"Sir, are you certain this accounting is correct?"
"I paid a bit more to thank you for your trouble. Lilyvale is well off the beaten path and I appreciate you taking the time to come here."
Lily thought she should protest but she pocketed the coins instead, thinking of a warm bed at the inn at Smeeth. No. She needed to save, she needed to put away just in case. Her employment was still uncertain as yet. She dropped a curtsy.
"I appreciate your generosity so much, sir. I'll come by again tomorrow, I promise. It's not much trouble. The road here is lovely to walk along."
"Do you think so?"
He was standing at least an arm's length from her, but something in his gaze suddenly felt inappropriate. He was such a large man, and stood so straight and unyielding. His eyes were so intent. His arms at his sides looked tense, as if poised for action. She remembered the stance from another moment in time. She remembered how Lord Horace had looked at her just moments before he dragged her behind the bushes. Her cheeks flooded warm and her blood rushed faster. Foolish girl, tricked again! She had accepted his extra coin and now he would expect something in return. Her throat drew tight as he leaned closer.
"If you like, why not have a cool drink with me before you go? It's a warm day and I've offered you no refreshment."
"No!" Oh dear, she had practically shouted at him. She softened her voice and sidled for the door. "Thank you, my lord, but please do not trouble yourself."
What a thing to do, to invite a common girl like her to take tea alone with him in his parlor. It was clear to her now that he was after the same prize Horace had stolen from her by force. She infused her voice with all the authority she could muster.
"I really must be going, my lord. Though your kindness has been heartwarming, I must take my leave. At once."
Lord Ashbourne nodded, still studying her in a most unsettling manner. "Of course. I suppose you must return to Smeeth before evening comes on too strong."
"Yes, sir. Exactly."
"I would be happy to lend you the use of my carriage."
"Oh no, please." It got worse and worse. She needed to get away, and quickly. She prayed that he wouldn't press the issue. Fortunately, he conceded and bowed his head.
"Very well."
Oh, he was doing that strange frown again. Now she had offended him! She was making an absolute muck of everything. Why did he fluster her so much? It was the way he looked at her with those direct, unfathomable expressions.
"It…it was a kind offer," she said, trying to continue on assertively. "But I do enjoy the fresh air."
"Of course. It was only a suggestion. Well then, Miss Lily. Good evening to you." He stood back and gestured to Hanover, who handed over her now-empty basket. She stole one last look at Lord Ashbourne and he nodded to her somberly as she took her leave with another curtsy.
He was a beautiful man, she couldn't deny it. But even beauty like that, even the promise of more coin could not compel her to lie under him and endure what she'd endured at Horace's hands. Lord Ashbourne was even bigger than Horace, much more fit and virile. If he laid his hands on her she would not be able to get away.
No, it was best to leave and do any further business with the housekeeper or Lady Ashbourne. Hopefully they would be in attendance tomorrow, for she did not want to give up possible employment simply because of his overly familiar ways. As she started down the path away from Lilyvale, she remembered the coins in her pocket and reached in to ascertain if he had really overpaid her as she suspected.
Oh, good heavens--he had paid her three times what she asked for! It had been an anxious visit, but worth her time. She ignored the rumble in her stomach and trudged down the road until she found the shady clump of trees where she had stowed her cloak and satchel. She sat and took off her shoes and stockings to rub her aching feet and think.
* * * * *
James watched the young woman leave his parlor. Her unexpected arrival filled him with both hope and dejection. So many undisciplined thoughts and so many questions. Where on earth had this Lily come from? London, if she spoke truth.
But he was damned if she wasn't the very vision of his Lilliana.
Well, not his anymore. Lilliana had never really been his. And Lily wasn't exactly like Lilliana. They had the same thick auburn hair, the same pert nose and strong chin. Lilliana's skin had been paler though, and Lily was thinner by a bit. Even Lily's eyes favored Lilliana's, although the green looked slightly darker than he remembered. Lily was perhaps a few years older than Lilliana, and Lilliana had been a lady, not a common girl.
