Page 96 of His Lordship's True Lady
Lily took a moment to inspect herself in her bedroom mirror. “I look different.” She looked… like herself. Not like Annie’s impersonator, not like a rabbit of a woman who could hear the pack in full cry on the very next hill.
“Hessian will come for me, and all will be well.”Let him come soon.
Lily had the breakfast parlor to herself, which was fortunate. In her present mood, she was tempted to start an argument with Uncle Walter, to tell him she expected to read any settlement agreements herself—not that he’d admitted his scheme to see her married to Oscar—and would send a copy to her Irish relations before signing anything.
Uncle would have an apoplexy at that declaration, and Oscar would whine endlessly. Perhaps Jacaranda had been right: Years of menial work in a coaching inn had given Lily the fortitude to handle her present situation.
“Ah, there you are.” Uncle Walter beamed at her from the doorway of the breakfast parlor.
Lily set down her fresh cup of tea untasted. “Good morning, Uncle.”
He seemed to expect her to say more—apologize for breathing, perhaps?—but she remained silent. She added extra butter to her toast, then a layer of jam.
“I’d like a word with you,” Uncle said. “In the family parlor.”
Lily saluted with her toast. “As soon as I’ve done justice to Cook’s offerings.” Because nothing Uncle had to say was worth a moment’s hurry on Lily’s part.
His smile was smug. “Suit yourself. I’ll await you in the parlor.”
The lame horse who wasn’t lame, a hale companion unwilling to take a short stroll, and now, Uncle Walter smiling and telling Lily to suit herself.
Hessian, I need you. I need you desperately.
* * *
“You’re too late.” Worth handed Hessian a brandy, then poured a measure for himself.
“How can I be too late? I’ve been gone exactly fourteen days, and Lily’s ostensible birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
Fatigue weighed on Hessian like a shroud, but he’d done the impossible—traveled hundreds of miles in mere days, despite endless rain, lame horses, a coachman complaining of a putrid sore throat, a lovesick footman, two encounters with highwaymen—which had been settled to the satisfaction of Hessianandhis coaching pistols—and other factors too numerous and frustrating for human endurance.
Worth took his drink to the window and stared out at a foggy London night. “I’m sorry, Hess. The ceremony was today at Walter Leggett’s home, and a special license means the location was permissible.”
Hessian could not afford the luxury of cursing, but made himself tarry in Worth’s study for a few more moments. “You’re sure?”
“Lily did what she could. She insisted on reading the agreements word for word, then she insisted on sending for Rosecroft and his lady to stand up with her. The wedding breakfast included only family, the clergyman, and the Earl and Countess of Rosecroft. I’m sorry, Hessian. We tried. We followed your plan to the letter, and it was a good plan.”
“Not good enough, if Lily has been married to her cousin.” Though Hessian himself had tried to warn her of that possibility.
Damn the rain, the roads, and damn Walter Leggett to the blackest pit.
“The hour grows late,” Worth said, stroking the hound sitting at his side. “I’ll bring Daisy home to you tomorrow. She would not allow me to buy her a pony. She said that was for you to do, because you’d know the best one for her.”
“I’ll be somewhat occupied first thing in the morning,” Hessian said, setting his untouched drink on the sideboard. “If you could divert Daisy with another outing to the park and a stroll past Tattersalls, I’d be obliged. I’ll meet you thereafter.”
“You have to be exhausted,” Worth said, turning away from the darkness. “And you haven’t told me what transpired in Scotland. There are also a few developments you should be aware of regarding Roberta Braithwaite, whose companion I had occasion to meet. Let me put you up here for the night, and—”
Hessian marched for the door. “Roberta Braithwaite is the least of my concerns. I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Meet me in the park with Daisy, and I’ll be eternally in your debt.”
“Where in the hell are you going at this hour? The law frowns on wife-stealing, Hessian.”
“Bugger the bedamned law.”
“You are an earl,” Worth retorted. “A peer of the realm andmy only brother. You cannot bugger the law. Buggery is illegal. Housebreaking is illegal. Coming between a man and his lawfully wedded wife is very illegal, also stupid and bound to get you called out. Hessian, for God’s sake—”
Hessian was already out the door and barreling down the front steps. “Meet me in the park. If I’m not there, tell Daisy I love her and please buy her a perfect damned pony.”
* * *
