Mrs. Fairchild’s face paled as she dipped a quick curtsy. “I merely meant that you are such a fine example that anyone following in your steps would find it difficult, your grace.”
The duchess retrieved a handkerchief she’d forgotten on the table then moved to stand beside Lillian. “I’ve found Lady Lillian to be a true delight, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes. A delight.” Mrs. Fairchild nodded enthusiastically, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“I believe she’d make a fine duchess.” The duchess smiled at Lillian. “Or anything else she chooses to be.”
Lillian could’ve hugged her. “Thank you, your grace.” She had no intention of remaining in the retiring room to serve as a target for more of Mrs. Fairchild’s barbs. “May I accompany you to the ballroom?”
“Please do, my dear.”
Ready to face the crowd once more, Lillian smiled politely at Mrs. Fairchild who returned it with a brittle falseness, then departed with the duchess, a lightness in her heart she hadn’t felt for some time.
Chapter Three
“Nor is the curse confined to the lowest stratum of society. Much improved as are the habits of the upper and middle classes, the vice may still be met in all classes of society.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Elijah frowned as he studied the numbers noted in the report provided by his steward. Though he received one each week that summarized their various holdings and investments, the figures continued to be less than the normal range of what he’d expected.
Groomed from a young age to take over the duties required of a duke, he’d ridden their estates alongside his father. The care and pride his father had taken in the land and tenants couldn’t be denied and was something Elijah hoped to imitate. Elijah had received an overview on a regular basis while his father had been alive but had paid those little mind. Why bother when his father was in such good health and managed everything with such expertise?
But now he was finally paying attention, and what he’d read the last few weeks didn’t match what he’d expected. Something was amiss, but what?
His father had died of heart failure while riding, shocking them all. Elijah was beginning to wonder if the shock wasn’t over. Was the condition of their holdings the same as his father’s health—not quite what they’d thought?
Elijah penned a list of notes to detail the changes he thought should be made, annoyed that he hadn’t taken the time to do so previously. He’d done little more than glance at the reports over the past year, too busy trying to escape grief in whatever way possible. He’d been so certain his father had everything in hand. The doubt that now filled him was both unpleasant and unwelcome.
He should’ve given serious consideration to the business of running the dukedom before now. People’s welfare depended on him. That was a responsibility he refused to take lightly. He added a message to the list of questions, requesting copies of the reports from the past three years and a meeting to discuss everything in further detail.
Had his mother realized anything was amiss with his father or the welfare of the investments and estates? As overcome with grief as she’d been, he doubted it.
The Heaton’s ball had filled him with hope that she was at last coming to terms with her grief. If she’d had anything to drink at the ball, it hadn’t been significant. That was unusual compared to the past few events.
The sight of her conversing with Lady Lillian had surprised him. His mother had said she didn’t remember Lillian, yet the two of them had visited as if they were long-time friends. What could they have been talking about?
In truth, anyone speaking with his mother caused him concern. The idea of someone learning about his mother’s problem concerned him deeply. If he’d noted her overexuberance or slurred speech on occasion, others would as well. He didn’t want people to see his mother at less than her best, let alone if she’d over-imbibed. The gossip would wound her terribly when she was already hurting so much.
Luckily, his mother had appeared to be quite sober the previous evening, so Lady Lillian couldn’t have noted anything untoward.
His dance with her had been the best of the evening by far and had little to do with her graceful movements. She intrigued him on several levels. With a sigh, he reminded himself he didn’t need a distraction of any sort at the moment.
Elijah sorted through the rest of his correspondence, pleased to find the book Rutland promised had already arrived. Flipping through the opening pages, he quickly realized The Seven Curses of London wouldn’t be light reading. The chapters included detailed information on neglected children, professional thieves, beggars, fallen women, drunkenness, and more.
Rutland’s idea of creating a well-funded, well-managed charity to address the problem of fallen women was a wise notion. Elijah looked forward to learning more to play a better role not only in the charity but in his position as duke. He skimmed the section on fallen women that Rutland was targeting, alarmed by the magnitude of the problem. Curious, he skipped forward to the chapter on drunkenness.
The author described how foxglove, opium, harts-horn shavings, and other items were added to diluted alcohol to increase its strength and effect but lower the cost and keep it from going sour.
Opium? The idea of such a drug being added to alcohol then served to an unsuspecting person was horrifying. Several of the additives mentioned were poisonous. What was the world coming to that such atrocities were commonplace enough to be documented? Perhaps his father would’ve known of such things as he’d been active in the House of Lords, but Elijah was only beginning to find his place there.
Obviously, this was a book to be read in bits and pieces else the depressing facts would be too much. The lengths mankind would go to because of greed were disturbing. He could easily understand why Rutland was determined to take action, and he’d only paged through a chapter or two of the book.
He set it aside to read more later.
“Good morning,” his mother said as she glided into the library.
