His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen Book 4)

by Grace Burrowes

  “The staff won’t dare intrude on a wedding night,” Hessian said, giving the bindings a final tug. “Though I suspect there was no wedding.”

  “I spoke vows,” Lily said in the same tones she would have admitted to finding horse manure stuck to her boots. “Uncle promised me a dire fate if I refused.”

  “Then we have proof of coercion, should we need to reference it in the annulment proceedings. Rosecroft chatted up the parson and got his direction, also the amount of the bribe your uncle paid the man to perform an irregular ceremony. More on that topic later. We must away, Lily.”

  On the bed, Leggett squealed.

  “You will be captive for one night,” Lily said, “certain of rescue in the morning. Imagine what it felt like for me to be a captive for years, Oscar. No safety, no privacy, no allies, no respect from the people who should have been my refuge.”

  Oscar closed his eyes and turned his face away.

  Lily stood for a moment by the bed, as if she’d say more. Hessian touched her shoulder. She took one final look about the room.

  “Take me away from here, my lord. I never want to see this place again.”

  Hessian boosted her over the windowsill, then silently closed the window and got Lily down to the garden. Her bundle and cloak were where he’d stashed them on a bench, a fat marmalade cat sitting atop the lot.

  “Hannibal.” Lily conveyed a wealth of affection and regret in the beast’s name. “You have been my friend.”

  “Then he comes with us,” Hessian said, passing Lily her cat. The dratted creature weighed a ton and started up a mighty purring as Lily took him in her arms. “We can send for your personal effects later.”

  He draped Lily’s cloak about her shoulders, gathered up her bundle, and led the way to the coach waiting for them in the mews. When he’d handed Lily up and taken the place beside her, Hessian put an arm around her.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, the cat purred, and finally, Hessian Kettering was home.

  * * *

  “There’s a proper breakfast waiting downstairs,” the maid said, “but you aren’t to go down unless you please to, miss. His lordship’s orders.”

  She set a tray on the counterpane, the aromas of toast and bacon bringing Lily more fully awake.

  “Is his lordship breaking his fast at table?” Lily lifted the lid of the teapot, and fragrant steam wafted up. No reusing the leaves in this household, no serving Lily on the chipped every day plates, no forgetting to bring her a tray in the morning until she realized that breakfast with Uncle was the only breakfast she’d get.

  She had so much to be angry about, and so much to be grateful for.

  “His lordship is yet abed,” the maid said, pushing back the window curtains. “Traveling to Scotland and back has nigh worn him out. We’re to wake him on the hour, and later today Miss Daisy will be back with us again.”

  The chambermaid was a solid woman with an honest face and a kind smile. She also sounded as if she’d been raised in the north.

  “You’re from the staff at Grampion Hall?”

  “That I am,” she replied, peering into a vase of irises. “Cumbrian to my bones. Shall I come back to help you dress?”

  This good cheer from the staff, neither presuming nor patronizing, was another revelation. “I have only the one—” A pretty blue day dress had been laid out over a chair. “Is that for me?”

  “Aye. His lordship thought you might want a change from yesterday’s outfit.”

  “I never want to see the dress I wore here again. You may have it to do with as you please.” And didn’t that feel marvelous, to give away something of value? For too many years, Lily had been denied even the pleasure of consigning her old clothing to the maids.

  “I am waking up.” Though, when would she see Hessian? He’d been silent on the ride over from Uncle’s town house and parted from Lily with a kiss to her forehead outside her bedroom door. She’d been turned over to the care of the housekeeper, who’d soon had her tucked up in an enormous fluffy bed.

  An enormous, fluffy, lonely bed.

  The maid took a whiff of the irises. “It’s a lovely day, miss. The bell-pull is in the dressing closet, and if you need anything, I’m Hanford. I’ll wish you good day.”

  She bobbed a curtsey and left, closing the door silently.

  Lily sipped strong, hot tea and mentally enumerated differences: no sense of being spied on, nobody resenting the need to bring her a bucket of coal, no waking up in a bedroom that would never see morning sunshine, no dreading to leave the limited sanctuary of her chamber, no peeking out the window in hopes of seeing Uncle headed off to his club. No listening—always listening—for his voice or his footsteps.

