“Would you like to see my gown?” Lillian asked.
Beatrice agreed, and they spent several long minutes discussing fabric and cuts before Beatrice finally bade farewell. Lillian wandered back to the hair combs, but decided against the silver and sapphire for now.
She exited the dressmaker’s shop and turned for the milliner’s. Lillian walked no more than two steps when she recognized Fitzgerald, William’s driver.
“Miss Norwood,” Fitzgerald said with a tip of his hat.
He huddled in his greatcoat against the December’s wind but looked cheerfully down at her. A footman stood at attention by the carriage door and opened it in invitation.
“Mr. Pennington sent his carriage for your use, miss,” Fitzgerald added. “It’s our pleasure to take you wherever you need to travel today.”
“Thank you, Fitzgerald,” Lillian managed.
She wanted to refuse, to tell them she didn’t need the carriage for a walk around Chesham. However, the wind bit through her pelisse, and three days ago she had a fever and horrid cough. Weakness tugged her limbs despite her consuming joy.
So Lillian smiled up at them. “I’m off to the milliner’s,” she said and graciously entered the carriage.
* * * *
Exhausted, Lillian leaned her head against the carriage seat. She spent far too much time doing errands today and now only wished to rest. A nice cup of tea, perhaps one of the biscuits William sent over, and she’d sit in front of the fire.
William planned to call on her later, though now with the entire county aware of their courtship, she warned him there’d be more scrutiny. He hadn’t cared.
That, too, warmed Lillian. William didn’t care about gossip or the malicious tongues on so many. He cared about her. He loved her.
Smiling, she looked up at Fitzgerald and called her thanks. “I’ll not venture out again today,” she promised.
He looked worried, but nodded and waited until she let herself inside the cottage.
Still grinning, she hummed “Greensleeves” as she stoked the fire. Satisfied with her work, Lillian set the water to boiling. She just poured the tea when she heard horses clatter down the street.
William? No, he had business to see to in The Vale today and would return late. Mrs. Miller, come for more gossip? That seemed most logical; however, it didn’t stop Lillian’s heart from swooping in her chest when she looked out the windows.
Not William. Not Alice Miller, either.
Lillian didn’t recognize the carriage and frowned as it pulled to a stop. She stepped away from the window and picked up her tea. No sense letting it cool. In the setting sunlight, Lillian watched a woman exit the carriage in a blue winter pelisse.
Mrs. Claire Martins.
Lillian stepped further back. Did she want to open the door? No. Mrs. Martins knocked, and she hesitated again. Sighing, she cursed her manners and opened the door.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Martins,” Lillian said with a polite smile. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Claire Martins did not look pleased, but Lillian stepped back and allowed the other woman to enter the small foyer. She didn’t shed her gloves and pelisse; clearly she did not plan to stay long.
“I’ve just made tea, would you care for a cup?” Lillian asked and gestured into the front parlor.
“No. Thank you. I’ve come to have a word with you,” Claire said with a hard look. “If you don’t mind.”
Lillian suppressed a sigh and schooled her face into polite curiosity. “Of course,” she murmured and gestured for the other woman to sit.
Mrs. Martins looked around the room carefully, no doubt scrutinizing every inch of the small rented cottage. Lillian sat, her back straight and chin tilted defiantly, and waited for the perusal to end. Whatever Claire Martins found it was lacking in her opinion.
This didn’t surprise Lillian, either.
“It’s my understanding you are to attend Lady Shelby’s soiree with Mr. Pennington,” she began.
Lillian stiffened, her shoulders tense, but only tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Yes, I expect to.”
“This is a very clear indication of courtship,” Claire snapped. “A courtship I believe Mr. Pennington makes in error.”
She should’ve expected that. However, with the words now hanging between them, hard and mean, Lillian felt all her defenses rise up and surround her. But she took a deep breath of warm air and deliberately sipped her tea.
