by Cheryl Holt
If only she could . . .
“I probably ought to speak with him.”
Lily’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. Miss Dudley and her brother were very close. Would Mr. Dudley have shared Lily’s foibles with her? Had she been informed of the predicament into which Lily had landed herself?
Please, Lord, she prayed, don’t let her question me about it!
Outside, on the edge of the woods, she noticed a couple strolling along, their arms wrapped around each other. As they paused and hugged, it dawned on her that she knew the pair.
Before she realized she shouldn’t comment, she said, “There’s your brother now. And isn’t that . . . Barbara Middleton?”
Their affection evident, they started to kiss, and Lily sucked in a stunned breath. Miss Dudley glanced out and blanched.
“Ah, yes, I believe that is my brother.”
“Oh my,” Lily muttered.
Miss Dudley jumped up and yanked at the drapes, fussing with them until not a peep of the torrid scene was visible. When she turned back, she appeared flummoxed.
“Would you like a . . . tour of the house?” she asked to distract Lily.
Lily was still locked in the moment. “Your brother and Barbara? Isn’t that a bit . . . tricky for all of you?”
She had selected the word tricky after recognizing that she couldn’t utter some of the other words she’d considered—salacious? indecent? bizarre?—and Miss Dudley was grateful that Lily hadn’t been more insulting.
“Yes, it’s been tricky,” she agreed, Lily’s casual remark breaking the ice between them. “I warned him not to proceed, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“If her son finds out, I don’t imagine he’ll care for it.”
“No, I don’t imagine he will.”
“I’ve spent some time with Barbara,” Lily said. “She seems a tad ruthless to me.”
“To me, too.”
“What is it about her that attracted him?”
“He’s always been a pushover for a pretty face and a sad story.”
“She has plenty of those.”
“She certainly does.” Miss Dudley shrugged. “He likes her.”
“Then who are we to quibble, hmm?”
Miss Dudley chuckled, and she peered at Lily and grinned.
“Would I shock you, Miss Lambert, if I asked you to enjoy a whiskey with me?”
“I’m quite sure I’d survive the invitation.”
Miss Dudley went to a sideboard and poured them both a drink. She sat again and downed hers in a quick gulp as Lily sipped more slowly.
“You wanted to speak with Phillip,” Miss Dudley said, “but he might be busy for a few hours.”
“I can come by later. It’s no problem.”
“I hope you won’t be offended if I mention that I know you’d swallowed one of his potions.”
Drat it! “Yes, I had.”
“If you have a question, I’d be happy to answer it.” Lily looked as if she’d refuse the offer of assistance, and Miss Dudley rushed to add, “I understand the effects of his remedies. If you’re anxious, I could put you at ease.”
Lily was enormously tempted, for now that she’d settled on her plan of action, she was eager to swiftly implement it. She was saved from any mortifying disclosures by Mr. Dudley hustling into the room.
He was smug, extremely pleased with himself.
“Good heavens, Clarinda,” he scolded, “it’s a beautiful day outside. Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
He marched over and was tugging on the drapes when he noticed Lily.
“Miss Lambert? This is a surprise.”
“Hello, Mr. Dudley.”
“We had the drapes open,” Miss Dudley grouched, “but we didn’t care for the view.”
“Not care for it? Why would you—” He glanced out and observed the park from their perspective. “Oh. It appears we’ve been found out.”
“If you’re going to carry on in plain sight,” his sister complained, “how can you possibly keep the affair a secret?”
“Miss Lambert won’t tattle,” he insisted. “Will you?”
“No,” Lily vowed. “I wouldn’t have the faintest idea who to tell.”
Mr. Dudley smirked at his sister as if to say, See?
“What brings you by?” he asked Lily. “If you were driven to visit our humble abode, it must be something horrid.”
“I need your help.”
“Is it Penworth?” Mr. Dudley perked up like a dog at the hunt that had scented the fox. “What’s he done now?”
“Well ...”
Lily dithered, ashamed to discuss her dilemma with Miss Dudley being present, and as usual, Mr. Dudley read Lily’s mind.
“Don’t worry about Clarinda,” he said. “She’s very discreet. We can talk in front of her. And she might have some useful suggestions.”
Lily peered from one sibling to the other. They were smiling at her, friendship in their gazes, and Lily—who had always been alone, who’d never been dear to anyone—decided to take a chance.
“I must go back to England.” Her heart was heavy with the pronouncement. “I’d like to depart as soon as I can, and I can’t have anybody know. Not about the trip or the route.”
“You think Penworth would prevent you?” Mr. Dudley queried.
“I’m sure of it. I’ve tried to quit my job, but he won’t let me. He’s revoked my responsibilities to the twins and Lady Violet, so—”
“So it’s only a matter of time,” Miss Dudley finished for her, “before others wonder why. With discovery of the liaison, your reputation will be shredded.”
“Yes, so I must leave, but I can’t ride on the public coach. I truly believe he’d chase me down and force me back. I’ll have to travel in a fashion he wouldn’t suspect, on a road he would never investigate.”
