Falling from His Grace

by Kristin Vayden

  Liliah pulled her knees to her chest as she sat on her bed. She should be angry, she should be utterly distraught after the conversation with her father last night—yet she found she was none of those things.

  Perhaps it was that she was simply too numb to care any longer. Or, maybe, she was finally realizing that her father’s words only held weight if she let them.

  And she was determined to not let them sink into her heart.

  Become truth.

  Become anything other than hot, hate-filled air.

  She determined that the pity she felt was not for herself, but for her father.

  It was all the same words as before.

  And while they were significantly more accurate—after all, she was quite thoroughly ruined—the words were simply that: words.

  Her father had blustered, threatened to forbid her friendship with Lady Rebecca Grace, and even to hold her prisoner in her own home—yet she found it didn’t concern her as much.

  Worse came to worst, she would marry Meyer, and then divorce quietly.

  She’d made up her mind, and surely Meyer would understand and be willing to accept the scandal associated with such an act. Divorce wasn’t impossible, just uncommon. And while she certainly enjoyed her active social life, it was an acceptable sacrifice to simply be free.

  Dear Lord, how beautiful that word sounded, just in thought.

  She almost dared not whisper it.

  Reluctantly, she stood from her bed and rang for her maid. It would serve no good for her to mill about all day. Rather, she found the idea of escaping all too enticing, and she set about to uncover her father’s plans for the day, and when would be the perfect time to steal away.

  After she was readied for the day, she requested tea be served in the library, where she was certain she’d find Samantha. Since today wasn’t a usual day to accept callers, her sister would certainly be enjoying the view of Hyde Park while immersing herself in some sort of novel.

  Liliah left the confines of her room, nodding knowingly to the footman placed opposite her door—no doubt assigned with notifying her father of her whereabouts. That would complicate her escape later, but not make it impossible, or so she hoped.

  As expected, she found her sister in the library, and the sight of her warmed Liliah’s heart from its numb state. “Good”—Liliah glanced at the large grandfather clock in the corner—“afternoon.”

  “Look who decided to leave her exile,” Samantha replied with a warm smile. “I was worried for you, but expected you’d emerge when you were ready.”

  “How empathetic of you,” Liliah replied with feeling. “But I am much stronger than he thinks,” she added in a hushed whisper.

  Samantha nodded, then adjusted her posture as Liliah took a seat beside her on the brocade couch.

  “Are you going to tell me the story, or am I left to my own imagination?” Samantha asked, setting her book neatly on her lap.

  “I’m afraid I created quite the scandal—danced with someone other than Meyer.” Liliah rolled her eyes with effect, but didn’t add details about the scandalous reputation of the man who requested that dance.

  “Ah, I see.” Samantha didn’t inquire further, yet her expression was curious and expectant.

  “What are you reading?” Liliah asked, shifting the focus.

  “Romeo and Juliet.” Samantha blushed.

  “Ever the romantic,” Liliah teased. “That is a good thing.”

  Samantha nodded once, then frowned. “Do—”

  The knock on the library door interrupted Samantha’s words, and Liliah looked up expectantly.

  A maid brought in the tea service, followed by their butler. As the maid curtseyed and set out the service, Liliah’s attention was directed to the butler, who carried a card on a silver platter.

  It had been weeks since Liliah had received a missive that wasn’t an invitation—she suspected her father had some sort of involvement in it. So it was with a suspicious heart that she took the heavy envelope from the tray. Immediately her eyes fell to the navy-colored seal on the fold.

  Greywick.

  Her heart pounded with trepidation before she assured herself that it was probably simply Meyer.

  Though why he’d send a missive confused her.

  After all, only betrothed couples could send correspondence, and his taking advantage of that liberty only strengthened their betrothal. It was curious indeed.

  “Thank you.” Liliah nodded to the butler as he took his leave. Apparently there was no servant awaiting a response.

  She lifted the seal and then twisted her lips in frustration.

  Open.

