Nobody's Lady

by Annabelle Anders

  Tears filled Lilly’s eyes again at the mention of her father. He desperately had wanted her to establish security for herself and her mother. But at what cost?

  “And you are family to my daughter.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “How am I to treat you as a wife? How can I begin to give you regard as my baroness when you have so thoroughly disgraced yourself? I find myself unable to comprehend doing so.”

  Lilly did not speak, torn between anger and guilt. Yes, she had acted impetuously with Michael, but did she really deserve this treatment? Did she deserve this…punishment? What did he expect her to say? I’m sorry I was not a virgin for you? I’m sorry I am not Rose?

  “This does not mean, however, that I will not exercise my rights.” He looked down at his fingernails as though examining them. Apparently uncomfortable meeting her eyes while making such a statement, he continued. “I find I do have…needs, and I will not avail myself of a harlot when there is one within my own home.” Finally looking back up at her, he magnanimously declared, “We’ll simply have to make the best of it.”

  Lilly flinched when he reached toward her. She hated him. She could never welcome his touch. His lips pinched together in a tight smile, and he chuckled before turning away.

  Footsteps echoed as he finally left her, blessedly alone.

  Lilly sat up and with shaking hands, lit the candle beside her bed. There was nothing she wanted more at that moment than to submerge herself in a very long, hot bath. She wanted to scrub herself of his touch again and again. She went to the basin and, with the washrag and towel left from earlier, attempted to wash away his touch. He had taken her so roughly that, ironically, the rag came away with streaks of blood. Although the blood was not from the loss of her innocence, it may as well have been. She would never feel pure again. Lord Beauchamp, her husband, had succeeded in making her feel, indeed, like a whore.

  ****

  Although somewhat dire, her circumstances were not as bad as they could have been. She was not with child. She’d had her courses the week she awaited Michael’s return.

  But she was trapped.

  She could not run away from her marriage. She must consider her father. She must consider her mother. She must consider Glenda.

  Caught in the paralysis of her responsibilities and guilt, she took no action to alter her situation. Her father would be distraught if he knew what had happened, and what with his illness, how could she add to his worries?

  Over the next several months, her parents visited a few times, and she saw that her father’s health was, indeed, failing.

  Lord Beauchamp had, as warned, intruded into her room on some occasions during the first year. When he touched her, Lilly had learned to close her eyes and imagine she was somewhere else—anywhere else. She did her best to remove herself from reality.

  The less she said, the less she did, the shorter the visit was. They weren’t always violent, but they were always demoralizing. And he always made certain he would not give her a child.

  She knew it unworthy of her, but she’d felt it was nothing but a blessing when he’d been diagnosed with consumption. And as the illness took greater hold of him, the nightly visits terminated. She only felt guilty when she was with Glenda.

  She would do what she could for her niece. There must be some purpose in her life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Old Friends and New

  1824

  The Willoughbys, as was tradition, hosted the first ball of the season. With the betrothal, arrangements had been made weeks ago for Michael to attend with his fiancée’s family. After dining at the earl’s home, they traveled by carriage and arrived at the ball together. Lady Natalie seemed more relaxed in his company and even managed to carry on a polite conversation for most of the ride. She asked after his friends, for she had met Harris and Danbury on more than one occasion and knew they had attended school together. She seemed pleased to hear both Harris and Danbury would be attending tonight. She expressed how nice it was to have close friends at these events so one wasn’t always forced to make conversations with virtual strangers. Michael nodded and agreed.

  Did she consider him a stranger?

  Although he watched her lips move and stared into her eyes as she spoke, Michael’s thoughts were elsewhere.

  If he could have ducked out of this damn ball, he would have.

  It was understood, however, as Lady Natalie’s fiancé, he was to partner her for the first dance and later, the supper dance. He was expected then to escort her into the supper area and attend her during the meal. To suddenly back out of his commitments at this late hour would be a slight to both the lady and her family. He hadn’t any choice and was thus compelled to attend.

