Olivia quirked a curious brow, unfazed by such a seemingly irrelevant piece of information. “For hunting? Does he breed them?”
Meeting her friend’s one good eye, Lillian shook her head and then bit her lip. “Horace is the homeliest looking mutt I’ve ever seen.”
At these words, Olivia stilled.
And after a moment, tilted her head.
“You have a feeling about him.” This wasn’t a question, more of an observation on Olivia’s part. She was taking this far more seriously now.
“I can’t imagine why else I would agree so easily. Despite the fact that he’s adorably handsome and kind and…” Lillian reined in her thoughts. “And regardless of the fact that I’ll eventually be wholly independent, he is dying, Olivia. And he needs my help. His sister needs my help. Do you think I’m foolish to go forward with this?”
Lillian could hardly remember the last time she’d rendered Olivia speechless. And yet, Olivia had not declared the arrangement to be a preposterous one.
After at least a full minute, Olivia sighed. “What if you fall in love with him. Are you not all but begging for certain heartache?”
Lillian had thought of that. It was possible, of course. “I’ll simply have to be careful not to.”
This—this statement was the one that produced incredulity. “You will be having relations with him.”
“Yes.”
“You will become attached.”
“It’s possible.”
“It’s more than possible. It’s all but certain.” Again, more silence. And then another sigh. “I suppose this means you won’t be marrying my brother in law.”
At this, Lillian smiled. “No.”
Olivia leaned forward and poured them both a second cup of tea. “Tell me all of these details again. For your safety, I’ll have to tell Gabriel. And Gabriel, of course, will send word to Crawford.”
“But not until Warwick and I are well on our way.” Because Ashton Acres was barely a day’s drive south of London. “And it wouldn’t hurt for everyone to think I’ve fallen in love, for them to believe he is the man of my dreams. Mother and Crawford ought to be happy enough that I’ve finally decided to marry.” This way, her brother was less likely to come racing to Scotland to stop them. Lillian considered herself a thoughtful individual. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake! Such heroics on her family’s part might prove more than a little embarrassing.
Olivia raised her brows, feigning shock. “Are you asking me to lie for you, Lillian Prentiss?”
Lillian winced. “Not outright, but I do want to marry him. And I do like him.” She smiled to herself. “In addition to his dog.”
“The dog, I believe, has clinched it for him.”
“Quite possibly.”
Rather than be dissuaded by this visit, most of her doubts were beginning to diminish.
After that, Lillian sat and talked with Olivia longer than usual, knowing she wouldn’t see her friend for nearly two weeks after this. After a full hour had passed, however, the tasks ahead of her began to press in on her. She needed to go home, pack, write a few letters—all/most of which would be at least partly fictional. She finally rose and gratefully hugged Olivia goodbye.
“I wish I could be there with you.” Olivia whispered.
Lillian sighed regretfully. “As do I, but I don’t think Kingsley would be willing to relinquish you that long.”
Olivia chuckled, “Probably not.” But then she squeezed Lilian a little harder. “You’re quite sure?”
“I am.”
Or at least, mostly sure.
Although the visit with Olivia had been encouraging, as Lillian neared Crawford House—where she was going to have to face her mother—she broke into a cold sweat.
The Wragge-Morley Ball was being held that night, the only affair of its kind held this late in the spring. Too distraught to even contemplate attending, Lillian intended to feign illness.
Her mother normally slept until well past noon the morning after a ball, so if Lillian left a note behind indicating she was visiting Olivia tomorrow afternoon, she and Christian would have been on the road for several hours before her lie came to light.
Christian—her intended!
She would have to make up some story… something to the affect that she’d fallen in love and couldn’t wait to be married to him… or perhaps something else, something more plausible. But there was no way she could tell her mother the truth.
Because she’d promised Christian discretion, and in almost all things, her mother was anything but discreet.
And although couples had married for far more mercenary reasons, the fact that she’d made this decision on her own—and that they’d never been presented to one another properly—made it seem almost sordid.
Even though it was not. It was not!
His sister’s safety and reputation were at stake—as was Lillian’s future.
Both of them had very good reasons for entering into this marriage, and equally legitimate reasons for keeping those reasons private.
Hands shaking, she stepped inside and relinquished her bonnet to her mother’s butler, Mr. Warren.
“Did you enjoy the park this morning, my lady?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” she answered in response. “Has my mother risen yet?”
“She is taking her breakfast now.”
Lillian purposefully slowed her breaths and made her way toward the morning room. If she was going to convince her mother that she was too ill to attend the party that night, she might as well begin the charade now. Stepping into the morning room, she glanced at the clock, and realized it was nearly two. Just half the day gone and she’d gotten herself engaged.
To a stranger.
She shook that notion away. Their meeting could only have been designed by fate. He’d never intended to place his advertisement and Lillian normally wouldn’t have been walking along the street at that time of day.
In addition to that, she trusted him. She had a feeling…
Lillian cleared her throat and her mother glanced up from the old and weathered letters she was reading. They were letters Lillian’s real father had sent to her mother when he was on the peninsula. Ever since her second husband had died, she’d brought them out and had been reading them openly, and often.
The misty look faded from her eyes when she caught sight of her oldest daughter.
“I was beginning to worry. You’re usually back much earlier when you go out in the morning. And you ought to have taken Becky with you. I don’t know what you were thinking going without a chaperone. Sometimes you are too independent for your own good. Did you eat before you left?”
“I’m not hungry.”
The servant standing beside the sideboard stepped forward and pulled out a chair for Lillian before she even had to ask.
“Don’t you get tired of reading them?” She flicked her gaze toward the letters.
The soft smile returned to her mother’s face. “I kept them hidden for years. I couldn’t read them when Crawford was alive.” Her mother had told her this before, but for some reason, Lillian hadn’t wanted to think about it.
Her mother was not wrong to have kept them hidden.