The Debutante Is Mine

by Vivienne Lorret

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jack called upon Lilah the following morning, wanting to settle matters with her.

  He did not like the way they’d parted, a few hasty kisses and him slipping away through the garden. He’d left too many things unsaid. In the very least, she should have known his intentions. Yes, he would honor his promise, but that did not mean he wouldn’t try to interfere. And the only way he saw that he could was through marriage. A plan that he accepted with open arms. Yet he wasn’t certain she would.

  Unfortunately, at the door, the butler informed him that Miss Appleton was not at home for callers.

  Jack drew in an impatient breath. “I understand that she was not at home to me previously, but I believe, if you would inquire, she will receive me now.”

  “I’m afraid, sir, that Miss Appleton is not at home,” the butler repeated crisply, enunciating each word.

  Jack clenched his teeth and his fists. “You haven’t even told her who is calling.”

  “Marlowe, is that you?” Vale came up the stairs behind him. “Why ever are you here?”

  “I am calling upon Miss Appleton.” He made an impatient gesture to the man who hindered his efforts.

  The butler bowed to Vale. “Miss Appleton has gone to Surrey this morning, Your Grace.”

  Jack growled and glared at him.

  “Ah, then my wife won’t be much longer with her visit,” Vale said, inclining his head. “Please inform the duchess that her carriage awaits.”

  “Very good, sir.” And with that, the butler stepped back into the foyer and closed the door, leaving Jack to wonder why Lilah hadn’t told him that she planned to leave London.

  He knew she’d mentioned a need to speak with her mother, but he hadn’t thought she would have gone so soon. A keen sort of panic shot through him at the idea of her traveling alone. He would have gone with her, watched over her . . .

  Vale placed a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps in the meantime, we could have a chat. There wasn’t much time during Tillmanshire’s event, not before the unfortunate announcement.”

  “Yes,” he said, distracted as they walked down the few stairs to the pavement. “I came to see if I could offer my assistance.”

  “Mmm . . . yes. Which brings me to our topic and how you are under the mistaken assumption that I placed Miss Appleton in your charge.”

  Jack shook his head in disagreement. “There has been no mistake. You did. Though perhaps you’ve forgotten. You were rather insensible that night.”

  Vale stopped, his jaw tight. “I recall the night perfectly, and I believe I asked you merely to send Miss Appleton flowers in order to—”

  “Yes, to pique my interest,” Jack interrupted, recounting their conversation from Tillmanshire’s party.

  “No. It was to ensure that Viscount Ellery would take notice.”

  “Ellery? Why him?” Suddenly, Jack had a sinking suspicion but he hoped he was wrong. Please don’t say the Marriage Formula.

  “The Marriage Formula.” Vale retrieved a card from a pocket inside his coat that displayed two sets of numbers. “The results of his equation matched perfectly against Miss Appleton’s. I’m still hoping that once Ellery finds out about Haggerty’s announcement, if he hasn’t already, that he will be smitten enough to fight for her.”

  Jack stared at the card and put his hand over the one in his own pocket. Then, without a word, he turned from Vale before he did something he would regret.

  The four-hour trip to Surrey had not prepared Lilah for the wealth of memories that assailed her as she walked into her family home. She could still hear Jasper’s irreverent laughter ringing out, like a merry taunt to the dust motes sifting through the air. She could still hear her father’s bellows, creaking with each step, demanding to know why the foyer was not in perfect order. She even noticed the letters on the salver, a collection of at least a week. Though they were likely notices from creditors who would never be paid.

  Winthrop had let most of the servants go last year, leaving only a maid and a cook for this large house. With the tenants paying no rent and earning a meager income themselves, there was little hope that circumstances would improve.

  Leaving her bonnet and reticule in the foyer, Lilah walked upstairs to her mother’s sitting room. No matter what state either the house or Mother’s life was in, she always maintained her own schedule, which included waiting in her sitting room during calling hours.