“And to you.” He pushed back from the desk and rose, surprised she’d ventured into the room to see him. She tended to avoid the library. He stepped around the desk to kiss her cheek. “What brings you here?”
“I wanted to know if you’re available for tea in two days’ time. I’m going to invite a few guests, and I’d like you to be there as well.”
Her black crepe dress squeezed his heart, as it always did, making him feel disloyal to his father for his previous concerns. He’d take another look at the reports. His father had been an intelligent man. Perhaps Elijah had misread something.
“I’d be delighted.” He studied her more closely, pleased by the light in her expression. It had been a long time since she’d had an active interest in hosting events. Having her help him with the party at their country estate just outside of London well over a week ago had been his attempt to encourage her to return to her previous life, at least in part.
Unfortunately, it had nearly proved too much for her. He never intended for the stress of planning and hosting the party to push her to drink more to calm her nerves.
“Who will be coming?” he asked.
“Just a few friends and acquaintances. I’m going to speak with the cook about what I’d like served.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it.” He hesitated, wondering if he should mention his concerns about the holdings. Perhaps his father had mentioned something to her.
But no, he quickly decided.
No purpose would be served in worrying her. This was his responsibility, and if some of the decisions his father had made needed adjusting, then that was what he’d do. Numbers didn’t lie. Maybe his father had been failing in the months leading up to his death, and none of them had realized it. The reports he’d read were nothing to be alarmed about, merely concerning.
“I’ll leave you to your work,” she said, her expression dimming as her gaze swept over what had been her husband’s library. Her gaze caught
on several objects that had been his father’s, including the globe that his father had loved. Without another word, she turned and left.
Should he have pressed her to find out who was coming? Surely, she hadn’t invited Mrs. Fairchild or some other woman who hoped for a match with him for their daughter.
She’d never placed any pressure on him to marry, never even hinted that he should be looking for a wife. Of course, he would marry, but that was for a later date. Much later. He had far too many things needing his attention at the moment. Most importantly, his mother’s happiness.
With a sigh, he sat once again at the desk to take another look at the reports before sending the message.
~*~
“Mother thinks it incredibly clever of you to befriend the Duchess of Burbridge.” Violet walked beside Lillian in the garden at Oliver’s home later that morning.
Lillian halted with a gasp, appalled that anyone would think she’d done so on purpose. “Did she truly say that?”
Violet heaved a sigh. “I believe it was a hint to me that I’m not trying hard enough to catch the duke for myself. I’ve told her I have no interest in him and that I would make a terrible duchess. But she’s not listening.”
“Why don’t you have any interest in the duke?” Lillian bit her lip after the words slipped out. The reason was none of her business, but she was curious.
“I don’t know.” Violet frowned, as though considering the question carefully. “He’s handsome and fit. Quite nice. But nothing happens when I look at him.”
Lillian raised a brow, hoping she’d expand further.
“My pulse doesn’t quicken. My breath doesn’t catch.” Violet paused to trail a finger on a yellow rose petal. “Don’t you think one should have a physical reaction to a man’s presence if she intends to show an interest in him?”
“I agree. Physical attraction is an important part of a relationship.” Unfortunately, she seemed to have the opposite reaction when near Burbridge. At first, she’d assumed it was because she was nervous about her plan for revenge. She was no longer certain of that. Her reaction to him was much more complicated than mere nerves.
In all honesty, she was attracted to him.
Blast it anyway. Why did the one man she wanted to hurt have to make her feel something?
“Exactly.” Violet sighed. “Now if only I could convince my mother.”
“They don’t always listen to us, do they? Mine certainly doesn’t.” If Lillian expressed an opinion that differed from her mother’s, it was met with a pursing of lips and a look that suggested her remark was unwelcome and unnecessary.
Heaven forbid if her mother knew the reason behind Lillian’s sudden interest in venturing to London. It had taken serious effort to convince her mother to remain behind and allow Oliver and Julia to serve as chaperones. She’d been presented to the queen three years ago, but they hadn’t remained in London long. Her father claimed the air didn’t agree with him. Lillian thought her mother preferred the country where she was the only countess rather than one of several.
Lillian realized Mrs. Fairchild was right in one respect. Her plan would work better and more quickly if she befriended the duchess. If she liked Lillian, wouldn’t her son be more inclined to as well? Lillian already had a start on it after the previous evening, though that hadn’t been her intention.
Why did the idea of deliberately doing so leave her with a bad taste in her mouth? It seemed like such an underhanded thing to do. Yet wasn’t that just what the duke had done to dear Helena?
“I hope you don’t mind, but Julia mentioned the recent death of your friend.” Violet’s sympathetic expression brought a lump to Lillian’s throat.
“Helena’s passing was a shock.” Lillian swallowed hard.
“May I ask what happened?”
“She fell ill with influenza when she was already in a weakened state. She didn’t have the strength to recover.” Did Burbridge even know that the young lady he’d dallied with had died?
“A weakened state? How do you mean?”
