Nobody's Lady

by Annabelle Anders

  And now, while Mary assisted Glenda into her gown for dinner, her stepdaughter peppered her with endless questions. Lilly must put an end to this. It was as though Glenda poured salt into a festering wound.

  No, it was worse.

  Lilly had not been prepared for this. She ought not to have mentioned the failed courtship. She should have dissembled, told Glenda she’d had nothing but a passing acquaintance with the duke. It had been foolish to mention anything more than that.

  “Cease with these questions.” She spoke harshly. “It was not meant to be. I returned to Plymouth and married your father.” Voicing the details of her and Michael’s affair and remembering the agony of his rejection had resurrected her broken heart. She’d rather not contemplate such anguish again.

  “You are lucky Father took pity on you! Otherwise you and Grandmother would not have had a home after Grandfather died.” Lord Beauchamp had never been discreet about his lack of regard for Lilly. It had undermined her relationship with her stepdaughter from the very beginning. It had also eroded her position with the servants.

  Lilly glanced into the small looking glass above the bureau and tucked in a few strands of hair that had escaped her chignon. She wondered what Michael had seen when he’d looked at her. Did he see her as the matron she now was? Did he remember what they had shared? Had that long-ago spring meant anything at all? Obviously not, or he would have contacted her. He would have sent her a message. Returning to Plymouth at the end of the season had been the most miserable and humiliating time of her life. Just the thought of it, even nine years later, made her breathing hitch, her chest tight.

  Lilly changed into a periwinkle-blue evening gown with a modest neckline and long sleeves. Although somewhat worn, it was the best she had for now. Aunt Eleanor had suggested she invest in a new wardrobe and put herself on the marriage mart as well, but Lilly adamantly refused. She would never again give the caring of her person over to any man. Common wisdom and the law suggested women were better off when they had a man to manage them. Lilly knew better. Although men were stronger, and more powerful, they were also rather idiotic as far as women were concerned. As much as she had loved her father, he had been wrong. Beauchamp had been cruel, and Michael had…well, he had been inconsistent. No, Lilly was free to manage her own life. She would not relinquish this opportunity.

  That being considered, she still wished she had something prettier for tonight. Not that she needed to impress Michael, but she didn’t want to appear unfashionable while dining with a duke.

  Glenda chose to wear one of the new dresses that had been made for her debut this spring. The very pale pink chiffon had barely-there puffed sleeves and tiny butterflies embroidered along the bodice. She wore new satin slippers, and Mary had styled her hair in an elegant upsweep with several chocolate-colored curls falling decoratively down her back.

  When the ladies exited their room, a maid escorted them downstairs to the duke’s private dining area. Rising from his chair, Michael then bowed formally as they entered. He now looked very much, a duke.

  The mud from earlier had been washed away, and he was now dressed in evening finery. At the sight of his soft, clean hair and summer-blue eyes, Lilly’s mouth went dry.

  He had a manner of smiling without actually moving his mouth. His lips might barely twitch, but laughter lurked in his eyes. It was part of his natural appeal.

  He did this as she sat down.

  Awareness buzzed through him the moment Lilly entered the room. This surprised him. But it oughtn’t.

  She seemed small, beside her stepdaughter. Petite, quiet, and mysterious.

  The younger girl, bold and unself-conscious, had no such inhibitions. She took one look at him, flushed crimson, and made a deep curtsy. “Your Grace. I am so very honored to have been invited to join you this evening. Such a distinction to dine in your exalted company. Our limited conversations have become tedious, as you might have guessed, what with it always being just the two of us.”

  Lilly rolled her eyes heavenwards and made a half curtsy. When she finally allowed her gaze to settle upon him, he nearly laughed at her expression. She’d not meant for him to see her roll her eyes.

  Lilly, apparently, was still unsuccessful at hiding her emotions.

  She hadn’t changed all that much, then.

  The servants rushed forward and pulled out the dining chairs for each of the ladies.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Beauchamp.” The younger girl stifled a giggle and blushed profusely at his comment. It had been this way with marriageable misses everywhere since he’d become the duke.

