Chapter 2
The wheels of the carriage rolled effortlessly over the London streets, marking a stark comparison for Lily, who had gotten used to the dirt roads leading from their country home into New York.
The steady clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves did little to take her mind away from the life she had left behind.
“You should have been kinder to Lord Gall last night. He would have made a respectable husband.” Her mother’s voice cut through her thoughts, making her turn with a heavy sigh.
“Must we discuss this matter again, Mama?” she asked tiredly, longing for the solitude of her thoughts once again.
Her mother fixed the fabric of her light green dress over her knees.
“I am afraid that we must, dearest. You are not in a position to be picky. Your Aunt Margaret and I are taking great care in selecting a husband for you as soon as possible. You need only comply with at least one of our choices. Your aunt and uncle were gracious enough to open their home to us; the least we can do is ensure that we are not burdens.”
“And marrying a man who is old enough to be my father will ensure that we are not burdens?” Lily asked with an eyebrow raised in question.
Shutting her eyes, her mother shook her head before forcing a smile.
“There is nothing wrong with marrying a man who is slightly older than oneself, but if you insist, we shall be more cautious with our selections. Are there any other requirements that we should know of before your aunt and I invite another lord over for tea?”
Her throat suddenly felt a little too dry as Lily turned her head to gaze back out the window. She knew that she would have to marry sooner rather than later. The news of her calling off the engagement had already begun to spread all over New York.
Yet, she had hoped to have more time to mend her broken heart; after all, three months seemed like far too little time to nurse her wounds.
Inhaling deeply from a position across from Lily, her mother sat up straighter.
“Never mind that for the moment. We have arrived at the modiste, but do keep the matter in mind, dearest. We are not in a position to allow the grass to grow beneath our feet. We must find you a husband as soon as we can. As unfair as the situation may be, it is a fact. You are twenty-and-one, you would have to find a husband soon, regardless.”
The carriage door swung open, revealing a short footman in blue livery who stepped aside to allow Lily and her mother to alight.
No. It is not fair.
Lily composed herself, wanting to run away from it all. The rumors of her failed engagement had begun to circulate the week after she had called things off, but it had been the other rumors that had prompted her mother to write to her sister in England.
Whispers of underhanded dealings and bribes in exchange for British intelligence with Spain had shaken New York’s Society pages. She had never thought that Oliver would stoop as low as to become a spy, but the rumors were far too rampant to be ignored.
Lily’s world had crumbled even further when people had begun to speculate if she had known. There was no possible way that she would have placed herself, her reputation, and her family in such a perilous situation, but the rumors had continued to spread.
Weeks of hiding in her chambers had prompted Lily’s mother and father to come up with a plan. She and her mother would go to London and find her a suitable husband. Perhaps then gossip would die down, and the rumors of Oliver King being a Spanish spy would leave her alone.
It still did not seem possible to her that a man she was going to marry would involve himself in such despicable dealings. Yet, she also felt as if she had never known him at all…
“Come along, Lily, we must not keep the modiste waiting,” her mother called to her from just outside the shop.
Dragging herself from the seat, Lily alighted from the carriage, the heels of her boots clicking against the pavement.
The outside of the modiste’s shop had been painted a bright green with bold golden letters above the door that proclaimed their expertise.
“Madame Moirier,” Lily whispered the name to herself just as the footman pushed open the door, allowing her mother to enter while he waited for Lily.
A small bell tinkled above the door as Lily stepped inside. It seemed like an entirely different world from that outside as the fresh scent of linen and perfume hung in the air.
The bell tinkled again behind them when the footman shut them inside.
Bolts of colorful fabric lined the walls and shelves while several small stations had been set up around the room where young ladies could try on their dresses in front of floor-length mirrors.
“Ah, Mrs. Prescott, I am so glad that you received my note. While not all of the dresses are ready yet, we do have quite a few awaiting your approval.” A tall young woman with bright blonde hair and light brown eyes came flitting from the back of the shop.
Her slight French accent lilted her words, adding to the overall feel of being in another world.
Lily smiled and nodded when the young woman greeted her as well.
“We did receive your note, Madame Moirier. We are excited to see all of the progress you have made.” Lily’s mother followed the young woman to the back of the shop, where they began to coo over boxes of newly crafted hats and embroidered gloves.
Wanting a moment alone, Lily wandered in the opposite direction, running the tips of her fingers over the bolts of fabric. The simple sensations calmed her anxious thoughts a little as she attempted to admire the vibrant colors and patterns.
The time at sea on the ship had given her ample opportunity to try and force her mind in a different direction, yet the scars that had been inflicted by Oliver King still plagued her mind.
What if he was not involved?
Her heart jolted at the thought but stilled again when images of him leaving a courtesan’s lodgings flashed across her mind.
It did not matter if he had been involved in the scandal of bribery and the world of spies.
He had broken her heart and her trust. There was no redeeming his character after that.
Looking up, she noticed a dark carriage stopping on the other side of the street.
The women who climbed from the carriage were breathtakingly beautiful with flowing black hair that had been pinned in waves to the back of their heads. Yet it was the man who climbed out after them who took her breath away.
He was tall, muscular, and very well-built with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw. His thick mop of black, curly hair flopped slightly to one side despite the obvious trimming attempts. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch.
Gold?
She felt her chest rising and falling in time to her breaths as she attempted to still them. He was arguably the most beautiful man she had ever seen with intensely deep hazel eyes that reflected the finest of gold in the mid-morning sun.