“We have a coach,” Miss Dudley stated. “Phillip could take you to London.”
“That would be too much of an imposition,” Lily hastened to say.
“No, it wouldn’t,” Miss Dudley replied. “We’d fret if you left and we didn’t know your condition during the journey.”
Mr. Dudley had been silent through the exchange. He went to the sideboard to pour his own whiskey, and he frowned at Lily.
“What about the second vial of Spinster’s Cure?” he inquired. “We talked about your drinking it. Have you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I’m embarrassed to confess what happened.”
“What did?”
“I attempted to entice another man, to avert the calamity I’ve been pursuing with Lord Penworth, but he got in the way again.”
Dudley and his sister shared a long look, and Miss Dudley raised a brow in consternation.
“You shouldn’t leave, chérie.” A hint of Mr. Dudley’s French accent crept into his voice. “Penworth loves you. The potion is working, and you should stay so the circle of magic can be completed.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He said so. He told me he could never love me.”
“Maybe that is what he assumes, but if we have toyed with his fate—”
She held up a hand, halting a diatribe she couldn’t bear to hear.
More than ever, she wanted Dudley’s potion to be real, for Lord Penworth’s destiny to have been altered so he would fall madly in love with her. But she wasn’t a fool, and she couldn’t keep behaving like one.
Penworth might actually possess some fond feelings for her, but he would never act on them. He was a man of duty and obligation, and he would never rock a boat or break a rule.
He’d proposed to Violet Howard, and he would never go back on his word to her. Despite how vehemently Lily wished there could be a different conclusion, that he would jilt Lady Violet and pick Lily instead, he never would.
She had to stop fantasizing, and he had to stop courting disaster. She would save him from himself by fleeing—without
his knowing that she had.
“I just need to return to England,” she said to Mr. Dudley.
“What will you do there? I can’t stand to imagine you alone and struggling on your own.”
“I won’t struggle,” she claimed with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll find a new job as a companion or governess, but I’ll move to a rural area where he would never search for me.”
“You really suppose you’ll be able to get away from him?”
“Out of sight, out of mind, Mr. Dudley. At the moment, he’s intrigued, but after I’m gone, he’ll forget all about me.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Dudley cautiously concurred.
“Can you help me plan a furtive journey south?”
Mr. Dudley stared at his sister, and another visual communication passed between them.
Mr. Dudley shrugged. “I’ll take you myself in our carriage.”
“What? No, I didn’t mean you should go to all that trouble on my behalf. I merely want your advice as I devise a method of—”
“I’ll take you, Miss Lambert. I won’t have you flitting off by yourself. Let’s not quarrel about it.”
He spoke with a resolve that could have matched Penworth’s when he was at his most obstinate. Dudley wouldn’t be dissuaded, and since he’d made such a generous offer, she ought to be gracious enough to accept it.
“All right,” she consented.
“When would you like to go?”
“Friday would be best.” It was two days away. “The twins are heading to Edinburgh, to sail to London, themselves. Everyone at the castle will be occupied with their departure, so my own escape won’t be noticed.”
“Oh, I think your absence will be noticed, Miss Lambert.”
“Not for a while, Mr. Dudley, and by the time it is, I will have vanished.”
“IT’S such a lovely evening.”
“Yes, it is.”
John scowled at Violet, assessing her beautiful blond hair and perfect face. Why had he proposed to her?
The castle was overflowing with guests, and he had slipped away with Violet for the stroll she’d requested, but it had been a debacle. Though John had tried for inane banter, he couldn’t maintain any semblance of affability. Their prior cordiality had disappeared, and they’d trudged about, moping and lost in thought.
He was dying to tell her she was too young for him, that she should end his misery by going back to England and marrying some eighteen-year-old boy who’d be excited to have her.
“Thank you for walking with me,” she said.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you suggested it. We’ve hardly spent any private time together.”
“No, we haven’t.”
They were approaching the castle, the uncomfortable promenade nearing its end, and he could barely hide his relief. A few dozen more yards, and they’d have returned to the party. He’d be swallowed up by the crowd; he’d be shed of her.
They reached the stairs, and he was frustrated as she pulled him to a halt.
“May I ask you a question?” she inquired.
“Certainly.”
“Are you still angry with me? It seems that you might be.”
“I’m not.”
He glanced up at the castle. A trio of fiddlers was playing a lively tune, and their music drifted out. Candlelight poked through the windows and doors. It was a magical, stirring sight.
He wondered where Lily was. He wondered what she was doing.
She hadn’t attended the soiree, declaring herself weary of the festivities, and he couldn’t blame her. They’d agreed to meet later, after everyone was abed, and it was the only topic he could contemplate.
He peered down at Violet, reflecting on how he’d betrayed her by carrying on with another woman right under her nose. He knew it was wrong, knew it was immoral and cruel, but he couldn’t renounce his affair.
Lily was like a disease in his blood. There was no cure. There was no antidote.
His wedding to Violet was almost a year away. He hoped that—when the date rolled around—he’d have had his fill of Miss Lily Lambert, and she would be gone from his life.
