Chapter 14 #2
This time Brendan was not brooking any argument. He was going to make his stance clear, rid his home of her once and for all, and then find Lily to straighten this travesty out.
To think that minutes earlier he had been planning to take Lily away from Ridley House and the lurking danger within, to give her the attention she deserved as his bride, only to have the vexing viscountess wreak havoc.
He gestured toward a chair. “Please, sit.”
When she hesitated, Brendan gave her a pointed look.
She lowered herself into the seat with the reluctant grace of a performer asked to leave the stage.
He circled the room and deliberately chose a chair across the library table from her, ensuring a safe, impersonal distance. Let there be no mistaking his resolve.
“Lady Slight, you are not welcome in my home.”
Harriet’s cheeks flamed, her narrowed gaze landing on him like a blade.
Brendan considered his options. If he were cruel or scolded her mercilessly, the viscountess would have endless opportunities to seek revenge by belittling Lily or spreading gossip among the ton.
Worse, she could attempt mischief like this again if he pushed her too far, which would only wound his wife again.
If his mother were here, she would advise him to be kind.
She would point out that each person carries their own burden.
That life could be crushing, and one cannot know the trials a person has endured.
And when it was possible, one should attempt to lighten their load and disengage without fighting.
Deuce it. He would far rather berate her and throw her out of his home in a rage after such ignominious behavior, but . . .
I do not know the burdens that Harriet might carry. Or what vengeance she might seek against Lily.
“I delighted in our time together.” Brendan struggled to find cajoling words to persuade her to leave his home and never return.
“We enjoyed those days. But this was always to be a temporary arrangement. You have no wish for permanent ties, and I … I find that I do. Because of circumstances beyond our control, Lady Filminster is my wife, and I am not a man to dally with multiple women.”
“You no longer want me?”
Brendan raised a hand to the pulse beating in his temple and applied pressure while he tried to think how to convince Harriet to walk away.
And never return!
“It does not signify. You are a beautiful woman, and you are quite aware I sought your companionship with great fervor for several months, but that chapter has closed. I believe, if you think on it for a moment, that you grew weary of me. You made excuses not to see me in recent times, made arrangements that kept us apart.”
Inspiration struck while he was talking, and Brendan realized the best strategy would be to persuade Harriet that their parting of ways was, in fact, her idea. He permitted a regretful expression to settle upon his features to complete his argument.
“I think, perhaps, I knew you would end things with me soon, and it seemed wise to move on rather than have to experience the pain of being sent away.”
He watched her closely, in breathless suspense, as he waited for her response.
He had come to realize since spending time with Lily that Harriet was essentially a selfish woman who only thought of her own wants and needs.
Appealing to her basic nature might convince her to lose all interest in him if he could just—
“That is true.”
He almost straightened in relief but carefully maintained the expression of regret. Slowly, he lowered his eyes to stare at the table, offering the appearance of melancholy, even allowing his shoulders to sag just a fraction, as if devastated at her declaration.
“I thought it might be. When you forgot our appointment that night of the coronation …” He shook his head as if overcome, hoping his performance was natural but not daring to look up at her in case he broke the illusion he was attempting to cast. The illusion of an enamored man attempting to protect himself from pain.
“I decided it was time to see to my duty before you …” He waited with bated breath to see if she would respond to his cue.
“Brendan, I am afraid that our time has come to an end. Your circumstances have become too complicated for a woman in my situation, so I think it would be best if we no longer meet.”
He exhaled in a puff, dropping his head as if hearing the worst news.
When he sorted out this muddle with Lily, he would confess to her how he had addressed the widow’s lingering hopes, but right now, he stood on the precipice of a resolution, and it was imperative he remove this troublesome distraction.
There were matters of life and death to contend with.
“I … understand. And I thank you for your company.” I shall always remember our time fondly. He could not bring himself to say the words aloud, which would have been untrue and an assault on his integrity, regardless of how perfectly they would conclude their scene together.