  As she’d been taught, Lilah rapped quietly on the door. Her mother’s cultured voice rang out clearly. “You may enter.”

  Opening the door, Lilah saw Mother sitting on the edge of her tufted chair, her posture straight as a board. She blinked several times without offering a greeting. Mother was too vain to wear spectacles, and her eyesight had been failing, even before Father died.

  “Good day, Mother. You are beautiful, as always.” And it was true. Her mother was even lovelier than Aunt Zinnia, her blonde hair still untouched by silver, her eyes a watery blue, and her features perfectly proportionate. Lilah had inherited her coloring from Father’s side of the family, but Jasper had taken after their mother. And he’d always looked the part of the perfect son. Some of the time, that had been all that mattered.

  Mother frowned. “Lilah, why have you come? Has Zinnia finally abandoned her nonsensical endeavor?”

  Of the two sisters, Aunt Zinnia had been the only one who’d read Father’s will and saw a different possibility for Lilah’s future. She’d taken it upon herself to ensure that Lilah had a chance at a better life. “No, Mother. I have come to visit. Aunt Zinnia sends her best and hopes that you will return with me.”

  “She knows that I do not travel,” Mother said under her breath and then shook her head. “However, the nicety is appreciated. And I imagine she allowed use of her own carriage? I would hope you do not require coin for a hired coach.”

  As of yet, there had been no single word of affection or gladness that Lilah had come. Then again, she didn’t know why she’d expected something more. Holding back her disappointment, Lilah settled into an adjacent chair.

  Between them, a needlework square poked out of the top of the narrow basket on the floor. Mother’s embroidery had always been exquisite, perfect. Yet this sample did not depict her usual skill. Instead, it revealed the havoc wrought from poor vision. The stitches were large and uneven, the knots tangled at the back. Likely, she wasn’t aware of this. Mother never wasted her time on anything other than perfection.

  She required beauty and flawlessness in all things, herself included. Her clothes were unwrinkled. Her complexion unblemished. Even her hands were elegant and posed, just so.

  Lilah looked down at her own hands, resting in her lap but hidden by gloves. They were identical hands and the only part of Mother that Lilah had inherited.

  “Yes, my aunt was gracious enough to loan her carriage,” Lilah said. After meeting with the local barrister, she’d given Nellie leave to visit her own family and, quite possibly, Mr. Shalley at the neighboring farm.

  Mother bristled. “Surely not alone. Surely you have adhered to the rules of propriety I taught you.”

  Her mother wasn’t worried about her safety, not the way Jack would have been. Those rules were—and had always been—more important than Lilah’s overall well-being. “My maid accompanied me.”

  “That sharp tone is unbecoming. I’m certain Winthrop will not tolerate it once you are married.”

  And here it was—Lilah’s moment of reckoning. She drew in a deep breath. “I am not going to marry Cousin Winthrop. That is the reason I have come.”

  Mother laughed and clucked her tongue in a way that was all too familiar, like the time when Lilah was a little girl, wearing a crown of daisies and preening before her.

  “Aren’t I pretty, Mother? Ivy says that I am the queen of the forest and will surely marry the king of the meadows.”

  “Ivy was being kind, dear—which any friend ought, of course,” Mother said, her voice pinging sharply wit
h amusement before she shook her head and tsked. “It is a shame, however, that she is so pretty. You would do much better if you were seen next to an ugly girl. Then, you truly could become an imaginary queen.”

  Mother had never understood the purpose of imagination. Perhaps that had been the reason Lilah had found so much solace in it.

  “Of course you will marry Winthrop. The agreement was set in place by your father and is binding.”

  Lilah’s visit to the barrister’s office had reaffirmed this. There was no way for her to break the terms of the will as it stood. The barrister informed her that a well-connected husband with a title could do so. As soon as the banns were read, however, such a violation would cause nothing short of a scandal, from which the parties involved would never recover. “If that is true, then why did the codicil offer me three years and the hope of finding another gentleman?”