  But no Hessian either, though he doubtless deserved days of rest.

  Lily made herself eat a leisurely breakfast, dressed—the bodice buttoned up the front—and did her hair. The vanity was equipped with brushes, combs, a hand mirror, and hairpins, and the slippers Lily found with the dress fit her as if made for her.

  A tap on her door suggested she was dawdling, though for very different reasons than she’d dawdled for the past ten years.

  “Come in.”

  Hessian opened the door, and left it open, taking only two steps into Lily’s room. “Good morning.” He looked tired and impossibly dear, also delectable in his morning attire.

  Lily remained at the vanity. “My lord. I owe you enormous thanks.”

  “At the risk of disagreeing with a lady, that is utter balderdash. You had to go through a ceremony with the noddypoop, as Lady Rosecroft calls him. How did your name appear on the license, Lily?”

  Flirtation, this was not. “As my sister’s name. Is she…?” Lily rose and stood immediately before Hessian. He’s said nothing of Annie the previous night, and Lily hadn’t had the courage to ask. “Tell me the truth, please. Is she dead?”

  “Not unless she expired between last evening and this morning. I left her and her spouse at a hotel off Grosvenor Square, where they insisted on staying rather than crowd me here. I do believe they were trying to leave us privacy, or prepare themselves for a difficult encounter with you. I’ve arranged for you to bide with Lady Rosecroft after today.”

  The old Lily, the Lily who feared to call attention to herself or risk her uncle’s disapproval, would have thanked Hessian again.

  “Am I not welcome here?”

  “You are very welcome, but circumstances…” Hessian cradled Lily’s cheek against his palm. “If I were to close this door, you’d be on that bed in the next half minute. I’m a peer of the realm and, more to the point, a gentleman. Your good name must be protected, now more than ever, and certain topics must be resolved between us. We’re to meet your sister in the park in about an hour.”

  Meet your sister… They were wonderful words, also unsettling. “Stay with me, Hessian. Don’t abandon me to her company, please. Annie is my sister, but there’s much I don’t understand.”

  He dropped his hand. “I was more intent on getting her to London than sorting out ancient history. Then too, her husband is formidably protective. I think you’ll like Mr. Delmar.”

  Hessian liked him. Lily took heart from that. She also took a kiss for herself.

  “For courage,” she said. “Where is our dear Daisy? I have delighted in watching her blossom, though she missed you terribly and made certain all and sundry knew it.” I missed you terribly too.

  Hessian tucked his hands behind his back. “We will rendezvous with her in the park as well, after you and your sister have had a chance to renew your acquaintance. Mrs. Delmar chose that dress for you.”

  “This is hers?”

  “No. She said you’d spent too long wearing her shoes, and you should never be made to wear her dresses. She’s almost as fierce as you are.”

  Lily crossed the room, the better to keep her hands to herself. “Then why leave me to Uncle’s tender mercies for years on end? Why not come back to London, claim her fortune, and claim me
as family?”

  Why had Hessian had to fetch Annie the length of the realm? Why hadn’t she at least written? Why hadn’t Tippy said anything, ever?

  Hessian abandoned his post by the door and joined Lily near the window. “Worth and I didn’t speak to each other for years. We had our reasons and would probably make the same mistakes again, given the same circumstances. I hope you and your sister can go forward without estrangement. I also hope that between the two of you, you can hold Walter Leggett accountable for stealing a fortune.”

  These words were comforting, but only comforting. Hessian was being gentlemanly again, damn him.

  “Is the money all gone?” Though in truth Lily cared more about ten years spent fearing exposure, fearing Uncle’s wrath, fearing prison.

  “Likely not, but Leggett has much to answer for. Shall we share a pot of tea before we leave?”

  “I’d rather share the bed.”

