Page 32 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

“We did not bring much with us from Sweden, but this piece was my mother’s,” Astrid explained with a wistful smile.

“Have you lived in England long?”

“Nearly five years now. We find the English to be—well, not accepting—but they prefer to leave everyone to their own business, and that is the way Klara and I like it.” She moved into the kitchen and August followed her, ducking into the room to find the promises of food were not false. The aroma of meat and onions had him practically salivating.

Astrid smiled knowingly and she dunked a spoon into the pot sitting upon the oven, giving it a vigorous stir. “I shall serve you now, yes, and your wife can eat as soon as she is clean and comfortable.”

He forced himself to incline his head in a gentleman-like fashion. His father would say there wasn’t a gentlemanly bone in his body and at times he rather liked to prove the blackguard correct, however, he’d already spent half the day with his jaw clenched, trying to think of anything other than what he might have done to Lilly had she not reminded him of what a base bastard he was. He didn’t need to offend these exceedingly kind, if unusual, hosts by salivating all over their kitchen.

She filled two bowls and set them at the kitchen table then motioned for him to sit as she set spoons and napkins upon the scarred oak surface as though they were eating in a palace. “I think you do not wish to worry for manners today,” she informed him. “So we shall eat here.”

“You may well be right, Miss Nilsson.”

“Oh I am not Miss Nilsson. That is Klara.”

August waited for her to be seated then pulled out a chair and took a piece of bread from the offered basket. “Forgive me, I assumed you were sisters.”

“We are in many ways. We were friends from a young age. We have spent so much of our lives together that I could not picture my life without her. I love her dearly.” She smiled softly and carved through the potato dumplings. “Just as, I think, you love your wife.”

“Well, I—”

Astrid waved a hand. “Men of England do not talk of romance. Men of Sweden do not much either. Yet I know love when I see it.” She nodded, more to herself August suspected than to him. “Oh yes, there is a lot of love there.”

Chapter Twelve

Lilly never much minded getting dirty. It was something little girls should never do and probably a reason why she often found herself traipsing through muddy puddles without a care in the world. A habit formed in childhood, most likely.

But sitting around in a filthy dress as it dried to an uncomfortably crisp texture and smelling of a stagnant pond was a stretch even for her.

She luxuriated in the filled copper tub for longer than she should really, taking the marjoram-scented soap and scrubbing herself until pink-skinned and fragrant. Getting the knots out of her hair was still going to be a battle but it would be easier now that it was clean. Really, it was no wonder August had leapt away from her as though she were a hideous beast come to devour him. She hadn’t been exactly beautiful.

Notthat she cared if he found her beautiful.

It had been one giant mistake and if her ego had not been wounded, she would have been grateful for his quick escape. Imagine if they had gone further. Whilst she might not be ignorant to what men and women do behind closed doors, thanks to her married sisters and the discovery of a naughty book in the library, it didn’t mean she should be flinging herself into the arms of unsuitable men. Few people cared what Lilly Musgrave did these days. Her sisters’ marriages were more of a source of gossip than the final spinster sister. However, that was no excuse to be silly and offer oneself up to the first rake who came along.

Most especially one like August. Scandal practically wrapped itself around his every breath. If he happened to step past a woman, the scandal sheets talked of it. She’d be a fool to get involved with him.

Lilly scrubbed a wet hand over her face and drew herself reluctantly up and out of the tub. She snatched the towel from the nearby chair and wrapped it about herself then did the same to her hair with the second towel. All of this was pointless thinking. Rake or not, he didn’t want her, and she had a horse to find. Wasting time pondering what may and may not have been was senseless.

Drying herself off efficiently, she picked up the chemise Astrid had left her and rubbed the fabric between her finger and thumb. Fine needlework edged the garment, and it was soft. Whoever these young ladies were, they did not seem to actually need lodgers. Interesting, considering it seemed to be their only form of income but perhaps one of them had a wealthy brother somewhere.

After slipping into the chemise and silently triumphing over the fact her stays were probably ruined and she’d have to go without for a while, she patted her hair as dry as she could then braided it to one side. A pink dress, as promised, hung over the back of the chair.

“Another fine gown,” she mused before she pulled it over her head.

She wriggled until it fell into place, fluffed out the skirts, and found it a surprisingly good fit. A ribbon had been supplied for her to tie the waist as it was a little loose around there, but she fit into whoever’s gown this was better than she might have fit into anything of Mrs. Lambert’s. Lilly twisted to eye the back of the gown in a tiny oval mirror hung near the window.

“Blast.” She’d never manage all the buttons herself. “Astrid,” she called. Maybe the woman was nearby, and she wouldn’t have to prance around with her undergarments revealed trying to find aid.

August has already seen you in your undergarments.

She waved a hand at herself as though she could bat away the unbidden thought. It didn’t cause embarrassment as it should. After all, she’d been in need of medical aid. There was nothing at all scandalous or vaguely sensual about the situation.

Yet a swirl of desire flickered down to her core at the idea of him seeing her bared to him.

“Astrid,” she tried again.

The door flung open, making the room vibrate and the washbowl rattle on its stand. Lilly squealed, clapped her hands over her chest where the dress hung low and glared at August as he whipped his head back and forth.

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