Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(88)

“I demand—”

“Nothing. You can demand of me nothing. Go. Now.”

The dowager rushed from the room.

Julian skewered Nora with his anger. “You, too, will go.”

The maid looked from Lily to Julian.

He pulled on the gold fob at his waistcoat pocket and glanced at his watch. “You have ten minutes or I throw you out.”

Her face scarlet, Nora attempted to form words. But she seemed palsied as she snapped her mouth shut and with a huff, scurried away.

Phillip Leland watched her go, then faced Julian. “I will depart myself this morning.” To Lily, he said, “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. This was a nasty business and I hated to be the bearer of such bad tidings.”

Whatever was in those broadsheets, Lily never wanted to know. “I would never ridicule you for bringing such a thing to light. Thank you.”

He inclined his head and quickly left Julian and her alone.

Julian walked toward her and made to take her in his arms, but she side-stepped him.

“I will make this up to you.”

Lightheaded, Lily steadied herself by putting a hand to the back of a chair. “You needn’t. It was not you who did this.”

“No, but I would not have you hurt.”

“So you’ve said.”

He blinked, as if he could not understand her words. “My mother will not hurt you again. Nor the maid.”

And what of you? Will you hurt me? “Thank you. I must go.”

She took a step and wobbly as she was, he was quick to take her arm.

“I’m well.” She pulled away from him. “I need to think on this.”

He swallowed. “I will speak with the publishers of these rags. Ruin them. I’ll see to it they never run other pieces about anyone.”

He was so dear to say it, but he was nigh unto penniless and they, so he said, were popular. He could not buy them off. “You must not spend your money or your time on them. You have tenants to aid, estates to run.”

He questioned her statement with a searching look on his face. “I promised you once I would call anyone out who ran such pieces about you.”

“I know. But what good does it do? There will be others.”

“I’ll see to it there are none.”

She put a hand to his cheek. “You’re kind, Julian. Sweet. Devote yourself to your people, your livelihood.”

“But you are my first concern.”

Was she? “I need a rest from this turmoil. The arguing. The hatred. The sadness.”

“Of course. I understand. Go upstairs. I’ll get the housekeeper to assign you another maid.”

“Thank you. One who is young and untried. And one I can take to Willowreach.”

He stepped to her and took her in his arms. With gentle fingers, he lifted her face. His own was ravished. “You want to go to Willowreach?”

“I was happy there.” We both were.

“I’ll go with you.”

She shook her head. “I must go alone. Let me, Julian. Let me. I need this.”

He pressed her close, his hands urgent on her back, his lips in his hair. “Promise me you’ll write to me when you want me once again.”

She placed a kiss to his jaw. “I will.”

Then she hurried away from him and all she’d hoped for but had not achieved.





Chapter Seventeen


Julian sat, watching his estate manager close the door to his study. He rose to walk to the window and look out on the kitchen garden. Lettuces and tomatoes bloomed. Cabbages were popping up their pale green heads through the thick loam. The oak trees swayed in the breeze. All nature went on, eager for the sun.

He had little joy of it.

Three weeks had passed since Lily had left Broadmore. The heat of late August was upon them and Julian noted the stay from the incessant rain and damp. Some of the crops had improved. His financial affairs had as well, courtesy of the sale of the Irish estate Leland had sold for him. He experienced some peace that he no longer dealt with the virulence of his mother. He kept well away from the dower house where she was installed with the two servants he’d allotted her. She did not venture near him. Wise of her.

The maid Nora had left the house without a peep. Glad of that, he thought it fitting she should have no severance, only her wages to date, and certainly no reference.

Among those in the estate cottages, his tenants inquired about Lily. Those especially eager to see her return were two who recovered from their bouts of bronchitis and parents of the children whom she’d help recover from croup and coughs. His stable master Docker and his two sons also asked after her. “She liked to ride, Your Grace.”

Julian could see they missed her smiling face, as he did at his table, in his parlor, in his arms.

He sighed and glanced to his desk. From London, he’d received a package he’d ordered from a friend of his in London who was a surgeon. The mahogany case contained a complete set of ear, nose and throat examination instruments. Strange items that his friend had written could help one diagnose aural diseases and laryngeal diseases. He’d added a set of small surgical knives, three scissors and a dozen German suturing needles plus a pair of forceps. Two weeks ago, he’d ordered them, hoping to give them to Lily upon her return here.

But each day that passed, his hope of her return died a little more. His effort seemed pointless because he wrote to her each day at Willowreach but she did not reply.