Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Kate's dark, thick brows drew together before the warning came. It made no difference, for Lily expected it. If she hadn't been jilted twice now, she might have ventured to agree with Kate.

But Lily would not falter. Especially not for another man.

"You are a dear friend and have done a great service by taking me in after the scandal, so please don't take this the wrong way, but that is absurd," Kate said. "You cannot travel across England to marry a stranger and live on the Isle of Wight. You have no idea who the man is. What if he is seventy and prefers the company of goats? Oh goodness"—Kate's eyes widened—"what if he wants ten children?"

Lily pried the newspaper from her friend's hand with a scowl. "Don't be silly."

"What if he doesn't approve?"

"Of what?"

"Your obsession with the stars?"

Even in Lily's haste to be rid of her family, it was a very real concern. She had endured their lack of interest and encouragement for some time now.She rubbed her wrist to distract from the way it was suddenly difficult to draw breath. Could she survive her future husband casting her off in the same way ?

Her plan to answer the advertisement was the best solution that she could think of apart from joining a convent, and that was less than desirable. And spinsterhood meant staying with her family, which was even more so.Beyond being stuck, she'd be a further burden to her father, and she didn't wish to bring trouble about.

"I won't lie. Being the source of gossip is not easy, but with time, it becomes easier to bear. We will face this tide together. You don't have to make a hasty decision to run away."

She was not running— exactly . Lily was merely fixing a wrong, a spot left vacant quite suddenly that she had expected to be filled by now. She was without a husband, so she must find another. That had always been expected of her, especially now that her father had another four daughters after marrying her stepmother.

Lily collapsed against the sofa with a frustrated groan and pushed away a taxidermy of a mallard ready for flight. "It would be easier if you agreed instead of pretending to be the voice of reason. Charlotte does a fine job of that."

Her best friends were always looking after Lily and her scatter-brained ideas. If only they could forget about the time she caused an explosion in the scullery kitchen after reading an interesting book on war tactics. But no. Her eyebrows had luckily grown back, and Kate recovered her hearing in her left ear, but the book had been removed from the house, and her father had left for London for far too long afterward.

"Felton might be gone, but there are still plenty of men?—"

Voices, frantic and loud, echoed out in the hallway.

"Oh God." Lily's stomach soured and suddenly the world tipped.

"What have you done, Lily?" Her stepmother cried from the other side of the door. Her father's bristling attempt at quelling his wife's nerves followed but to no avail.

"You ruined a perfectly good match. The viscount would have provided you with a handsome life. He was a fine man, an excellent man for marriage."

If that were true, then perhaps her father would be less upset. But he wasn't rid of her yet again, and now she was squarely in the middle of another scandal. Lily grimaced, bending forward to rest her head against her knees in case she cast up her accounts.

"You have ruined your sisters, so you think of that," her stepmother continued. "You have not only brought ruin upon yourself, but to your family. Their happiness is doomed!"

Kate snickered. Lily elbowed her, trying not to do the same.

"Open the door, young lady," her father shouted next. "You cannot barricade yourself in my office. I will have business to see to now that you shamed us. A man must have his sanctuary."

A stuffy, chaotic mess with one too many waterfowl. Funny what a man would consider an escape. She wished for one herself, free of ducks and disappointment.

"It has been a tiring morning for all those involved," came another friendly voice. Charlotte Gairdner, the Duchess of Dandridge, had the remarkable advantage of making Lily's parents agreeable. "I think it best we allow Lily to rest and have time to recover from the shock."

Lily could barely remember her mother's honeyed voice, but Charlotte's rang close. Her stepmother had one shrill volume, an unfortunate affection for frills, and an unnecessary urge to wear the most bizarre hair accessories.

"Lily's shock? What of mine? I have never been so embarrassed in all my life…"

"Yes," Charlotte said again in a placating tone. "I know it must be difficult for you. I will see that someone brings you tea as well. You rest, and I will assist with Lily. Mr. Abrams, can you accompany your wife upstairs?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I think that best," he answered tersely.

Miracle upon miracles, silence fell outside the office. Kate unlocked the door and clapped as Charlotte entered triumphantly with a tea tray, still wearing her fine gloves and a perfectly turned-out bonnet.

"Pay them no mind, Lily," she said, setting the tray down on the partially cleared desk. Charlotte spun around, glancing from floor to ceiling. "What's happened here?"

"It is best not to ask," Kate answered .

Lily rose, sighing as she tripped in her insufferable shoes. Well, those must go. She leaned an arm out to Charlotte, then balanced, removing each and tossing them by the door. "My idea is perfectly sound."

Kate poured tea from an old French teapot. "We have heard that before."

Charlotte fought back a grin, but her big blue eyes were filled with sadness. "Have some tea. We don't need to discuss this right now. We will talk about?—"

"The weather," Lily supplied, turning to gaze out the office window at the beautiful day, perfectly suited for a wedding. Her father's estate was impressive, and she would miss it but not half as much as she longed to leave. "I do love to talk about the weather."

No one seemed amused by her teasing, so she shoved the newspaper in Charlotte's direction. Charlotte was the oldest and, therefore, the wisest. In Lily's estimation, she was also the most sensible.