He was close enough for her to see the intensity, yet not so close that she could make out the finer flecks of details in his irises.
He turned his head to the side as the young woman said something to him and laughed. The strong line of his jaw became even more apparent as he said something back and clenched his teeth.
Who is he?
Lily felt a strange pang of attraction toward him as she wondered who the two women were. They looked closely related, but she was not certain how he fit in. He seemed so mysterious to her, exotic even with his slightly tanned skin.
Her pulse began to race as she looked away and shook her head.
No.
Attraction and feeling were irrelevant when it came to marriage. She would not allow herself to be taken in again by a handsome face.
“Are you done with that bolt of fabric?” A gentle voice drew her attention back to the shop.
Turning her head, Lily came face to face with a smiling young woman of medium height and auburn hair. Her pale skin was smattered with freckles, and her light green eyes searched Lily’s face curiously.
“I wanted to have a look at that bolt of fabric that you have been admiring so intently,” she said again in a kind voice while pointing to the shelf beside Lily.
Glancing down at the fabric beside her, Lily suddenly realized that she crumpled the lime green satin in her fist. “Oh, goodness, I must apologize. I was lost in thought.” Lily unclenched her fingers and smoothed out the fabric before stepping aside and heading toward the other end of the shop.
Lily had been in London long enough to know that the rest of the young women were not friendly at all.
She had been to tea several times with her mother and aunt and had found herself shunned by the rest of the marriageable-aged young women.
None of them seemed to have the time for an untitled young heiress whose father had only recently come into his wealth.
“Are you from America?” the young woman asked excitedly, forcing Lily to stop in her tracks.
Cautiously turning back, Lily forced an uncertain smile of politeness. “We are. My mother and I are visiting her sister, Lady Brewster.” She pointed to the other end of the shop where her mother was still fawning over the new hats.
The young woman’s eyes widened with excitement. “I heard that we had guests from Americas in London. I was so hoping to meet you. Although I must say, your accent is not entirely how I had imagined it.” Her words fell over one another in torrents.
Stiffening a little, Lily found herself wondering if she should excuse herself or stay. She had been relentlessly teased about the slight twang in her accent, enduring whispered insults from her London peers.
Falling silent, the young woman raised a white-gloved hand to her lips. “Forgive me, that must have come across as rude. It is just that I imagined an American accent to be distinctly different from ours, but it is almost the same! It is hardly noticeable!”
Lily allowed her shoulders to drop slightly as her body relaxed.
“Forgive me. Mama always says that I forget myself far too often, but my name is Arabella Tremaine. I have wanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Prescott.” Her face beamed with sincerity.
“Thank you, Miss Tremaine. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Lily returned the greeting, feeling a spark of hope in her chest that she would not be entirely alone in London after all.
“And may I ask whom we have here?” Lily’s mother came up beside her and gently touched Lily’s arm in a discreet show of support.
“This is Miss Arabella Tremaine, Mama. We have only just met.” Lily made the introductions.
Beaming with joy, Lily’s mother smiled. “Yes, of course, I have just met your mother, Lady Tremaine. She was saying that we should all have tea once we are done here with the dresses.”
Arabella’s eyes widened even further as she stepped toward Lily and took her hand. “Oh, please say that you will join us. I would love to hear all about the place you grew up and how different you find things here in London. It must be such a tremendous change for you.”
Lily almost took a step back, slightly overwhelmed by Arabella’s enthusiasm.
“Clam yourself, Arabella, you have only just met Miss Prescott, allow her some time to breathe,” A kind, older woman came forward, smiling at Lily.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Prescott. I am Lady Tremaine, Arabella’s mother.
You must forgive my daughter. She can never temper her excitement when she meets someone she likes,” she explained, her dark brown eyes wrinkling ever slightly at the sides as she smiled.
She was at least a head shorter than her daughter, and a great deal plumper, yet her pale skin was just as freckled, while her hair was dark.
Taking a step back, Arabella blushed, causing her freckles to become even more prominent. “My apologies, Miss Prescott. I sometimes forget myself.” She let go of Lily’s hand.
Warming instantly to the breath of fresh air that was Arabella Trimaine, Lily smiled. “There is no need to apologize, Miss Tremaine, and please, call me Lily.”
Arabella sucked in a sharp breath as she beamed. “That would be such an honor, would you call me Arabella?”
Lily simply nodded, feeling as if she had found a friend at last.
The mothers exchanged a smile before Lady Tremaine spoke again. “We would be delighted if you both would join us for the masked ball that I shall be hosting at the start of the season. It is always a good place to meet new people.”
Something in Lily’s chest clenched, but she pushed it aside. She would not have to be alone at the ball with her mother and aunt if she and Arabella could become friends.
“Oh, say you will! We could also go riding tomorrow morning. That is, if you like riding?” Arabella directed her full attention to Lily again as their mothers walked off in the direction of the newer fabrics.
Allowing Arabella to slip her arm through Lily’s, they followed their mother as Arabella began to chat about all of the things she would like to do with Lily.
The atmosphere was light and pleasant, adding a small amount of reprieve to Lily’s troubled thoughts. She turned her head to look at the window again, but the man who had been there before was gone, along with the carriage and two women.
Did I imagine him?
Lily could feel her heart thudding again as she took a deep breath. Men like him were dangerous. They lured young women in with promises of love and honor, but ultimately, it always ended the same.
With heartache and tears.