Chapter Seven
“My first ball was worse than yours, I think.” Catherine reached for a cake from the table beside her.
Lilith frowned at her reflection while the seamstress tugged and pinned and pulled at her new gown. “Did you throw a drink all over someone’s bosom?”
Catherine pressed her lips together and cast her gaze upwards. “Well, no. But by the time I was out in society, Cousin Bess had run off with that vicar’s son and it was all anyone could talk about. And, of course, I had my sisters to thank for securing our reputation as solidly bluestocking and odd.”
Lifting one arm as directed by the seamstress, Lilith huffed. The difference between Catherine and her sisters and Lilith was none of them had cared too much about what Society thought of them—particularly Catherine. Even now, as a marchioness, she proudly shunned the unspoken rules and regulations. This history with their Cousin Bess, who had eloped in scandalous circumstances, no longer haunted the Chadwick sisters now that they were all settled and married. Those who had once wanted nothing to do with them, were groveling at their feet.
However, she was beginning to wonder how much she cared now. The sting of the gossip columns and the memories of embarrassing moments that used to heat her cheeks were fading.
There was no denying it, they had begun to dissipate as soon as Harry had held her in his arms.
“Just think, if you do something embarrassing you shall have all of us there to distract from it.” Catherine plucked the sugared cherry off the cake in her hand and set it aside with distaste.
“I had all of you at my coming out ball. That did not distract last time, I doubt it shall again.” Lilith lowered her arm and turned to the side so that her back was to Catherine while the seamstress pinned in the waist. Lilith hardly dare breathe for fear of getting pricked. “Besides,” she continued, “I am not so sure I care what anyone thinks anymore.”
“Good girl.” Lilith heard admiration in Catherine’s voice. “They are all a bunch of dry old sticks anyway.”
“Do not forget you married a dry old stick,” Lilith teased.
Before his marriage to Catherine, Thorney had been quite the stickler for rules. Catherine had softened him somewhat and helped him learn to live a little, but he still had his moments when he was impossibly stern.
“Your brother is not that old.”
“I notice you did not protest the stick bit.” Lilith turned as directed to face Catherine once more.
Catherine reached for another cake, having pulled apart the last one and eaten it in a trice. She picked up the cherry again, her nose wrinkled in distaste and left it on the plate. “I would not embarrass you, Lil, by talking about your brother’s private affairs, but let me promise you, he is far improved since our marriage. It does not mean he does not like to scold me every now and then but if we did not argue, what would I do for entertainment? Life would be dull indeed if we agreed all the time.”
Lilith shook her head with a smile. She had known early on that her brother liked Catherine in his own disapproving way. She had even had an inkling Catherine returned some of the feeling. But to see their love grow by way of arguing was utterly intriguing. They could go from arguing passionately to kissing most ardently within moments—something she would rather not have witnessed, if she was honest. Fighting her way through a relationship was not for her, but it really seemed to work for her brother and friend, whose marriage grew stronger by the day.
“Anyway,” Catherine continued. “This upcoming ball shall be your chance to show them all.”
“Yes,” Lilith agreed softly.
A knot of dread bunched in her stomach. After suffering those disdainful looks of the women and the gradually dismissive attitudes of the men, she was not so sure she wanted to face any of those people again. It seemed she was not made for being swept around the ballroom like she had always dreamed.
Reaching for a third cake, Catherine removed the cherry again. Lilith frowned at her. Catherine loved cherries usually. Why was she wrinkling her nose at them today?
“What?” Catherine jutted her chin up. “I have not had a cake all week and these are only small.”
Catherine’s love of cakes was well-known, particularly by their cook who appreciated Catherine’s unbound enthusiasm for her baking. Unlike Lilith, Catherine had not an ounce of fat on her and could probably eat cakes all week long and remain perfectly slender.
Lilith shook her head. “It was not the cakes I was frowning at. I was wondering why you were taking off the cherries. You usually love them.”
Catherine lifted a shoulder. “They taste strange today.”
“Pass me one.”
Catherine handed a discarded cherry over and Lilith popped it in her mouth. The tang of cherry and sugar created a perfect blend on her tongue. There was nothing wrong with these cherries and they tasted the same as usual.
“They are fine.”
“Well, something is not right with them because I do not fancy them at all.”
“You do not suppose—” Lilith paused. No, surely Catherine would be aware?
“Suppose?”
“Well, you said Emma loathed tea when she was…you know… and that she had always loved tea until…” Lilith gestured to her stomach.
The seamstress glanced at Catherine and made a good impression of ignoring everything they said.
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “Until?”
“Catherine, you are meant to be the bright one!” Lilith could not hide the exasperation from her friend.
The redhead blinked a few times and Lilith saw the realization slowly hit. Catherine’s mouth opened and shut like a fish gulping for air. “No,” Catherine said slowly. “No, I am sure I would—” She counted off on her fingers and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness.”
Lilith could not help but laugh. Her brother was going to be overjoyed and Catherine would make an amazing mother. A little unusual perhaps but the baby would be loved and guided through life like no other.
