Chapter 6 Help for an Old Friend
HELP FOR AN OLD FRIEND
Why had Michael been so cruel?
Restlessness coursed through Lilly as she strode back to the chamber she was sharing with Glenda.
He had hurt her.
And worse, she now doubted everything she’d believed about him for nearly a decade!
Upon entering, Lilly found Glenda sprawled out on the bed and Mary, their lady’s maid, folding and smoothing the clothing she had pulled from their trunks.
The chamber they’d paid for had only one window, a large bed for two, and a trundle pulled out for a servant. There was one wooden chair and a desk.
Lilly paced agitatedly near the window. She was more than a little upset by her conversation with Michael. He hadn’t returned to London because people had been dying! He’d been caught in a scarlet fever epidemic. He’d not willingly abandoned her after all, had he?
He would not lie, would he? What had she done?
Looking around to locate the leading string for Miss Fussy, Lilly beckoned Glenda to come with her. “Let’s take Miss Fussy outside for a little exercise. It has been a long day of sitting, and I for one could use some air.”
But Glenda was still upset with her. “When did you tell him? He knew you are my aunt! You promised me no one would be told! Already you have ruined everything!”
Lilly sighed. “He remembered from before. And you have no need to worry. The duke is not a man to spread gossip.” He would not.
In spite of his disgust of Lilly, he would not do anything to ruin an innocent girl’s season.
“He will not tell anyone. Come with me, Glenda. I cannot bear to sit inside all evening.”
Glenda stared down at the pretty new slippers she had insisted upon wearing that evening.
“It would not be good if your illegal marriage were to be made public. I would be ruined.” Glenda’s lips were pinched.
She was not in a very forgiving mood this evening.
“And I do not wish to go out of doors. There is too much mud. I will stay inside with Mary.”
“Mary will enjoy the fresh air as well,” Lilly said. “We’ll never be able to fall asleep tonight if we idle in here all evening. Now come along, we won’t go far. We’ll be cautious not to step in any puddles.”
But Glenda would not be convinced. “I am staying here, and Mary can help me prepare for bed, thank you.” She sniffed haughtily. “It is important that I get my rest.”
Well then.
Lilly paused for only a moment. She was just going to have to go out alone. It most likely was not a very good idea, but she could not remain indoors for even a minute longer. After all, she would not be totally alone.
“Do you need to go potty, Miss Fussy?” Her bosom companion of over seven years now perked her ears in excitement.
An unlikely-looking dog, Miss Fussy was a small dachshund, low to the ground, long in body and short of leg.
A few months after Lilly’s mother’s death, her aunt Eleanor had come for a short visit and brought Miss Fussy along as a gift.
The pup had been about three months old and weighed less than a cup of tea.
As she held the tiny animal and allowed it to lick and nip at her fingers, Lilly’s heart had jumped.
How could one not fall instantly in love with such soulful eyes and expressive ears?
Lilly had embraced the warmth she’d been missing since her marriage.
Miss Fussy had needed her.
After donning her favorite, well-worn cashmere shawl, Lilly grabbed the leading string and scooped Miss Fussy into her arms. Having such short legs, the dog was not very agile.
It would be easiest to simply carry her down the stairs and through the tap room.
Once outside, Lilly tied the leading string to Miss Fussy’s collar, set her on the wet ground, and followed the little dog as she explored.
The night air cooled Lilly’s flushed skin.
Michael’s unexpected appearance had brought a flood of forgotten emotions raining down inside of her.
And he was a duke now! Except her heart simply knew him as Michael. Her heart knew him, and it wanted him. It had come back to life, rejoicing the moment she recognized him in the taproom that afternoon. Foolish, foolish heart.
Michael was betrothed.
Betrothed to a young heiress, it seemed. She was probably beautiful too. Probably tall and slim and elegant. All of the things that Lilly was not. No doubt, she had perfect alabaster skin, whereas Lilly’s was tanned and a little freckled from working outside in her gardens. Lilly sighed.
The sun had set, but the moon shone brightly. She wasn’t ready to go back into that stuffy lodging room again. A slight breeze had Lilly pulling her shawl more tightly around herself.
As much as she loved to read, she struggled to read by candlelight. It tired her eyes. At that thought, she realized her eyes were watering. She impatiently wiped away a stray tear.