  The missive had clearly already been opened, as the wax seal was broken. Her suspicion that her father was reading her correspondence was confirmed.

  “Who sent it?” Samantha asked, serving herself tea.

  “Meyer,” Liliah remarked, showing her sister the letter’s already broken seal. “Which is why it made it to my person. Is nothing sacred?” Liliah asked in a frustrated whisper.

  “Oh my.” Samantha’s brow pinched in empathy and she shook her head.

  Liliah sighed, then lifted the letter from its envelope.

  Four o’clock at the Serpentine, if you wish.

  H. Regards—M

  Liliah reread the words, studying the ‘H’ before the closing of the letter.

  It was quite odd, and she was sure that Meyer wished to communicate something only she would catch, just in case her father read her correspondence.

  Belatedly she wondered if Meyer’s father did the same.

  Life had turned into quite a muddy soup of a mess.

  She reread the letter.

  “Is something wrong?” Samantha asked, taking a sip of her tea.

  Liliah glanced at her. “No, just curious.”

  “Because?” Samantha prodded.

  “It’s probably nothing, yet it seems as if Meyer is wishing to meet me—which I find strange. Unless his father is behind the idea, in which case I wouldn’t find it surprising at all.”

  Samantha tilted her head, then whispered quietly, “What if he wishes to speak to you about something he knows is of a sensitive nature?”

  Liliah nodded. “Perhaps. Regardless, such a meeting will get me out of the house, and with the approval of our father as well.” Liliah set the letter aside and reached for a delicate blue-flowered teacup. The steam swirled around her cup as she poured the liquid, then disappeared as she added a generous amount of cream.

  “How do you ever enjoy the flavor of the tea with that much cream?” Samantha asked, not for the first time.

  Liliah smiled in response. “What makes you think I wish to enjoy the flavor of the tea? Maybe I simply enjoy the cream,” she teased.

  “How positively uncouth,” Samantha replied in her best nasal tone, clearly attempting to imitate an overly proper dowager.

  Liliah giggled in response.

  Samantha set down her tea and turned her body to face her sister fully. Liliah sobered and studied her sister. “Yes?”

  Samantha took a steady breath and lowered her gaze. “Do you think . . . that perhaps Father has designs for my future, as he has for yours?”

  Liliah bit her lip, thankful Samantha wasn’t studying her expression. Hadn’t that been on her heart for over a year? The idea that her father would oppress Samantha’s already quiet spirit to the point of extinguishing it?

  Samantha glanced up, meeting her sister’s gaze with a forthright one of her own.

  Liliah studied her sister. Her impulse to protect her from everything unpleasant and dangerous welled up within her, yet as she met Samantha’s gaze, she noted the resolve deep within that gave Liliah the courage to be fully honest.

  Because while Samantha was quiet, that didn’t mean she was weak.

  And just because she obeyed, didn’t mean she didn’t have her own opinions.

  “Yes. I’m utterly terrified of it,” Liliah answered, then reached out with her fre
e hand and grasped her sister’s hand. “And I wish I knew how to save you from it. I’m already working on a few ideas, and if I must marry Meyer—and it certainly is looking like that is what will happen—then he and I will be your refuge, and you will have nothing to worry about,” Liliah promised, hoping she could make good on it when the time came.

  “I see.” Samantha nodded. “I suspected as much, but hoped that maybe as the second daughter—”

  “You’re just as worthy as me, but you’re worthy of love, Samantha, and if I have anything to say about it, Father won’t strip that from you as well.” Liliah blinked back fierce, protective tears.

  “Thank you.” Samantha nodded, causing a tear to slide down her cheek and into her lap.

  Liliah gave a slow nod of affirmation.

  “Thankfully I still have time before my season.” Samantha gave her sister’s hand a slight squeeze, then released it so that she might pick up her tea.

  “At least a year,” Liliah confirmed.

  “There is much that can happen in a year,” Samantha murmured, then took a sip of tea.

  “Truer words have never been spoken,” Liliah replied and took a sip of her tea as well.

