‘It’s quite all right, I was just chatting with your lovely wife,’ the Dowager Duchess said. ‘What a breath of fresh air she has brought to old Roderick in only a few days!’
Aidan slipped his arm around Lily’s waist. ‘I quite agree, Mama.’
‘Well, shall we go in to dinner?’ his mother said. ‘Shellie, darling, you will take Mrs Wilkins?’
Lily was quite sure that was her duty, but for once she was glad of her mother-in-law’s authority, her easy way of managing the people around her without letting them know she did it.
Lily smiled sweetly at Lady Rannock. ‘My dear Lady Rannock, will you go in with Aidan? And I am sure your husband will kindly escort me.’
‘Of course, Duchess,’ Lady Rannock said with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. Lily reminded herself she was the Duchess now, she was Aidan’s wife, and nothing could ever change that. Could it?
* * *
Lily studied the table in the dining room carefully, the old china with the gilt edges and Lennox coat of arms, the heavy silver, the crystal that had been a wedding gift, the arrangements of Roderick roses in low silver bowls interspersed with platters heaped with glistening fruit. The candlelight gleamed on the damask cloths, the old portraits, the satins and jewels of the guests.
It had all been going rather well, she thought. Conversation flowed, along with the fine wines her father had sent to replenish Roderick’s cellars. Everything seemed bright and cheerful. And so very long. She had no time to worry about Aidan, no time to watch him smile with Lady Rannock at the other end of the table. Lady Rannock, who had somehow manoeuvred her way to a chair between Aidan and Lord Clarendon.
Lily reached for her wineglass and took a long sip, watching as Aidan talked with Lady Rannock in the candlelight. Her mother sat across from him, but she was deep in conversation with the Bishop next to her, leaving Aidan and his old romance to bend their heads together in the candlelight, laughing softly.
‘Such a pretty pair, eh?’ Lord Rannock, who sat on Lily’s left, slurred and she turned her head sharply to face him. She’d spent most of the course so far talking to Lord Shelton and hadn’t noticed how silent Lord Rannock had become, how often his glass was filled. His eyes were bleary and red with a strangely malicious glint above his moustache.
‘I beg your pardon, Lord Rannock?’ she said coolly. She shook her head at the footman who approached with the decanter.
‘My wife and the illustrious Duke, of course,’ he said. ‘So pretty.’
‘I understand they are old friends.’
Lord Rannock snorted. ‘Friends! That is good. She only...’
‘You are quite foxed, man,’ Lord Shelton said frostily, so unusual for such an affable gentleman. ‘You should go outside and sober up. This is a respectable house.’
‘My cousin is quite right,’ Lord Clarendon said languidly. ‘You’re a disgrace, Rannock.’
‘I’ve had barely a drop,’ Lord Rannock protested indignantly. ‘Such a prickly old house is Roderick! But we all know why my wife really loves to visit it.’
‘And why is that, Lord Rannock?’ Lily said tightly.
‘Because she loves your husband, blast it all!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you see? Foolish Americans!’
Lily felt her face flame and Lord Shelton pushed back his chair to grab Lord Rannock by the arm and march him smartishly out of the room, with his cousin Lord Clarendon’s help. He then returned to his own seat with a cool, kind smile and Lily could quite see why the Dowager Duchess had decided to marry him.
But she herself felt slightly nauseous at it all.
‘Lord Rannock was suddenly taken ill, nothing to worry about,’ Lord Shelton announced with a gruff laugh. ‘Nothing to worry about at all.’
Lady Rannock looked uncertain. ‘Is he—should I...?’
‘I do think you should be excused, my dear, at least for a moment. You must be so concerned,’ the Dowager Duchess said sweetly. ‘I think dear Clarendon is with him...’
Lady Rannock slowly laid aside her napkin and left the room, her silver lace train twisting behind her. Lily watched carefully to see if Aidan missed her, but he just smiled and went on chatting with Stella.
