Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

O ver the next few days, Lilly tried to learn everything she could about her new home. She met with the housekeeper, the cook, and the gardener, finding out how things were done and what was expected of her. The home was gorgeous, and she knew she could be happy here—and she would be once Hadrian was gone.

But that was the problem. He wasn't gone. He was still here, long after she had expected him to flee back to London. But even though she saw glimpses of him striding down the opposite end of one of the long hallways, he hadn't sought her out even once since they'd arrived.

He seemed to be hiding from her, and it absolutely exasperated her. What was wrong with him? Why stay if the thought of spending any more time with her was so distasteful? After the night they'd spent together and the companionship they'd shared on the second day of their journey, she had thought that things were good between them again. She had thought things were better than good, actually. She had hoped they might form a partnership that would work for both of them. That they could at least talk about it anyway.

Perhaps he was afraid. Or she had somehow done something terribly wrong. Had he realized how much she cared about him? And what kind of person was he that such a thing could be so frightening? But then she thought of his childhood and how little love he had ever received. His parents were like hers. Cold and controlling. Disappointed in everything he did.

Deep inside, she felt her love could heal all those broken parts. He was capable of loving someone back if he only had the security of knowing they would never turn on him. How could she convince him that he was good enough just as was? That she didn't want anything from him but his love and companionship?

Part of her wanted to track him down and ask him what the problem was, why he didn't just go back to London if he had no intention of even having dinner with her in the evenings, but she still had at least a little pride. It was bad enough that she'd had to take him up on his offer of marriage. She wouldn't beg him to love her as well.

So, she bided her time, did her duty as the future Duchess of Blackthorn, and waited for him to make the first move.

During his first night at Autumnwood Hall, Hadrian had drunk until he passed out, then slept until early afternoon, only to start the whole process over again. Pathetic, he knew, but he couldn't get over the feeling that his family home had become a prison he could never escape. But no amount of alcohol could dull the fact that he had to figure out a way to live here with Lilly and somehow provide the heir his father required so that he could escape this rural hell.

So, on the second morning, he forced himself out of bed at a decent hour and rode along the cliffs overlooking the ocean, trying to clear his aching head. To his surprise, he felt remarkably better an hour or so later. He made his way down to the beach, stripped, and dove into the water, the bracing chill assaulting his system in the best possible way. For far too long, he had been spending his time in smoky gambling hells and other dens of vice. The crisp, clean ocean air filled his lungs and chased away the fog in his brain. He spent the rest of that afternoon lying on the beach in the sun, then went to bed earlier than he had in years, falling almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

On the third morning, he woke up early, without a headache, feeling optimistic for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Why had he stayed away from Autumnwood Hall for so long? He had always been happiest here. How could he have forgotten that?

He spent some time playing with the hounds, then went riding again, exploring all the places that used to be so familiar to him, the woods and fields he had once roamed. Midafternoon, something caught his eye. He pulled his horse to a stop on a hill overlooking the small village where his father's tenants lived and worked. His gaze narrowed as he saw Lilly down below, alighting from a wagon that seemed to be filled to the brim with baskets and packages. What was she doing down there?

Reluctantly, he urged his horse in her direction. He couldn't allow her to mingle with the village rabble without any protection. Why hadn't she brought at least a footman? And where the hell had she learned how to drive a wagon?

People flooded out of their houses to gather around her, and she laughed and talked with them, seeming far more comfortable with the humble villagers than she had been in the crowded ballrooms of the ton .

When he pushed his way to her side, she smiled up at him with dimples on her cheeks and happiness shining in her eyes. "Good afternoon. It's so good to see you."

He blinked, startled by her warm welcome. He had been such an idiot since they had arrived, he had expected her to reprimand him. "It's good to see you, too," he said, and he meant it. "What are you doing here?"

"Your father hasn't visited in ages. The tenants have some concerns that the estate manager hasn't addressed. I brought them some things, and they're going to show me what needs fixing so I can speak with him about it."

The crowd fell silent around them, obviously uncertain of his reaction but pleased that the new mistress of the house seemed to care about their needs. He glanced around, seeing not the rabble he had supposed but people who looked exhausted by stress and hard work. On some level, he had always known that it was his family's duty to provide for the people who lived and worked on their land, but he had never gotten personally involved before and was pretty certain his father hadn't either. But he could easily see that the roofs needed rethatching and the houses needed whitewashing. If the outsides were this bad, who knew what the insides looked like?