"What am I looking for?" Charlotte asked, scanning the newsprint. The fine silk shawl slipped from her delicate shoulders, revealing a wide neckline of a gorgeous gown that was the lightest of blues.

Lily flopped back onto the ottoman and took the delicate teacup in hand, slurping it in a rather unladylike fashion.

"The section that reads like the worst idea ever," Kate said. She winked at Lily when she turned to counter the point.

Really, the idea was not at all that terrible. It wasn't as if she had been hit on the head. Her solution was namely that—a solution. One that would ferry her away from the gossip of society and the scorn of her parents. When put that way, she thought she was rather lucky to have spotted the advertisement the other day. No knights in shining armor for Lily, just a marriage arranged in black and white. The man needed a wife, and she was in want of a husband. They were a perfect match.

Graceful and the picture of perfection as always, Charlotte's delicate features froze. "Lily. Dear."

No one understood her brilliance .

"If Kate is hinting at what I am reading, then that is not the solution to the day's dilemma."

"Oh, keep reading," Kate insisted. "I had the paper rudely ripped away from me. We left off at the bit about five thousand pounds."

Someone had once told Lily that one's future could be read by tea leaves. She was more a woman of science, but she glanced down at her teacup just then, in case such an answer appeared. Also to hide the red heat biting at her cheeks as Charlotte cleared her throat.

" Robust health, five feet four inches without her half boots. Possesses all teeth. Not one to swan about or boast. Not chatty, nor one that is eager to admonish. Of a pleasing disposition.. ."

Kate threw her head back against the sofa and guffawed. It made no difference that Charlotte followed with a laugh far politer and quieter. It hurt all the same.

"No, no," Kate said, wiping spilled tea off her dress and standing. "Stop, you must stop. I can't laugh any longer." Her freckled face, usually pale as virgin snow, was scarlet from laughter, tears brimming in her gray eyes.

"I'm glad you both find this so humorous. Neither of you were abandoned by her bridegroom this morning."

Charlotte stopped chittering, her face suddenly drawn in seriousness. Lily thought for a moment that Charlotte's hand shook at the word abandoned . It was no secret that the duke much preferred spending his time in London or on the Continent rather than with his wife, whom the social columns had nicknamed The Honey Duchess.

"You are right," she conceded. She floated across to Lily and drew her in for a tight embrace. Tears pricked Lily's eyes once more as Charlotte whispered, "You will be stronger because of this. I promise you, in time you will see."

Charlotte, oh so wise, like the older sister Lily never had. Lily strived to set the same example, even if her four younger sisters were not truly her own, but she thought of them as such. The fact that they did not was a sore point best left untouched.

"It has been a long morning. Maybe we should call for your maid. "

"No," Lily said, her voice stern. She did not need to be coddled, only supported.

She spotted the bottle on the floor beside the desk, the sun hitting the amber liquid, lighting it up like a golden fire.

Barricading herself in her father's office had its advantages.

"Where are your teacups?" She poured scotch into everyone's tea and settled against the ridge of the desk, knocking off another large stack of papers which overturned a horrifically stuffed goose.

"Always prepared, our Lily," Kate said with a smile. She kicked her long legs onto the ottoman, even as Charlotte swatted them away. "Nothing quite like liquid courage."

"What's good for the gander..." Charlotte agreed.

All three took a long sip of tea and scotch and sputtered, coughing as said liquid courage burned their throats.

"Well, maybe the goose knows better than the gander in this instance," Charlotte sputtered, making a most unladylike face. "That is repulsive."

Lily laughed. Truly laughed as if nothing weighed upon her, and she was not mere moments from crying. "I will keep my preference to champagne and lemonade."

Kate reached for the teapot, then thought better, and grabbed for the scotch bottle, smiling innocently as Lily and Charlotte both leveled glances at her. "There is a problem with your plan, dear," she started nonchalantly, adding more scotch to her teacup.

Lily raised her eyebrows, gesturing for Kate to continue.

"Well for one, you are not five feet four."

"I could be if I stood on my tiptoes," she shot back defensively. The scotch sloshed over the cup as she stretched toward the ceiling, lifting her chin for extra height. It was no use. Even with her hair dressed and stretching tall, there was no changing her petite frame.

"If he is a good man," Charlotte said diplomatically, "then an inch?—"

Kate cleared her throat.

"— three inches will not matter."

The two giggled, leaving Lily out of some private joke .

"Unless the man is shorter than our Lily," Kate said.

"Why must you assume the worst? The man could be tall and exceedingly handsome."

"Maybe, but you are forgetting something much more important." Kate made a grab for the scotch again, but Charlotte swiped it away, always the proper lady. Kate pulled a funny face, then regarded Lily, shedding her playfulness as she said soberly, "You will never have five thousand pounds if you go against your father's wishes and marry this stranger."

Cool dew licked Lily's heels as she stood in the garden, staring up at the stars. Her telescope was still conveniently locked away in her stepmother's room after the wedding that did not happen.