A rustle of skirts informed him that Harriet had risen, but he dared not glance up in case his deception was revealed upon his face. The widow walked around and paused beside him, resting her hand lightly on the back of his chair, a final, theatrical gesture of closure more than comfort.
“Do not despair, Brendan. I shall always remember our time fondly.”
He nearly burst into incredulous laughter when Harriet echoed his unspoken thought from seconds earlier. Instead, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes fixed on the grain of the mahogany table. “Thank you.”
With that, Harriet walked away. Finally able to look up, he watched her, noting she was unsteady on her feet. He could only hope she was not too soused to recollect that she had ended things with him.
He waited in the library, playing out his tragic air until he was certain she had left. It would ruin everything if he sprang to his feet too soon, determined to find his bride and explain this invasion of their home.
Lily had been weeping in the dismal drawing room, while outside the bright sunlight of a summer afternoon mocked her. She would have her trunks packed as soon as she could master the storm of tears.
“Milady?”
She screeched in fright, jumping up to swipe her eyes dry before slowly turning around the room to find the source of the voice. As she swiveled toward the fireplace, she was utterly astonished to find Wesley standing by an open, previously concealed door with a tea tray.
There was so much to comprehend.
First, there was a door next to the fireplace she had never noticed before.
It was covered in oak paneling and wallpaper to blend in with the rest of the wall.
Under normal circumstances, she would be fascinated to discover what was ostensibly a secret entrance, the sort that wealthy homeowners had a penchant for, but with other matters pressing, she concluded she would inspect it later.
If there is a later.
Wesley stood with a pained expression on his face, raising the tray as if to remind her he was there.
Lily shifted her gaze back to him. The footmen hired in noble residences were part of the presentation of the household’s wealth and status, an extension of the grand houses they served in.
The footmen of Ridley House were no different, Wesley and the others being tall, lean men who were distinguished even in the dated style of livery they wore.
He had a pleasant countenance, as did the other footmen, with a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose that spoke to the reddish tint of his brown hair.
The servants wore the customary white stockings and shining buckled shoes expected of household livery, but the cut of the navy breeches and coat was faded and of a bygone era.
“I do not wish to be impertinent, milady, but … I thought perhaps you would like some tea?”
Lily blinked in surprise. Given all that had happened in the past few minutes, this mundane conversation was completely unexpected.
She recollected that Wesley had seemed uncomfortable earlier—reluctant, even—when he had directed her to her husband.
And now he had taken pains to find her and offer tea? It was almost unbearably kind.
She realized she had no desire to carry on with the tension and distress she had endured this past week.
She thought about how she had always been friends with many of the servants in her parents’ home.
How their footman, Thomas, had once caught an intruder when Sophia had convinced him to lay a trap for a man seeking to abduct her.
How Nancy had been her constant companion since Sophia had married.
Suddenly, Lily wanted nothing more than an ordinary interlude with another person.
No murders, no enforced courtships, no hasty weddings, no reluctant or unfaithful husbands, no fear. Just a normal conversation between two normal people.
“Only if you join me,” she replied, gesturing to the tray.
“Oh no, milady! It is not permitted.”
“Wesley, I … order you to sit down and have a cup of tea with me.”
Wesley stared at her, his eyes wide as he thought about it. “Very well, milady. If that is what you wish.”
“It is.”
He nodded, moving forward to place the tea tray on the table by the settee.
Then he glanced about the room before walking over to collect a tumbler from the drinks cabinet.
Returning, he sat across from her, perched awkwardly on the edge of the armchair as though ready to spring to his feet at any moment.
Lily straightened up on the settee, lowering her feet to the floor, and leaned forward. Placing the strainer over the cup on the tray, she poured her tea and then raised the teapot toward the footman. Wesley placed the tumbler down.
“I hope it is acceptable for me to use this? I only brought the one cup.”