Julian felt Leland’s eyes upon him, but he would not meet them. He knew the man would be apologetic for divulging that fact to his mother, but it was no secret that he’d asked him to sell the land.
“The proceeds from that sale go to our debts, madam.”
“They can be serviced.” She waved a hand.
“They are serviced. By this sum.” He sat straight as a pin while Perkins placed a plate of eggs and bacon before him.
She shook her head, fuming. “I understand you used money to refurbish Willowreach before your marriage.”
Where in hell did she get that information? He’d ferret that out, by God. He picked up his fork. Stabbing a portion of food, he suppressed his desire to rage at her. “That is my business.”
“She needs no comforts.”
She needed every comfort.
“And I refuse to live like a pauper.”
“Then perhaps, madam, you should find employment.”
Silence reigned.
“You have money for doctor’s implements. For chemist’s potions. Then you have money for me.”
Leland stared at his plate.
Julian was aghast. The woman knew no bounds. Why did he not foresee this? Was he blind? Or just too trusting?
Or was it that living with a woman who was not vindictive, not manipulative, not unprincipled had changed him? Made him whole.
“My wife wishes to care for our tenants and servants. I welcome that.”
His mother growled. “She buys anything she wants.”
He stood with such force, his chair toppled backward.
“Perkins,” he addressed the butler. “See to it that my mother leaves the house today. You will have her maid and two of the upstairs maids ready her trunks. Two footmen go to the dower house immediately to open it and clean it as best they can. Two more go tomorrow to finish the task.”
His mother pushed back from the table and rose. “I will not go.”
“You will go or I will throw you out. Choose.”
White as a ghost, she groped for words. Her jaw worked but she was incapable of sound.
A very good thing, too. What else could be said that was more sordid than what they’d already uttered?
She marched out.
Perkins, wise man, shut the door swiftly behind her.
The footman replaced Julian’s chair and Julian resumed his place.
Leland inhaled.
“I am sorry you had to witness that,” Julian told him.
“Don’t be.”
Julian sipped at his coffee. His appetite however had fled.
Leland figeted with his napkin, then said, “I’m afraid I have more bad news.”
Julian gave an outraged laugh. “Well, do tell me. It can’t be worse than this.”
“You asked me to look into certain rumors about you and the duchess in the London tabloids.”
“You found the papers?”
“I did. I had my assistant combing the pages daily ever since you told me.”
“Right after my father died.”
“Yes.”
“And what?”
“They are scurrilous. Astonishing in their content.”
Julian could not believe it. “How so?”
“They allege that you and your wife engage in…” Leland was red with embarrassment.
“Come, Leland. We are men. Out with it.”
“Risqué sport.”
Julian swallowed his disgust. What went on his bed was his private purview. “I don’t understand.”
“They say you indulge in erotic play with chains and leather.”
Julian shouted in laughter. “Fantasy.”
But the hesitant look on Leland’s face said there was more.
“Go on.”
“That you married your wife after you compromised her in your stables and your home.”
Foul rumor. What Meg Sheffield had told him he’d put down to fiendish minds not a ninnyhammer who told tales. But certainly only three others had first-hand knowledge of events in Willowreach. “Anything else?”
“That you married her for her money.”
Julian squeezed shut his eyes. This was true. Partially.
“That your wife—” Leland cleared his throat and took a drink of his coffee. “That she rides astride and without her corset.”
“At midnight,” Julian whispered.
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Leland slumped in his chair. “That you took to your bed another duchess and—”
“What?”
“And that your wife on the same night took a viscount.”
His mind whirled with impossible scenes. “The only time— Dear God. The only time we’ve ever been near a duchess and a viscount was at Burnett’s house party.”
“I know.”
“So who—?”
Leland shook his head. “Someone who was there?”
Julian clenched his hands. He was beside himself. Meg? She would repeat such gossip, but she wouldn’t shame herself by reaching so low as to perpetrate such rumors. Who else might have a reason to spread such lies? And who else knew about the midnight rides and lack of corsets and—
Julian shot from his chair, his gaze riveted to Leland. “You have a list of these publications?”
“I do.”
“Give it to me.”
“You wish me to speak with the publishers?”
“No. I will.” He got up from his chair. “Join me please in my office in ten minutes, will you, Leland?”
He got to his feet. “Yes, my lord.”
“Bring that list.”
“I will.”
“Perkins, tell my wife and my mother I want them in my study in ten minutes.”
* * * *
Lily stared at her bedroom ceiling, counting the acanthus filigree in the stucco frieze. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty white leaves in one ring. Twice as many in the next. They circled the expanse much as her thoughts did. Endless whirls. No beginning. No end. She loved him, her husband loved her not…enough.
She sat up, the linens crumpling around her naked body. Blushing at the memory of how Julian had kissed her minutes ago, she shivered and shook off the thrill of it. She responded to his ardent lovemaking so naturally, so freely.