Lily took a deep breath and gestured for the pudding, a raspberry trifle with a Roman punch, to be brought in. Everyone returned to their hum of conversation and Lily tried to follow Lord Shelton’s talk of the newest musical theatre in London. At last, after what felt like hours, Lily signalled for the ladies to depart to the White Drawing Room for their coffee, leaving the men to their port.
* * *
‘My dear Lily, won’t you play something for us? You have such a talent,’ the Dowager Duchess said, sipping her coffee from the china that had been a wedding gift.
Lily was glad of the distraction. She shook away that cold touch of disquiet that had followed her ever since she’d watched Aidan and Lady Rannock at dinner and went to the piano. As her fingertips trailed over the cool keys, she felt herself settle into the old pleasure of the notes again.
‘What would you like to hear, Your Grace?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Agnes, please, my dear. I do hope you will look on me quite as another mother once Mrs Wilkins has returned to America.’ She settled into a brocade sofa near the piano, blocking Lily’s view of Lady Rannock at the terrace doors. ‘Perhaps some Chopin, or some Schubert? That piece you played with Aidan was so charming.’
Lily smiled and launched into a Chopin nocturne. She wasn’t sure she could really see Agnes as a mother, though. She was too perfect a duchess, too all-seeing.
‘Lily,’ she murmured, as the younger woman’s fingers lightly skipped through the chords, the music blending with the night outside. ‘Roderick is certainly lucky to have you, I hope you know that. Imagine hearing music in every corner again! I was never talented at it myself. This place is coming back to life.’
Lily thought of Lady Paul’s demands for baby sons and smiled wryly. ‘Americans, again, Agnes?’
The Dowager Duchess laughed. ‘Oh, I do admit I once imagined my son with a different sort of wife. One of those pale daughters of an earl or viscount who make their bows every Season, who could step into my duties here at Roderick so easily. But I see now a girl like that would never have done for Aidan. He is too energetic, too curious. He needs someone to help anchor him here, to hold his interest.’
Lily glanced at Lady Rannock, so still, so beautifully sad by the doors, moonlight washing over her silver gown. ‘Perhaps you once had another bride in mind, one in particular?’
Agnes pursed her lips. ‘I never did. And he never did care for anyone suitable.’ She took a long sip of coffee. ‘I tell you this, my dear. You are what Roderick needs. What Aidan needs. You are clever and energetic. You know what is required.’
Lily’s eyes prickled and she worried she might cry. ‘I wish Aidan thought that.’
‘Oh, he does! I am quite sure of it, or he would never have married you. He is so independent that way. Never what you expect the son of a duke to be!’ She finished her coffee and smiled. ‘Lily, every marriage is always an adjustment and you have to become accustomed to our odd English ways as well as to a new husband. You just need to give it time, be patient. It will all come together for you, I know it.’
Lily nodded, hoping Agnes was right, wishing she could find that optimism in herself again. But Aidan was behaving so strangely since they had returned to Roderick. Maybe he needed to hear his mother’s words, too, and to believe in himself in this world they found themselves in.
As she finished the nocturne, the men came in to join them and Lily rose from the piano to gesture to Donat to pass the coffee. Aidan was not with them, but she saw Lord Rannock had reappeared after his abrupt ejection from the dining room and she indicated to Donat to make his coffee extra-strong.
‘I see my lovely wife has quite vanished,’ Lord Rannock said,
exhaling wine fumes onto her. Lily fell back a step.
‘One can hardly blame her,’ Agnes said. ‘Such scenes!’
‘I am sure she has gone to the ladies’ withdrawing room,’ Lily said tightly. She glanced at the terrace doors and saw that indeed Lady Rannock was not there.
‘With the Duke to help her with her hem?’ Lord Rannock tried to laugh, but hiccupped instead. ‘You are so charmingly naive, you Americans. You all think your money solves everything for you, don’t you?’
