I take my husband in my bed, not my meals.
“I prefer to dine here.” She tucked into her eggs.
“It’s most, most unladylike. What will the staff think of you? I forbid it.” She took hold of the bell pull, ready to summon a servant.
Lily froze her with a glare. “As I see it, madam, you can forbid me nothing. If I wish to eat here, I harm no one.”
“You know nothing of harm. Nothing of procedures or traditions.”
Lily put down her fork and knife. “I know that if I dine here, I relieve the staff of work they need not do.”
The lady clasped her hands together so tightly, her knuckles went white. “Servants are here to work. They are paid. They have their keep. That is sufficient.”
Lily had no idea what each person earned, nor what their keep cost the estate—and she’d correct that lack. However, she did know that the reason she’d seen so little of her husband of late was his worry over money. For the past ten days or so, Julian had spent long hours with the estate manager to examine the records. He’d told her no financial details. Each day, he worked and each day, he became more vexed, his temper short, his attention wandering, his passion for her dulled. What little time he did take to talk with her was riddled with concern over the incessant rain, the drowning crops and the disgruntled tenants. His preoccupations with the welfare of those on Broadmore, as well as reports of more tenants at Willowreach down with croup and bronchitis, had pushed her aside. She disliked Julian’s aloofness. Feared it might erode what intimacy they’d begun to build. Money, which she’d always taken for granted, might buy comfort and splendor, but it did not contribute to contentment.
“You must finish your meal quickly.” The dowager waved a hand at her.
“This is my house, madam.”
“No, it is mine.” The woman preened, her thin nose reminding Lily of a bird of prey.
Lily itched to be so crass as to remind this lady of those benefits that she owed her. Or rather her father. “You will not chase me off, madam.”
“I am chatelaine here, you presumptuous chit. You come to England to throw your father’s money at us. You are an American spawn of a pirate, spreading your legs for Chelton so that he—”
Lily set her jaw, determined to maintain her dignity. “He, madam, is referred to as ‘His Grace,’ and I detest the insult to my father and myself.”
“As do I, Mother.”
In the entrance to the dining room stood Julian. He looked the very devil, his hair plastered to his skull, wet from the rain, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue.
“This is unseemly, Mother.” He approached her and she sniffed, uncowed. “I thought better of you.”
Lily frowned over that. She hadn’t thought better of the dowager. She’d been given no reason to think highly of her. If Julian and his mother were to have a confrontation, Lily was determined to witness it.
But the woman did not give in easily. “I will not have your wife creating havoc in this house, Chelton.”
Lily’s stomach knotted. How could the woman be so insulting to her son? Was she determined to ignore her husband’s death? Why? Honoring the man now did nothing to redeem herself for the way she’d treated her husband when he was alive.
Julian raked his hands through his disheveled hair. “For Lily to take her breakfast where she pleases does not inspire havoc.”
“The servants will take advantage of her.”
You take advantage of me.
“I doubt that, Mother. She’s had servants.”
“Not ours.”
“Well, I tell you now, madam,” he bit off his words, “she may dine here.”
And soon, I’ll do the menus. Consult with the cook. And the housekeeper.
“You make a mistake to allow it,” the dowager warned him.
Lily put down her napkin and rose. She’d take her power into her own hands. “I must begin my correspondence. You may find me, Julian, in the pink parlor.”
“No!” Her mother-in-law shook in her vehemence.
Giving a small curtsy to both, Lily sailed past them.
“Let her go, Mother, and stop this arguing. She is my wife.”
I am. And always will be.
One look out the window of the salon and Lily put down her pen. Had the rain finally stopped? Days and days of it had become oppressive.
In a rush, she finished her letter to her father. The day the Setons and she had left London for Broadmore, her family had once more departed for Paris. Her father and Pierce had meetings with bankers in Paris and Ada had appointments with Worth and French lingerie designers.
Her father had bid her goodbye on the steps of their house on Piccadilly. Julian left her to her privacy and spoke with the coachman as she bid adieu to her father.
With a kiss to her cheek, her father whispered, “Enjoy your new husband. He’ll recover from this loss in time and be yours again soon. And I like him.”
She hugged him. “Me, too.”
“I noticed that.”
“Write to me of Paris. How Ada and Pierce get on. And Marianne.”
“Ah, well.” He raised a wicked black brow. “That one will have no troubles. Remy will be upon us, I’m sure, with all due haste.”
“Do you object?” she asked while the coachman cooled his heels holding open the door for her.
“I’m not sure yet. That depends on many things. Now get in. Off you go.” He’d handed her up into the carriage. The coachman climbed to his box and slapped the reins.
She’d left her family to come to this one, this house, these conflicts with her mother-in-law. She was not quite as happy with her husband as she had been at the start of their marriage, but perhaps that was a normal change. She was not happy with much else, especially here at Broadmore. And the rains only exemplified her dour mood.
But since the sun was shining…
And it appeared to be glorious outside, she must take advantage of the weather. She sealed her letter to her father, and gathered her others to Ada and Marianne. Lifting her skirts, she raced from the salon, up the staircase to her rooms. Hopes to escape the house and its troubles burst like bubbles in her brain.
