“I don’t presume to tell you where you do or do not belong, Lilith, but if your only reason for staying at the parish is to embrace that dismal excuse for an identity, then it’s not a good enough reason. You are none of those things. You are my sister. At one time, you knew a home with a doting mother. She was your real mother. I don’t care two snaps if she didn’t birth you. She was your mother just as she was mine. You would have never known any differently if that devil of a man hadn’t displaced you. But look at what you have now. You have a loving family who wants you to be part of their lives. You are beautiful and confident with the world at your fingertips. Look deeper, Lil.”
She bristled. As heartfelt as his words were, they did not describe her. They described how she ought to be, perhaps how she once saw herself, but these words did not describe her as she was now. They told an incongruous tale from that of the letters. He was her half-brother. The woman she thought had been her mother was his mother. Lilith was a bastard.
Before she could reply, he slapped his open palm against the desk. “I wish I had never shown you the letters. Damn me for the mistake. I wish I had only told you we were siblings and that our father sent you away after the death of our mother. I was a fool to tell you the truth. You only remembered me as a brother, anyway, and only remembered our parents as being your own. I regret my short sightedness.”
She clenched her dress in tight fists. “No, Sebastian. You did the right thing. Lies accomplish nothing. How cruel would it have been for you to tell me I’m legitimate, and after accepting the new life, have a stranger learn the truth and expose me as a fraud? I’m much happier knowing I’m not a member of your world. I don’t want that burden. I don’t want anything to do with the aristocratic life. I’m happier living the life I have built with people who know me for what I am,” Lilith argued.
Sebastian heaved a sigh, clearly frustrated, but Lilith could not help his reaction. If he wanted a polite response or a sentimental answer, he needed to look elsewhere, for she would answer only in truth.
“If I had burned the letters from the start, a stranger would have never learned the truth. Even now, you’re the only one holding you back from the future that should have been yours.” He rested his elbows on the desk and tugged at his hair. “I don’t want us to argue,” he said to the top of the desk, fistfuls of his hair clenched between fingers. “I’ve spent too much of my life missing you for us to argue.”
“I didn’t come here to fight about the letters. Could we please not fight?”
He meant nothing but goodwill, so why did she insist on contradicting his every word? It was this feeling of limbo, not knowing where she stood in life or how to move forward. Moving forward meant accepting his financial support instead of earning her own way as an independent woman and, more pointedly, accepting his version of her identity. It would be so much easier to move backwards or not to move at all. Forward held nothing but foreboding.
Releasing his hair from the stranglehold, he steepled his hands under his chin, staring at her in silence. Had she not felt so tense, so emotionally drained from the conversation, she would have laughed at the tufts of hair flying from his head. She wanted to laugh. A laugh would be just the thing to put an end to the disagreement. Try as she might to laugh, she only succeeded in grimacing.
“Do you find Lizbeth in good health?” Sebastian asked.
The sudden change of subject startled Lilith. She stared at him, not sure how to respond when her mind was otherwise engaged.
“I confess, as the time draws near, I worry,” he continued. “Her mother died in childbed with her sister, you know. Be honest. Is there cause for worry?”
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to focus on his question and disengage from the letters, from their brief quarrel, from her own inner turmoil.
“Lilith?” His voice nudged her, a pleading whisper. “Lizbeth’s health. Is it sound? Is she safe?”
When she opened her eyes, she saw a nervous twitch in his jaw, a tick of clenched teeth. Lilith shook her mind free and focused on his questions. The longer she took to answer, the more he would assume her hesitancy was in regard to Liz rather than herself.
She nodded, assuring him. “She’s sublime. If it isn’t tooting my own horn to say, she’s in good hands. I have yet to lose a mother or a babe.”
“There are no chances of complications then?”
“Complicated births aren’t uncommon, but I have worked with her throughout her confinement to ensure a healthy progression. You need not worry. I will be with her through the final steps.” Lilith tried to reflect confidence in her expression.