She wasn’t crying. She’d stopped crying years ago. Tears were for a woman who was sad and disappointed. A woman didn’t get sad and disappointed if she didn’t expect too much. A woman didn’t expect too much when she’d accepted her lot in life.
As the wife of the Baron Beauchamp, Lilly had learned exactly what that was to be.
She was a replacement for her sister, a sorry replacement.
But she hadn’t even managed that. She’d become an object of disdain, to her husband, to Glenda, even to the servants.
The less Lilly dwelled on all she had dreamed of as a girl, the less disappointed she would be now.
She would not shed her pessimistic outlook, even knowing the baron was gone forever.
Scooping Miss Fussy into her arms, she allowed the dog to lick her chin. She then tucked the dog’s head down and kissed the soft furry spot between her ears. Miss Fussy snuggled into her, and they absorbed one another’s warmth.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” An approaching voice interrupted her solitude.
Of course, it would be Michael.
“I’m not alone,” she said, indicating Miss Fussy.
“I have my most excellent bodyguard here.” She smiled a little.
It wasn’t a smart idea to wander outside, in a strange place, in the dark no less, alone.
But she was a widow now. Did her reputation even matter anymore?
She supposed it wouldn’t help Glenda if her stepmother were considered to be scandalous.
Michael eyed the dog a bit warily. Miss Fussy eyed him right back with a low growl and fur standing on end.
“You won’t want to come much closer to her. You see, she is my protector.”
What was she thinking? Walking about outside all alone?
Likely more than one unsavory lecher patronized this inn’s tap room.
Michael was glad he’d caught sight of her out the window.
Anyone could have followed her. Miss Fussy and her mistress did not look very fierce, regardless of the small dog’s defensiveness.
In fact, Michael thought, Lilly looked vulnerable.
He had behaved badly at dinner, goading her. He hadn’t meant to be cruel, but all the hurt of her desertion, the years of heartache, had risen up inside of him upon seeing her again.
Which was ridiculous after all this time.
“I am sorry,” he said softly, “for provoking you earlier. It was…unkind of me.”
Lilly eyed him suspiciously. “It was,” she granted. And then, “I’ll admit you’ve had what seems to have been a rather awful day.”
Appreciating her consideration, he smiled ruefully. “Oh hell, that’s putting it mildly!” They stood together quietly for a moment, neither of them speaking. Then, “I couldn’t believe it when I heard your voice. It was quite a shock…seeing you…” His voice trailed off softly, almost to a whisper.
Lilly seemed to force an uncomfortable laugh.
“I nearly didn’t recognize you! Nearly every inch of you was covered in mud!
” But then she grinned. “It was even in your hair. And you stood there, issuing orders! You should have seen yourself.” Miss Fussy squirmed in Lilly’s arms. Crouching down, Lilly placed the dog on the ground.
“You finally got your pet.” Whenever they had been in the park and come across a dog, she had always expressed her desire for one. And he had remembered. He remembered everything.
“She has been such a comfort to me.”
“After your—after Beauchamp’s passing?”
“Oh, no, I’ve had Miss Fussy for seven years now.
” She paused. “Lord Beauchamp could not refuse. She was a gift from my Aunt Eleanor after Mother died.” Lilly took a few steps when the dog tugged at the leading string.
“Father was right to ensure we were provided for. I believe he knew himself ill before Mother and I travelled to London that spring. He grew very weak, couldn’t keep his food down, and then stopped eating all together. He died the day after Christmas.”
“Both of your parents are passed?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him with a rueful smile. “Mother was not the same afterwards. Lord Beauchamp allowed her to live at Beauchamp Manor for those last months, and I was glad to have her with me. But…” She swallowed hard. “She loved Papa more than life, I think.”
Lilly followed the dog to the edge of the clearing. It was in her nature to care for helpless creatures. No wonder the pup defended her so bravely. There was a time when Michael had imagined her the mother of his own…He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled alongside her.
“Did you—Do you—Have you any other children from your marriage?” This was a difficult question, but he wanted to know. Had she loved her husband? Had she been happy?
She shuttered her eyes and looked away. “I have been happy to be a mother to Glenda.” She paused and pinched her lips together, then picked the dog up again.
Miss Fussy burrowed into Lilly’s shawl. “It was not meant to be.” She tilted her head back to look up at the sky.
After a weighted pause, she continued, “Such a clear night. I think it will not rain tomorrow. Do you plan on hiring horses to catch up with your other carriages?”