In minutes, she’d changed her black gown to her riding outfit. This new one, fine red serge and part of her trousseau, had a skirt she loathed, but it was normal attire—and God forbid, her mother-in-law see her in pants. She hated to think of it. Down the back stairs and out the kitchen doors, she hurried along the shady lane toward the stables. She hadn’t yet visited. Not in the torrential rain. But this was a perfect time.
She’d been introduced to the stable hands the day after they’d arrived from London. The master groom, Docker, was a burly, balding man who had kindly brown eyes and a big smile for her. His two stable boys were sturdy chaps who resembled him. Introduced by only their given names, they were most likely his sons.
The stable block was a long red-brick structure half a mile from the main house. She’d glimpsed it from her bedroom, just through the evergreens. The doors were open and she walked in, expecting to see one of the hands. No one was about. All the horses were gone, out to pasture, she surmised. The sliver of sunshine that pierced the heavy clouds must have inspired everyone to get out and about.
Well, she wasn’t going back to the house, that was certain. She wanted to walk, clear her mind.
She turned for the lane south. This was a perfect time to introduce herself to the tenants. As with so much else, the dowager had her own dictums about how Lily must comport herself with these people. At all costs, she had ordered her to stay away from the village.
‘They live in squalor and you mustn’t go near.’ She’d told Lily that night before last during dinner when Julian had brought up the tenants’ maladies. Three of the tenants’ wives were bed-ridden with coughs. Many of the children, most of them very young at three and four, were down, too.
Lily had sighed. ‘But if they are incapacitated, I can help.’
Her mother-in-law had no
t heard of it. ‘You are strong. Stay that way.’
‘But I was a nurse in a hospital in—’
‘Julian!’ With a clatter, the woman had dropped her fork to her plate. ‘For the love of heaven, forbid her this, will you?’
‘No. He cannot.’
He had put up a hand to stop their argument. ‘Mother, Lily, please—’
The woman had stared at Lily. ‘Your job is to remain strong. Bear an heir. A spare. You are not to go traipsing off and become ill yourself. You might already be increasing.’
Lily had considered her hands in her lap. She would not give her mother-in-law any insight into the passion that bound Julian and her together more than once every night.
She had lifted her face and met the lady’s gaze. ‘I hear your rationale.’
‘Good. That’s settled then.’
She had let the woman think what she wished.
She would, anyway.
* * * *
Hours later, Lily trudged her way back to the stables. The walk to the village had been longer than she expected. The work to nurse the sick there had been more than she’d predicted, but rewarding. She needed another medical kit filled with instruments. She’d order it tomorrow and keep one kit here, one at Willowreach. Today, she’d learned how necessary such items could be. She’d taught two women how to build croup tents and tend kettles for constant hot steam. Tomorrow, she’d return to them. But when she did, she’d ride instead of walk.
Inside the stable block, Lily saw no one. At four in the afternoon, they should have been heading back. But then she wasn’t familiar with English farming ways. Perhaps they let their animals out for more of the day. The searing Texas heat demanded ranchers send their animals out at dawn and bring them in by noon or one before the sun fried them to a crisp.
Resigned to returning to the house, she took a few steps.
Someone was here. She heard them. Two men with bass voices. In the far stall.
Her feet fell on tampered earth and scattered hay so she made no sound as she strode toward them.
But she stopped and cocked her head to listen.
One of the men was Julian.
“The sale of that land in Tipperary was profitable.”
She smiled to herself. I know it was.
“Indeed,” Phillip Leland agreed.
Discreet about it, too. As I asked him to be.
“A stroke of luck, I’d say, to find a buyer so quickly.”
Not very.
“I’d like to thank them for their purchase,” Julian said.
“Not a good idea, Seton. Anonymity is what the buyer asked for.”
“That’s the one bit of good news I’ve had in weeks, Leland. But I must press upon you that tomorrow, I don’t want you to reveal the sale. More than that, I do not want the will read aloud. I wish to heaven you could change this. Overlook it.”
“I’m bound by ethics as His Late Grace’s executor. I must do as instructed in the written will.”
“Why do that? You must see that to read these clauses aloud will only irritate my mother.”
Lily stopped breathing. More trouble from her mother-in-law? Was she not causing enough already?
Leland remained silent.
“I see. Of course.” Julian again, frustrated. “My father wanted the will read aloud. Of course, he wished that. Even after death, they never stop impaling one another!”
She shrank backward.
“Are we certain everyone will attend? I understand you have contagion in the village.”
“We do and yes, they have agreed to come. My estate manager is quite ill. But he will make the effort and arrive to hear the final terms.”
“Lady Carbury, too?”
“Oh, yes,” Julian said, weariness in his words. “My sister brings along the earl. As if he’d let her out of his sight.”
“She’s very unhappy,” Leland said. “I scarcely knew her when I visited last week. She is beside herself. A different person.”
“Yes. From the night he decided to court her, Elanna turned. At the Paris Opera, we were.” Julian cursed beneath his breath. “I wish she hadn’t agreed to wed him. Nothing for it now.”
