Which was perfectly fine…or ought to be anyhow. What Lilly had felt for Michael, what she’d thought he’d felt for her, had all been an illusion. Best to leave such nonsense in the past.
Michael lived in a different world now.
As did she.
He did, however, appear to be in something of a pickle. Perhaps theycouldbe of some assistance. But should she? She was torn. She had once felt very close to him. They had held each other in great affection.
Until he abandoned her.
A part of her wanted to leave him to walk the remainder of the distance to London. Barefooted even. Good manners however, won out.
“You were traveling with only one carriage?” she asked. Surely a man of his stature would have an entire entourage?
Instead of answering her question, Michael glanced around. Several of the inn’s guests, keen to know his response, listened to their conversation shamelessly. His arrival had certainly livened things up around here. “Please allow me to clean up, my lady.” And then he surprised her. “Will you and your stepdaughter join me for dinner?” He turned to the innkeeper. “You do have a private dining room available, do you not?”
Having come to terms with the fact that he had insulted an actual duke, the innkeeper launched into a series of bows and bobs. “Of course! Of course! And a suite for His Grace as well.” He waved toward the stairs for Michael and his men to follow him. “There was a gentleman here earlier, must have been your valet then, a Mr. Dunkin. He departed along with your other servants but left a portmanteau in my keeping for you, for YourGrace, sir. Because of the rain, we are short on rooms. He asked that we relay to His Grace, er, to you that is, that they would go ahead and meet up with you in London. I’m sorry for not knowing you were His Grace, er, Your Grace…heh, heh…But truly, I was expecting something of a fancier…not that you aren’t fancy, it’s just that…er…” He trailed off uncomfortably.
Best stop now, Lilly thought. Poor man! Michael did look rather vagrant-like. Mr. Jackson turned to lead the duke and his men toward the back stairs.
Michael bowed once again toward Lilly. “I’ll see you at dinner then, madam.” He’d scowled upon hearing the news regarding his baggage coaches. His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a hand across his face wearily. He must be exhausted!
After they disappeared, Lilly sighed.
He’d called hermadam.
How was it possible to feel so old when one was a mere six-and-twenty? She pinched her lips together and pivoted in the opposite direction. “We’d better get Miss Fussy outside, or there will be more than mud on this floor.”
Glenda trailed after her excitedly. “Is he really a duke, Lilly?” And “How is it that you know a duke? You’ve never mentioned knowing a duke before! Oh, Lilly, how delicious! Tonight, we dine with a real live duke! And we haven’t even arrived in London yet!”
Leading Miss Fussy outside onto a somewhat soggy, grassy area, Lilly ignored Glenda’s questions for the moment. The ground was saturated but not entirely muddied. Lilly untied the leading string and allowed her pet to explore. Miss Fussy would go to a great deal of trouble discovering the perfect location to do her business. She nosed around in somewhat of a figure eight, then circled back diligently and squatted. The familiar ritual was accomplished with a great deal of dignity.
“Lilly—” Glenda implored her. “You must tell me more about him. Is he married? Is he in search of a wife? Oh, I knowa duke is far above me, and he is very old, but, oh, he is so handsome!”
“Take a breath, Glenda.” Lilly finally spoke. “If you would but give me a moment, I will endeavor to answer some of your questions.” And then she paused. “I met the duke before he was titled. He was a second son and had been on leave from the military. His father and brother died within a very short time of each other, shortly after Mich—shortly after the duke and I met. Just before I married your father, in fact.”
April1815
“But why would you need a season?” Lilly’s father, Mr. George Bridge, had reasoned with her when she reminded him of the promise he’d made when she was but twelve years old. “I’ve a perfectly sound match for you here.”
A landed gentleman, Mr. Bridge enjoyed a small income, but Lilly and her mother could not depend upon it to secure their distant future. For their home, their estate, most everything the family owned of any value was entailed through the male line.
They didn’t speak of the precariousness of their situation often, but Lilly knew her father worried. Her parents had not been blessed with any sons. A distant nephew stood to inherit everything.
So concerned with financials as of late, Lilly’s father was now attempting to retract his promise for the London season. He’d asserted it wasn’t necessary.
Lilly’s sister, Rose, dead for three years, had left a grieving husband and a motherless eight-year-old. Everyone declared a marriage between seventeen-year-old Lilly and Rose’s widower to be the perfect solution. Everyone but Lilly, that was.
“You promised me a season, Father. I will find my own husband.” She’d held her ground fiercely. She would never marry Lord Beauchamp!
Her brother-in-law had been obsessed with Rose and had gone into full mourning upon her death. Three years later, he continued to wear all black, going so far, even, as to carry black handkerchiefs. Although he’d always treated her politely, he came across as…pompous and somewhat eccentric. Marrying him was incomprehensible. Lilly found the entire suggestion repulsive.
She would find her own prince.
And so, her father had relented. One season, he’d said. If she failed to land a suitable and well-heeled husband by the end of it, she’d marry the baron.
Lilly was not worried. London abounded with eligible bachelors! And although not the beauty that her sister was, Lilly possessed reasonably good looks. And she would have the help of her aunt, Lady Eleanor Sheffield. Having marched with thetonfor decades, Aunt would have received invitations to all the balls, garden parties, and recitals necessary for Lilly to find her prince.
She was to sponsor Lilly.