Nearly four days had passed, and besides some snickering and whispers from her sisters, it was as if she no longer existed in her father's household. All because Felton, a man her father arranged for her to marry, decided to take off for Gretna Green with a much younger and far richer heiress, or so the gossip rags reported.

Leaving Lily pacing her father's garden in the middle of the night. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and glanced behind her at the flicking candle light in her father's office. He was avoiding her, and if she were being honest, she was doing the same, but the growing pit in her stomach was making it obvious she must face him.

She couldn't roam the gardens all summer staring up at the sky. She couldn't stay here, but she didn't know what to do either. Where could she even go?

The sweet trill of the nightingale echoed from the forest surrounding Milton House. With a sigh, she trudged inside and stood at her father's office door for a moment too long.

"Lily?" he asked from within.

She leaned her forehead against the doorway, slamming her eyes shut. She could no longer remember a time in the recent past where he didn't address her with an underlying tone of aggravation .

"It's far too late to be awake. Go to bed."

It was almost like a fever dream now, that once, she remembered her father's laugh. It had been a big, booming sound. She remembered him climbing under a table and pretending to be a monster as she playfully screamed and clung to her mother's skirts with her pudgy little hands.

But that was years ago.

She had done everything he had asked, and now he ordered her to bed, just as he would likely dismiss her from his presence tomorrow if he didn't run away to London first.

No, Lily could no longer endure him—or her stepmother, or staying in this house and being treated as nothing but a nuisance—when she wanted nothing more than to experience the world and not remain stuck in some small corner of it.

"No, Papa," she said, pushing through his office door.

He sat at his desk, hunched over a book with a magnifying glass.

"No?"

"I feel it's time we discuss what happened, and more importantly, what's to happen now." She curled her toes into the carpet, desperate to tie herself to the middle of his world and not be brushed aside as he so often did.

"It will have to wait. I'm preoccupied at the moment."

"I am nearly twenty-five, Father. I do not have the privilege of waiting."

Her father sat up, peering at her with the magnifying glass clutched in his hands. "What did you say?"

"Father, I have done everything you asked of me. I have waited to marry the man you have arranged for me, and twice now, I have been left at the altar."

"That is because of a deficiency in your character, not a fault of my own."

Even as the ache in her chest deepened, she clenched her hands and held her head high. "You have spent my dowry." She waved around his office as if it was explanation enough. Stuffed mallards were more important than seeing his eldest daughter married .

An ugly laugh scraped out of his throat, and he finally tossed the magnifying glass down and pushed back in his seat, studying her.

"I am a wealthy man, and I can easily replace it."

"That may be the case, but will you?"

"It's late, Lily. And this isn't a matter you should concern yourself with. You've done enough damage to the family name this week."

But she hadn't. She wouldn't let him convince her otherwise. She had done everything required of her.

"I was at the church, Father, ready to marry. My trunks were packed, and I was prepared to leave this family… this house… because you arranged for me to do so. You told me it was an excellent match. How am I at fault?"

Before he answered, she was struck with the pain in his eyes.

She would never replace her mother.

"It is your character, Lily. You traipse around here with your telescope, reading your scientific texts, and speaking as if you were a man about things far too dangerous for a woman to know. You scared him away."

"And yet you've allowed me to?—"

"Your mother would have known how to handle you far better than I ever have."

Lily forced a smile, but it hurt her cheeks to do so. Her eyes stung, and she was certain her chest was filled with nothing but dread. As long as she remained in her father's household, she would serve as a reminder to the love he lost. Lily was too much like her mother for him to ever see her as her own person.

"I will never be Mother. I can never replace her, Father, no matter how much you wish for it."

He muttered under his breath, waving his hand as if dismissing her.

No, she couldn't allow it tonight.

She clenched her fists at her side, keeping her voice calm. "I lost her, too."

"That's enough, Lily." He slammed his fist down on his desk with a resounding thud .

Lily jumped back a step, nearly tripping over the ottoman before she bristled forward. She wouldn't allow him to be a bully tonight, either.

"Do you think I don't notice how you dote on my sisters? Do you think I don't notice how you can't bear the sight of me? You tolerate me at best."

"I will replace your dowry," he growled. "It's late. Now leave my office and go to bed."

Lily glanced around at the chaotic mess of papers in his office, the ridiculous mallard collection, and a life he had built without saving any space for her in it. When her mother died, his love for Lily had died as well, as if too painful of a burden to withstand. That would never change, and Lily had been too much of a fool to wish and hope otherwise.

If she remained, nothing would change except that, with enough time, she would wither and become so small that Milton House would be the only refuge she would have from the contemptuous glare of the London ton . Spinsters were shunned at worst and tolerated at best, and she longed for more from this life than to be ignored.

"Then good evening, Father."

He grumbled, barking at her gruffly to shut the door behind her. She turned to leave, then paused, finding herself staring at the same marriage advertisement she had shown Kate and Charlotte. Lily wiped at her eyes and quickly grabbed the newspaper, shutting the door behind her and hurrying off to her room.

She refused to allow her father to dictate her life when he barely saw her worthy of one. As she penned a response to the advertisement that evening, she knew leaving would mean forfeiting her dowry, but at least she would decide what her future would look like.

And it would be far from Milton House.