Leland looked dubious. “Your father has approved the sale?”
“No, but he will. Must.”
Leland stared at thim. “You know that few here in England have cash for that.”
“Sell it to Americans, if you must. Not Killian Hanniford. I have far too much of his money to go begging for more. But anyone else is acceptable.”
“Very well. Which lands?”
“The one you could most likely sell first would be the profitable one outside Tipperary.”
“That’s a well-appointed estate. But the tenants will not be happy to hear you’re selling.”
Julian could not see another way to make a substantial sum of money. “We can hope the new owner is a kind soul and they grow to like him. See to the sale.”
“I will,” Leland said. “And your second reason to call me here?”
“I wish to discuss Elanna’s marriage settlement for Lord Carbury.”
“I progress with that for your father, the duke.” He placed his empty glass upon the nearby deal table.
Julian applauded the man’s discretion. Leland would say nothing about Elanna’s projected sum, lest he give away confidential information. “I’m sure you do. What I have to say is not known to my father. Not in specifics. But he is aware of my feelings about my sister’s marriage.”
Leland folded his hands in his lap, his countenance blank of all emotion. “I understand. How then may I be of service?”
“They marry in a few weeks. I need this done quickly.” Julian had to save his sister from some disaster if he could. He knew a few of the stipulations of her settlement, but he would not inquire for all of them. “I have funds which I would like to apply to Elanna’s dressmakers and milliners’ bills. All she incurred since January.”
“That is most generous of you.”
“There’s more. I have five thousand I wish you to invest in her name at Rothschild’s. Railroads, steamships, tea, I care not where or how, nor do I wish to know. Furthermore, Carbury is never to learn of it and frankly, neither is she.”
“That is most…unusual.” Leland tipped his head, puzzled.
“It is. I know it. But I wish it done.”
“Still, I am confused. Why invest it if she never knows of its existence? Why not simply—”
“Give it to her?” Julian smacked his lips. How to say this? “I will be quite frank, Leland. I trust her.”
With a pointed look at his friend, Julian allowed the silence to imply that he did not trust Carbury.
Leland arched a golden brow.
“However, I do not give this marriage much of a chance of happiness.”
“I see.”
Julian inhaled. “I fear for the future. I also predict that if Carbury knew of the money, he could by law take it for himself. And should my sister ever need funds to remove herself from his presence, I want her to have independent means. If I am not nearby, if she suffers, if no one believes her—” And she must escape him.
Leland held his gaze for a long minute. The gravity of what he’d heard pulled his eyes wide. “How then is she to learn of these funds?”
“You will tell her if and when it becomes vital. For now, you will become her friend, her confidant. I’ve add three hundred a year to your Willowreach fees to visit her once a month every month. Choose a certain day and time. All so that you incur no suspicion to your actions. And so that she never suspects your reason.”
“But how do I impress upon her that I am the one she must come to if she’s in trouble?”
“Find a way. You like her.” She knows it. Julian had seen how the man regarded Elanna whenever she appeared in the same room. Such longing was borne of boyish yearnings. It was not kind of Julian to use them to his own ends, but he hoped that Leland might forgive him if it ever came to sadness.
“I do.” Leland considered his hands, his jaw flexing as he thought of what to say. “Might she not be persuaded to break the engagement with Carbury?”
“You know why she cannot.”
“We are each creatures of our class,” Leland said with a bitterness that had them both silent.
“At last,” Julian said as the butler laid a tray before the small table near the fireplace. “Here is tea. Let us talk of sunnier subjects, shall we? And spend the night, will you? We’ll dine and make a party of it. I’ll not have you riding back to Ashford tonight in this foul weather.”
* * * *
Lily hoisted her umbrella in one hand, her skirts in another and hurried from the kitchen, down the path to the stables. She hadn’t been here since she’d become Julian’s wife and she thought it an appropriate time to visit the groomsmen and the horses. She longed to ride. But the rain was not cooperating. Plus Julian had asked her to remain indoors.
“The rain is so heavy,” he’d said, “I’ve reports from my men upstream that a dam we built last summer may not hold. The lanes aren’t safe.”
She’d been indoors all this past week. Although making love to Julian was a deliciously proper pasttime for a new bride, she’d been rather lazy, lolling about their suite, becoming accustomed to her own private sitting room and dressing room. This morning, he was busy meeting with the Ash family lawyer. He’d called the man down from London and worried about his safety when he hadn’t shown up yesterday. A few minutes ago, Mister Leland had arrived and Julian had hurried downstairs to greet him.
As she came upon the stable, the doors were ajar. When she pushed one open to step inside, she saw the stableboy who’d helped her that first night she and Julian had gone riding at midnight.
“Good afternoon, Colin. Pardon me,” she said, smiling to the boy and his companion, a gnarled and grizzled white-haired man. The two of them were debating the looks of an old horse’s hoof. “I didn’t intend to interrupt you.”
The stableboy stood straight, dragging off his cap and pulling his forelock. “Pardon, m’lady.”