She hesitated. How much of the truth did she share? Though tempted to tell Violet the details of what had happened, she found she couldn’t. That was Helena’s story, a closely guarded secret. Helena’s mother and father knew the reason for their daughter’s despair but hadn’t realized the true depth of it. Nor had Lillian.
She and Helena had been friends since their youth. Lillian always had the urge to protect her. Her naiveté had proved to be a problem on more than one occasion.
Lillian had received letters from Helena while traveling with her aunt in France. The first one shared how much she’d enjoyed meeting Burbridge. The second one lamented his return to London. The third was full of hope as she’d received a message from an admirer. There had been no doubt in her mind as to who it had sent it. However, her next letter was filled with questions as to why he hadn’t contacted her as promised. The last expressed an aching loss that he no longer cared for her.
It made Lillian angry to think of it. To trifle with a lady’s affections was the mark of a true cad.
“She was heartbroken by the actions of a man.” Lillian felt she could say that much without breaking Helena’s confidence.
Sharing the basics of it with other women was a good reminder to them all to take care of their emotions. While often told to watch their reputations, rarely were they warned of the dangers of losing their hearts.
“When illness came, she just...gave up,” Lillian said.
“How terrible. Did you know her long?”
“From when we were eight. Her family only spent a few months of the year in the country, but we were dear friends.” She paused to admire the delicate pink rosebuds that reached for the sun in Julia’s garden. Wasn’t that what most young ladies did? Delicate flowers straining for love. But Helena would never see the sun again.
The thought strengthened Lillian’s resolve. The Duke of Burbridge needed to pay for his disregard of Helena’s feelings. It didn’t matter what title he held, even if it was a duke. He might not have caused Helena’s death, but he’d contributed to it.
“How terrible to lose such a close friend.” Violet looped her arm through Lillian’s, her blue eyes holding hers for a long moment. “I’m pleased you came to London. I shall do my best to keep you in good cheer despite the loss of your friend.”
“You are too kind. I appreciate your efforts.” Lillian tightened her arm on Violet’s and smiled, pleased they’d met. “Shall we rejoin Julia?”
Julia was reading a message when they entered through the garden door. “We’ve been invited to tea at the Duchess of Burbridge’s.” Lillian felt the weight of Violet’s gaze even as Julia continued, “Isn’t that lovely? She hasn’t entertained since her husband passed away.”
Lillian didn’t welcome the reminder of the duke’s loss. Had he been visiting in the country to help forget his father’s death?
The sympathy she felt gave her pause.
No, that didn’t matter. Just because he’d been hurting—still hurt—hadn’t given him the right to cause Helena pain. She intended to make him understand that.
~*~
Elijah already regretted his promise to his mother to make an appearance at tea two days later. His meeting with his steward that morning had only brought to light more questions, more reports to review, more decisions to make.
What had his father been thinking? The signs had been there for some time. Innovations needed to be made and changes implemented, but none of that had happened.
The steward had kept his father’s responses to various suggestions and shown them to Elijah. To see his father’s notes brought back the loss of him. The pain made it difficult to remain logical as he considered options to set the path aright.
Thank goodness he’d taken note when he had, or the situation could’ve been drastically worse. The past year he’d spent ignoring matters had been damaging but not devastating. Next, he wanted to review the other holdings and investments
thoroughly to see what he’d missed and what other adjustments should be taken.
Rather than dive into the additional reports and documents he’d received, he pasted a smile on his face and entered the drawing room. Perhaps he could make a brief appearance then take his leave.
But the image that greeted him stole his thoughts and his intentions.
Lillian stood before the window, framed in the sun-filled panes. Her head tipped back with laughter, something few ladies ever did. While some might think her behavior gauche, Elijah wanted to freeze the moment so he could keep it. Warmth filled his chest. The gentle sound of her laugh made him want to join in, regardless of the fact that he didn’t know what she found so amusing.
Her gown was a pale mint green and made her alabaster skin glow, her dark hair shine. When her emerald gaze swung to meet his, his breath caught. She was truly beautiful. But rather than the knowing smile many beautiful women often gave once they realized they’d caught a man’s eye, Lillian sobered at the sight of him.
What did that mean? He had to wonder whether she was pleased to see him. Or quite the opposite.
“Elijah, dear.”
He wrested his gaze from Lillian’s to find his mother settled in her favorite chair, her expression quite happy. Her eyes were sparkling.
Oh no.
He’d seen that look too many times before and knew the cause. Unfortunately, her delight had nothing to do with the people who sat near her or the tea and sandwiches on the nearby table.
Damn.
He should’ve checked on her beforehand to determine her state of mind. Just when he thought the situation was in hand, things turned awry. He drew forward to kiss her cheek, catching the faint saint of spirits on her breath. “Mother, is all well?” he asked quietly.
“Of course. So kind of you to join us.”
He studied the contents of her cup, but the dark brew looked like tea.
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