  Samantha’s gaze flickered to the letter. “Will you meet him?”

  Liliah set her teacup in the saucer with a slight clank. “Yes. If for no other reason than to escape this house.”

  Samantha gave a gentle chuckle. “You’ve always had a restless heart.”

  “And you’ve always had a contented one.”

  “True enough.”

  Liliah finished her tea and passed the next hour in quiet company with her sister. As the afternoon waned, she excused herself to don a walking gown for her meeting with Meyer. After Sarah had assisted her with readying herself, Liliah bid her join her on the walk. It was a nuisance to have a chaperone, but on the occasions when she didn’t sneak from the manor, it was required in order to pass through the door.

  As she took the stairs to the foyer, she wasn’t surprised to find her father by the door, waiting, his cold gaze studying her as if determining the risk in letting her leave the premises. A footman, one she didn’t recognize, stood beside him stiffly.

  Irritation flared within her as she approached her father, yet she held her tongue in check. She didn’t want to jeopardize the opportunity to escape for a while.

  “I see you’ve accepted the invitation.” Her father spoke in a clipped tone as he placed his hands behind his back.

  “Indeed,” Liliah replied, watching him warily.

  He took a step toward her. “You will be on your best behavior. Your reputation is currently questionable, based on the company you’ve been keeping.” He bit out the last words as he slowly circled her. “To accompany you, I’m sending along Fredrick. He’s to be of any . . . assistance.”

  Liliah bit her tongue, using all her will to resist giving a scathing retort, and rather than reply and risk her control, she simply nodded.

  “Very good.” He met her gaze, then strode away.

  Liliah closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself from the searing anger, then took a deep breath. “Come along, Sarah.” She turned to the footman. “And Fredrick.” She practically sneered. As if she believed he was simply a footman. She’d never seen him before, and she was quite certain she’d at least recognize all the hired footmen in her home.

  As soon as she stepped from the manor, her heart started to calm. The sky was a pale blue with only a slight smattering of clouds, and for once it looked as if it might not rain. The air danced with a slight breeze, and Liliah relaxed into the embrace of the open space. A smile teased her lips as she made her way to the park. It wasn’t a far walk, and she could have easily readied a carriage, but she found she wanted—no, needed—the time to unwind. Plus, ladies were to walk at a sedate pace, so surely that would be the perfect excuse to take her sweet time in returning home.

  She grinned at her devious thoughts. Yet they were tempered with the sound of the two sets of footsteps that lagged behind.

  Freedom, but not solitude.

  At least not today.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Lucas tapped his knee impatiently as he watched from his carriage window. Truly it was a rare spectacular day, and as such he could have taken his curricle, yet he wished for privacy.

  Craved it.

  He studied the gentry as they strolled around the park. The sound of horses’ hooves pounding the earth drew his attention to Rotten Row, where two dandies tested their horseflesh. The park was teeming with activity, everyone set on enjoying the break in the weather.

  Bloody rotten luck.

  He wondered just how Meyer had invited Liliah to the park. All he knew was that she would arrive near the Serpentine by four. He lifted his gold pocket watch and noted that he was still early.

  Thankfully, Meyer wasn’t planning to make good on his invitation, which left only one maid to evade to have Liliah to himself. Or so was the plan. Yet as he studied the path that wound toward the Serpentine from the roadway, he spotted Liliah, along with two chaperones.

  One of whom wasn’t of the feminine variety.

  And was likely her father’s hired guardian.

  The lovely day took a dark turn.

  Irritated at this complication, Lucas debated how best to proceed. He opened the carriage door and stepped down, nodding to the driver. He strode toward Liliah. Her pace was sedate, as if savoring each moment in the park. A gentle grin tipped her lips as she glanced up at the sky, then traced her gaze down the tall trees, unaware of Lucas’s intense study of her person.

  The maid behind her seemed ill at ease as she glanced at the footman, and Lucas grew suspicious himself. The footman’s nose was slightly crooked, not overly obvious, but anyone who had engaged in fisticuffs would notice. He wondered where the duke had found the man.

