Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(87)

But now she would not be.

She’d take what she wanted for herself. And what she wanted was time to think and time to rediscover the patience and fortitude she’d need to live with a man who wanted her for her money and her grace and her good humor and her body, but who might never reciprocate her deepest love.

She must accept that or live forever in the shadow of her own sorrow.

Turning, she spied her peignoir. Julian must have picked it up from the floor this morning and put it on her chaise longue.

She heard a rustle in her sitting room. Her lady’s maid, most likely, had arrived with her breakfast tray.

“Nora?”

Something shattered to the floor.

Her maid stuck her head around the door jamb. A blush colored her cheeks at the sight of Lily naked. She seemed surprised, on edge. “Yes, ma’am. It’s me.”

At once shy of the woman who examined her body too intently, Lily reached for the silk robe and pulled it on.

She picked up her hair brush, a prickle of unease running up her spine. “What broke?”

“Oh, your ring dish.”

“I see.” The maid was not usually clumsy.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll pay for it from my wages.”

“No matter. I’m sure we have others, don’t we?”

“We do.”

“I’d like a breakfast tray up here this morning, Nora.” She’d like the servant to leave her so she might pack a small reticule with a few clothes. “Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, if we have them. Coffee and tea.”

A knock came at the outer door.

“See who that is,” she told the woman.

What would she take? Where would she go?

Nora and Perkins exchanged comments.

A minute later, her maid reappeared. “His Grace wishes you to go to his study.”

“Oh?” What now?

“Me, too. Immediately.”

“Very well.” She’d wash and dress quickly. That was best. The less time she had to think of her departure, the better she would be.





Lily entered Julian’s study, the dark oak paneling casting shadows on those already assembled. He’d ordered the gas lamps turned up but the silence added to the somber atmosphere.

“Come sit here, Lily.” Julian pointed to the Chippendale chair beside his desk.

She crossed the room, while Nora hung back near the door.

“Perkins,” Julian said to his butler, “you may leave us.”

Phillip Leland, the dowager duchess, Nora and she were the only ones in attendance. Why her own maid was here raised unusual questions of propriety.

The dowager regarded the servant with narrowed eyes. “Why is she here?”

Julian came round his desk to lean back against it and cross his arms. In one hand, he held a sheet of paper. “We shall learn.”

The dowager shifted in her chair, her jaw set, her gaze upon the paper in Julian’s hand.

“Mister Leland has been very kind to bring to my attention a matter that deeply concerns me. Since we’ve been here dealing with the death of my father, I have not had opportunity to give my attention to the London news. And now we must.”

The dowager scoffed. “If we want to read the papers, Julian—”

He lifted his hand and rattled the paper. “I have here a listing of London scandal sheets. The Tatler, The Flyer. The Red Parlor. A penny a piece for hideous stories of degradation. Fit for no one of any refinement but nonetheless, popular.”

The duchess lost all color to her face.

Nora sucked in her breath.

Lily examined the servant. Her wide eyes, her grim lips. What was wrong with her? What concern had a maid for London broadsheets?

Lily stiffened. What has this to do with me?

“A number of articles have appeared in the past few weeks in these gossip sheets,” he went on, “and the contents are intriguing.”

A premonition of the subject matter had Lily squirming in her chair.

“They recount stories that not only are malicious lies but family secrets.”

Lily froze. About me? Cartoons again? Oh, the shame of it. Why do this?

“Only a few people could have ever collaborated to reveal these items to the presses and I want to know now why you would do such a thing to shame us all.” And he turned the full force of his rage on his mother and the servant who stood behind her, Nora.

“What have you to say for yourself, Mother?”

“You are quite insane if you think—”

“Do not deny this. The only others who might have knowledge of these things are Lily’s father and my own. Hanniford would never disparage his own daughter and my father lies outside in his grave. So, you see, there is no reason to dance around this. You did this to damage me and my wife and you enlisted this maid to assist you in this dastardly business.”

“I won’t sit here and be accused of this.”

“Don’t sit. Get out.”

She sprang up. “She is not worthy of us.”

“Enough!”

What had the woman said about her? Lily put a hand to her brow. Did it matter what the dowager had told these papers? What others thought of her? It once had. Mightily. But now?

Julian straightened. “You, Madam, are not worthy of her. Leave.”