But what if she wasn’t? What if a year passed, and he desired her more than ever?
What then? What then?
The frantic query echoed in his head, and he shoved it away. He had to quit obsessing over Lily. Since he was standing arm in arm with Violet, it was particularly disconcerting.
“I was curious.” Violet hesitated, unable to continue.
“About what?”
“I know you won’t like to hear me mention your mother—”
“No, I won’t.”
“—but I was worried that she might have . . . have made a derogatory comment about me. Is that why you’re upset?”
“I haven’t discussed you with my mother. Nor would I.”
“Well, then. Good. Because if she did say something, it wasn’t true.”
Like a frightened rabbit, she skittered away, climbing up onto the terrace and hurrying inside before he could ask what the hell she’d meant.
She and Barbara must have quarreled. He couldn’t imagine what Barbara might have said, and he didn’t wish to be apprised. He was in no mood for trouble between Violet and Barbara, and he refused to referee any discord.
As if he’d conjured her up by thinking about her too intently, Barbara emerged from the shadows.
“John, are you really going to marry that girl?”
“Yes, Barbara, I really am.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I realize that. She was the best candidate in an entire flock of debutantes. I selected her after a lengthy search. I want to marry her.”
“No, you don’t.” She clucked her tongue like a mother hen scolding her chicks.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I want or don’t.”
“She’ll make you miserable.”
“Barbara, I will not debate my pending marriage with you. It’s none of your business.”
“Not my business? If your future contentment isn’t my business, what is?”
“Leave it be.”
“You should wed Miss Lambert, instead.”
“What did you say?”
“You love her. It’s so patently clear.”
Panic slithered through him, and he peeked about, terrified that others might be loitering and would have overheard the ridiculous remark.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he claimed.
“Do what you want for a change,” she urged. “Behave with a reckless abandon. Do the unexpected.” She grabbed his coat and shook him. “You’re my son. Though you deny it, some of my blood is raging in your veins.”
“There’s nary a drop.”
“Who cares about Esther’s opinion? Who cares about a bunch of stuffy sods in London? Let them all go to the devil. Make yourself happy. Pick Lily. Let her make you happy. Violet never will.”
John clasped her hands and removed them.
“Good night, Barbara.”
His heart pounding, dismay rocking him, he spun and escaped.
Chapter 17
“YOU’RE not afraid, are you?”
“When I’m with you? Never.”
Lily clasped John’s hand a bit tighter, wanting to seem very brave, but she was a tad frightened—despite how fervidly she claimed otherwise.
They were descending into the cavern under the castle, headed for the ancient hot springs where she’d suffered the twins’ foul play. She’d assumed she would never again visit the isolated place, but he’d begged her to accompany him, and she’d been unable to refuse.
Though he had no clue of her intentions, she was leaving in the morning. Her small assortment of clothes was folded in her portmanteau. Mr. Dudley’s coach was loaded, the driver and outriders hired. The speedy journey would begin as soon as she appeared on his stoop.
She would never see John Middleton again.
While she’d promised she would stay with him,
she hadn’t meant it, and in light of his experiences as a boy— when his mother had left him and never returned—he would view her act as an incredible betrayal.
If she had had any sense, she would have declined this final opportunity to dally, but she loved him too much. A night of intimacy would build fond recollections that would console her during the ensuing weeks and months without him.
She’d never met a man like him, and she would always be proud that she’d known him, that he’d fancied her. They would revel and frolic till dawn forced them back to their bedchambers. Then she would sneak away.
They arrived at the bottom of the winding staircase, John steadying her as she entered the grotto. His lantern had set the ceiling aglow, and she smiled at being reminded of how beautiful it was.
“Are you still all right?” he asked.
“Never better.”
“Come.”
He escorted her to a stone bench carved from the rock. They’d brought a large picnic basket, but there were several more boxes discreetly shoved out of sight.
“What’s this?” he inquired as he pulled one out and glanced inside.
“After my incident, I had two footmen carry down some extra provisions. I didn’t want anybody to ever be caught as I was.”
“You’d have been a good soldier.” He riffled through the supplies, seeing candles and blankets, dried beef and preserves. “You certainly packed enough for an army.”
“I wasn’t taking any chances.” She frowned. “You’re not angry that I took the liberty, are you?”
“Of course not. I wish I’d thought of it.” He grinned. “It never occurred to me that a person could run into trouble down here. To me, it always seemed such a magical spot. I didn’t think disaster preparation was necessary.”
Neither had she, but the twins had taught her many valuable lessons, the main one being to be cautious, to be wary.
She sat and retrieved a bottle of wine Cook had put in the picnic basket. Lily wondered as to the woman’s opinion when she’d assembled the romantic meal. She had to have understood that the earl would use the items for an assignation.
Had word spread that the paramour in question was Lily? Or would Cook presume he was enamored of a guest?
Lily stifled a sigh, realizing that the servants’ attitudes no longer mattered. In a few hours, she’d be gone. Very likely, no one at the castle would ever ponder her again.
