“I do not know if it would be wise for you to stay.”
He knew she was referring to the way he’d kissed her forehead. The move had been born of impulse, and he should not have trespassed.
“I’ve nowhere else to go,” he admitted. “Believe me when I say that this was not what I imagined would happen on my journey to Penford.”
He regarded her while the rain dripped steadily upon the horse blanket he was holding over his head. “If circumstances had been different, I would have traveled here with my sisters. There’d have been four coaches, and fifty servants, to be sure. I would have brought gifts for all of you, as thanks for your hospitality.”
Her expression softened slightly. “And what would you have brought me, Lord Ashton?” There was a teasing glint in her eyes when she used his title.
“A bracelet,” he answered. “Perhaps made of Connemara marble, polished smooth. The stones are lovely, with streaks of dark and light green.”
She tilted her umbrella back. “And for Lily?”
He thought a moment. “A silver comb for her hair, I think.”
Lady Rose gave a nod of approval. “She would like that very much.” She never took those brown eyes from his gaze, as if deliberating. Finally, she released a sigh. “If my brother were here, there is no question James would demand you go. I shouldn’t consider this at all.”
He waited while she decided, making no move to rush her. Lady Rose thought for a moment. “Against my better judgment, I let you stay for one night. You could have robbed the household or murdered us all in our beds. Instead, you saved my mother’s life.”
He softened at her words, understanding that she was hovering on the brink of allowing him to remain at Penford. “I am not the sort of man who would let any woman come to harm.”
She tightened her lips and sighed again. “I think I’ve been reading too many fairy stories, Mr. Donovan.”
The abrupt change in subject caught him off guard. “What do you mean by that?”
Lady Rose drew back her umbrella as the rain slowed. Several droplets rolled down her face, but she ignored them. He lowered his own blanket, waiting for her to respond. “My brain warns me that you are up to no good. That you are telling naught but lies and that any man could say the same and ask to live at Penford. I know this, well enough.”
He waited, hearing her silent argument.
“But when I look at you, I do not see a servant. I see a man who is accustomed to giving orders. You do not behave like my footmen or even my groom. You do not see yourself as their equal.”
Because I am not one of them, he wanted to say, but didn’t.
“You may be dressed in rags, but I would wager that your coat once cost a great deal of money. You also do not stare at our household furniture as if you’ve never seen finery of that kind.” She straightened her spine and admitted, “You behave very much like a prince who has lost his kingdom. And perhaps my love of stories has made me lose my wits.”
“Or perhaps you are the one who can see past the enchantment,” he said quietly. “I may not look like an earl, and my kingdom may indeed be under the spell of a fairy who has cursed my land . . . but I am in grave need of a princess to set it to rights.”
Her brown eyes grew intrigued, but she reminded him, “I cannot be that princess. My heart belongs to another.”
“Your point is taken, Lady Rose.” He wasn’t the sort of man to intrude when a woman’s heart was already given. But there could be friendship between them . . . and right now, he desperately needed her assistance. “And I would greatly welcome your help until your grandmother arrives.”
She thought a moment, adjusting the angle of her umbrella. “If I let you stay, there will be a condition,” she informed him.
“Name it.” Truthfully, he cared not what she wanted. He was at the end of his rope, and she knew this.
“You cannot touch me again.”
He understood what she meant by that, but clarified, “Unless I have your permission.” At her wary look, he added, “If you’ve fallen, I’ll not be standing there and letting you remain on the ground.”
Her tension dissipated, and she gave a nod of assent. “Very well. I suppose that’s reasonable.” She paused a moment, as if thinking about how to proceed. “I suppose I can give you shelter and food for a little while. At least, until my grandmother returns.” A troubled expression lined her eyes, and she glanced back at the house. “But perhaps it isn’t wise for me to allow a stranger to stay with us.”
He understood her wariness, though it put him at a disadvantage. “What is it you’re wanting from me, a chara? Is there a way I can prove myself worthy of your trust?”
Lady Rose thought a moment and shrugged. “In time, perhaps. You did intercede well with my mother when she was having one of her spells. I am grateful for it.”
“But you fear something could happen to her.”
Rose nodded. “When she has one of her bad days, she is not thinking clearly. And I may not be able to stop her if she decides to do something dangerous.” A shudder crossed over her at the memory. “But I cannot lock her away. Not my own mother.”
Iain completely understood her fears. To allay them, he added, “I agree. She may be lost within her own mind, but she would only grieve if she were hidden away from others.”
The young woman lowered her face, but not before he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I wish we could help her get better. But I do not know how to heal a broken mind. Perhaps when my brother returns . . .” Her words trailed off, and within them, he heard the trace of another fear. James Thornton, the Earl of Penford, had not yet returned from his travels in India, and no one knew when he would take up his duties in Parliament. Undoubtedly, they were all left in a state of grave worry.
“There is a way I could be of assistance, Lady Rose. I could prevent your mother from leaving the estate unless one of you is with her.”
She sent him a hesitant nod, thinking it over. “That might be helpful. You need not shadow her, for I can get Hattie to stay with her for most of the day. But if she is not in her right mind, the servants are afraid of losing their post if they dare to seize her.”