What had the estate manager been doing with the money allotted for this? He hadn't yet met with the man, but that was one of the first things he intended to ask him.

"Can I help?" he asked, and for once, he meant it. If he was stuck here, he desperately needed something to pass the time. And these were his people, after all.

Her eyes brightened even more. "I'd love that," she said simply, gesturing to the back of the wagon. "Help me pass out these baskets, and then we'll take a look around."

He had failed her in every way since they had arrived here, but she had just smiled and offered him a chance to do a good thing.

He was suddenly determined not to let her down again. He could do better. He would do better.

He turned to the back of the wagon and saw it was filled with baskets stuffed with bread, cheese, and hams. "Where did you get the money for this?" he asked softly when she joined him.

"Cook helped me, and I used the last of my pin money," she said just as quietly. "It's important to make a good impression on the tenants if I'm going to be living here. I want to improve their lives if I can."

He paused, staring at her in dismay. "I'm sure there's money in the household fund. You didn't have to use your own."

She shrugged. "I have everything I could want here." She gave him another dimpled smile. "This place is a paradise compared to what I've gotten used to since my father died. The library alone is enough to make me weep with joy. I could read for the rest of my life and never run out of books."

A laugh escaped him. "I don't remember the last time I spent any time there."

"Well, you could join me there this evening," she said, then immediately looked as though she regretted it. "Never mind. It obviously isn't something that would interest you. To read in the evening, I mean." Her face flushed scarlet as she handed a basket to a young mother with two children clinging to her skirt.

"Thank you, my lady," the woman said, tears filling her eyes. "I can't remember the last time we had this much to eat."

"You're so welcome," Lilly said, her voice warm and compassionate. "I'll try and make certain that isn't the case anymore."

Guilt swept through him. All this time, he had been wasting money by the thousands in gaming hells when the people who lived on his land could be brought to tears by a basket of food. He cleared his throat and handed out a few more baskets of his own, getting much the same response before turning back to her.

"I'd love to join you in the library this evening. It's far past time I read a book." When he was a boy, he had loved the huge library and had whiled away many a day snug in one of the comfortable chairs, letting his imagination run wild. Why had he stopped reading? Perhaps because he had been mocked as a quiz when he had gone off to school. He had fallen in with a group of other spoiled aristocrats who were not there to expand their minds but to waste their fathers' money.

As he had been lost in thought, she had turned away, kneeling to talk to a toddler, a lovely little girl with fair hair and wide blue eyes, though her face was dirty and her dress tattered. The girl reached out to touch the ribbon in Lilly's hair, smiling in awe as she stroked the satin.

"Do you like it?" Lilly asked, reaching up to unfasten the bow. "Here, let me put it in your hair."

The girl's mother hastened forward. "Oh, no, my lady. She doesn't need it."

"Every little girl needs pretty things," Lilly said kindly, proceeding to quickly braid the girl's hair and fasten it at the end.

He watched, transfixed, as she effortlessly charmed everyone around her. What a grand duchess she would make.

And what a wonderful mother.

His own mother had been cold and distant. He had been raised mostly by servants, specifically his nanny, a lovely woman who had been the only one in his young life besides Lilly to show him any love or affection. He suddenly wondered how much different things would have been if he'd had a mother like Lilly, who showered everyone around her with kindness.

He cleared his throat and looked away, unsettled.

What an ass he had been to want to deprive her of the chance to have that. But how could he do it now, possibly break her heart irreparably, just so he could continue to pursue his dissolute lifestyle?

The enormity of the choices his reckless selfishness had brought upon him was suffocating.

A few moments later, she tapped him on the arm. "I think we're done here. Would you like to ride back to the house with me?"

The hopeful look in her eyes nearly undid him. He didn't want this. He didn't want her to depend on him. Didn't want her to care more for him than he deserved. And worst of all, he actually wanted to do it. He had missed her the last few days.

"No," he said hastily. "I have a few more things I need to do today."

That was a lie, of course. He had nothing to do but keep running from his father's expectations, the woman he cared for far too much, and his hatred of the man he had become.