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April 3rd, just after luncheon.
“You need to get out, Dom.”
“This is my study,” Dominic said dryly from behind his desk. He watched his good friend peruse the shelves of books. He knew what he was getting at.
“I meant into society. Breathe some fresh air, get some sun on your face, and see your mistress.” Chance smiled and waggled his eyebrows.
“As you well know,” Dominic drawled, “Jena and I had a falling out. Do you have interest in that area? ”
“Good God no, that’s too much drama for my taste.”
“Well, she is an actress.”
“And the world is her stage. Did she throw things? Try to scratch your eyes out?”
“No, not nearly as dramatic as you would like, just merely... disappointed.”
“High hopes?”
“Very.”
“Did she honestly think she could leap from actress to countess in six weeks?” Chance asked in astonishment.
“It would seem so,” Dom said with a heavy sigh. He got up and strolled to the large bay window looking out into the desolate gardens the winter had refused to release into spring. Some vegetation fought vigorously to bloom, while other parts remained skeletal and drab.
Dominic was tired of his life. Until his brother’s death he had lived in obscurity, the black sheep, living in foreign countries under so many different names he had almost lost track of who he was. After returning to England as the new Earl of Redwick he hadn’t yet entered society. He didn’t want to admit to anyone that he didn’t know how to be an aristocrat anymore, let alone be civilized and enter the marriage mart, as was his duty.
He despaired at the thought of ever finding someone to marry. Dominic wanted a companion in all things, a woman he could trust and rely on to anchor him to earth instead of this meaningless drift. Not a woman anxious for someone else’s title and money to carry them through life. Dominic refused to do it. He would find a woman who loved him or never marry at all, social duty be damned. Being so close to death for so many years made a man think about these things, about what was important in life.
“You need a good ride, Dom.” Chance’s voice broke through his melancholy thoughts. “I’ll tell Fields to saddle your horse and we can burn off your sour mood.”
“Let me be, Chance. You nag me like a wife.”
“Perhaps you need a wife?”
“Perhaps you need a wife. I could find some blasted peace if you were too busy begetting an heir to trouble me with your incessant—”
“You need me, old man—don’t pretend otherwise. If it were not for me you would turn into an irascible old man. Without me, dear friend, you are intolerable.”
Dominic laughed. He would never admit it, but Chance was irritatingly right. Damn him.
“About that ride?” Chance pestered.
“In a minute.” Dominic mused. “I’m practicing at being a languishing lord. Idleness doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“More the better. Idleness leads to fat. What will the women of London do without Dominic Coel to run them to ground?”
Dominic snorted. “I’ve never done such things.”
“You used to do such things. I was with you, remember?” Chance smiled wickedly.
“Then you are in no place to judge.”
“Who said I was judging?” Chance pouted in mock innocence.
“It was implied in your tone. I have not yet entered the social scene; would I be remiss to call you a rake, Chance? Have you earned yourself a formidable reputation?” Dominic smiled encouragingly.
“I’m afraid not. Being a rake requires a lot of work and is entirely too fashionable right now. Mothers have taken it into their heads that a reformed rake makes the best husband. Therefore I practice being invisible.”
“And how does one manage invisibility in a ballroom full of marriage-minded young ladies?”
“I have my ways. A few select young ladies of exceptional wit and intelligence let me cower behind their skirts.”
Dominic laughed uproariously. “Who are these paragons of womanhood?”
“You would know if you would leave this damn study.”
Dominic smiled and nodded as his friend left the room. Chance Armstrong, Lord Willowton, was one of the few connections he held onto from his old life before the war. Chance was the consummate optimist. He always sought the silver lining and always made sure Dominic did not succumb to his dark moods. He felt normal around Chance, a feeling he didn’t achieve too often, and as he struggled to ingratiate himself in the role his brother had been raised to fill, he was glad Chance was there to distract him.
***
Lilly hummed to herself as she lightly seasoned the beef flank she was preparing for tonight’s dinner. It was only her second day, but already she felt completely at ease with the other kitchen staff. They were extremely friendly and helpful. Bertha, the cook, was an artist in the kitchen. Lilly was excited to be working under her as her assistant. Her earnings were hardly enough to live on, but if she worked hard, with time she would save enough to buy passage to Duckerton Pass.
Lilly started when some cad burst through the side door, cursing and stomping the mud off his boots. Eyes blazing with anger, she turned to the stranger and set about putting him in his place.
“You, sir, are a pig, and after you clean that mess up you can kindly remove yourself to a pen.”
“I beg your par—”The man froze and gobbled her up with his eyes.
Heat infused her cheeks as she stared boldly back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. She discovered with dismay that he was no mere sir, but, judging by the cut of his coat, a gentleman, and one could only assume the master of the house. Oh dear.
One of them had to speak, for they had been standing there just staring at each other. It was at that moment that another man entered the kitchen.
“If we have to pull Hilbrook off his ass one more time I’m going to shoot him.” He growled angrily next to the as-yet-unnamed gentleman, not noticing his friend’s lapse of attention or the woman in the room. He looked at his mud-caked boots disgustedly. “Dobbs will kill me for sure. They must be ruined, Dom. Are you listening?”
The gentleman shook his head and turned to his friend.
Lilly did the same, and much to her horror recognized the second man. It was Chance Armstrong, a very good family friend that she had spent the past three years relying on to entertain her at balls and whatnot. He would recognize her in an instant and she would be doomed. Luckily, he was still chatting away to who she now knew was the Earl of Redwick.