  “Your father did not want you to do something foolish like your—” She stopped short before she said the word brother. Since Jasper’s disgrace, Mother had never once referred to him or said his name. “You needed time to understand that Winthrop is your only hope of having a husband at all.”

  “That is not true. If it weren’t for Father’s demands that I marry a titled gentleman, I could have found a husband on my own. In fact, I believe I have.” She made the declaration more out of rebellion than actually knowing it. Jack had never proposed marriage or even suggested a short future together.

  Although he had told her that he loved her. That certainly must account for something.

  Mother made that irritating sound again with her tongue and smiled patiently. “You needn’t invent stories. Marrying Winthrop is the best option for you and, in turn, you will have a home. The baron has been gracious to allow me to remain here all this time. Now, it is up to you to repay him for his good deeds by upholding expectations and producing an heir.”

  Lilah grimaced, bile rising up her throat. She swallowed it down and straightened her shoulders. “I am not marrying Winthrop. I am making my own choices.”

  That smile fell. “You were not born to make your own choices. A young woman adheres to her parents’ wishes. Especially one with no . . . other . . . options.”

  “I am not without options!”

  “Had you been beautiful, your circumstances might have been different,” Mother continued, paying no heed to Lilah’s outburst.

  “I am beautiful . . . in my own way. I have many admirable qualities. I have even taken to wearing my hair differently. My forehead is not so vast and unbecoming. Have you not read Aunt Zinnia’s letters? The ton is following my example—” Or at least they had been until Winthrop’s announcement. Now, she was uncertain and hadn’t been able to bear reading the Standard this morning.

  Tears gathered along the lower rims of her eyes. She hated having to validate her own worth to her mother. She didn’t even know why she was trying. Just once in her life, she would have liked to hear those same words from the woman who bore her. You are beautiful.

  Yet as Mother had said a moment ago, having children had merely been upholding expectations on her part and nothing more.

  Mother’s gaze narrowed. She angled her head as if seeing Lilah for the first time since her arrival. “Tell me you have not done something foolish and irreversible.”

  “Like what, Mother? Dreamed of a different life for myself and fallen in love with a man who sees me for who I am?”

  “You have lain with him,” she accused, recoiling in an apparent mixture of disgust and outrage.

  Even though she never would have altered her moments with Jack, Lilah still felt a small amount of guilt. She’d had twenty-three years of instruction on propriety, and it was a hard-etched rule that a woman remained chaste until her wedding. “I have.”

  “Is he a footman in your aunt’s employ? A gardener? Did he promise to marry you if you would lay with him?” She scoffed as she stood and walked toward the window. “If there is one thing you should have learned from your”—Mother broke off and quickly amended—“learned by example, it is that men will say or do anything to slake their lust. They think nothing of ruining entire families, let alone one unmarriageable girl.”

  “This man did not promise me anything,” Lilah admitted with vehement defiance. “I made my own choice.”

  “That was not your choice!” Her mother’s raised voice revealed a crack in her composure. “You only had one thing to offer your cousin and that was your chastity. I doubt he will have you now.”

  “I would not have him, regardless.”

  “I cannot bear the disgrace of this. If you were to die in a carriage accident, it would be better for us all.”

  Lilah sucked in a breath. Anger and hurt sliced into her heart. Still, her mind tried to reject that her mother actually preferred her death to a scandal.

  Mother continued. “At least then I would be able to hold my head with some dignity.”

  “Dignity for whom?” Lilah stood and moved to the window as well, taking hold of her mother’s shoulders. “Do you care so much what your neighbors think of you and care so little for your own child—children? Jasper and I deserved more from you and father. We deserved a chance to make mistakes and still find welcome in our parents’ bosom.”

  Lilah embraced her mother, holding on to one last hope of finding the affection she’d always wanted. Perhaps if she just breached this one barrier, the terrible façade would finally fall away and reveal her mother’s love.

  But it did not come. Her mother remained stiff, unyielding.

  After a moment, Lilah released her and stepped back to wipe tears from her cheeks.

