Chapter 7 #2
She could not bear another moment of Mama’s remonstrations.
She knew it came from a place of love, that Mama was distraught over Lily’s abrupt change in circumstance, but she had no strength left to absorb her mother’s stricken regrets.
Her certainty that Mr. Ridley would come up to scratch and rescue her from scandal had come to nothing, and she was hollow with disappointment.
The handle clicked, and a familiar red-blonde head peeked around the edge of the door. “I really would rather come in.”
“Sophia!” Lily sat up with a gasp, the tears rushing at last. She burst into sobs at the sight of her best friend.
Her cousin hurried to her side, perching on the edge of the bed and drawing Lily into a warm embrace. The scent of rosewater clung to Sophia’s muslin sleeve, and the soft rustle of fabric was the only sound in the room besides Lily’s crying.
“Shh, Lily. Everything will work out.”
“You heard?”
“Of course! I would have come sooner, but Miles had colic, and I was up with him and the nurse all night.”
“I am so happy to see you! Mr. Ridley was here, but he said such awful things, and I sent him away!”
Sophia pulled her closer, tightening the embrace with a gentle comfort that only those bound by childhood bonds could offer.
“Your mother informed me. Apparently, I missed the performance by only a few minutes.”
“How would Mama know what happened? Mr. Ridley only just left.”
“I am quite sure she was listening at the door. She seemed entirely affronted with the gentleman, muttering about his ingratitude.”
Lily pulled back, blinking at her cousin in amazement. “She did?”
Sophia nodded. “She was livid, truly. Pacing like a lioness in a drawing room. She kept repeating that no man ought to treat an Abbott in such a manner.”
“Huh! I thought she would blame me for not accepting the offer.”
“Nay, Lily. Your mother wants what is best for you. She simply needs time to adjust to all these happenings. Her hopes were pinned to an excellent match, and now she is left clutching broken straws. Just allow her a little time to gather herself together.”
“I am ever so glad you are here.”
Sophia smiled gently. “What happens now? Are you certain you do not wish to marry Mr. Ridley?”
Lily wailed, burying her face once more in Sophia’s shoulder, which was already damp with tears.
“I am not certain of anything! I do not wish to be snubbed by good society. Now I must leave London in disgrace and travel to places unknown, merely to show my face in public. Far from everything I am familiar with. How did it all come to this?”
Sophia patted her gently on the shoulder as silence settled between them, thick and still.
“I feel I should warn you,” she said at last, “that the gossip rags mentioned you this morning.”
Lily groaned into her cousin’s sleeve. “My presence in high society has finally been noted.”
“I am afraid so.”
Lily drew a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling with distress. “What am I to do?”
Sophia turned her head toward Lily, her blue eyes soft with understanding. “Would you … permit me to speak to Mr. Ridley?”
“Oh, I think that is impossible. It is clear he does not trust me.”
“I feel confident we can make this arrangement work. The gentleman has been under great strain these past few days. He has always struck me as a kind-hearted man. He plays with Miles whenever he visits, and he shows genuine fondness for his nephew.”
“You believe I should give him another opportunity to make his offer?”
“I believe,” Sophia said carefully, “that what we need now is a little patience. Mr. Ridley’s belligerence is understandable, if not forgivable.
He found his father dead, was accused of murder, and then was compelled to come here and offer marriage.
The poor man is reeling. It does not excuse his conduct, but I do believe we ought to try again. ”
Lily sucked on her lower lip, her gaze drifting toward the bedroom window, where the sunlight slanted across the carpet in golden bars. “I am not sure.”
“Mr. Ridley had only Richard to advise him this morning before he came,” Sophia added gently.
“As much as I love my husband, you and I both know that Richard is still learning how to manage the intricacies of emotional ties. Mr. Ridley is inexperienced in courtship. I am quite certain he is the best solution to your predicament, but he may require a touch of guidance in so trying a time.”
Nodding, Lily sank back on the bed, her arms flung out in quiet surrender. “We shall try this one more time.”
Sophia settled down beside her, skirts rustling softly against the coverlet, and they both stared up at the ceiling just as they had done as girls. The pattern of shadowed plaster was riveting as they contemplated recent events.
“It was exceedingly brave of you,” Sophia said gently.
“I had to do it. Seeing the duchess in such despair … I had to follow my conscience.”
“You gave up much.”