But Lilliana was not a lady anymore, no more than this Lily was a common anything. A lovely, well-spoken female horticulturist working on having her own business one day. He moved to the window to watch her make her way down the path. Even her bearing reminded him of Lilliana. She did not slouch and drag like so many working women, but stood tall and walked with a sort of determination in her step. She stopped and dug in her pocket, bringing forth the coins he'd given her. He'd overpaid her terribly, but the poor woman was clearly destitute. Her clothes were threadbare, her shoes worn and her face pinched with hunger. But her gentle manners… Who was this woman? And more to the point, why did she look as much like Lilliana as a twin?
"Hanover!" His servant bustled into the parlor as if he'd been waiting just outside. "Follow her," he said. "See where she goes and that she arrives safely. Make a note of her place of domicile."
"Yes, sir. Wasn't she the very picture of Lady Lilliana? I knew when I saw her at the door, I had to come get you straightaway."
"You were right to come get me. Now follow secretly. I don't want to cause her alarm."
"No, sir."
Hanover exited and James was left with memories of her. Who? Lily or Lilliana? For a moment the woman had seemed both. He felt very much the same as the day he first laid eyes on Lilliana. He had wooed her with the zeal of a madman, captivated by her beauty and spirit. He was never one for mice and chickadees. He thought in Lilliana he had found a lioness to his lion, and imagined them sharing a long and fruitful marriage of fond conversation and passionate lust. He thought if any woman could appreciate his creative intellect and hedonistic proclivities, it would be Lilliana.
But she had not appreciated a thing about him, not in the slightest. She'd pretended to, but it had all been a brilliant act. As it turned out, Lady Lilliana had given her heart to another long before James had walked her down the aisle. Given herself both literally and figuratively. She had eloped with another man, a penniless tradesman, weeks before their wedding even took place. By the time James found out, she had fled to Calais with the sod and disappeared, leaving behind a humiliated "husband" and a family determined to cover things up.
And they had to cover up the scandal, at least for another year, or until the missing shrew could be found. Lilliana's younger sister Lady Claire would be coming out next season, and even in his anger and despair at her sister's faithlessness, he could not bring himself to rob gentle Claire of her chance at a good match. Whenever he chafed to expose Lilliana's treachery, the image of a snubbed and rejected Claire silenced him again.
So here he waited, hidden away in his country manor. He had let go most of the staff so as not to have to explain Lilliana's absence. Only his faithful Hanover remained, and Hanover's mother as housekeeper and cook, although in all honesty she was too mentally infirm to do much. She was trustworthy and that was enough for James. Trust was something he had lately found in short supply.
The future held many questions. A year-long absence from London could be explained away by pregnancy. But then the following year they would be expected to produce the fruit of this condition, or else explain it away with whispers of a miscarriage. He thought with spiteful malice of spreading rumors killing Lilliana off in childbirth, even staging an elaborate funeral. When the mourners were gone, he would very much enjoy dancing on her grave. But if they managed to find Lilliana and drag her back…
No, a
s much as he would enjoy it, he could not kill her off in some false tale. Anyway, if her death was put about he would be expected to marry again, and he never intended to do so. Inconstant, selfish women. So many lies, such a web of deception to navigate and none of it would hold up under the scrutiny of light.
Until now.
Lily, the ambitious gardener, looked remarkably like Lilliana. Enough like Lilliana to keep wagging tongues in the village at bay, and even put in a few appearances in London. If he could convince this girl to pose as his absent wife just for a time, just through the end of Claire's season… At the very least he could stop hiding out like a pathetic cuckold. He took it as some kind of lucky harbinger that even her given name fit the bill.
But it would not exactly be an uncomplicated matter. Lily mentioned family in London. For all James knew, she had a husband back in London, or children. He knew nothing at all about this Lily except that she looked like Lilliana and spoke of propagating marigolds with charming enthusiasm.