“There is no error between Mr. Pennington and myself,” Lillian assured the other woman. “And if this is what you care to speak on, then I suggest you leave my cottage.”
Mrs. Martins made no move to leave. Lillian honestly didn’t expect her to. “Yes, such a grand home, this pathetic little cottage. I believe it’s the most unkempt in Mrs. Miller’s possession. This is not the type of woman Mr. Pennington deserves, a woman who lives in such a place.”
“I believe,” Lillian said through gritted teeth, “that is for Mr. Pennington to decide.”
“Mr. Pennington is a great leader in our community,” Claire snapped. “A wealthy man who deserves a wife of his stature.”
“I am the granddaughter of a viscount,” Lillian reminded her coldly.
“With no dowry, no fortune,” Claire hissed. “Nothing. My Violet comes with a substantial dowry. And more, she’ll add to Mr. Pennington’s wealth. When her family lands and his merge, it’ll create an untouchable estate in this county.”
Taken aback, and unaware that Violet Simmons’s lands bordered William’s, she paused. She didn’t want William to give up anything to marry her. She had no desire to hurt him in any way.
“Be reasonable, child,” Claire continued in a calmer tone. “Love does not always last and may sour very quickly. Particularly when wealth is diminished because of it.”
Lillian tilted her chin a little higher. “You cannot oblige Mr. Pennington to care for your niece in any way,” she reminded the other woman with all the frosty disdain she felt.
“And you cannot avoid the comparisons,” Claire returned with a sharp nod. “End this courtship now, Miss Norwood. Don’t let it go too far. For when Mr. Pennington realizes what he’s lost, he will rue the day he met you.”
Lillian stood, her back straight. She vibrated with anger but held it in check as best she could. “Please leave my home,” she snapped. “I already rue the day I met you, Mrs. Martins.”
“Don’t be a fool, Miss Norwood.” The other woman stood but continued to look contemptuously at Lillian. “You’re much better off as a companion to the Lansdowne sisters. We were kind to you here. We introduced you to the sisters, knowing your needs.”
Lillian inhaled sharply. It was hardly appropriate to remind one of how far they’d fallen, but clearly Claire Martins didn’t care for propriety.
“You cornered me,” she corrected the older woman. “And tried to press me into a service I did not desire. You didn’t know me nor did you give thought to my needs.”
Mrs. Martins sniffed haughtily and without another word swept out the door, slamming it behind her.
Furious, Lillian took several calming breaths, but her rage refused to abate. Hands fisted, she sucked in a deep breath.
“How dare that woman!” she snapped in the silence of her cottage. “William can make his own decisions and so can I!”
Lillian paced the small parlor and tried to work off some of the excess energy and the anger and humiliation battling through her after Mrs. Martins’s visit. She tried to sit and drink her tea, but it’d cooled now, and she had no stomach for it, anyway.
With deliberate calmness, she pushed the plate of biscuits away and stared blindly at the tabletop. Flushed now, she walked into the kitchens, where the cooler air caressed her cheeks.
Damn Claire Martins for putting the hint in her mind, that niggling doubt. Because Lillian was all too aware of what happened when one leaped on faith and not facts.
William made it quite clear he loved her and planned to marry her
.
But she’d leaped with Edmund. Maybe not leapt, but she took it on faith and blind expectations that he’d marry her. The world did not move like that, did not grant everyone their dearest wish and deepest desires.
Mayhap she should step back. Allow for the expansion of William’s business, his fortune, his lands.
Was that not what her father always told her? Love didn’t last, but the family estate always would.
Lillian snorted and slapped her hands on the table. Her palms stung, but she ignored the slight pain. So much for the family estate, now in the hands of a cousin who detested her. Or her father’s words of wisdom, now ashes.
With measured steps, Lillian retraced her path into the parlor. Just in time to hear more horses. She froze. She had never had so many visitors since her arrival in Chesham months ago. Perhaps it was William.