  He couldn’t help but watch Lilly.

  Her gaze darted around the room, as though she’d rather look anywhere but at him. He was grateful she had been here, at the inn, to clear up the issues surrounding his identity, but he also resented her presence.

  For years, anger had burned inside of him. She’d married another man. She’d not waited for him to return. During the darkest time of his life, she’d failed to honor their pledge to each other.

  And yet, most unfortunately, Michael was still drawn to her. Lilly’s striking silver-blond hair and warm golden eyes captivated him all over again.

  She now belonged to another man. She had a stepdaughter. The girl must be her niece.

  When they had courted, Lilly had told him about her dead sister’s widower and the motherless girl.

  “It’s been a long time.” Michael spoke softly, unable to look anywhere but at her. He willed her to meet his gaze as he spoke. Lilly stared down at her bowl as a servant ladled some stew into it. Had she forgotten so easily?

  She answered, still not looking up. “I trust you are well, Your Grace? Today’s adventure notwithstanding?”

  Michael thought he could read the emotions in her eyes. Ah, but he had been wrong earlier. She was, in fact, better at hiding her emotions now. Meeting his gaze at last, she donned a mask of some sort. This was a different Lilly. This was the Baroness Beauchamp.

  Michael searched her face before answering. He too, could be nonchalant. “I am doing well, yes. And despite today’s calamities, I find myself most fortunate, indeed. For here I am, dining with two very lovely ladies.”

  Glenda blushed and then found her voice once again. “Was it terribly frightening when the highwaymen attacked you? Were there dozens of them?”

  “It happened rather quickly, actually.” Anger flared as he mentally revisited the heist. “Too quickly in fact. The robbers jumped from the trees overhead, onto the coach, and before we could do much of anything they had driven off with it.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Failed to carry my pistols today, idiot that I am.”

  Two little lines appeared on Lilly’s forehead as she frowned. “Do you think the attack was random?” she asked astutely.

  Michael contemplated his answer carefully. “It would appear so, but one can never be certain.”

  The mask slipped, and a flicker of concern crossed Lilly’s once-again-expressive face. “Did they attempt to harm your person?”

  “Not directly. But stranding a person in such a remote part of the highway doesn’t take much concern for their safety in mind.” He chuckled. He didn’t wish to discuss his concerns right then. Some close friends in London would help him shed light on this outrageous attack. Hugh Chesterton, the Viscount of Danbury, would assist him in ferreting out information. This was no discussion to have with ladies.

  “But all is well.” He reassured her. Her concern had seemed very real. “Where is that delightful little pup I met earlier? She does not sit at the table with you?” He would tease a smile from her.

  Ah, there it was, his heart jumped at the sudden glow. “Miss Fussy stays in the room for supper.” Her grin tugged at something inside of him. “The morning and noontime meals, however, are a different story.”

  “And will Miss Fussy be making her come out as well?”

  Lilly responded in kind. “Not until she’s been to the modiste. She lacks the pro
per wardrobe currently. But then, of course, she shall be presented to the queen—”

  Glenda interrupted. “What rubbish!” The poor girl apparently lacked a sense of humor. “Lilly, don’t be ridiculous.” After sending a disgusted look in Lilly’s direction, she turned her attention back to him. “Don’t give her any ideas, Your Grace. My stepmother has a rather unusual attachment to her dog. I told her we should not bring Miss Fussy with us to London. She creates rather a nuisance at times. Even so, Lilly refused to leave the dog behind.”

  This was apparently not the first time the two women had had this discussion. Michael observed as Lilly stilled and dropped her lashes. “That’s enough, Glenda.” The words were spoken softly, and yet they allowed for no argument. It was clear to Michael that Lilly loved her dog.