  “You may leave my presence,” Mother said with cold finality, her gaze out the window. “If there is any keepsake in the room that was once yours, you may take it with you.”

  In other words, this was the last time they would meet. As it had been after Jasper’s death, from this point forward, Lilah’s name would not be spoken in this house. To her mother, she was dead.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jack left London and rode to his mother’s house. He needed advice that only her unique perspective could offer.

  The hours gave him time to think and time to wonder what was happening with Lilah in Surrey. He hated this uncertainty. He hated not knowing how to proceed. And he hated the news that Vale had delivered—Ellery was Lilah’s perfect match.

  No. While Jack didn’t know the viscount’s intentions toward Lilah, he knew Ellery was an honorable man. Yet none of that mattered because Jack felt in his heart that Lilah was his.

  But was that enough?

  By the time he arrived, dusk had fallen, and Bellum needed a good rest. Exhausted and weary as well, Jack left his Destrier in the care of the stable master.

  The fieldstone cottage with green shutters and a cedar-shake roof was a welcoming sight. Jack had purchased this for his mother shortly after leaving school. At the time, he’d made enough money for her to keep a cook and a maid as well. Now, she could have her choice of any house and any number of servants, but she said she preferred to live a simpler life.

  On his way across the lawn, his mother came out through the whitewashed kitchen door, her sand-and-silver-colored hair tumbling out from beneath a matron’s cap, her gaze curious, her mouth smiling.

  “What gift has brought my son to me this evening?” She opened her arms wide.

  As always, he embraced her heartily, lifting her to her toes. She’d grown plump in the past years after he’d begun making his fortune. Her life was easier now, and she always had bread with her broth, in addition to anything else she wished. “I know not. One minute I was in London, and the next thing I knew, Bellum had brought me here.”

  “Aw . . . such a sweet lie.” As he set her down, she patted his cheek. “Now for the truth. Those worry lines on your brow tell me that you are troubled.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long ride. Nothing more.”

  “Very well,” she said with a sigh that suggested
she did not believe him. But instead of pressing, she merely linked her arm with his as they walked inside.

  Then later, as the evening progressed, and he’d had more than his share of wine with his broth, he told her of Lilah. Not of what his intentions were but merely stating that he was acquainted with a young woman whose circumstances were forcing her into a life not of her choosing.

  “Would there have been any advice or assistance you would have wanted at that time in your life?” he asked.

  Mother was quiet for a moment, her gaze leaving his to stare into the cozy fire. “There is something I am obligated to tell you,” she began, her voice quiet. “As you know, the reason that your father and I separated was because he needed to marry an heiress in order to secure monies for the earldom. Up until that point, his family was fine with our arrangement. Yet they would not stand for having the heir to an earldom married to his mistress.”

  “I remember,” he growled, the words bitter on his tongue.

  “But what I did not tell you was that your father and I ran away together.” She shifted in the chair, seemingly uncomfortable, and eventually met his gaze. “We drove to Gretna Green and eloped in secret.”

  “Eloped?”

  She offered a tentative nod and swallowed. “Within a month, his father discovered what we had done and had our marriage annulled. A scathing letter from the earl arrived, informing us that our union was unlawful. Enraged, your father left to confront his father, but before he could, his father—your grandfather—had a heart seizure and died. With John’s mother devastated, and his younger siblings grieving, your father remained behind to see to their well-being.”

  Jack was trying to wrap his thoughts around this startling news. What his mother had suffered was even worse than he’d imagined.

  “By the time John returned, a month had passed. He had not, as I’d hoped, addressed the issue of our marriage to his remaining family. Confessing this, he’d asked me to have patience and wait for a suitable mourning period to pass. I felt affronted. Unimportant,” she explained, her voice rising in indignation, even after all this time. Then a pained look crossed her face. “I’d already begun to suspect that I was carrying his child. Yet after the way I’d been treated by my first husband and society after his scandal and subsequent death, I could not bear the thought of your father forcing me to play the mistress in confinement.