Catherine glanced at her belly as if there might be some sign of the pregnancy already. “I think you might be right.”
Lilith clapped her hands together and received a jab from a pin in return. The seamstress apologized but Lilith waved the words away and forced herself to stay still. She could not help grinning until her cheeks hurt.
“I’m going to be an aunt.”
“Thorne is going to be a father,” Catherine murmured. “I am going to be a mother.” She clapped hands to her cheeks. “Goodness, I am going to be a mother.” She looked to Lilith. “I’m not sure I am ready.”
“You will make a wonderful mother, I know you will, and you have plenty of experience with your sisters’ babies.”
“Julia will not believe it. She will think I am trying to steal her attention.”
“Amelia and Emma had their babies close together. Perhaps it’s a sister thing,” Lilith suggested.
“I should tell Thorne.” Catherine stood then paused and sat. “No, perhaps I should wait until I have seen the doctor.” She stood again. “Or perhaps I should—”
“Tell Thorney. You know you cannot keep a secret from him. Just wait to tell everyone else.”
“I shall never be able to keep this from my sisters, but I shall have to try with my mother until we are certain or else she will have told everyone in the village by sundown.”
Lilith nodded. “Yes, good idea.” Mrs. Chadwick was notorious for gossiping.
“I hope it’s a girl,” Catherine mused. “And Julia’s twins are boys. She will be so jealous.”
“I am sure you will love the baby no matter what it is.”
“Yes, but I would so love to tease Julia.” Catherine picked up another cake and flicked the cherry at Lilith. “And what a wonderful aunty you will make.”
Lilith batted away the cherry and chuckled. “At least we’ll have something to celebrate if the ball goes disastrously wrong again.”
“The ball will go perfectly, ju
st you wait and see.”
After yesterday’s disaster in the stables, Lilith was not so sure. If she could not stay on her feet there, how was she meant to in a ballroom?
Chapter Eight
Harry had to resist brushing a hand across Maisie’s reddened cheek as she slept. His heart pulled. Heat still blazed from her skin but at least she was sleeping—which was more than she had been able to do all night. The illness had made her feverish and addled. His daughter had swung between sobbing because of monsters in darkened corners of the room she shared with his sister to tossing and turning in a frenzied state of sleep.
Thankfully the fever had begun to leave her, and she slept peacefully now having had some sips of broth and tea. With any luck, Maisie would rest, and his sister could too after tending to her most of the night until he had returned from work.
He smiled at her mussed hair, tangled around her face and pillow, and the tiny delicate hands, splayed out either side of her head. She had slept like that as a baby—not uncommon for babies so he had been told—but he still caught her doing it even now she was three. As if she wanted to remind him how precious and how strong her hold on his heart had been then and always would be.
Harry eased out of the room, avoiding the creaky floorboard and drawing the door shut enough so that he could move around without disturbing her. He had a feeling Maisie would sleep for the rest of the day to regain her strength and if he knew his daughter would be a bundle of energy by the time it was bedtime again. He smiled to himself as he poured some water into a pan and set it on the stove. He’d need his energy for when Maisie was better. Lighting the stove, he sat on the wooden chair and waited for the water to boil before adding it to coffee grounds.
A light tap at the front door prevented him from taking a much-needed sip of the drink and he eased himself from the chair with a groan. He could swear looking after a sick child was harder than looking after an entire stable of horses all day long.
When he eased open the door, his heart slammed hard against his rib cage. “What are you doing here?”
The words were uncouth and unprepared, and Lady Lilith’s eyes widened. He had not expected her here, at his house, in a hundred years, let alone looking so lovely. Underneath a delicate straw hat, glossy, black curls framed her face and danced over her neck. Tied with a light pink ribbon that matched her spencer and the lace under her bust, she was the picture of beauty and innocence. Her lips were rosy and curved into an uncertain smile and a stain lingered on her cheeks.
“Forgive me,” she said breathlessly. “I did not mean—”
He held up a hand. “No, forgive me. It has been a long night.”
“William said Maisie was sick. I assumed you were nursing her when I did not see you at the house today.” She glanced at the floor as though not wanting to admit she had seen his absence.
Which she should not have done. He should not even pass her notice. But he could not help but like that she had noted it.
“Yes, Iris has had a time of it and is not yet recovered from her own illness so I could not bring myself to leave them. They are both sleeping off a rather eventful night.”
“I am sorry. That sickness is really taking its toll recently. Several of the children at the orphanage have been suffering.”
He nodded. He’d heard as much though he had not realized Lilith had been visiting while some of the children were sick. If he were her brother, he’d probably want to keep her well away from them for fear she’d fall ill too.
Lilith lifted a parcel in her hand, carefully bound with string and with a little label that he could not read. “I brought her a little something. It’s a book of Welsh myths and legends. She showed quite the fascination with stories like that at the library.” She smiled. “There’s plenty of beautiful illustrations,” she added.
“You really shouldn’t have done.”
If the book was from the marquis’s library, it was probably worth more than a year’s wage. Of course, Maisie would have no idea of it’s worth and would not care one jot. She’d probably have honey-covered hands skimming over it in a trice if she could.