  “I’ve a few hounds myself—somewhat larger than Miss Fussy.” Cedric and Norris likely outweighed Miss Fussy by more than ten times her own weight. “Wish I’d had them with me today. I expect they’d have taken care of those bas—those highwaymen.” He held his dogs in great affection. Lacking open space for them while in London, Michael had left them in the care of his steward back at Summers Park.

  Michael suspected the small dog brought Lilly a great deal of comfort. She had been tenderhearted toward animals before. She’d greeted the occasional dog they’d come across while walking in the park, and at Edgewood Heights…He imagined her dog received a considerable amount of devotion.

  Which reminded him. Lilly was married. There would be a husband at home or awaiting them in London.

  “You are traveling alone, I take it? Is the baron in London already or does he plan to follow you later?” When the ladies glanced at each other, Michael felt compelled to add, “I was acquainted with your aunt several years ago, Miss Beauchamp, in London—before she married your father.”

  The responses to both his question and his statement were very different than he had expected. Miss Beauchamp gasped and then turned accusingly toward Lilly. “You promised not to tell anybody! Are you trying to ruin my season already?” And then the girl let out a wail, hastily excused herself, and ran sobbing from the room.

  Lilly, dry-eyed, set her fork down and calmly stated, “That would be quite a feat, Your Grace, for the baron has been dead for over a year now.”

  What the devil? What had he said to send Lilly’s niece running from the room? And the baron was dead?

  Lilly was a widow?

  Lilly stared at the closed door and sighed. “It must remain a secret that I married my brother-in-law. Although of no matter at home, Aunt Eleanor has advised it may not be quite the thing in London. It was illegal after all.” She raised one delicate shoulder and grimaced. “Glenda will realize I told you about it before. I ought to go after her but…she tends to find more comfort from her maid these days…”

  Once Glenda’s wailing had receded completely, those two little lines appeared upon Lilly’s forehead again. Of course, she must have realized they would now be dining together alone.

  It was perfectly acceptable. She was a widow, after all. In the past, this opportunity for them to be alone together would have been terribly romantic. Without another word, she delved back into the tasteless stew.

  He forced his mind to return to her other revelation. “I am sorry for your loss.” There had been no sorrow or regret in her voice when she’d announced the baron’s death. Regret at the news of Beauchamp’s passing eluded him as well. Lilly again avoided looking him in the eyes.

  It was strange, sitting here with her. What had her marriage been like? Had Beauchamp loved her? Had Lilly given herself to her husband with the same passionate abandon she’d shown with him? Did she have other children? Did she have a lover? Who had Lilly Bridge become? Nearly a decade had passed. He didn’t know Lilly Beauchamp at all.

  And yet, she was Lilly. As in that moment in the Willoughby foyer, the pull between them still existed—for him, anyway. He forced himself to remember the aftermath. She was also the woman who hadn’t waited for him. The woman who had bolted from town when he’d promised to return. She’d abandoned him when he’d needed her dreadfully.

  Lilly placed her fork on her dish and folded her hands in her lap. “Thank you,” she said, oh so politely. “We expected his passing. He had been ill for many years.”

  And then, finally, she met his gaze. “It has been so very long, but I am sorry for the loss of your father and brother, as well.” Upon this topic, she would be sincere.

  Michael took a drink of ale and swallowed hard. He had rather hoped to hear these words from her long ago.

  Upon returning to her aunt’s town house in London to claim her, Michael had been handed a short missive. The butler had appeared disapproving. The missive had informed him of Lilly’s betrothal. Letters he’d later sent to her home in Plymouth had gone unanswered. He’d stopped writing when her father finally sent him a response. He’d demanded Michael refrain from any further attempts to correspond with the baroness. “She is a married woman.” The bold statement had been underlined twice.

  At that point, Michael had travelled to Summers Park and seized hold of the duties required of him as the new Duke of Cortland. Keeping busy helped him to erase her from his mind. Erasing her from his heart hadn’t been so easy.

  With the ducal seat near Exeter, Michael had struggled knowing she was not so very far away. But she had married.

  And that, even more so than the miles that separated their homes, had removed her from his life forever.

