Page 126 of Wild Lily
“We do.”
“I’d like a breakfast tray up here this morning, Nora.” She’d like the servant to leave her so she might pack a small reticule with a few clothes. “Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, if we have them. Coffee and tea.”
A knock came at the outer door.
“See who that is,” she told the woman.
What would she take? Where would she go?
Nora and Perkins exchanged comments.
Presently, her maid reappeared. “His Grace wishes you to go to his study.”
“Oh?”What now?
“Me, too. Immediately.”
“Very well.” She’d wash and dress quickly. That was best. The less time she had to think of it, the better she would be.
* * *
Lily entered Julian’s study, the dark oak paneling casting shadows on those already assembled. He’d ordered the gas lamps turned up but the silence added to the somber atmosphere.
“Come sit here, Lily.” Julian pointed to the Chippendale chair beside his desk.
She crossed the room, while Nora hung back near the door.
“Perkins,” Julian said to his butler, “you may leave us.”
Phillip Leland, the dowager duchess, Nora and she were the only ones in attendance. Why her own maid was here raised unusual questions of propriety.
The dowager regarded the servant with narrowed eyes. “Why is she here?”
Julian came round his desk to lean back against it and cross his arms. In one hand, he held a sheet of paper. “We shall learn.”
The dowager shifted in her chair, her jaw set, her gaze upon the paper in Julian’s hand.
“Mister Leland has been very kind to bring to my attention a matter that deeply concerns me. Since we’ve been here dealing with the death of my father, I have not had opportunity to give my attention to the London news. And now we must.”
The dowager scoffed. “If we want to read the papers, Julian—”
He lifted his hand and rattled the paper. “I have here a listing of London scandal sheets.The Tatler, The Flyer. The Red Parlor.A penny a piece for hideous stories of degradation. Fit for no one of any refinement but nonetheless, popular.”
The duchess lost all color to her face.
Nora sucked in her breath.
Lily examined the servant. Her wide eyes, her grim lips. What was wrong with her? What concern had a maid for London broadsheets?
Lily stiffened.What has this to do with me?
“A number of articles have appeared in the past few weeks in these gossip sheets,” he went on, “and the contents are intriguing.”
A premonition of the subject matter had Lily squirming in her chair.
“They recount stories that not only are malicious lies but family secrets.”
Lily froze.About me? Cartoons again? Oh, the shame of it. Why do this?