It had always been Lily’s experience that her father’s money caused more trouble than it solved. She had imagined Aidan truly cared for her, but had all that money really just bought him for her? Was that what everyone really thought? Now that his castle roof was secure, he would run back to his old love?
‘Oh, Rannock, not that again. Do sit down before you fall down,’ Lord Shelton snapped, taking Lord Rannock firmly by the arm.
‘Really!’ snorted Lady Paul. ‘You are not in your London stews now, boy.’
Lily spun away from him, from them all, and hurried to the open terrace doors. She stepped outside and leaned on the reassuringly cold, solid balustrade to stare out into the garden. She saw not the lawn, gleaming in the moonlight, stretching away like a perfect bolt of green velvet, but the seaside, at Brighton and Newport, her sisters and her mother, Roderick, all her choices. Aidan and his beautiful eyes. All she had wished for, all she was unsure of now.
She suddenly glimpsed a flash of liquid silver in the darkness, the glow of the moon catching on a silver lace gown. Lady Rannock? She’d vanished from the drawing room before her vile husband came back. Yet she was not alone now. She was hurrying towards someone in the distance, a tall, dark figure just outside the pale stone of the summer house. Aidan?
For a moment, Lily couldn’t breathe. She felt so hot then freezing cold, her chest tight. The terrace seemed to shift under her feet.
But then something else took hold of her. Some steely, hard determination that had surely pushed her, some primitive sense to seize what was hers. Her husband, her house, her new life and all her hopes. It was hers, not Lady Rannock’s, not anyone else’s. And if Aidan truly did not care about her, better to know it, to take that piercing arrow to the heart and know the truth. Better to see her cards on the table.
She moved down the steps to the garden, the glowing white silk of her wedding gown floating around her, light and cloudlike now, not holding her down. She hardly seemed to be in her own body, watching herself from a distance as she made her steady way through the garden towards the summer house.
No matter what, her life would not be the same after tonight.
* * *
Aidan paced to the balustrade of the folly, staring out over the moonlit lake. He couldn’t bear one more minute of port and political talk. He lit one of his cheroots and leaned against the cold stone. The night was quiet, perfectly still, almost as it had been before he came home. When he walked alone under bright foreign stars, he was searching for he knew not what. Now he knew well what he had been searching for.
He’d been searching for love. For a partner in life. For Lily. Her kindness, her serenity, her smile, her heart. She brought his home back to him again.
He turned to stare at the house, a bright beacon in the night, lit from chimneys to basement. When he was a boy, Roderick had seemed so cold, so vast and lonely. Now it actually seemed like a home, a place of music and laughter and life. And it was Lily who made it so.
He heard a soft footstep in the darkness, the swish of silk against the stone steps of the summer house. He spun around, his heart leaping like a schoolboy’s at the thought that it must be Lily, come to him there. But the perfume that caught on the warm night breeze was a heavy spice, not Lily’s sweet floral.
Melisande stepped into the lantern light, her silver gown sparkling, an enticing smile on her lips.
Once, when he was young and foolish, such a moment would have been all he wanted. He’d been so infatuated with her, but she had wanted a duke. His brother. Poor, deluded Edward.
‘My heavens, Aidan, but you do look surprised,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Surely you must have known I couldn’t bear silly drawing room gossip a moment longer than you ever could.’
Aidan frowned. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I was standing by the terrace doors and saw you walk across the garden. I wanted to leave before my dreadful husband came back.’ She gestured to his cheroot. ‘May I have one of those, darling?’
‘Of course.’ He took out his silver case and let her select one, lighting it for her. In the flare of the match, she looked hard-eyed.
‘Very naughty of you to abandon your host duties,’ she teased, exhaling a silvery plume. ‘But I suppose your little American wife will cover for you.’
‘Lily is always gracious,’ he said tautly.