“And what if there is a complication? Should I summon a physician to be safe?” he asked, looking at her helplessly.
She straightened her posture by reflex, taken aback by his insinuation. He meant no insult, she reminded herself. He was simply worried for his wife and child. She allowed herself to relax before answering.
“No. No need for a physician,” she reassured. “My quick thinking, skill, and prayers are far superior than the abilities of any leech, I assure you.”
“I trust you, Lilith. I do. Truly. I trust you with my life, for that’s what Lizbeth is to me. She’s my life.” His steepled fingers scratched his chin before he twisted his mouth into a strained smile, trying to appear light-hearted, but clearly still thinking about his wife’s condition. “Now, let’s talk about how you’re enjoying meeting my in-laws.”
With thinned lips, she said, “While I want to enjoy my time here, I—.” A knock at the library door interrupted her.
They both turned to the opposite side of the room to see a head of russet curls appear from around the door. Lord Collingwood.
Ignoring the hitch in her breath at seeing the handsome face, Lilith jerked to her feet. She was not the least interested in conversing with him or with his handsome face.
Curtsying to Collingwood and Sebastian both, she excused herself.
Once outside the door, she felt a tinge of guilt at leaving so abruptly. He would think her rude. Thus far in her visit, Lord Collingwood had been the epitome of politeness and did not deserve rudeness.
But…well, it was simply too late now to regret her hasty departure.
Truth be told, she did not know the first thing about conversing with people like him and had no wish to learn. And besides, he was only predisposed to kindness on the pretense she was a lady and Sebastian’s legitimate sister. He would not be so kind if he knew the truth.
Defusing her guilt thusly, she made her way to the first floor in search of Lizbeth.
Walter wondered again if it was too soon to propose.
Throughout the second day of Lady Lilith’s visit, or rather Miss Chambers’ visit, Walter bumped into her everywhere he went. From her expression, one would think he encountered her intentionally.
He had not meant to find himself in the same room as her nearly every hour of the day, but he certainly did not mind when it happened, except every time it did happen, she straightened her spine like a schoolmistress, narrowed a steely gaze at him, and avoided conversation.
Despite the lack of verbal exchange and the accusatory looks she cast his way, he took each of the opportunities to admire her. She wore the same sprigged dress as the day before, and her hair was again worn straight and braided, not curled or styled.
He admired her simplicity, an elegant and natural beauty that needed no augmentation, least of all by ringlets, baubles, and perfume. Visions flashed in his mind’s eye of her in a ballroom, unadorned by jewels in a plain gown, shaming all the women of the beau monde in their layers of gaudy fabric, gold, and diamonds.
His valet Kory slipped the bug in his ear that Miss Chambers had denied the use of a lady’s maid. Walter could not imagine dressing without the aid of his valet. How would he shave without nicking his skin? How would he don the tailor-fitted coat without Kory’s help
? How would he tie the neckcloth evenly? How would he even know which stockings matched which waistcoat?
One look at Miss Chambers explained why she did not feel the need for a lady’s maid, but Walter wondered if she was too proud or simply unaccustomed to such luxuries. Surely, once she saw the rationale for a lady’s maid, she would never be without. As silly as he felt thinking of lady’s maids, he could not help himself. He absorbed every piece of information he heard about her.
Initiating conversation was the next goal. He could not very well propose if they had never conversed. Well, technically, he could. Engagements happened frequently in London without the couple exchanging words beyond the offer and acceptance, but Walter refused to be one of those couples, and he suspected Lady—er, Miss Chambers would, as well.
He could see it now. She would be sitting in the parlor alone, embroidering. Wait, no, she did not seem like the embroidering type. She would be sitting in the parlor alone, painting. Dash it all. That did not seem right either. Had she said at dinner that she painted? Would she even paint in a parlor? No, that would not do.