He glanced inside. “Will you…er…would you like to come in?”
Lilith nodded, and his heart sank a little. On the best of days, his more than humble home was not fit to entertain a lady, but certainly not after he and his sister had been occupied looking after Maisie. Cups and bowls were littered over the kitchen table and a blanket had been abandoned over the chair. Remains of yesterday’s dinner had yet to be cleared away. He motioned for her to move into the drawing room.
“My sister is sleeping. She’s still not fully recovered and two nights of no sleep with Maisie have taken their toll.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help…”
Harry shook his head and kicked aside his muddied boots that were sitting by the empty fireplace. The small and dark room with its low beam ceiling was a stark contrast to the huge, airy, elegant rooms of Easton Lodge. Even the smallest room was likely bigger than his entire house. Not at all fit for a lady of Lilith’s breeding.
She sank onto the tired armchair by the fire and smiled at him, looking as though she had no other place she would rather be.
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I just made coffee if you would like…”
“Coffee would be wonderful.”
He mentally searched for anything else he could give her while he poured the coffee but with his sister ill, she had made no cakes or biscuits recently. Not even a slab of hard bread. Not that he could give her such a thing.
Ducking into the room, he gave her the cup and sat on the chair opposite. “I—”
“How—” She paused. “What were you—? Sorry.”
“Go ahead,” he said.
“I was just going to ask how Maisie was doing now.”
“She is much better, thank you. I think after some rest she will be back to normal.”
“It is amazing how quickly children can recover compared to adults sometimes. The youngest children at the orphanage had a few hours’ sleep and were back to running about and chasing butterflies but the older ones slept through entire days.”
He nodded. “I envy them that ability sometimes.”
“What the ability to sleep for entire days or to recover quickly?”
He chuckled. “Both I think. A few day’s sleep sounds quite pleasant.”
“Is the foal depriving you of sleep still?”
“No, she is doing well.”
“I must come and visit her again soon. Life has been keeping me busy between preparing for this ball and visiting the orphans.” She pressed her lips together. “That is…I am sure you are busier…”
Inwardly, he grimaced. The last thing he wanted was Lilith to feel guilty. Were there times when he envied the nobility their wealth and freedom? Indeed. But he could not say he would want the pressure of it all. He’d seen how Lilith had suffered with everyone watching her each move. Wealth bought many things, but it caused too many problems too. For certain he wanted a better life for Maisie, but he would never wish one that was so constricted upon her.
“Mary tells me ball preparations have been keeping everyone busy.”
Lilith nodded. “The Duke of Westholm will be hiring in extra hands for the week, I believe. The servants have been talking of it more than we have.”
“It should be quite the event.”
“Another chance to prove myself, I suppose.”
“Are you not excited too, my lady?”
She took a sip of coffee and forced a smile. He knew it was forced. Her normal one did not crease the corners of her mouth like that and usually revealed her even, white teeth. He knew that because he’d spent far too much time looking at her mouth and studying its inflections.
“I am, of course. But—”
“But?”
“Well, I wish everyone would cease talking of it as though it is my debut all over again. I had my chance, and this isn’t even going to b
e held by my brother. All I am is a guest.”
“Your friends are excited to have you in society. I cannot blame them for that.”
“If it was up to me, I would slip quietly in and pass everyone’s notice. I have had my taste of attention and I could quite happily do without it now.”
Except as sister of a marquis, she would always garner attention, be it good or bad. But he had no doubt some gentleman would snap her up before long. They might not see her for the sweet, caring lady he did, but they would forget the gossip columns with ease because of her connections.
“Is it silly that I would rather be here with you than twirling around a ballroom?”
Her honesty hurt him. It dug deep into her chest like a knife carving away at his heart. He wished to God she had stayed quiet and maintained an awkward politeness that was so at odds with their friendship—a friendship that had been changing and evolving into something neither of them could accept recently.
He’d rather she were here than twirling around a ballroom in some gentleman’s arms too. But to admit as much did neither of them any favors.
“I should think you’d tire of sitting here, waiting for a sick child to wake up before long.”
She looked at the cup in her hand but not before he saw the little spark of hurt in her eyes. Did she not understand why he said these things? Was she really so clueless as to why he had to protect himself? And Maisie? Neither of them could get too used to her. It was too dangerous.
A creak came from the bedroom then gentle footsteps tapped into the room. “Oh goodness,” declared his sister. “Lady Lilith, I did not know we had company.” She patted her hair. “If I had known—”
Lilith waved Iris’s apologies away. “Please, I know you have been kept busy with Maisie, and that you have not been at all well yourself.”
“I must be a state.” Iris smoothed her skirts. “Is Maisie sleeping?”
Harry nodded. “I think she’ll be fine now for a good few hours.”
“That’s a relief.” His sister glanced at the cups in their hands. “Goodness, we have no cake or anything to offer you. You must forgive me. I have had no time to bake at all…”
Lilith and the Stable Hand: Bluestocking Brides Page 5