Lily sighed, her gaze drifting across the familiar lines of the ceiling. “I shall never have a suitor bring me hothouse flowers or accompany me to Gunter’s for ices. I will never have my first dance with a man and realize that he might be my future husband.”
Sophia’s lips twisted, the expression more wistful than wry. “Neither of us has had an easy time of it, have we?”
“Richard did bring you flowers that day you compromised him!” Lily murmured, her tone tinged with mischief.
Her cousin huffed, though her eyes softened. “And he drove me to Gunter’s the day we wed to flaunt our connection in front of the ton.”
A quiet giggle escaped Lily as she recalled the strange, determined course of Sophia’s wedding to the earl. They had battled through the storm and found shelter in each other. The memory, though not hers, warmed her like a hearth on a winter’s evening.
Slowly, her high spirits trickled back, buoying her heart until a fragile optimism stirred to life. “Perhaps it could all work out!”
Sophia reached out to clasp Lily’s hand, their fingers curling together with the certainty of family. “I will do everything in my power to make it so.”
Brendan stepped out into the bright, sunlit street just as another man emerged from Lord Moreland’s stately townhouse.
They both halted at the bottom of the steps, momentarily frozen, assessing one another with narrowed eyes.
Brendan realized with a jolt that this must be Moreland’s heir.
The resemblance was striking—tall, square-jawed, and broad of shoulder.
The gentleman bore his father’s commanding frame, but the coloring of Miss Abbott.
That chocolate-brown hair, those sharply glaring eyes—there could be no mistake.
Before Brendan could step away from the widow’s modest door, the younger man strode across the cobbled street, boots striking hard against the stone.
“What are you doing at this … this … this harlot’s home? Why has Lily turned you down?” he demanded, fury surging in every syllable. Without waiting for a reply, Abbott seized him by the lapels of his coat.
Blazes. Brendan fought a grimace. I need to visit Gentleman Jackson’s. This is the second time I have been manhandled in as many days.
His lack of rest dulled his reflexes. The pounding in his skull had not abated since morning and now throbbed in rhythm with his rising pulse. “I was here for ten minutes. Nothing happened,” he said flatly.
Abbott hesitated, breath hard and uneven. Slowly, he released his grip. Brendan tugged his waistcoat into place, then smoothed his jacket with deliberate calm, as if dignity could be refastened with sartorial effort alone.
“My sister is ruined, and it is my fault for leaving her alone that night. You have to fix this, Ridley!”
The anguish carved into the young man’s features was unmistakable. Despite the ache behind his eyes, Brendan felt a sharp jab of shame strike his chest like the edge of a blade. If it were his sister …
“Miss Abbott refused my offer.”
“Why? What did you do?” Abbott’s voice cracked on the question. “She hoped you would take care of her after what she did for you!”
Brendan broke eye contact, staring over Abbott’s shoulder at the stately line of townhouses across the street. He was hardly going to admit to his own foolish blunder—the cruel accusation flung at Lily, the fumbling, botched proposal.
“It is not what she wants. And what about you? Would you marry a child?”
Abbott’s face hardened like carved stone. “She is no child, you scoundrel! What Lily lacks in stature, she makes up for in heart. She is kindness and joy. And, fortunately for you, she is the epitome of honor, or even now you would be imprisoned.”
He gestured violently toward the house behind Brendan.
“That woman is a vicious viper. Yet you visit her while my sister has retreated, facing certain ruin. I am to take her to the Continent to outrun this scandal. Lily is a young woman with her entire life ahead of her. What is she to do if you will not assist her?”
Brendan winced. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
The more he learned of Miss Abbott—no, Lily—the more deeply ashamed he felt.
Her goodness had not only shielded him from disaster, it had been freely offered, with little expectation.
And what had he given her in return? Grief. Dismissal. Humiliation.
He had to make amends. But how did one mend something so carelessly shattered?
“She practically threw me out,” he muttered. “But I will work something out.”
Abbott’s eyes narrowed, his gaze raking Brendan from head to toe with measured intensity. Then he stepped back, as if allowing him a last sliver of grace.
“I spoke with some of the chaps this morning,” Abbott said quietly, “and they tell me you are a good sort, Ridley. You must wed my sister to save her from this shame. Lily does not deserve this. Everyone she knows will give her the cut direct. It is inconceivable that this should happen to her.”