But his actions weren’t love, were they? Passionate, yes. Erotic, certainly.
Without the full ardor she gave him. Without the regard she wanted from him.
She rose from the bed to walk to the window. In the July sun, she soaked in the warmth. Her skin absorbed the heat, the glow baking into her bones. This was what she missed, the intensity of the earth in her soul. In south Texas, for ten months of the year, you couldn’t escape the sun. It burned your skin, your blood, and if you were not smart and stayed too long outside, it could burn your brain. Your reason gone.
She’d been so cold here, especially here at Broadmore, that her brain hadn’t melted, but frozen.
She could stay so long that her heart would, too. And what then would happen to her love for Julian…or any children they might bear? An icy fear gripped her. Could she turn as cold as his mother? As forbidding? As bitter?
Would he turn against her as his father had his mother?
She pushed back the draperies, the shock of her thoughts acid in her mouth.
She couldn’t let that happen. Not when they’d begun together so well. It was the death of his father that had changed their lives so radically. Julian’s new responsibilities and the virulence of his mother’s attacks against her ate at her confidence.
She couldn’t allow it any longer, lest she lose her own self-worth. But what could she do to change any of it?
She couldn’t change the dowager. She was who and what she was.
She couldn’t change Julian, nor did she care to. She loved him as he was. But she could help herself. The best she could do would be to accept the fact that he might not change. He might not ever love her. Not in the full devotion she wished fro
m him.
Tears welled behind her eyes. She forced them back. She would not cry. What good would it do?
He didn’t love her. Not as she did him.
She had bargained that he would. That he would come to that easily. But it would take longer and she questioned if she had the patience to wait for it. Even now, as she did, she lost a bit of her own integrity day by day, night by passionate night.
She put a hand to her eyes and dug deep inside herself for courage. Whenever she’d been faced with a problem in the past, she had sought solitude. She’d ridden out on the ranch by herself. Society here proclaimed she needed a cursed maid or a groom or a footman ready to hand. She needed or wanted none of them. And because she had married into this strict society, she had been compliant. Agreeable. Too much so.
But now she would not be.
She’d take what she wanted for herself. And what she wanted was time to think and time to rediscover the patience and fortitude she’d need to live with a man who wanted her for her money and her grace and her good humor and her body, but who might never reciprocate her deepest love.
She must accept that or live forever in the shadow of her own sorrow.
Turning, she spied her peignoir. Julian must have picked it up from the floor this morning and put it on her chaise longue.
She heard a rustle in her sitting room. Her lady’s maid, most likely, had arrived with her breakfast tray.
“Nora?”
Something shattered to the floor.
Her maid stuck her head around the door jamb. A blush colored her cheeks at the sight of Lily naked. She seemed surprised, on edge. “Yes, ma’am. It’s me.”
At once shy of the woman who examined her body too intently, Lily reached for the silk robe and pulled it on.
She picked up her hair brush, a prickle of unease running up her spine. “What broke?”
“Oh, your ring dish.”
“I see.” The maid was not usually clumsy.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll pay for it from my wages.”
“No matter. I’m sure we have others, don’t we?”
“We do.”
“I’d like a breakfast tray up here this morning, Nora.” She’d like the servant to leave her so she might pack a small reticule with a few clothes. “Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, if we have them. Coffee and tea.”
A knock came at the outer door.
“See who that is,” she told the woman.
What would she take? Where would she go?
Nora and Perkins exchanged comments.
A minute later, her maid reappeared. “His Grace wishes you to go to his study.”
“Oh?” What now?
“Me, too. Immediately.”
“Very well.” She’d wash and dress quickly. That was best. The less time she had to think of her departure, the better she would be.
* * * *
Lily entered Julian’s study, the dark oak paneling casting shadows on those already assembled. He’d ordered the gas lamps turned up but the silence added to the somber atmosphere.
“Come sit here, Lily.” Julian pointed to the Chippendale chair beside his desk.
She crossed the room, while Nora hung back near the door.
“Perkins,” Julian said to his butler, “you may leave us.”
Phillip Leland, the dowager duchess, Nora and she were the only ones in attendance. Why her own maid was here raised unusual questions of propriety.
The dowager regarded the servant with narrowed eyes. “Why is she here?”
Julian came round his desk to lean back against it and cross his arms. In one hand, he held a sheet of paper. “We shall learn.”
The dowager shifted in her chair, her jaw set, her gaze upon the paper in Julian’s hand.
“Mister Leland has been very kind to bring to my attention a matter that deeply concerns me. Since we’ve been here dealing with the death of my father, I have not had opportunity to give my attention to the London news. And now we must.”
The dowager scoffed. “If we want to read the papers, Julian—”
He lifted his hand and rattled the paper. “I have here a listing of London scandal sheets. The Tatler, The Flyer. The Red Parlor. A penny a piece for hideous stories of degradation. Fit for no one of any refinement but nonetheless, popular.”