After taking a solitary evening meal, James returned to the parlor. He sat down at the chess table and fiddled with the pieces, wondering if Lily knew how to play. He had to think how to convince her to go along with his idea before she returned tomorrow. It would be a very delicate matter to arrange. James was poring over the ins and outs of how to manage it when Hanover returned. James looked up, shocked to find the room nearly plunged in darkness. Hanover lit a lamp and approached with a sober look.
"My lord, I followed the mistress but she didn't go back into Smeeth."
"Didn't she?" Another false woman. She wasn't what she claimed, or she lied, or both. "Where did she go?"
"Sir, she has gone to the stables."
"Lilyvale's stables?"
"Yes, sir. She doubled back at dusk and went inside. I stood and waited to see if she was a horse thief or some such but I didn't hear any ruckus. When she didn't come out a good half hour I went in and found her fast asleep in the far stall."
James crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.
"Sleeping, you say?"
"Yes, my lord. Like an angel. She does resemble Lady Ashbourne through and through, doesn't she?"
James' expression turned brooding. "Please do not refer to Lilliana as Lady Ashbourne. She was never my wife. But yes, she does favor her."
The valet's voice softened. "It must have been a shock to you, my lord, seeing that young miss. Bringing up unpleasant memories, I reckon?"
"The memories I can deal with. I only hope Lilliana returns at some point to bail us all out of this muddle, not least her poor sister."
"I don't think she'll come back, sir. Pardon my plain talk."
"It is your plain talk I like most about you, Han. Why don't you think she'll come back?"
"I hate to speak ill of a lady, but I don't think she would ever expect you'd take her back after what she did, running off like that. Although I know you would."
James knew he would take her back too, for appearances, and the thought incensed him. He waved his hand dismissively. "Either way, it is out of our control. Of more pressing concern is the young woman sleeping in my stables."
"Yes, sir. Shall I take her out some blankets then?"
"Good Lord, no. She cannot remain there. It's already begun to rain and the stalls flood."
"You'd like me to fetch her then? Drive her into the village?"
"In this weather?" James looked doubtful. "No. Not yet. Hanover, I confess I am considering a most unorthodox plan. A most ridiculous plan. I quite wish you'd talk me out of it."
Hanover's thin lips spread into a grin. "Oh, I think I won't, sir. I daresay I won't. Not I."
* * * * *
Lily yelped when the gentle hand shook her, and sat up, clutching her cloak to her chest. She had fallen onto the hay and drifted off nearly at once, exhausted, only to wake and find Lord Ashbourne's manservant standing over her with a lamp.
"Oh, I am so terribly sorry, sir," she said, scrambling to her feet. "I only hoped to find shelter for one night. I meant no harm. It is such a long walk back into town and I didn't want to trouble your lord for permission. If you will just communicate to him my most profound apologies--"
"Come with me, miss," he said. "Lord Ashbourne does not wish you to sleep out here."
"Of course not. It was very wrong of me to do so. I'll leave at once."
"No, I only mean that he would like to offer you shelter in the manor."
Her mouth fell open in horror. "I simply couldn't. That would not be proper at all."
"His lordship won't take advantage if that's what you're worried about. He's not that type."
"Even so, sir, it is just…it is not appropriate for me to…especially with the lady not at home--"
"He wishes to speak with you on a matter of great importance, if you would be so kind as to follow me back to the parlor."
Lily made a quick curtsy, shouldering her bag and backing away. "Please, begging your pardon, I am needed back home. I just remembered. I--my family--in the village--"
"I heard you telling his lordship that your family was in London."
"Oh, aunts…cousins… They are up in…Smeeth… They are expecting me…" She fell silent, feeling ridiculous in her lies. "Oh, this is just so irregular. It is late and I should not be here. I feel caught in a very humiliating position. Please, if you would just tell your lord I would prefer to go."
"Do not go."
Lily spun with her heart in her throat. Lord Ashbourne stood in the stall door in his same velvet finery, with his same proud, rigid stance.