  Thoughts of Lilly, however, plagued him.

  He could not help but compare the seventeen-year-old girl from his past, brash and open, loving him unreservedly, to the woman he’d visited the other morning.

  With maturity, her beauty had taken on a gossamer quality. Sitting in her aunt’s home, she had seemed ethereal, fragile, brittle even, before falling off to sleep. Pursuing her was futile, and yet, he hungered to know the woman she had become.

  Although clouds threatened, rain held off as the sleek carriages lined up outside of the Willoughby mansion. Men and women of all sizes and ages, dressed in their finest evening wear, materialized like butterflies emerging from their cocoons as coach after coach moved slowly past the grand entrance. The gentlemen ushered ladies inside regally as befitted the exalted members of the ton. The Ravensdales, along with their guest the Duke of Cortland, were no exception.

  Drawing the eyes of many, the betrothed couple made a striking pair. Natalie, only about six inches shorter than Michael, stood tall and elegant with her golden hair drawn up in a jeweled tiara. While she wore a pale-yellow chiffon gown, Michael wore mostly black. Duncan had used a touch of pomade to slick his black hair back, and it had held so far. Their wedding, scheduled for May, promised to be the pinnacle of the season.

  Two of the earl’s sons were present as well. Michael had been pleasantly surprised to find them gentlemen modeled after their father. The other two sons, busy addressing concerns at a few of the earl’s northernmost properties, had been unable to come to London for the season. His future brothers-in-law were not a pack of dilettantes who spent their time whoring and drinking away their father’s fortune. So many sons of aristocrats failed to find worthy pursuits. It was a shame, really.

  Lilly was nowhere to be seen in the reception line.

  Had he expected to catch her watching him, once again, as he had all those years ago? The fleeting thought caused his heart to skip a beat.

  It was good she was not here.

  Without her as a distraction, he could concentrate on conversing with key political figures and cultivating new connections. Lady Natalie’s hand was tucked loosely into his arm as they mingled strategically, greeting old friends and meeting valuable new acquaintances. When the dancing commenced, he felt more himself as he led his betrothed onto the floor.

  Natalie was graceful, calm, and poised. She was beautiful, and yet he wasn’t constantly tamping down amorous thoughts while holding her. Her father had raised her to be intelligent and perceptive. She would make an excellent duchess. He was happy to realize she wasn’t as enraptured with fashion as Lilly’s niece was, after all. He didn’t know how he would have coped with that. Following the first dance, he returned Lady Natalie to her mother’s side and relaxed with the youngest of Natalie’s older brothers, Joseph.

  As a family with four marriageable sons, the Ravensdales’ popularity went unrivaled. This particular bachelor son, Joseph, seemed somewhat distracted. Before Michael could escape to the cardroom, Joseph leaned in and spoke conspiratorially.

  “Say, Cortland, do you by chance have an acquaintance with any of the ladies standing near that fern. I must have an introduction to the brunette. I’ve never seen her before, and if I must dance with some of the debs tonight, I don’t find h
er objectionable…not objectionable at all.”

  Michael laughed and turned in the direction Joseph indicated.

  Oh, hell.

  The brunette in question was none other than Miss Glenda Beauchamp. Although Glenda was rather stunning in an icy-blue confection of a dress, Michael’s eyes landed on the more diminutive woman beside her.

  Wearing a plain navy dress with long sleeves and a high neck, Lilly appeared paler than usual. With her hair pulled back severely, she clutched the shawl wrapped around her shoulders as though it were a lifeline. She attempted, it seemed to Michael anyway, to appear staid and matronly. Had she but realized the truth—it was impossible to hide her beauty.

  “I do,” Michael said thoughtfully. “Old friends of mine. Shall I present you?” They weaved their way across the room, and Michael confidently stepped into their circle.

  Glenda welcomed him enthusiastically with sparkling eyes. She was a rather pretty girl—a child, really. Just so she didn’t wish to converse with him of fashion or embroidery.