  Hessian’s smile was fleeting, a will-o’-the-wisp of yearning and passionate memories. “If you choose to again join me in a bed, Lily Ferguson, you will do so after being put in full possession of the facts regarding your situation and my own, and in possession of whatever wealth is rightfully yours. Do you suppose anybody has freed Oscar yet?”

  “I hope not. I hope he waits until Domesday for rescue. Am I married to him?”

  “The marriage is not valid, by virtue of duress and by virtue of the license being inaccurate. At best, the noddypoop might have attempted to form a bigamous union with your sister, which is both felonious and invalid.”

  Lily accepted Hessian’s arm, for if she dragged him to the bed, they’d miss their appointment in the park—they’d miss all their appointments for the next month.

  “I said my vows before witnesses, Hessian.”

  “True, but Rosecroft also reports that the clergyman made no effort to speak with you privately, despite the irregularity of the circumstances. At no point were those present asked if they knew of an impediment to the union. Worth hasn’t much contact with the ecclesiastical courts, but he knows the Bishop of London. If you are married today, you won’t be by this time next week.”

  In the middle of the corridor, Lily stopped and wrapped her arms around Hessian. “I was so frightened.”

  Slowly, his arms came around her. “You’re safe, Lily. You’re safe at last.”

  She went a little to pieces, because she had needed for somebody to say those words to her, somebody she could trust. Hessian led her to an alcove and sat with her on a small sofa, his arm around her, his scent soothing her frayed nerves.

  “I’m furious, Hessian.”

  “You have every right to be.”

  She was also, in a corner of her heart, still afraid. Hessian had said that when she knew her own circumstances—and his—then she might again join him in a bed. Was he keeping secrets, and if so, were they the kinds of secrets that could prevent Lily from marrying him?

  Chapter Twenty

  * * *

  All manner of inanities occurred to Hessian as he escorted Lily to the secluded clearing where he’d arranged to meet the Delmars.

  Don’t be nervous.

  Promise me you’ll listen.

  I have a daughter.

  I love you.

  None of that would help Lily get through this encounter with Mrs. Delmar.

  “You’re very quiet,” Lily said as they emerged into a patch of sunlit grass.

  “I’m very grateful to be done with my journey and have it successfully concluded.” To have known you and loved you. He seated Lily on the bench, took the place beside her, and consulted his watch. “We’re early.”

  “You like to be early.”

  How pretty she looked in a new dress, and how kissable. “I like to be punctual.” They had more than ten minutes to spare, which was an eternity to a man in love. “That’s not entirely true. Sometimes, I’d like to throw dear Papa’s watch into the middens. My grandfather’s watch, actually.”

  He should move farther down the bench. They were more or less in public and would soon have company.

  Lily slipped her hand into his, and Hessian damned all gloves to the bottom of the Serpentine.

  “What is it you’re not telling me, Hessian?”

  That I’ll love you until the day I die, that if you don’t choose me of your own free will —

  Somebody was whistling Ae Fond Kiss, which was one of the most mournful parting songs Hessian had ever had the displeasure to learn.

  “They’re coming,” Lily said, gripping Hessian’s hand more tightly. “You promised, Hessian. Don’t abandon me now.”

  “As if I could.” He rose and drew Lily to her feet. “Your sister is more nervous than you are, and for good reason. She owes you, Lily. Don’t forget that. I owe you too.”

  Lily had time to send him one baffled look before Hessian arranged her hand on his arm and arranged his features into that expression Worth referred to as His Bored-ship.

  Delmar and his lady trundled into the clearing and came to a stop. Mrs. Delmar appeared to shrink against her husband—the self-same husband who had dismissed his own sister’s lying-in as an excuse for putting off this journey. He whispered something into Mrs. Delmar’s ear.

  She squared her shoulders and held out a hand. “I have missed you so, Lilith. I have missed you and missed you.”

  Lily curtseyed. “I thought you were dead.”

  Hessian could feel the upset welling in her, feel the fury. “Lily, may I make known to you your brother-in-law, Lawrence Delmar. Delmar, Miss Lily Ferguson, as she has come to be known. Perhaps the ladies would like to have a seat?”