The duchess lost all color to her face.
Nora sucked in her breath.
Lily examined the servant. Her wide eyes, her grim lips. What was wrong with her? What concern had a maid for London broadsheets?
Lily stiffened. What has this to do with me?
“A number of articles have appeared in the past few weeks in these gossip sheets,” he went on, “and the contents are intriguing.”
A premonition of the subject matter had Lily squirming in her chair.
“They recount stories that not only are malicious lies but family secrets.”
Lily froze. About me? Cartoons again? Oh, the shame of it. Why do this?
“Only a few people could have ever collaborated to reveal these items to the presses and I want to know now why you would do such a thing to shame us all.” And he turned the full force of his rage on his mother and the servant who stood behind her, Nora.
“What have you to say for yourself, Mother?”
“You are quite insane if you think—”
“Do not deny this. The only others who might have knowledge of these things are Lily’s father and my own. Hanniford would never disparage his own daughter and my father lies outside in his grave. So, you see, there is no reason to dance around this. You did this to damage me and my wife and you enlisted this maid to assist you in this dastardly business.”
“I won’t sit here and be accused of this.”
“Don’t sit. Get out.”
She sprang up. “She is not worthy of us.”
“Enough!”
What had the woman said about her? Lily put a hand to her brow. Did it matter what the dowager had told these papers? What others thought of her? It once had. Mightily. But now?
Julian straightened. “You, Madam, are not worthy of her. Leave.”
“I demand—”
“Nothing. You can demand of me nothing. Go. Now.”
The dowager rushed from the room.
Julian skewered Nora with his anger. “You, too, will go.”
The maid looked from Lily to Julian.
He pulled on the gold fob at his waistcoat pocket and glanced at his watch. “You have ten minutes or I throw you out.”
Her face scarlet, Nora attempted to form words. But she seemed palsied as she snapped her mouth shut and with a huff, scurried away.
Phillip Leland watched her go, then faced Julian. “I will depart myself this morning.” To Lily, he said, “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. This was a nasty business and I hated to be the bearer of such bad tidings.”
Whatever was in those broadsheets, Lily never wanted to know. “I would never ridicule you for bringing such a thing to light. Thank you.”
He inclined his head and quickly left Julian and her alone.
Julian walked toward her and made to take her in his arms, but she side-stepped him.
“I will make this up to you.”
Lightheaded, Lily steadied herself by putting a hand to the back of a chair. “You needn’t. It was not you who did this.”
“No, but I would not have you hurt.”
“So you’ve said.”
He blinked, as if he could not understand her words. “My mother will not hurt you again. Nor the maid.”
And what of you? Will you hurt me? “Thank you. I must go.”
She took a step and wobbly as she was, he was quick to take her arm.
“I’m well.” She pulled away from him. “I need to think on this.”
He swallowed. “I will speak with the publishers of these rags. Ruin them. I’ll see to it they never run other pieces about anyone.”
He was so dear to say it, but he was nigh unto penniless and they, so
he said, were popular. He could not buy them off. “You must not spend your money or your time on them. You have tenants to aid, estates to run.”
He questioned her statement with a searching look on his face. “I promised you once I would call anyone out who ran such pieces about you.”
“I know. But what good does it do? There will be others.”
“I’ll see to it there are none.”
She put a hand to his cheek. “You’re kind, Julian. Sweet. Devote yourself to your people, your livelihood.”
“But you are my first concern.”
Was she? “I need a rest from this turmoil. The arguing. The hatred. The sadness.”
“Of course. I understand. Go upstairs. I’ll get the housekeeper to assign you another maid.”
“Thank you. One who is young and untried. And one I can take to Willowreach.”
He stepped to her and took her in his arms. With gentle fingers, he lifted her face. His own was ravished. “You want to go to Willowreach?”
“I was happy there.” We both were.
“I’ll go with you.”
She shook her head. “I must go alone. Let me, Julian. Let me. I need this.”
He pressed her close, his hands urgent on her back, his lips in his hair. “Promise me you’ll write to me when you want me once again.”
She placed a kiss to his jaw. “I will.”
Then she hurried away from him and all she’d hoped for but had not achieved.
Chapter Seventeen
Julian sat, watching his estate manager close the door to his study. He rose to walk to the window and look out on the kitchen garden. Lettuces and tomatoes bloomed. Cabbages were popping up their pale green heads through the thick loam. The oak trees swayed in the breeze. All nature went on, eager for the sun.
He had little joy of it.
Three weeks had passed since Lily had left Broadmore. The heat of late August was upon them and Julian noted the stay from the incessant rain and damp. Some of the crops had improved. His financial affairs had as well, courtesy of the sale of the Irish estate Leland had sold for him. He experienced some peace that he no longer dealt with the virulence of his mother. He kept well away from the dower house where she was installed with the two servants he’d allotted her. She did not venture near him. Wise of her.
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 26