  “Your Grace, how wonderful to see you again! Isn’t this a beautiful ballroom? The candles and ribbons are so very festive!” She spoke to Michael, but her eyes stole several furtive glances at the younger gentleman beside him.

  Michael bowed over her hand. “Miss Beauchamp, lovelier than ever. The ballroom needs no decorations when it is graced with ladies as ornamental as yourself. You are enjoying the festivities then?”

  “Oh yes.” She again glanced toward Joseph Spencer.

  “May I present my future brother-in-law, the youngest son of the Earl of Ravensdale, Mr. Joseph Spencer? Spencer, this is Lady Eleanor Sheffield’s great niece, Miss Glenda Beauchamp, newly arrived from Plymouth.”

  Michael watched them bow and curtsy to one another, both more than a little flustered. It didn’t take long, however, before she’d promised young Spencer the supper dance. Joseph was writing his name on Glenda’s dance card when Lilly caught Michael’s eye. Apparently, she’d been eavesdropping on the conversation. She sent him an indulgent smile. Was she remembering a similar introduction?

  Michael addressed her directly and proceeded to present her to Joseph as well. Lilly curtsied and gave Glenda and the young rogue her permission to take a turn about the ballroom. “Do not,” she said, “go outside.”

  Michael stifled a chuckle. “You are looking more yourself this evening, Lilly. I take it you are in good health again?”

  “Lady Beauchamp,” she hissed.

  “Pardon?” Michael asked.

  “Please, especially in public, address me as Lady Beauchamp.” She explained, “I do not wish to defend our past acquaintance or be the subject of gossip. Glenda must remain untouched by scandal. Her dowry is not very large, and it is imperative that…well, I am hoping she can make a good match this season.”

  “She is young yet, Lil—Lady Beauchamp. Surely it’s not necessary for her to find a match her first year out?”

  Lilly paused, reluctant to explain. “It would be best if she could. We are no longer…welcome at Beauchamp Manor. The new baron and his family have taken up residence and…we were lucky to have been allowed a year of mourning before they took possession. I have a small portion which has been settled upon us both, but a season does not come cheaply. After the spring, I am to be Aunt Eleanor’s companion, and Glenda is used to a more…pampered lifestyle.”

  Michael was stunned. “Wasn’t the security of your future the very reason your father wished you to marry the baron in the first place? Is there no dower house available for you? Damn it, Lilly, what kind of man fails to provide for his family in the event of his early demise?” What kind of man had Beauchamp been? Knowing his home was entailed to a distant cousin, the man ought to have made better arrangements for the women he left behind.

  “Your Grace, please, let it rest. It is done. I can only guess Beauchamp never imagined his time would be cut so short.” She glanced around, keenly aware of people chatting around them.

  This was most definitely not a suitable place for this conversation. He ought not to be having this conversation with her at all. Michael presented his right arm, indicating they walk. He pulled her across the ballroom, down a short corridor, and then outside through some terrace doors. Anger burned within him.

  No, more than that, he was incensed. Knowing Lilly had married in order to be cared for properly for the rest of her life was understandable. He’d accepted the fact. But discovering she had been left financially strapped and must now act as companion to her elderly aunt, when she herself was not yet seven-and-twenty did not sit well with him at all. Her husband had been consumptive, for Christ’s sake. The excuse that he had been unable to make proper arrangements for Lilly and his daughter didn’t wash. It revealed a selfish character indeed!

  And this ought not to be Michael’s concern—but it was. Lilly was a woman who deserved to be protected. She deserved to be reminded of how beautiful she was every morning. She deserved to have carte blanche at dressmakers all over town.

  She deserved to be loved.

  Michael dragged her along, leading them to a small gazebo, away from the sound of the orchestra and the gaiety within the ballroom. Distant laughter carried over the garden. Once inside the gazebo, he indicated she sit on an ornamental bench and then paced across the small space a few times before turning to look at her.