  Disregarding him, Lucas wound his way around the path so that he would catch Liliah’s eye in a more natural way, rather than have it appear as if he was intentionally seeking her out.

  He walked around a hedge and took the path she was already on, slowing his pace to appear unhurried. He lifted his gaze upward to study the foliage on the tall oak and beech trees. The breeze rustled the leaves and he forced a calm that replaced the air of excited expectation that lingered in his blood.

  He purposely kept his gaze from the trio in front of him, instead shifting his regard from the trees to the Serpentine. A small gasp made his lips twitch in amusement before he flicked his gaze forward, meeting Liliah’s wide blue eyes. Her expression was surprised, then shifted to a knowing amusement.

  Whatever Meyer had said was cryptic enough that she clearly hadn’t expected to see Lucas.

  Her approval of his presence, however, was evident by the grin that spread across her beautiful features.

  “Why, if it isn’t Lady Liliah.” Lucas bowed, then reached for her hand.

  A soft blush illuminated her features as he grasped her offered hand and kissed it.

  “Lord Heightfield,” she replied, her gaze amused. “What a surprise and delight.”

  “You stole my very thoughts, my lady,” he answered, studying her features. “It’s quite a lovely day, is it not?”

  “Quite. The fresh air is a welcome . . . distraction.” Liliah spoke with a wry expression, and Lucas’s memory shifted to her hasty exit from the ball last night.

  “I trust you’re doing well.” He spoke softly, studying her eyes for the answer her lips couldn’t give.

  “Well enough, my lord. Thank you for asking.” She gave a brave nod, and Lucas wondered just how often she’d chosen to see the joy in life, when it was a difficult task. And how often he’d chosen to do the opposite.

  “Of course.”

  “And how are you?” Liliah asked, tilting her head, her gaze flickering to his hand grasping hers.

  “My day is improving by the moment,” he answered with a flirtatious wink, not releasing her. “Would you care to join me for a s
troll?” He shifted her hand to his arm, anticipating her acceptance.

  Liliah grinned knowingly at his actions and fell into step beside him, even as the footman and maid silently followed. “Interesting company you’re keeping,” Lucas commented, glancing behind them.

  “Ah, yes. It’s quite frustrating, and I’m quite certain that my every move will be reported with alacrity, yet I’ll face that problem when it comes.” Liliah spoke with an irritated tone.

  “I see.” And Lucas did, all too well. Anger simmered under his skin as he considered just how Chatterwood treated his daughter like a prisoner under house arrest. And he was quite certain Liliah didn’t disclose the full extent of her father’s control.

  And if there was one aspect of her father he understood all too well, it was the desire for control.

  For how it made one feel powerful, sovereign, capable.

  How often had he used his love of control as an excuse?

  It shamed him to think he had that character flaw in common with the Duke of Chatterwood.

  “You’re quite pensive, my lord,” Liliah commented, pulling his thoughts back into line.

  “Just reflective,” Lucas replied quickly, offering her a warm smile, hoping to alleviate whatever tension his silence may have created. He made the effort to enjoy each stolen moment.

  For that is exactly what their time was—stolen.

  “Did you enjoy the party last eve?” Liliah asked.

  Lucas nodded. “I had quite a brilliant dance partner.”

  “Truly? I did as well,” she teased. “My toes were stepped on only once or twice, quite the improvement.”

  “Foul,” he responded, earning a saucy grin. “I did nothing of the sort. I’m quite capable on the dance floor, even if I say so myself.”

  “Who’s to say I was referring to my dances with you?” Liliah asked tauntingly.

  “And here I fell for the trap.” Lucas chuckled. “I see my folly.”

  Liliah grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with intelligence and mischief. “I would never abuse your dancing to your face, sir. Merely behind your back.”

  Lucas gave a low chuckle. He played at offence. “Ah, so that is how the game is played. I understood you to have a more frank character than this.”