She had never met him before in society, and after the insult she gave him was not inclined to do so now.
With a clumsy curtsy and a rushed “Good afternoon, my lords,” Lilly made a hasty retreat up the back stairs, never meeting the eyes that locked on her the moment she spoke and followed her out of sight.
Lilly made it to her room without any witnesses to her escape. She collapsed on her bed, covered her face with her hands, and willed herself to calm down. Concentrating on deep, even breaths, she sat up and reviewed the scene that had taken place moments before. Lord Redwick would not recognize her, that was for sure, but Chance would see through her disguise in a heartbeat and possibly give her away. What would happen then? Would she be arrested? Chance wouldn’t want that; he was a good friend and would protect her as much as he could, maybe even help her. The idea had some merit. If she had an ally like Chance out searching for information she herself could not reach, then maybe she would be able to get herself out of this mess. Maybe even return to the life she once had, or at least something like it.
She should get back to the kitchen, before her absence was noticed. She waited few more minutes to ensure Lord Redwick and Chance would be long gone. With one last look around her sad, but functional little room, Lilly went back to work. There was plenty to do before dinner, and if she wanted to keep her position, she had better get to it. The kitchen was empty when Lilly returned, with the exception of Laura, a maid, who had instantly befriended Lilly on her first day. She looked up from sweeping the dried mud near the door.
“It doesn’t matter who ye are—if yer a man yer a blooming mess!”
Lilly laughed nervously and returned to the beef flanks. “It wasn’t too big of a mess, I hope. Do you need some help?”
“Nah, I’m just about done.”
Bertha arrived to begin the stew for tonight’s supper. She inspected Lilly’s work and nodded in approval.
“Now, before it gets dark, I need you to go to the market and pick up some fresh strawberries, cloves of garlic, and one pound of flour. The earl is having a small dinner party tomorrow evening and has requested strawberry tarts for dessert.”
“Garlic for strawberry tarts? That does—”
“Not together, Miss Laura. Now, you go with Miss Millie. Safety in numbers, I always say.”
“Yes ma’am,” Laura said, taking Lilly’s hand. Laura hauled her through the kitchen door and out into the private alley of the townhouse.
“Come on, we can take Georgie with us for protection. He’s a terrible flirt.” Laura winked back at Lilly.
“Laura, you know that’s not allowed. You could lose your job.”
“I’m not that kind of girl, Millie,” she scoffed. “He just makes me laugh, what harm is done in that?”
After collecting Georgie, a broad-shouldered groom with sandy hair and a boyish face, the party of three set off for the market. Georgie was great fun and Lilly was grateful for the extra male protection he added. Life in the working class was vastly different from her old station, but Lilly was beginning to enjoy the newfound freedom of not being under society’s rules. Georgie kept them entertained with his rakish charm and quirky wit. He kept Lilly’s cheeks a healthy pink all the way to the market, but most of the playful banter was directed at Laura, whom Lilly suspected had a slight affection for Georgie.
“All right, Millie—you search for the strawberries and I’ll search for some garlic and flour. Make sure those berries are nice and juicy.”
“I know how to pick strawberries, Laura.”
“Oh, I forgot. You seem new to this, ’tis all.” She shrugged.
Lilly did not know what to say at first. She did not think she appeared to be any different from other servants. Was Laura onto her? No, she couldn’t be.
“Of course you’re right,” Lilly said. “I’ve only worked in a country household. I am new to this bustling and noisy city.” Lilly smiled sheepishly.
“It’s all right, Millie. Georgie, you stay with her. I would hate for our Millie to get lost in this crowd.”
“As you wish, Laura. We’ll meet you back at this spot in ten minutes.” He winked.
“Agreed.”
Taking Lilly’s elbow, he directed her to a stand of hothouse strawberries up the small street. Using the basket she brought with her, she began to pick the best strawberries for tomorrow’s dessert. It was not long before she began to have the oddest feeling that someone was watching her. She looked to Georgie, who was idly chatting with a fruit seller. She continued to look around the crowd of people hurrying to buy and sell wares before evening set in. Lilly looked to her right and immediately made eye contact with a man standing not fifteen feet away. His eyes bore into her with an intensity that startled her, causing the basket to slip from her slack fingers.
“I say, Millie, you all right?”
Lilly jumped as she turned back to Georgie, who was picking up the basket and spilled berries.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
She looked back to where the man had been standing, but he was gone. Retrieving the basket, she inspected the food for bruises, but there was no harm done.
“They should be fine. Let’s hurry up and leave, Georgie. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She gave the shopkeep his necessary funds, then they collected Laura and began to walk home.
Laura and Georgie resumed their normal chatter, but Lilly kept quiet. In her mind those eyes kept looking back at her, cold and black, almost as if they knew exactly who she was. She absentmindedly said farewell to Georgie and followed Laura into the kitchen, making only the small responses required to keep Laura talking and unaware of Lilly’s churning thoughts for the rest of the evening. All through dinner she kept envisioning those eyes. She tried to remember the man’s face, but she could not place him. He certainly did not look like anyone she would ever wish to know, and most assuredly was not of nobility. He had been dressed in worn clothing, much like many of the other patrons of the market. If he hadn’t been staring at her with such frightening intent she would not have noticed him at all. Lilly prayed it was nothing, prayed it was an odd coincidence and had nothing to do with her stepfather, but she was not sure and fear draped over her like a cloak. She tried her best to push it out of her thoughts and give her attention to the bustle around her, but always it was there.