  “Fine idea,” Delmar said. “Fine, fine idea. Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

  Nobody answered him. The women subsided onto the bench, gazes fixed on each other. Mrs. Delmar was an inch or two taller than Lily, her figure fuller. Her hair was the same shade as Lily’s, her eyes the same gentian blue. She was the plainer of the two, for all her dress was the more fashionable, her bonnet the fancier.

  And yet, the sisters inclined toward each other at the same angle, drew back at the same time, and both said, “Well…” at the same instant.

  Hessian ached for them, and clearly Delmar was at a loss as well. Where to begin? “Perhaps Mrs. Delmar might explain her supposed death in a carriage accident.”

  “Start there,” Lily said. “And don’t think to spare a detail. I would have given anything—anything—to have known my sister was alive and well.”

  Mrs. Delmar exchanged a glance with her husband, which Hessian translated easily: This is hard/I have faith in you.

  “Uncle was a tyrant,” Mrs. Delmar began. “I was still in the schoolroom, and he had ideas for which spotty heir or gouty old ruralizing earl I should marry.”

  Mr. Delmar cleared his throat. Hessian examined the canopy of lush foliage above rather than point out that the Kettering family had no propensity for gout, and the present titleholder was not old.

  “Uncle is still a tyrant,” Lily said, “and he all but married me to Oscar just yesterday. You at least had the Ferguson relations taking a hand in your affairs, while I… I had my cat.”

  “The Fergusons? They were so angry with Mama for turning the head of their darling baby boy, they took no interest in me at all. I gather the present duke is a decent fellow, but I only met him the once, when he was traveling down from university. He’s your father, you know. The present duke, that is.”

  Lily reached up blindly, and Hessian took her hand. Damn the proprieties and damn the present duke.

  “He has no idea you exist,” Mrs. Delmar went on. “The affair was doomed. A man, even a duke, cannot marry his brother’s widow. He eventually married some marquess’s sister, but as far as he’s concerned, his brother’s line has died out—brother, sister-in-law, and daughter.”

  Lily sat for a moment with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she released Hessian’s hand. “Does Uncle Walter know who my father is?”

  “
I doubt even Walter would have perpetrated his scheme had he known you’re a duke’s by-blow, and rest assured, substituting you for me was all Uncle’s idea. Mama wanted to tell the Fergusons about you, or at least tell your papa, but Walter talked her into waiting—babies sometimes don’t live very long—and then you became harder and harder to explain.”

  “I intend to be very hard to explain,” Lily said. “But perhaps this is why we look so similar. We are maternal half-sisters as well as paternal cousins.”

  Mrs. Delmar set her reticule on her lap. “Are we enemies, Lily?”

  Hessian gave Lily’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “We are not friends,” Lily said. “You kept yourself from me. Now I learn that you kept my father as well. That was badly done of you, Annie.”

  Mrs. Delmar blinked hard at her lap. “You are the only person to call me that, now that Mama is gone.”

  Lily’s expression remained impassive. “Tell me about your death.”

  “I nearly did die,” Mrs. Delmar said. “Uncle and Lawrence had a terrible difference of opinion, and when Lawrence told me he was returning to Scotland, I begged him to take me with him. I could see what Uncle had in store for me, and I suspected he was frittering away my fortune.”

  Delmar cleared his throat. “Leggett and I argued about that. He directed me to misappropriate some funds from the trust accounts, and I refused. Our disagreement was conducted at ungentlemanly volume, and Leggett threatened to have me arrested for stealing.”

  A breeze stirred the trees such that a beam of sunlight danced across Lily’s face, making her look very young.

  And very brave. Hessian fell in love with her for about the fourth time that morning.

  “Tippy mentioned something recently,” Lily said, “about Mama being constantly criticized growing up, and Uncle able to do no wrong. He apparently played fast and free with Mama’s money, tossed out threats of criminal prosecution in several directions, and generally comported himself like a brat overdue for a spanking.”

  “He certainly threatened Tippy,” Mrs. Delmar said. “Threatened to cut her off without a penny, threatened to lay the whole ruse with you at her feet.”