‘And pretty. And, of course, so rich. My husband says everyone at his club whispers about what a prize she is.’ She tossed down her cheroot and stepped closer to him, laying her hand lightly on his chest. He remembered when once she had stood with him, just like that, before she declared she would marry Edward, and anger took hold of him. Anger that she would do this now; anger that she would insult Lily. ‘But you are surely the greater prize. A duke, for an American nobody.’
Aidan stiffened. ‘Melisande...’ he said warningly.
‘What? We’re both married now and I am always discreet. No one could expect you to be faithful to American dollars, you know.’ She went up on tiptoe close to him. ‘You have always been the most gloriously handsome man I know.’
He took her hand to start to push her away. ‘I love my wife.’
Melisande laughed bitterly. ‘How sweet, darling! I once thought I loved Rannock, too. For a foolish moment. It does pass.’
‘I thought it was Edward you wanted back then.’
‘Because I couldn’t have you. But now you are the Duke and I can! We can. Don’t you see?’
‘And Clarendon? Everyone says he’s your lover.’
She laughed. ‘It’s just for fun, of course! You’re the only one I ever really wanted.’ Before he knew what she was doing, she flung herself against him, her lips searching for his in the shadows.
A gasp echoed through the stones of the folly, soft but as loud as an explosion, tearing everything apart. Aidan pushed Melisande away and saw Lily standing on the steps behind him, as if in a nightmare. Her face was stark white, her lips parted as she stared at them.
‘Lily!’ he shouted, but she spun around and ran away, vanishing into the night. ‘Come back!’
‘Oh, let her go.’ Melisande tried to catch at his sleeve and he tore away to run after his wife. ‘She doesn’t matter, Aidan!’
‘She is the only thing that matters.’ The only thing that had ever truly mattered in his life—or ever would. Lily was his home, his everything. He had been a fool not to see that from the very first moment he met her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lily slammed the door of her chamber behind her, not caring if the servants heard, or what the people gathered in the drawing room thought. She’d spent her whole life trying to be good, trying to be smart, and where had it taken her? To this house that couldn’t be hers. To a husband she loved desperately, but who had never been hers. She couldn’t fool herself about that any longer.
She barely remembered how she had returned from the garden. After she saw Aidan with Lady Rannock, after Lord Rannock’s violent behaviour, she remembered little at all. Everything seemed like a dream. A terrible nightmare. If only she could wake up and be in her old Newport bed.
Her head pounded, and she couldn’t stop shaking. She reached up and tore off the Lennox tiara, pins catching painfully in her hair. She tossed it to the carpet, biting her lip to keep from shrieking like a madwoman. The madness had to end. She had to regain some measure of control over her life.
Over her heart.
She let her hair down, shaking it free over her shoulders. On her dressing table, in an elaborate silver frame which had been a wedding present, was her engagement photo with Aidan. The two of them arm in arm, smiling. How happy she looked there. How happy she was. She’d thought Aidan was, too, that their future would only grow brighter and brighter. That she could overcome any doubts. How foolish she had been.
She spun away and opened the armoire. She shoved aside the silks and velvets and linens of her trousseau and dragged out her valise. It wasn’t part of the new green leather set stamped with a gilded coronet, but a battered old piece she’d once dragged between New York and Newport. She opened it on the bed and started tossing clothes and books into it, not knowing what she packed or where she would go. Everyone she knew, everything she had, was in this house.
The door swung slowly open and Aidan stood there. Lily froze, watching him like a deer in the woods. She trembled even more.
Aidan smiled, but then he almost stepped on the fallen tiara and that smile turned wary. Yet, to her dismay, he still looked like her beautiful, wonderful, vibrant, sunshine husband. He hadn’t grown hooves and horns, which would have made things so much easier. No, he was still Aidan and she did still love him. Longed for him.
The image of Lady Rannock in his arms was still there, too, like a knife. But there was also the laughing man on the Brighton beach, the tousled hair in the wind as he raced horses with her, rowed with her on the lake. The man who had held her hand at the altar. The Duke who had ridden with her in a flower-bedecked carriage pulled by their own people to their home.
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