He gave a slight nod of agreement. It was a reasonable enough request. He could also instruct Nelson not to prepare any means of transportation for Lady Penford unless her daughter ordered it first.
“Let us make a bargain between us,” Iain said. “I will remain upon the grounds of Penford, and you can send for me if there is a need. Between us, we can keep Lady Penford safe.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
It seemed that this arrangement was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. “And when your grandmother returns, I will prove to you who I am.”
She inclined her head. “But if you are not the Earl of Ashton, I shall have you removed from Penford.”
The rain began pounding harder, soaking through the horse blanket until his hair was wet, dripping down his coat. “Would you like to go inside, out of the rain?” Iain suggested, glancing upward at the dark clouds. It did not seem that the downpour would relent again.
In reply, Lady Rose put down her umbrella and defiantly removed her bonnet, lifting her face to the sky. “Not really. I haven’t had my hour outside yet.”
The rain drenched her hair and gown, spattering against her face. Instead of complaining, Lady Rose began laughing. “I think I’ve gone as mad as my mother.”
Her brown hair darkened from the water, until it grew plastered against her face. Droplets rolled down her cheeks, and her smile transformed her into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Iain was transfixed by the droplet of rain that she licked from her lips, and he forced the idle thoughts away.
“My lady—” Calvert sputtered. “You must come in out of this rainstorm.”
“Must I?” She let out a reluctant sigh. The footman hurried forward with his own umbrella, but she waved him away. At that, the servant sent a hard glare toward Iain, as if h
is mistress’s momentary insanity were due to his interference.
But Iain hardly cared. He was fascinated by this uninhibited side to Lady Rose. And when she opened her laughing eyes and regarded him, he winked. Her response was a mischievous smile.
She’s not yours, he reminded himself. And yet, he was glad to see she was not a subdued, proper English lady. He rather liked her spirit.
“You may take me inside now, Calvert. As for you”—she turned to Iain—“go inside and dry off. I will speak to Fulton about you and see what’s to be done.”
“Will I be permitted to leave the garret?” he inquired.
“Eventually,” Lady Rose responded. “That is, as soon as I have proof that you truly are the Earl of Ashton.”
He gave her a light bow. “I am grateful for the room, Lady Rose. Even if I do have to share it with a disgruntled cat.”
“Moses believes he owns the house,” she agreed. “But he’s quite affectionate. If you’re fortunate, he might share his bed with you.”
“So long as he doesn’t share mice. I’ve given up rodents for supper.”
She sent him an affronted look. “You are an ungrateful wretch, aren’t you? And here Moses was hoping to bring you a treat.”
He walked alongside her toward the house. “Don’t worry, Lady Rose. If you’re wanting me to, I’ll be certain to save you all of Moses’s treats.”
As Calvert brought her through the house door, she called back, “I shall hold you to that promise.”
Chapter Five
Lily reached for the necklace beneath her gown and withdrew it. The gold ring hung from the end of the chain, and she slipped it on her finger. It was still loose, but the weight of the ring troubled her.
Her sister Rose believed it was a betrothal ring, when, in fact, it was her wedding band. No one knew she was already married—not even her sister or brother. Strange to think that she had wed Matthew in secret and then hadn’t seen him in nearly two years. But she held no regrets at all. Her fondest wish had been granted.
She traced the outline of the ring, remembering their wedding day. Although it was not a true marriage in a legal sense—for there had been no time to get a license—they had spoken vows before a minister.
At the time, she had believed it was vastly romantic that Matthew wanted to marry her before he left for India with her brother James. The two men had traveled together, supposedly because of Matthew’s investments with the East India company, but she wondered if the real reason was because they’d wanted to see the world and find adventure.
On their wedding night, her family had mistakenly believed she’d gone to visit her dearest friend Catherine—and she had never bothered to correct that assumption. Instead, she had spent the night in the arms of the man she loved.
Matthew hadn’t written to her in all this time. It terrified Lily to imagine that he’d been killed. She missed him more and more with each passing day. Even her brother had never answered her letters, and she didn’t know what had happened. They needed to send someone to India to bring James back, or at the very least, to tell him that he was now the earl. At the moment, their land steward was helping them keep the estate running smoothly, since their mother was unable to do so. But although everything was prosperous on the surface, Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that the illusion would shatter.
Her mother, in contrast, was ever cheerful, believing that all would be well. This morning, Iris had been in good spirits, talking of finding Lily a wealthy husband. I already have one, she’d wanted to say, but couldn’t. Instead, it seemed better to redirect her mother’s attention back to Rose.
Her older sister was desperate to walk again before they returned to London. And although Lily didn’t blame her, neither did she want Rose to worry about the opinions of others when they arrived—especially Thomas Kingford, the Viscount Burkham.
Quite frankly, the man didn’t suit her sister at all. Burkham was too dependent upon his parents—in particular, his mother. Lily couldn’t imagine what Rose had ever seen in him, except that Lord Burkham was a safe choice. Everyone knew him as a gentleman with a respectable title and fortune. But she’d always thought her sister could do better.
A knock sounded at the door, and her mother called out, “Lily, may I come in?”
