Lorelei bristled.It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been to London for years.She was still who she was, and he should haveknown.The men on the door in the Almacks on the night of her debut and throughout her courtship,theywould have known.Her gaze dragged over the scuffs on the walls, to the tiny bugs circling the chandelier.The quartet struck a discordant note, and she inhaled another breath, this time through her nose.While not unpleasant, the air was not rich with indulgence, decadence, and attention.And with a swell of realisation, she understood.That Almacks was fading away.
She could not deny the burst of delight in her chest at the thought that this place that her father loved so much might be losing its lustre.
She turned to the poor man by the door.‘Her Grace, the Duchess of Osborne, accompanied by Mr Tillman Masters.’
Tillman shot her a glance of wide-eyed panic.She patted his arm and looked straight ahead.The doorman called their names, and they bounced into the room between the notes.The fear that flitted over Tillman’s face was nothing compared to that which lit her father’s expression.Panic was not a familiar emotion to him, and he stumbled over it as he rose from his seat and crossed the room.
‘What are you doing here?’he spluttered.‘Wearingthat?How did you even get in?’He grabbed her arm and tugged, but she stood firm and wrenched herself free.
‘Where is Arley?’she demanded.
He threw a look over his shoulder.‘I will come to the townhouse tomorrow.We will discuss thisin private.’
‘No.’She let her voice rise a little louder.‘You will tell me now.’
The doorman squawked, peered behind them, started to mutter some request—then, after a harsh look from Lorelei and her father, snapped his mouth closed.
Father turned back to her.‘He’s going to a school that will teach him how to be a proper Englishman.I can’t let him go back to the academy after the scene he caused today.People will be talking about it for months.He needs to learn how to behave.’
‘Where is the school?’she demanded.
‘You are not helping him!’His voice rose as he flung his hands in the air, walked away a few paces, then returned with a huff.‘He could be a minister.A member of note.He could even become prime minister or Chancellor of the Exchequer, just like his father wanted to be.The queen has daughters, and he would be well-placed to impress them.If only he could be more determined and more—’
‘Stop it!’Her voice echoed into the room.The violin screeched the ensemble to a stop as all faces turned towards them.‘Stop using us to further your own ambitions!’
‘You are embarrassing yourself,’ he said, his voice low and cutting.
‘I am not embarrassed in the slightest,’ she shot back, louder again.‘I no longer care what anyone in this room thinks of me.Where.Is.My.Son?’
The realisation started in the arch of his brows.It trickled into the widening of his eyes, and finally, into the subtle parting of his lips and the horrified gasp that followed.He’d demanded everything.Now she had nothing left to lose, which meant that he had nothing more to take.
‘Tell me now, or I will shout.I will throw a tantrum and tell everyone what you have done.And if that doesn’t weaken you, I will give the same speech on the steps of the Lords tomorrow.’
It wasn’t much, and if she did have to cause a scene outside Parliament, he’d likely have her committed to an asylum.Locked away under the name of hysteria, just like he’d casually threatened her mother whenever she’d become too bold.And Lorelei would go.Gladly, because then there was a chance that word of her fate would reach Arley.Maybe one day, he’d know that after years of failing him, she had not given up without a fight.That she’d tried.
Lorelei inhaled, then straightened.Her father’s brows rose higher, and that same flash of panic blanched his cheeks and darkened his eyes.
‘There’s a school in Manchester,’ he grated out.‘The headmaster transforms boys into men.He’ll rid him of his ridiculous softness soon enough.You’ll do him more harm than good if you stop him from going.What would his father say?’
‘I imagine William would be incredibly disappointed in me.’Lorelei twisted on her heel.Turned her back on her father, on the lights, on the too-sweet air.On the harsh bark of her name that pursued her like an order.
She ignored it.
Tillman kept pace as she descended the stairs, walking beside her without complaint as he had for all those years.She tried to unravel the tangle of feelings, far too many of them to make sense of.They refused to line up to be addressed one at a time.There was worry and relief and purpose and connection, gratitude and daring, hesitation and, above all, love.A love so fierce she might shout it to the world, so terrifying she might crumble and cry.
‘I’ll find a cab to take us back to the townhouse.It won’t take long to hitch the horses.If we rest them on the edge of town, we might catch them before Arley’s gone too far.’
‘We have no chance of catching them in a carriage.’She scanned the line of groomsmen.‘But I know what can.You!’she shouted at the man wearing her father’s crest, pointing a finger straight at him.‘My father’s horse.Saddled.Now.’
The groom startled.‘Is he on his way?’
‘Do not question me,’ Lorelei snapped back.‘His horse.Now.’
The man hesitated, then gave beneath Lorelei’s determined gaze.He scrambled off the wall and out of sight, and when he returned, he was leading a beautiful bay stallion, fourteen, maybe fifteen hands high.Tillman took the reins.They moved away from the groomsmen and drivers, as if they were headed to the door to wait for the grand man himself.The horse pawed at the ground.
Tillman knelt and interleaved his fingers.‘You’ll need to swing your leg over as I push.Ready?’
Lorelei rested her foot in Tillman’s hands as she grasped the pommel.When she nodded, he boosted her jump, and with a brief struggle, she settled across the saddle.She bunched her skirts around her and stuffed them between her thighs and the leather.