“Carbury required no dowry. Shocking that.”
“Ugh. Not really, Leland. Carbury wanted only her in his bed.”
“That much desire is not healthy when it’s one-sided.”
Julian sighed. “The crux of their problem.”
“One good thing about tomorrow. Lord Burnett agreed to attend.”
“Ah, my cousin Valentine will be ecstatic if my father has given him that painting of his mother. He’s been after us for years for that. With more money than a choir of angels, he needs only those things he desires. He’ll be over the moon with the gift.”
“And what of the gratuities to the servants?” Leland’s voice was low and troubled. “Can you pay them?”
“I can.”
Julian had not shared with her any of the conditions of his father’s will. Awards of money to the staff was a noble gesture of the late duke whom she never would have thought capable of such kindness.
“Should I ask how you got it?”
Lily would bet it was her marriage settlement.
Julian scoffed. “I didn’t win it at the tables, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Your wife’s dowry then?”
“No.”
No?
“Your Grace, to settle the questions in the City of your finances, I need to know how you got the cash. I daresay it’s not a new mortgage. I would have had to officiate at that.”
“The Irish sale was a boon. But I also had those winnings at cards from the last time I was in Paris. That’s where the money came from to pay Elanna’s debts. And that other money I told you to put aside for her.”
Julian put aside money for Elanna?
“Kind of you to offer her that means of escape,” Leland said with sorrow.
“She took Carbury’s offer too quickly.”
“Yes,” Leland said. “She had to marry, sooner or later. At least she does not bear your financial burden.”
“We’ll weather this,” Julian said with a steely will and a bit of bravado. “I will.”
“Your determination is welcome, Your Grace. But we are in desperate straits. I’ve done the tally. Our mortgage payments equal now more than half our income.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open. Her father always said that one did not accumulate debt greater than a tenth of one’s income. Julian’s was more than half?
“Lack of money,” Julian said with a weary sigh. “It rules estates, marriage, even the question of love.”
The question?
Lily’s head reeled. She stepped backward, her palms to the rough wood of the stall to steady her. How much of Julian’s statement was true? She had believed he had married her at the very least because he valued her. Liked her. Even desired her.
She had thought that as their marriage progressed, that he and she had a relationship built of respect and passion which could blossom into love.
Could she have deluded herself?
Julian was pacing, his footsteps crunching dried hay. “I had approximately eight thousand pounds left. I used half to spruce up Willowreach before my wedding. So I have the cash for the servants, Leland. I’m happy to pay it. It’s the one request my father made of me that makes me proud of him.”
Lily put her hand to her throat. Tears blurred her vision. That her husband would use his money to save his sister from a disastrous marriage was valiant. That he’d use it to refurbish his home for her was sweet.
But if he loved her wealth more than her, what value did he place on their marriage?
* * * *
“Are you concerned about the reading of the will tomorrow?” She ventured to ask Julian in their bedroom that night, hoping to draw him out and have him confide in her.
“My mother will wail,” he said, shrugging out of his robe and kicking off his slippers to climb
into bed naked. “She always expects more than she gets. Nothing new there. An embarrassment. As for Elanna? She appears to be without emotions.”
“I worry about her.” Lily walked around to Julian and sat beside him. “I hate to think how much she dislikes him.”
“Dislike? Hardly,” he said, wincing. But he took her by the wrist and planted a seductive kiss in her palm. “Don’t think of it. Come here.”
Happy to do that, she bent closer.
His lips on hers were a brand.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
“I’m here.” His eyes cleared, registering her complaint. But he chose to turn it aside and sank to nibble at her shoulder. “Always have been.”
She didn’t want to argue, but she pushed away. His large dark eyes swept over her, desire for her sending her into a frisson of need. She trailed one hand over his muscular chest to his lean hip and groin. “After the will is read tomorrow, we’ll put our lives in order, won’t we? And get back to adventures in hay stacks and carriages?”
He threw back his head to laugh and grabbed her to him for a stunning kiss. “We’ll do them all, Your Grace. But first—” He wiggled his brows, happy for the moment. “Why don’t you perfect how well you ride?”
He was too disarming. “Haven’t I proven that?”
“With my horses, darling. Not with me.” He led her to spread her legs and sink over him, large and hard as he was.
Her mouth fell open. Her body swelled to take him inside. And she was lost, found, swept up, his arms around her.
As his fingers pushed up her negligee, she surrendered conscious thought. When he sucked her nipples into diamonds, Lily arched up into that lusty realm where he made her soar and tremble. As he rocked her to a throbbing height, she joined him in the rapture she craved. Later, mindless, she crashed into his solid embrace.
Reality returned with a piercing thought. In the midst of enjoying him, she’d forgotten that new torment that he might not love her. The lack cut her like a knife. The wound, salved by his caresses, went deep. No sutures bound it up.
Searching for remedies, she lay awake for hours while Julian slept on. The only one was simple—and superficial. She could seduce him to remain in bed with her for endless days where she might have physical proof of his devotion.
Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1) Page 24