“Of course.” She stood, and Iris entered the room, carrying a ball gown over one arm.
“I brought this in to see if it would fit you. You might be able to wear it to a ball in London.” Iris held out a high-waisted gown that was twenty years out of fashion. But Lily didn’t have the heart to say no when her mother’s good days were becoming fewer and fewer.
“Help me with the buttons,” she told her. Iris set down the gown and closed the door before returning to assist.
“It’s a gown I wore for my debut,” her mother admitted. “I had many admirers then.” There was a slight catch in her voice. “Perhaps it will bring luck to you or your sister.”
“I think Rose should find a husband first, since she’s the eldest.” That was a good enough reason, Lily thought.
But her mother turned to face her, and there was sadness in her blue eyes. “Do you think she’ll ever walk again, Lily?”
“She seems determined to find a way.” But inwardly, she didn’t believe it. Although Rose claimed she had feeling in her legs, not once had she been able to bear weight upon them.
Now that her mother was in a better state of mind, Lily decided to ask about the mysterious Mr. Donovan. It did seem that the handsome Irishman had provoked a response from her sister. And so she asked, “Mother, did you or Grandmother ever know Lord or Lady Ashton?”
“Why yes, of course,” Iris said. “I went to school with Lady Ashton. Moira Ryan was her name before she married. And a more lively girl than Moira there never was. The mischief that girl got into . . .” Iris finished unbuttoning Lily’s gown and lifted it over her head. “She married the Earl of Ashton and they had several children.”
“Were there any sons?” Lily murmured. Her mother’s hands stilled upon her corset, and she didn’t speak. “Mother?”
She turned around and saw that Iris had gone pale. When she took her mother’s hand, Iris’s palm was sweaty, and her eyes seemed unfocused. “Are you all right?”
“My arm.” Iris’s voice was slurred, as if she were intoxicated. “I cannot lift my arm.”
Lily guided her toward her bed. “Sit down a moment.” She kept her voice calm, soothing her mother by telling Iris to take deep breaths and rest.
The episode passed within a few minutes, and she helped her mother lie back. Within minutes, Iris curled up to sleep.
Lily pulled a blanket over her, wondering whether she should summon a physician or if this was merely part of her mother’s illness. She rang for her maid, and when the girl arrived, Lily asked her to watch over her mistress.
She needed to speak with Rose and determine what to do now.
Rose leaned back in her chair, while her bare feet rested in a basin of warmed water. She wore a clean nightgown and wrapper, and she had decided to take a tray alone in her room this evening. Her hair was damp and combed over one shoulder, but she held no regrets about being rained upon. Instead, she had enjoyed her moment of foolishness.
Oh, she knew that Calvert loathed being her personal servant. Though he tried to hide his malcontent, it was very clear that he resented these duties. He preferred to polish silver rather than take her anywhere. More than once he’d tried to convince her to get a Bath chair.
But she refused to let herself be confined indoors or imprisoned within a chair—even one with wheels.
The warm water in the basin was growing cooler, and she attempted to wiggle her toes. There. She smiled at the slight movement, gratified to see that she had managed the feat.
A knock sounded at the door, and she heard her sister’s voice. Rose called out for Lily to come inside, and when her sister entered the room, it was clear that something had happened.
“We�
��re not going to London,” Lily began without preamble.
“Sit down and tell me.” Rose pointed toward another chair, and her sister brought it closer.
Lily hesitated as if she didn’t quite know how to begin. “Mother was having a better day until a little while ago. She . . . brought me a gown she wanted me to try on. But then, her voice grew slurred, as if she were intoxicated.” Lily went on to describe the strange illness and how their mother was now sleeping in her bed. “I think we should call a physician . . . but I’m afraid to.”
The worry in her voice mirrored Rose’s concerns. Neither of them wanted their mother to be thought of as mad. And yet, they could not ignore the onset of this spell.
“In the morning,” she said. “We will send for one then, if it’s necessary. Perhaps a day or two of rest will make everything right again.” Rose lifted her feet from the basin and rested them upon a linen cloth.
Her sister looked startled. “Why, Rose. You moved your feet.”
“So I did.” She beamed at her sister. Though it was such a small movement, it was the first time she’d managed to lift them without using her hands. Hope burgeoned up within her until it felt as if she’d swallowed sunlight. “By summer’s end, I hope to dance, Lily.”
“With whom?” Her sister laughed and ventured, “Calvert, I presume? Or perhaps the handsome Mr. Donovan, if you summon him back to Penford?”
Rose’s smile faltered at the mention of the Irishman. She had neglected to say anything about her agreement. “He . . . hasn’t left yet, Lily.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Donovan hasn’t left? I thought you sent him away.”
“Not exactly.” She reached down and lifted her feet from the water, drying her ankles and legs. “I told him he could stay until Grandmother returns from Bath.”
Her sister’s expression grew incredulous. “Why would you do this? We don’t even know who he is.”
Her sister was right, but Rose couldn’t help but think that he was truly an earl who had fallen into misfortune and was in grave need of assistance. “He saved our mother’s life,” she reminded Lily. “Is that not worth our hospitality for a week or a fortnight at the very latest?”
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