Her heart clenched even as she hoped to see him. But when she looked out the parlor windows, once more she didn’t recognize the carriage. Lillian released a long sigh and bit her lip. She needed strength to see her through whatever happened next.
Deliberately waiting for the knock on the door, she once more opened it to the bitter winds. A tall, handsome man, bundled against the cold, took off his hat and bowed.
“Miss Norwood,” he said.
It took her a moment to realize who he was. Lillian blinked at the man for a second and suddenly realized who he was.
Mr. Tate. The cousin who inherited her estate.
Chapter Sixteen
With her jaw clenched, Lillian debated shutting the door in Mr. Tate’s face. “Why are you here?” she demanded in a rush.
“May I come in?” Mr. Tate asked with a small lift of his lips.
“No.” But she stepped back and beckoned him inside, out of the cold. She allowed him to enter less for propriety and mostly so she could shut out the winds.
She didn’t offer to take his outer things and certainly didn’t beckon him to enter further into the small cottage that was now her home. Lillian tilted her chin up and stared at the man.
“You look lovely,” he said and took her hand.
In a completely unexpected move, he kissed the back of it. Lillian stared at him and tried to reconcile the cousin she knew, the one who refused to grant her any additional money, and the man before her.
Lillian jerked her hand away and took another step back. “Why have you come to Chesham?” she demanded. “It was my understanding you wanted nothing to do with me.
“That is not true,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly unaffected by her anger. “I’ve come to tell you I’ve reconsidered your petition for an additional stipend. And I intend to increase your allowance to one thousand pounds a year.”
Lillian blinked at him, stunned. She had no idea… she thought five hundred, maybe, but… Lillian shook her head.
“What brought on this change?” she asked and swallowed hard. “I received a letter from my father’s steward just days ago informing me — ”
“I’m aware what the letter said,” Mr. Tate cut in. He looked apologetic and frowned. Not at her, Lillian realized. At his actions. At his letter. “I’ve regretted it ever since. I was petty and spiteful.”
Lillian blinked again at this admission. “Why? We’ve only met a few times, and I don’t believe I’ve ever offended you so profoundly.”
“I was hurt when you rejected my proposal of marriage,” he admitted. He looked around the cottage. From the entrance, it was possible to see everything on this level. “I’ve come to realize punishing you in this way is a terrible thing,”
“Mr. Tate,” she said slowly. Surely she heard him wrong. “I’m sorry, but you are mistaken. You’ve never proposed marriage to me.”
Tate cocked his head to the side and studied her. His eyes roamed over her face, around the room then back to her. Lillian had no idea what he was thinking. She had no idea what was happening here at all.
“Of course I have,” he insisted. But he didn’t snap at her or sound cruel. “I spoke with your father years ago, when he first fell ill. And I spoke with him many times after. Each time I visited, I inquired after you.”
Lillian shook her head but had no words to refute him.
“When I made my proposal and he… ” Tate shook his head and took a deep breath. “Your father informed me you were not interested in marriage to me. That you’d rather marry a goat than me.”
Eyes wide and truly horrified at this revelation, she tried again but her throat closed up.
“He said you were destined to become Lady Granville.” Tate cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “I knew then Granville would never marry you. He was too interested in his own adventures. Too absorbed in his own frivolity.”
“Father never told me of your interest,” Lillian insisted. She swallowed hard even as her mind raced with this news.
Tate looked as if she slapped him. His eyes widened and he looked ill. He shook his head, a sharp movement, and stepped away from her.
He hadn’t known Father never told her. He’d assumed she rejected him because — why? Because she’d rather be a countess than marry him? Lillian swallowed a harsh, bitter laugh. Once again her father had manipulated things the way he saw them. Not as they were, not for her best interested.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed in calming circles. What had her father done to her?
“Mr. Tate,” she said softly, “Father never informed me of your proposal or anything else regarding you. He was convinced Lord Granville would ask for my hand. I believe it was simply his own desire and he couldn’t fathom my life not going exactly the way he wished it to.”