"I understand you may find this somewhat distressing, but it will be no less distressing to me to imagine you sleeping out here in my stalls which are, sadly, prone to flooding. Or to imagine you making your way back to Smeeth in the rain at this late hour. Nor is it prudent to take the carriage as the roads wash out. I must insist you come inside. I pledge you will not be molested in any way. I do, however, have a business proposition for you. Please, if you will."
He stepped back as if to let her pass, and his man reached over to take her satchel. She snatched at it before she realized he only meant to help.
"Hanover, if you will put Miss Lily's bag in the fourth bedroom. The one just across from Mrs. Gertrude's. Please make the room comfortable for our guest."
"Yes, sir," Hanover answered over Lily's quiet exclamations of distress. As Hanover left, Lord Ashbourne stood waiting for her. She gathered her cloak closer about her and considered what to do. If she followed him into the house it would be as good as inviting him to bedevil her. Did it show so plainly, that she was a ruined woman? She tried her best to hide it, but perhaps he just knew by some subtle signals. Then again, what of his wife? She slanted a suspicious look his way.
Her reticence seemed to pain him. "Miss Lily, I am aware you do not know me, but I promise you my word is ironclad. I only want to offer you shelter as my guest, and to have a short conversation with you. Please."
Something in the way he said please calmed her. It was quite clear at this point she would have to go with him. He would accept no other outcome, and his man had already taken her things to the house. But his eyes and his voice when he asked her please made her think he was not, after all, a man of Lord Horace's ilk. With one last attempt at dignity, she raised her chin and preceded him out the door.
They walked together to the main house just as the rain began to fall harder--she with her cloak wrapped around her and Lord Ashbourne at her side leading her along. She paused inside his door, in his breathtaking foyer. Her shoes were muddy from the damp ground and she couldn't see tracking the filth across the marble floor. Nor could she remove her shoes and trot into the parlor with her toes poking through her holey stockings. In the end she scraped them as well as she could upon the rush mat while she stared up the grand staircase, wondering where Hanover had carried her satchel. In the darkness now the chandelier hovered over them, cold cut glass illuminated by candlelight.
Lord A
shbourne was beckoning her into the parlor. She saw an arrangement of mums and marigolds on the broad low table. Her flowers. In the faint lamplight the room was still beautiful, but changed. In the dark it felt more intimate, almost magical in its gilt formality. The flickering flames of the lamps reflected off the vases and crystal. She felt she was in another world, a quiet, coldly beautiful world. As Lord Ashbourne went to secure the windows, she sat on the same divan she'd sat on earlier. The sharp pitter-pat of rain from outside faded to a distant sound with the thump of the glass panes closing. Just as he finished, Hanover returned with a tray of biscuits and tea. Lord Ashbourne looked at the tray and back at Lily.
"Perhaps you might bring a full supper for our guest, Hanover," he suggested in a quiet voice.
Lily was already shaking her head. "I couldn't put you to the trouble. It is so late."
"And some of the fresh bread Mrs. Gertrude baked today, if you would," Lord Ashbourne added, ignoring her protests.
"Yes, of course, sir." Hanover bustled off with a swish of coattails.
Her host sat on the divan across the table and poured tea. She accepted the warm cup with a mixture of dread and thankfulness. She shouldn't be here, but oh, the china cup was so delicate, and the warmth of the tea made her sigh. She knew he watched her as she cupped her hands over the warm brew and let the steam and piquant mint aroma curl up into her face, over her nose and cheeks. But she didn't care. It had been a week or more since she'd had a proper cup of tea.
He looked away and then back at her, shifting and putting his own cup down. "Miss Lily, I'm sure you are exhausted, so I will attempt to be brief. Well, as brief as possible about what I must admit is a very complicated request. I only ask that you hear me out completely with an open mind. I would like to propose an arrangement I believe could benefit us both."
Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "What type of arrangement?"
Lily Mine Page 2