  “Tell me about your marriage,” he finally said. Something didn’t seem right. She’d been married to a baron, for God’s sake, and if George Bridge had had confidence in the man’s solvency, Lilly most definitely ought not to have been left in such straits. George Bridge had been stubborn and manipulative, but it had been for the sake of his daughter and wife’s fiscal security. He’d be turning in his grave if he had heard what Lilly was saying tonight.

  “Did Beauchamp care for you well, while he was alive?”

  Lilly shifted and looked at her hands. “Please, Michael don’t do this. There is nothing to gain by going into this…” She wouldn’t look at him. He would see the truth in her eyes.

  “I want to know, Lilly. I need to know.” He went down on one knee before her so she would have no choice but to look into his eyes.

  Lilly kept her gaze focused downwards, as though studying the polish of his boots. Her lashes fanned out on her delicate skin. As a younger man, he’d been determined to make her his—to protect her forever. And now he sensed she’d needed him more than he could have imagined. What had happened?

  He touched her jaw lightly. “Please, tell me your husband treated you kindly.” Was he pleading? God, it was what he wanted to hear—what he needed to hear.

  She allowed him to tilt her chin upwards. “Of course,” she said brightly.

  Too brightly.

  There it was—the brittleness. She was lying. Michael took hold of her hands. “Tell me the truth. Please, Lilly, tell me…It’s all right. It’s only me.”

  As he waited, a cloud drifted over the moon, making it impossible to see her expression. And then her voice, tight and reluctant, pierced the darkness. “It was…not an…amicable marriage. But it is behind me now.”

  Michael waited.

  But Lilly remained mute, averting her face once again. With each second that passed, rage heated within him. Rage directed at a dead man.

  And if he were truthful, directed at himself.

  What kind of a person could ever be unkind to Lilly? Even though it had not been a love match, Lilly had been, still was, a tenderhearted, lovely, lovable girl. He was reminded, all at once, of everything he had loved about her.

  She believed the best about others until they proved themselves unworthy. She welcomed new friends eagerly but had been extremely loyal to her family. She loved animals, for God’s sake, and flowers! What excuse would her husband have for treating her poorly?

  And then it struck him, like a fist to the gut he knew. “You were not a virgin.”

  Lilly emphatically shook her head from side to side. “Please, Michael, please, none
of this matters anymore. Let it be.” She tried to pull her hands from his. She attempted to stand, but when Michael had knelt, his knee settled on the hem of her dress, effectively trapping her. Nausea and self-disgust engulfed him.

  She had suffered. She had suffered at the hands of her husband. She had suffered at the hands of her husband because her innocence had already been taken.

  Taken by himself.

  Raggedly, Michael pulled her into his arms. To comfort her? To comfort himself? He was not sure. He’d been so caught up in his own troubles and later angry with her for not awaiting his return, he had selfishly not considered such an obvious dilemma for Lilly.

  She had been so young. Of course, her husband would have expected her to be untouched. Had her parents suspected? Had they known? Mrs. Bridge had watched him suspiciously on several occasions. She’d interrupted them more than once as they’d hastily jumped apart and attempted to set themselves to rights.

  “My fault,” Michael stated flatly. His face pressed against the tender skin just behind her ears. Tendrils of her hair caressed his face. So soft—his Lilly—so vulnerable.

  Lilly shook her head. “No,” she denied. “We did not know, neither of us could have known.”

  He held her tenderly. She stirred, as though to pull away, but he could not let her go. He wondered when she’d last been held. When she’d last been comforted by another human. He rubbed his hand along her back until she relaxed again.

  “Lilly?” he prodded. And then, “Please? Tell me.” She’d never denied him anything before. In that moment, she was simply…Lilly. Nothing else mattered.

  A shaft of moonlight settled upon her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and then gave in to his request, voicing her memories.

  “He hated that I was not…untouched,” Lilly began. “He would never treat me as his w-w-wife…He said, instead, I was his…his…” She began to shiver, and Michael held her tighter. “He refused to annul the marriage. He said, because of the scandal it would create for my family and for Glenda.”