She would be sitting in the parlor alone, reading. Yes, that seemed a realistic fantasy. He would accidentally catch her in the parlor, apologize for the intrusion, but upon seeing her smile, he would proceed into the room, encouraged.
With quick strides, he would cross the room, drop to the floor before her, clasp her hands in his, well, after she politely set aside the book she had been reading, and then he would say, “Lilith, beautiful siren of my heart, will you do me the honor—.”
“Practicing, I see?”
Aghast, Walter spun towards the parlor door to see his mother observing him with her lorgnette.
With hand to heart, he laughed a single ha.
“Thank the Lord, it’s you, Mama,” he breathed in relief. “I thought for a minute it might be—”
“Lady Lilith, the siren of your heart?” she finished for him.
“Precisely.” He laughed again, his pulse still racing, and crossed the room to offer an arm to his mother.
After he saw her comfortably seated, he took the seat next to her.
“Shall I ring for a tray?” he asked.
“Heavens no. I’m going to float home at the end of the visit. I’ve never seen a family drink so much tea. I could use a sherry, or better yet, a brandy, to be honest,” Hazel said, looking around the room, her lorgnette still in hand. “Do you know, I haven’t seen a single strong drink since we arrived. Found it in abundance at the ducal estate, but not a drop here. Do you think the butler has it hidden from guests? Well, no matter. Let us return to your proposal. One day and already Lady Lilith has caught your eye?”
“She prefers Miss Chambers, Mama. I suppose after a lifetime of being one name, it is difficult to get used to another,” he observed.
“Nonsense. She’s being obstinate. Although, she needn’t get too used to Lady Lilith, either, if you’re planning to offer for her.” She patted his hand. “Walter, my boy, I’m pleased someone has finally caught your eye, but I hope you realize she may not give you a second glance.”
Startled, Walter stammered, “Why on earth would you say that?”
“She’s the daughter of an earl, dear boy. Without doubt, her brother will set up an impressive dowry for her. While her age won’t do her any favors, her lineage and newfound inheritance will curry favor amongst the nobles. She could very well aim for a duke. If you want her, you’ll need to woo her with more than your title, I’m afraid. Although, and I say this as both your mother and a woman, I cannot imagine any lady of sense not being taken by you. You take after your father. So handsome.” She tittered.
Walter cringed with embarrassment and shook his head. “You think the Trelowen estate would be too quaint? You think she would prefer to be a duchess in some ostentatious mansion like Cousin Charlotte’s?”
“After growing up in an orphanage and having to work for a living, I wouldn’t doubt that she would set her sights high. She has the means and money now. Can you really imagine her settling for Exeter when she could have a dukedom? And what of your plans to spend summers on the Cornwall coast with your Uncle Cuthbert? I can’t see her following you to a seaside cottage to take in the views or visit the tin mines. No, if you have your eye on her, you’ll need to do far more wooing to make any of that sound remotely attractive.”
Walter slumped his shoulders. “I hardly slept last night from convincing myself she would prefer the simple life of a baroness after having grown up in a parish. With her experience at the orphanage, I even convinced myself she might be interested in helping me with my philanthropic endeavors, whatever they end up being. I know, I know, I’ve already dreamt up a life with a woman to whom I’ve never spoken, but I know she’s the one, Mama. I know it. I can feel it.”
“I don’t doubt you, my boy,” Hazel said. “But heed my words; you will need to work for her. Her life has changed in the past year. She’s a lady now. No doubt, she will move here with Sebastian and Lizbeth, for no lady would continue to work when she has relations to care for her; it’s ungenteel. With the help of Lizbeth, she’ll enter Society. Once she tastes the life she was meant to live, she’ll not return to a simpler life. You must woo her, so if some fancy duke happens by, she’ll have eyes only for you. Yes?”
He nodded, remedying his posture with renewed confidence. The ladies during the London Season had certainly never resisted his charms, so if he could win them over with a single glance, surely, he could win over Miss Chambers.
