Page 17 of Long Live the Baron
“Unless …”
Brendan and Halmesbury both turned to Richard, his unease stamped across his features.
“Unless he wanted to confer with his supporters. He could still arrest Brendan once he has secured their approval to proceed.”
* * *
Lily paced up and down.She had been doing so since dawn. After leaving Lady Slight the afternoon before, she had been scrambling for a solution to Mr. Ridley’s plight. Somehow, knowing where he had been the night of the murder made her feel personally responsible for his well-being, along with that of his sister, Lady Halmesbury.
Lady Slight would not do the right thing, and perhaps visiting the widow to beseech her to intervene should have assuaged Lily’s conscience.
Yet … she still felt accountable. Lily should step forward and state what she had witnessed to the authorities, but Lady Slight had thwarted this path. The widow would simply deny it and then it would be Lily’s word against hers. The statement of a widow would hold far more weight than that of an unwed young woman, especially when that widow was a viscountess.
Lily stopped to stomp her feet in frustration before stalking over to her dressing table to stare at the news sheet. Reports of the baron’s death were now in circulation, along with mentions of the estrangement between him and his son. They had not spoken in seven years, according to the article, which Lily had not been aware of.
The temerity of the widow still grated on her nerves. The woman had admitted to having Brendan stop in front of Lily’s home as a decoy to the true destination. Clearly, the viper had no concern over the possibility of tainting her or Mama’s reputation if passersby had spotted him in front of the Abbott townhouse. How despicable the woman was!
What if …
Lily raised her head to stare at herself in the mirror. Brown eyes, which she hoped were the color of chocolate—mostly because Mama and Aidan had attractive chocolate eyes—stared back at her. The inkling of an idea took shape in her mind, but her stomach tightened in dismay. Surely Mr. Ridley would find a way to address this matter? He had the help of both a duke and an earl at his side.
Except …
The duchess sniffling quietly during theirtête-à-tête echoed in her mind. She had appeared genuinely concerned.
Surely they will come up with a plan to deal with it …
Lily tried to squash the recollection of Sophia recounting the tale of the Earl of Ferrers—a nobleman who had been imprisoned at the Tower, tried at Westminster, and then hanged.
There must be another way …
What if there was not? What if an innocent man was tried and hanged because Lily would not act?
It will ruin me …
Was maintaining her reputation worth the cost of her self-respect? A man could be arrested. A good man from an excellent family, all because Lily stood by and allowed it to happen. He was the obvious suspect, had no defense to offer, and Lily believed her when Lady Slight stated she would not help.
What of falling in love? What of being wed, and having children, and the freedom of a married woman?
What would it matter if she achieved these goals, but lost her sense of self in the process? The truth was, she could not seek counsel in this matter. She simply had to decide what was the right path and take it. It was the very essence of being an adult who stood on her own two feet.
Lily fell to her knees, the weight of responsibility too much to bear. And she wept, her shoulders shuddering with her despair as she faced the burden of growing up.
For the longest time, she had wished to be an adult, to be treated with respect and behave with maturity. Lily had imagined marrying a man who loved her, as Sophia had done. Bringing her first child into the world, as Sophia had just done.
Now Lily wished she could return to her childhood, where heavy decisions did not weigh upon her.
If she discussed the matter with anyone, even Sophia, she knew she would be dissuaded from doing the right thing. She would hear arguments about how her reputation was paramount. How she must make a successful match. How it was someone else’s problem to deal with.
But if she did not do the right thing and protect Mr. Ridley, despite the knowledge she had of his innocence, it would rack her with guilt.
If she buried the guilt somewhere in the deep recesses of her soul, she would become a heartless hussy such as the one who lived across the street, who enjoyed a parade of men through her home but possessed no integrity, no humanity, and no true joy. A beautiful but empty shell in an exquisite room with no sign of vitality.
Her optimism would die a slow and painful death, and she would no longer be … Lily—a spirited young woman who may not quite fit in, but who had cheer in her heart and in her words.
I must do what I know in my heart is right.
She wept for the end of her hopes and dreams, and for the beginning of a frightening path into the unknown. Her reputation would be destroyed, and she could only hope that Mr. Ridley might save her in turn.