  “Thank you.” He brought himself back to the present. “It was a difficult time for many. Over half the servants at Summers Park succumbed. Scarlet fever is a ruthless enemy.”

  Michael’s statement shocked her. Her father had only told her Captain Redmond had become a duke. He’d convinced her she’d been jilted. She’d known nothing of a scarlet fever outbreak! And now, she listened in dawning despair as Michael casually described the conditions he’d come upon when he’d arrived at Summers Park that fated summer.

  Would she have resisted her father if she had known this? Surely she would have! Not knowing what had become of Michael, she had begged her father to allow her to stay in London—to no avail. Aunt Eleanor was to depart for a summer house party in the country, and her mother had been eager to return to Plymouth. Her father had insisted that as a duke, Michael would no doubt look higher for a wife. The season is over, and the time for this nonsense is past. He had insisted on the betrothal and her quick wedding to Lord Beauchamp. He’d been anxious to have her settled.

  Her father’s concern had had merit. For he had shortly after become very ill with a cancer. He’d died that year on Boxing Day, one day after Christmas. By insisting upon her marriage to the baron, her father had secured a home for both Lilly and her mother with Lord Beauchamp.

  “You haven’t yet married?” Lilly asked, even though she was sure she would have heard something if he had.

  Nearly a full minute passed before Michael responded. “I am to marry in June.”

  It made no sense, but it seemed as though a part of her heart died all over again upon hearing his words.

  She recovered quickly. “Ah, then, felicitations are in order.” She sipped at her watered-down wine and then set the glass back down. Her hand shook slightly.

  “Tell me about her.” She would not spare herself these details. Let me put this part of my heart to death once and for all.

  “She is Lady Natalie Spencer, daughter of the Earl of Ravensdale,” he stated baldly.

  Lilly waited for him to embellish upon his announcement, but he did not. “I remember the Countess of Ravensdale as a charming woman. She was a good friend of my aunt’s.” Lilly searched her memory. “I know they have several sons, but I don’t believe I ever met any daughters.”

  “There is just the one. She came out last spring.”

  “She must be very special.” Lilly felt as though the words would choke her. Oh, God, the girl must be close to Glenda’s age.

 
Michael grimaced and then covered it with a wry smile. “Oh, she is.” His voice sounded tinged with…irony? Perhaps he’d rather not discuss Lady Natalie with Lilly.

  But Lilly could not let it go. “How did you meet?” she persisted.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “The usual. Last season at a ball…” He lifted his chin. “The Willoughby Ball, in fact.”

  “Oh.” Lilly wasn’t sure how she ought to respond to such information. That broken part of her heart now felt as though the heel of a boot was grinding it into the ground. Lilly pinched her lips together and stared at the top button of his jacket. It was a burnished gold. The backs of her eyes burned. Had he intended to strike out at her?

  He smiled a bit vindictively at Lilly’s apparent loss for words. “Both ironic, and yet fitting, don’t you think?” he said.

  Ironic and yet fitting? Gathering her composure, she responded, “Whyever would you say that?” And then she met his eyes with a hard stare of her own. She had been harboring the notion that they would not address the past this evening.

  Was he really going to do this?

  If so, he’d have to do better than that. Her eyes challenged him. If his eyes could be ice, then hers could be fire.

  Michael crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze fixed upon her. “I believe,” he said chillingly, “that was where I’d thought I’d found my future wife once before.”

  Blinding fury exploded within her. How dare he! How dare he! Standing up, Lilly pushed her chair back abruptly, not caring when it fell over. “I certainly hope you act with more honor this time then, Your Grace, as you failed to follow through with your promise on that first occasion!” She did her best to keep the tears in her eyes from overflowing. His words had been brutal. She should hate him!

  Instead, confusion and shame threatened to engulf her. Knowing now, something of the ordeal he’d experienced with his brother and father, she second-guessed herself.

  Had their separation been a betrayal on her part? Had her immaturity, and not his lack of honor, brought about the end of their courtship? Had he suffered as well?