“And you don’t mind, Mama, that her background is less than perfect?”
Hazel swatted his arm. “You forget my own humble origins, young man. She may have grown up in an orphanage, but she’s still a lady. Her background adds to her charm, I think. She’ll be quite the curiosity when she enters Society, the long-lost daughter of the fourteenth Earl of Roddam. Oh, I think she’s remarkable.”
Walter strengthened his resolve to pursue her. He need only engage her in conversation. Mix charm with compliments, and she would be his before the end of their visit.
A new vision formed in his imagination of the two of them waving to their family from inside a carriage. Wedding guests threw rose petals into the air as the couple rolled their way from the church to his estate to live happily ever after.
Chapter 4
One week passed before Walter found an appropriate opportunity to converse with Miss Chambers. Try as he might, she excused herself each time he approached or made a point to include others in the conversation so they could not talk exclusively. Earning a woman’s attention had never proven more difficult.
In sheer desperation, he had even accompanied Lizbeth and Miss Chambers for their daily walk about the castle grounds, but the topic of discourse during each of those outings focused on Lizbeth’s health and the approaching arrival of the baby. On one such walk, he had been forced to excuse himself when the conversation turned embarrassingly to the physical reasons Lizbeth must walk while in the family way.
Such words were not for mixed company.
After turning varying shades of crimson, Walter wished them both a good day and bowed out, vowing not to make the same mistake again. In hindsight, he suspected Miss Chambers chose the topics to discourage him from joining them. But why?
Fleetingly, he wondered if his mother had guessed accurately. Perhaps Miss Chambers noted his design and meant to discourage him because she had set her cap higher.
Dash it all.
Perseverance, he told himself. He must persevere. If he could get her alone long enough, she would see his charm, and from that point forward seek his company rather than avoid it.
Today, luck found him.
Roddam and Uncle Cuthbert were tucked in the library working on the slavery abolition bill, which bored Walter to tears in under an hour. Lizbeth and Mama were huddled in the parlor, clucking like hens. And Miss Ch
ambers was nowhere to be found, at least not without scavenging on the part of Walter. He at last spotted her sitting in the gazebo outside.
Armed with a shawl, he set out for the headland, planning all the way his excuse for disturbing her, and what better excuse than a gentlemanly display of offering her a shawl against the salty wind and sun? Of course, if she had wanted a shawl, she would have brought one, but he could not very well go up there without a proper excuse, so the shawl would have to suffice.
A warm wind welcomed him to the cliffside. Miss Chambers did not. In fact, she did not bother to look up when he approached.
He stepped into the gazebo and stopped next to her bench. Strands of her hair escaped the braid and whipped about her face, but she did not seem the least bothered. She looked out to the ocean, her hands folded in her lap, framed handsomely by the floral embroidery on a dress that had seen too many summers.
The only visible indication that she noticed his presence was the slight stiffening of her posture.
He held out the fabric. “Would you care for a shawl to shield against the wind, Miss Chambers?” he asked, feeling like an imbecile.
Looking up, she stared at him as though he had sprouted two heads. “You brought me a shawl?”
“I thought you could use a shield against the wind.”
“You thought of me?”
Her surprise made him self-conscious. Why should he not think of her? He was a gentleman, never mind his attraction to her.
With a suspicious glance at the shawl, she took it with a quiet “Thank you” and wrapped it around her shoulders, returning her gaze to the sea.
Dash it all. He had not planned for what to do after bringing the shawl. Should he sit? Should he leave? He shifted his stance to one foot and stared at her awkwardly, hoping for inspiration. Not the best start to a tête-à-tête.
“Are you planning to stand there for eternity or join me?” she asked, her eyes still trained on the sea.
“If you wouldn’t mind the company, I would be honored to join you. I shall fetch Liz or my mother to serve as chaperone,” he said, delighted for the chance to talk with her at last.
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