Chapter 8
Eight
TILLY
“Good morning, milady,” a servant’s voice woke Tilly’s limp body from its hibernation. Her eyes were heavy. Body limp. Never mind her arms. Those she couldn’t move yet.
“Morning,” she mumbled an incoherent greeting because that’s all the movement her lips were capable of.
Leland had shown her many ways a loving man could take his woman’s body last night, and she was in recovery mode right now.
“Looks like a lovely morning for walking,” the woman commented.
It could have been pouring rain. Could have been a blustery snowstorm outside. Could have been in the middle of an earthquake and Tilly would have still agreed. It was a lovely morning. The first morning after she had finally snagged Leland as her…
Well, that part still wasn’t clear.
But surely betrothed wasn’t too far off now. She smiled to herself, so wide in fact that she could feel it splitting her face in half.
“Yes. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it? But I think I’ll lie here for a just a wee bit longer.”
“Whenever you’re ready, milady. Should I have chocolate brought up?”
“That would be…lovely,” she sighed, nestling deeper into the covers.
A little while later, she woke up. Again. This time, when she attempted to move her limbs, they more readily agreed. It took only a short time to dress and make her way downstairs.
When she rounded the stairs near the front door, her hip bumped into a small corner table, and an envelope fluttered to the ground. Naturally, she bent down to pick up and return it to its spot.
That had been the plan. It was only natural. Drop something. Pick it up and replace it.
But in the short time between the squat and standing position, a distinctly feminine aroma filled her nostrils. Not altogether unpleasantly. In scent at least. But then the idea of it hit Tilly, and that’s when the scent soured her stomach.
At first, she had no intention of perusing the address, never mind the letter, but then the big picture filled her head. And nausea filled her belly.
A fragrant letter sent here? To whom? She peeked.
Duke of Everstone.
Drat.
Her fingers were sliding open the envelope before she could think better of it. It was stupid. It was wrong. It was all kind of terrible. But he was a known rake. And all the lies had been piling up. And it had been oh so clear last night, but then again, was it?
She blinked hard, telling herself it was nothing. It couldn’t be anything. It was just…a cousin.
Oh, what a fool she was.
She scanned the contents and every time she tried to squeeze her eyes shut to blink away the truth on paper, she couldn’t shut them hard enough.
A tear slipped through the weak barricade. Another.
“Ah, there you are, Tilly.” Leland’s once-reassuring voice grated on her skin. “What’s wrong, darling?”
His voice now hovered over her shoulder.
“What’s that? Are you reading my mail?” His soft voice had hardened.
“Why are you reading—wait. Who’s that from?
Oh my God. Tilly. Wait.” It all happened so fast. Like one sentence atop the other.
Like all the words were blended together.
Melted like wax. Into a candle she wanted to burn.
Yes, she wanted to burn his words. His fake words.
He was a libertine. And though he had always been discreet, every rake must have to lie from time to time.
It had only taken until now for her to realize what a masterful liar he was.
She should have realized it earlier when they had been scheming together.
Or even later, when he had schemed so quickly without her.
The lies had all sounded so real. Now she knew why.
Pain zinged through her. Her hand lost its ability to grip.
The letter slipped from her fingers. Thankfully her feet still worked, and she ran upstairs. An altogether too familiar picture.
“I can explain.” The hollow words trailed behind her like a cloud of smoke that she couldn’t bear to inhale.
This time when he knocked, she ignored it.
This time when he threatened to keep knocking, she didn’t reply.
This time when he told her that he would use the secret passageway to force his way into her room, she decided to call his bluff.
And he did knock. For quite some time. But she lost track. The pillows were over her ears and she was wrapped in blankets. Desperate to hide, both from him and from the tears that were mounting at her eyes.
After some time had passed, the hard knocking turned to soft taps on the door, and she was pretty sure that she heard Etta’s voice calling to her.
“Do you want me to come in? Everything will be alright, Tilly. I’m here for you.”
But she ignored that, too. It would be too painful to be around Etta knowing that she had secured her love (Tilly’s brother no less), yet Tilly had failed.
Tilly. The one who had always been bold enough to go after what she wanted in life.
She had failed. And she resented the little pink book that encouraged her to approach Leland in the first place.
She wished she had never been exposed to that book.
Wished she could burn it. If one never knew pleasure like that existed, one could never lament its absence from their life.
But now she had known it. Had experienced it.
And now it was over. Over before it began. Whatever she thought had been real between them was tainted by an ugly truth. He was rake and always would be.
A year ago, she had asked him—nearly begged him—for a lesson. Well, now she had received it.
It was supposed to be her greatest achievement. An unparalleled success. Instead, only emptiness remained. She felt like a sack of bones with no power left in her muscles to move. And not in the good way that she had experienced this morning. This was complete and utter deflation.
Well, she had learned her lesson.