast you aside?”

  She recoiled at the bleak pain and anger that flashed deep in his eyes. “You have been…you are wonderful, my lord.”

  Oliver watched her like a hawk. “You can leave. I’ll not stop you.”

  Lily almost crumpled to the carpeted floor at that declaration.

  Then he took one step closer. “But wherever you go, so shall I.”

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, confusion rushing through her. “I do not understand.”

  “Did you not swear before God that you would love me, always?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, fearing the hope that twisted through her heart. Her heart was beating too fast. Lily dropped the gown onto the carpeted floor, skirted around the pile of silk, and took a few steps toward him. She halted in the center of the room. “You will resent me,” she said hoarsely.

  “Wrong,” he ground out with such force she gasped. “I do not love you because I hoped you would give me children, nor does that define the woman you are. I fell in love with your generosity of spirit, your unmatched sweetness and vigor for life,
and your wonderful sensuality. I would be pleased if we were so blessed, and I dare say I would be happy. But not happier than I am with you in my life and my heart. I do not feel the pain as keenly as you do, my sweet, but I implore you to give me the chance to grieve with you, to hold you close when it gets unbearable. I want to be with you when you are happy, and I shall certainly be there when you’re despondent.”

  Oliver walked over to her and cupped her cheek, an echo of something dark and painful lingering in his eyes. “My greatest fear now is that I will never be able to make you happy because I cannot give you your heart’s desire. To see your pain and to hear your sobs is like acid against my skin.”

  Her lower lip trembled with the effort to prevent the tears from spilling. “That is how I feel to know I cannot give you a child.”

  “My heart’s desire is you, Lily…only you.”

  There was something in his soft declaration, about the way he waited for her, his patience, that shattered the cold knot of doubt inside her. “I love you, too, so desperately, but—”

  “There is no but.” His mien was implacable, and the awareness that this man would not let her go weakened her knees.

  “We’ll never have a child.”

  “I know.”

  She shook her head, dazed at the intensity of the emotions twisting through her. “There will be no heir.”

  “I have a cousin, and he has sons for when the need arises.”

  “There’ll be no sons or daughters, no sweet and unfettered laughter echoing along these hallways for us.”

  “I know.” Then there was a thick, heavy silence that echoed with so many questions…and with hope.

  “And I still want you forever, Lily.” He kissed her, a mere brush of his lips over her, softly brushing away her tears with his thumb. “I am nothing without you in my life, my sweet.”

  The tight, wonderful ache in her chest threatened to consume her. “Oliver…” she murmured wonderingly.

  He met her eyes with a steady stare. “I see you are beginning to understand,” he murmured.