“How do you do, sir?” She nodded at the older man.
He grinned at her and inclined his head. “Aye. Good to make yer acquaintance, m’lady. Richards, I am.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Richards.” She peered over at the horse’s hoof. “Threw a shoe, eh?”
“A while ago, I’d say,” said Richards.
“Me, too.”
“Second one he’s thrown in a week,” Richards added.
“A shame. Can you give him a new one quickly?”
“Lamb’s our farrier. Sick, ‘e is, though.”
“Oh. That’s not good.” This morning, she’d heard Julian discuss with the butler and housekeeper that a number of farmers in the village were ill. He’d asked them to scour the house for extra blankets to send to the village. “What’s wrong with him?”
Richards patted his chest. “Cough. Deep. Loud.”
“Bronchitis?” she asked.
“He’s not the only one, either. My sister’s got it. And she be increasin’ too.”
Pregnant and sick with a debilitating cough. In this weather? That was disaster.
“In the village, is there a chemist?” she asked them.
“Among us?” Richards asked like she might be hallucinating.
“No,” said the boy.
“Where is the nearest?”
“Ashford,” said Richards.
“Far away, is it?” she asked.
“Two hours’ ride,” Richards told her.
“Not bad. Well, you see, I’ve nursed many sick people before. I’d like to help.”
The two men stared at her as if she had two heads.
She might be the new marchioness and a new bride, but she was not without skills or brains. Or persistence. “Could you take me to the cottages? Please?”
Richards was more than skeptical. He scratched his shaggy hair above his ear. “In the rain?”
“You walked here. So can I.”
He shot his bushy brows together. “‘Is lordship may not like it.”
“To give help to his tenants who are ill? Of course, he
will like it. Tell me where they are. You needn’t come with me, if you don’t like. I take my own responsibility.”
He pulled a doubting face.
“I do. Always,” she assured him.
* * * *
Phillip Leland was a handsome frog, what with his overly large green eyes and brilliant hair, the color of old gold. Tall and thin, he had an aristocratic bearing that told her he must have come from a very good family who lived beneath their station. When Julian had told her that the two of them were second cousins through his father’s family, she understood how the two men, so divergent in class and occupation, got on so well together. He was a relative.
He had told her his father had earned a living at writing novels in installments much like Charles Dickens had done. “At first, he wrote novels suited for social commentary. But when he did not become as popular as other authors, he began a series of books for children. He created a character who was a mouse in the house of a duke,” he said as the three of them sat in the purple salon after their dinner.
“The mouse stole cheese from the larder and books from the library,” Julian said with a chuckle.
“And raised his sons to become barristers and his daughters to become physicians,” Leland added.
Overjoyed, she clapped her hands together. “Disregarding class and gender?”
“True revolutionaries,” Leland said with a rueful grin.
“In America, we would applaud that,” she said.
“Here,” he said, “we take our revolutions a bit more slowly.”
“And how did you decide on the law? Was it your father’s stories of his little mouse that inspired you?”
“I confess it’s true. But what I’d really like to do is write a novel. I’ve penned a few shorter stories that a London publisher considers.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “I like to see people engaged in what delights them. My cousin Marianne takes comfort in drawing and painting.”
“Is that right?” Julian asked as he took a chair opposite her. “I had no idea she did that.”
“Has she shown her work?” Leland asked.
“She does it only for her own enjoyment, claiming she’d never match a professional’s expertise. But her subjects are unique.” Lily finished her glass of brandy and put it aside. “She paints women and children. Quite charming.”
“Do you also draw and paint?” Leland asked her.
“Oh, no. I’m afraid my talents are totally lacking. I draw lovely little stick men.”
Both men gave a laugh.
“I wish I could contribute something to the world like a novel. But I think my skills are in nursing.”
“Nursing?” Leland was clearly shocked, his bright eyes even bigger than before.
“Yes.” She glanced at her husband whom she’d not seen all afternoon until he’d appeared in his dressing room to change for dinner. “Now is a good time to tell you, Julian, that I went to the tenants’ cottages today to check on those who are ill. I fear three have bronchitis. I saw a few children. Two have croup. Those blankets you ordered sent down to them are useful to make steamer tents for bronchitis kettles. But they have only two in the whole village.”
“Steamer tents?” Leland asked her. “What do you mean?”
“Breathing in warm moist air is very useful to keep the lungs clear. The best way to do that is to make a tent, then force in air with kettles specifically made for the purpose. They have a wide base so they don’t tip over and a very long spout.”
“I’m glad you went,” said Julian, his brown eyes heavy with concern, “but you may also now fall ill.”
“You mustn’t worry,” she told him. “I’ve been near people who have much worse maladies and never been sick a day in my life.”
“Still—”
“It gives me great joy to be of real use to someone.” I can’t spend my life ordering about servants and then not care for them when they are in need. “I’d like to purchase more equipment. Help them regularly.”
