Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(62)

“That is most…unusual.” Leland tipped his head, puzzled.

“It is. I know it. But I wish it done.”

“Still, I am confused. Why invest it if she never knows of its existence? Why not simply—”

“Give it to her?” Julian smacked his lips. How to say this? “I will be quite frank, Leland. I trust her.”

With a pointed look at his friend, Julian allowed the silence to imply that he did not trust Carbury.

Leland arched a golden brow.

“However, I do not give this marriage much of a chance of happiness.”

“I see.”

Julian inhaled. “I fear for the future. I also predict that if Carbury knew of the money, he could by law take it for himself. And should my sister ever need funds to remove herself from his presence, I want her to have independent means. If I am not nearby, if she suffers, if no one believes her—” And she must escape him.

Leland held his gaze for a long minute. The gravity of what he’d heard pulled his eyes wide. “How then is she to learn of these funds?”

“You will tell her if and when it becomes vital. For now, you will become her friend, her confidant. I’ve add three hundred a year to your Willowreach fees to visit her once a month every month. Choose a certain day and time. All so that you incur no suspicion to your actions. And so that she never suspects your reason.”

“But how do I impress upon her that I am the one she must come to if she’s in trouble?”

“Find a way. You like her.” She knows it. Julian had seen how the man regarded Elanna whenever she appeared in the same room. Such longing was borne of boyish yearnings. It was not kind of Julian to use them to his own ends, but he hoped that Leland might forgive him if it ever came to sadness.

“I do.” Leland considered his hands, his jaw flexing as he thought of what to say. “Might she not be persuaded to break the engagement with Carbury?”

“You know why she cannot.”

“We are each creatures of our class,” Leland said with a bitterness that had them both silent.

“At last,” Julian said as the butler laid a tray before the small table near the fireplace. “Here is tea. Let us talk of sunnier subjects, shall we? And spend the night, will you? We’ll dine and make a party of it. I’ll not have you riding back to Ashford tonight in this foul weather.”





Lily hoisted her umbrella in one hand, her skirts in another and hurried from the kitchen, down the path to the stables. She hadn’t been here since she’d become Julian’s wife and she thought it an appropriate time to visit the groomsmen and the horses. She longed to ride. But the rain was not cooperating. Plus Julian had asked her to remain indoors.

“The rain is so heavy,” he’d said, “I’ve reports from my men upstream that a dam we built last summer may not hold. The lanes aren’t safe.”

She’d been indoors all this past week. Although making love to Julian was a deliciously proper pasttime for a new bride, she’d been rather lazy, lolling about their suite, becoming accustomed to her own private sitting room and dressing room. This morning, he was busy meeting with the Ash family lawyer. He’d called the man down from London and worried about his safety when he hadn’t shown up yesterday. A few minutes ago, Mister Leland had arrived and Julian had hurried downstairs to greet him.

As she came upon the stable, the doors were ajar. When she pushed one open to step inside, she saw the stableboy who’d helped her that first night she and Julian had gone riding at midnight.

“Good afternoon, Colin. Pardon me,” she said, smiling to the boy and his companion, a gnarled and grizzled white-haired man. The two of them were debating the looks of an old horse’s hoof. “I didn’t intend to interrupt you.”

The stableboy stood straight, dragging off his cap and pulling his forelock. “Pardon, m’lady.”

“How do you do, sir?” She nodded at the older man.

He grinned at her and inclined his head. “Aye. Good to make yer acquaintance, m’lady. Richards, I am.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Richards.” She peered over at the horse’s hoof. “Threw a shoe, eh?”

“A while ago, I’d say,” said Richards.

“Me, too.”

“Second one he’s thrown in a week,” Richards added.

“A shame. Can you give him a new one quickly?”

“Lamb’s our farrier. Sick, ‘e is, though.”

“Oh. That’s not good.” This morning, she’d heard Julian discuss with the butler and housekeeper that a number of farmers in the village were ill. He’d asked them to scour the house for extra blankets to send to the village. “What’s wrong with him?”

Richards patted his chest. “Cough. Deep. Loud.”

“Bronchitis?” she asked.

“He’s not the only one, either. My sister’s got it. And she be increasin’ too.”

Pregnant and sick with a debilitating cough. In this weather? That was disaster.

“In the village, is there a chemist?” she asked them.

“Among us?” Richards asked like she might be hallucinating.

“No,” said the boy.

“Where is the nearest?”