Tate turned to her and studied her again. His eyes softened, the hard line of his mouth eased. “He’s gone now.” He took her hand and Lillian was too surprised to stop him. “Would you consider it now? Becoming my wife?”
Lillian opened her mouth to answer, but all she saw was William. His smile, the way his blue eyes danced with humor. His touch on her hand, on her bare skin. The way her heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.
“Miss Norwood, I’ve always regretted the thought you did not desire a match with me,” Tate said gently. “I’ve desired one with you for a long time. It’d be perfect for us, don’t you see? You’d be mistress of Lily Field Park again.”
She almost laughed. She’d wanted that so desperately for months. Years. But the house held nothing but regret now. Tainted by her father’s illness and his selfish desire to have her with him for seven long years. To keep her confined to that house with the promises of a sick man that she’d one day marry an earl and remain mistress of a grander home.
“You’d have all you’d ever need, all our children would ever need,” Tate added.
Lillian bit her lip. If she rejected him again, Mr. Tate would not take it well. She tried to focus on William once again, but all she heard was the echo of Claire Martins’s words. William and Violet Simmons would, indeed, make a lovely couple and their combined fortunes would secure their future for generations.
But the very thought of leaving William gutted her. Lillian turned from Mr. Tate and walked into the parlor. She sank onto the settee, her legs weak from his revelations. Beside her sat one of the blankets William gave her. She picked it up and held it to her.
Before she managed to order her thoughts, Tate walked to her and sat on the table in front of the settee.
He didn’t belong there. He sat where William had, where William came to care for her when she was ill. Tate didn’t belong in her cottage or in this room, and he most certainly didn’t belong on the table in front of her.
But Lillian swallowed those words. She swallowed the sharpness that cut through her and the bitterness that closed her throat.
“Perhaps, had I known you proposed marriage,” Lillian began slowly. “If I’d known you wanted me as your mistress of Lily Field Park, I likely would’ve happily agreed. But I thought you a very cruel man.”
She shook her head and m
et his gaze. Lillian set the blanket on the settee and folded her hands on her lap.
“I set about finding a new life for myself, meager as it might appear.”
Tate leaned forward but did not try to touch her. “I’m sorry you thought me cruel.” He shook his head and frowned. “I know I was. However, I hope you allow me the opportunity to prove to you I’m not the man I showed you.”
Lillian licked her lips. “At another time, had things been different, I would have. But… ” she trailed off.
“You met another,” Tate guessed.
Slowly, she nodded. “Yes. A man I likely do not deserve. A man many in this village prefer favored another woman.”
“But he favors you. I understand.” Tate said quietly. He nodded and leaned back just enough to show he truly did understand. “It does not surprise me, Miss Norwood.” He stood and looked down at her. “You’re one to be favored.”
His entire posture held regret and sorrow, and Lillian wondered what her life might be like with him. Might have been like. What changes her fortunes would’ve been had she known of Mr. Tate’s interest in her.
At the door she stopped him but didn’t know what to say.
“Should your suitor reveal himself as a fickle man,” Tate said, hand on the door. “Please reach out to me. I’ll wait for just a while.”
He opened the door as Lillian struggled with what to say to that. Before stepping through, he closed it again and reached into his inner coat pocket. The thin letter had her name scribbled across the front and Lillian automatically took it.
“For as long as you need.” With that, Tate opened the door and stepped out into the biting winter’s wind.
She made sure the door was secured and latched it tight. Clutching the letter, she returned to her parlor and the warmth of the fireplace. Once more she sank onto the settee and closed her eyes. Of all the people she ever expected to walk through her cottage door, Mr. Tate was never one of them. With trembling fingers, she opened the letter.
It authorized her stipend raised to one thousand pounds per annum with a balance of eight hundred and seventy five pounds for this year.
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