“I wouldn’t dream of refusing you joy, my dear. But that could endanger your health. Though I am sad to say it, the farmers do not have benefit of the best food and warm fires. I’d like to improve that, but struggle with the means. This rain doesn’t help. The crops will be spare…” He narrowed his gaze on his glass, disturbed.
She tipped her head, aware she must not shame her husband in front of his friend. “If by small favors, I can improve their health, I want to. In fact, I’d like to buy more copper kettles for them. Nelson inhalers, too. A special type, you see. But I’d need the name of the local doctor.”
“As you wish.” Julian raised his glass to sip, his deep brown gaze delving into hers with what was appreciation. “I’ll see to it in the morning.”
“I’d like to find the local chemist’s shop, too, to order a balsam compound of aromatics for the kettles.”
“You and I will do that, too,” Julian said with a smile spreading on his lips. “They will be most grateful.”
She nodded, thrilled and a bit embarrassed by Julian’s seeming wonder at her suggestions. She wished to change the topic. “So. Tell us, Mister Leland, do you return to London tomorrow?”
“I am called to Ashford, my lady. Your husband and I have a mutual cousin who gives an annual ball. He insists I join him. In fact, it might be useful if I approached him about your Irish project, Chelton.” Leland looked at Julian with intent. “What do you think?”
“A fine idea. He might be interested. He just might.” Julian nodded. “Ask him.”
“What is your Irish project?” she turned to Julian.
“I wish to persuade my father to sell an estate near Tipperary.”
“I thought none of you could sell your land.” Entailed property was bound by inheritance laws.
“This land can be sold,” Julian said. “It’s free of the entail. Good fertile acreage, too. Someone will like it.”
“Wouldn’t it be best to keep it?” she asked.
“I would if we could afford to, my dear. But my father has not and cannot supervise it as he should and another owner would do very well for the tenants. And I know my father would welcome the cash.”
“I see,” she said. “Of course. And you think your cousin might buy it?”
Julian nodded. “He has the money. And he has a penchant for Irish race horses. This would be good investment for him.”
“Have I met this cousin?” she asked Julian. “At our wedding, perhaps? Forgive me, I may have forgotten him in the rush.” She feared she may have committed a faux pas to ask this, considering that Leland had not attended their wedding either.
“No, he was unable to attend,” Julian told her. “Lord Burnett journeys every year to France on the anniversary of his sister’s death to plant flowers at her gravesite.”
“Dedicated to her, he was,” Leland offered. “I would think you both would have been sent an invitation to Burnett’s ball.”
“We have been,” said Julian.
“Have you accepted for us?” she asked, hopeful of meeting such a thoughtful man.
“If you wish to go, we can,” Julian told her with a sparkle in his eye. “I at first declined, thinking you might not wish to attend a public function so soon after our wedding. Then, too, it is five days before we leave for Elanna’s wedding.”
“Oh, but I do love to dance,” she said, wistful. “Might we still attend? Or is it impolitic to invite ourselves so late?”
* * * *
“I like Mister Leland very much.” Lily entered Julian’s master chamber. Her cerulean-blue silk and white lace peignoir swirled around her like a cloud. Her black hair was down, brushed to a high shine, her long waves curling over the full rise of her breasts. She was a sensuous angel, supple beneath the flowing fabric dotted with the innocence of the French lace. As so often these past weeks, to look at her was a feast.
He opened his arms to her. She dazzled him. “I’m pleased you like him. He is a family treasure.” He
explained the distant relationship to her.
“Why then was he not at our wedding?”
“Ah.” He stroked her hair, her silken strands twining through his fingers like an angel’s breaths. His body hardened with need of her, a desire that grew more fierce each hour he spent with her. “Too far down the order, you see, for my parents. My father demands those in his service receive only their wages, not much else from him. But even invited, Leland would not accept.”
“Why not? He is your cousin.” Her blue eyes were upon him as if he were her only treasure.
“Twice removed, but there is more. He has a certain affection for Elanna. He stays away.” He can never hope to have her. Not as I have you.
“That’s very sad.”
“We won’t be sad tonight.” He raised one of her hands and kissed the palm.
“No.” She shook off her frown. “You’ll tell me about the masked ball we’re going to and your cousin.”
“Valentine is charming.” He cocked a wicked brow. “He’ll fascinate you.”
She lifted a shoulder, then ran her fingertip along the outline of his mouth. “Not as much as you do.”
He nipped her finger. “Do I?”
She shivered. “Mmm. Especially since you don’t object to me nursing.”
He crushed her close, serious at once. “If you become ill, you’ll stop. Promise me.”
“I do.” She ran a hand up over his cheek. “As long as you promise me one thing.”
He inhaled and gazed with consideration at the ceiling. If she wanted money or jewels, a carriage… He had no means for any of those. “Tell me.”
“At Valentine’s? His party?”
Was that all? “What would you like, my darling?”
At his endearment, she giggled and reached up on her toes to peck him on the cheek. “You’ll waltz with me. We haven’t, you realize. We’ve done ever so much else. Ridden at midnight. Made love in your carriage.”
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 19
