“If you hurt her,” Aunt Margaret said, “I will destroy you. I have connections on four continents and an exceedingly long memory. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, my lady.”
“Good.” She straightened her gloves. “The wine at the breakfast was acceptable. You may keep me updated on your vintages.”
“I shall consider it an honor.”
Aunt Margaret’s mouth twitched. She turned and walked away, and Hugo watched her go and understood, with absolute clarity, that the Dowager Marchioness of Oldbarrow’s grudging approval was worth more than the congratulations of every guest in this room combined.
The afternoon faded. The guests departed. Lord and Lady Brimsey left last, with Lady Brimsey crying into her handkerchief and Lord Brimsey perspiring emotionally into his.
Hugo offered Lily his arm.
“Shall we?”
She took it. They walked to the waiting carriage, and the footman opened the door. Hugo handed Lily inside and climbed in after her. The door closed. The driver clicked his tongue.
The carriage pulled away from Thornwaite House, and London began to recede behind them. Hugo sat beside his wife in the cab’s quiet and felt the new weight of the wordwifesettling into his bones alongside everything he had not said.
Beside him, Lily looked out the window and watched the city give way to green.
Neither of them spoke.
But her hand rested on the seat between them, and when the carriage rounded the first bend, his fingers found hers in the space where no one could see.
She did not pull away.
CHAPTER 29
“Welcome home, Your Grace.” The housekeeper curtsied in the entrance hall of Thornwaite Hall, and the words struck Lily like a bell.
Your Grace.
She was a Duchess now.
She was the lady of this house, with its vaulted ceilings and its ancestral portraits and its marble floors that she had walked across as a guest only weeks ago, scheming to win the attention of another man.
The irony was not lost on her. None of it was ever lost on her.
Hugo handed his coat to a footman and turned to Lily. He looked tired. The journey from London had taken the better part of a day, and the charming mask he wore so well had thinned around the edges, revealing the quieter man beneath.
“Mrs. Aldridge will show you to your chambers and introduce you to your lady’s maid.” He inclined his head toward the housekeeper. “Take whatever time you need. We can meet before dinner whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded. Their eyes met for a breath, and then he turned and walked toward the corridor that led to his study. Lily watched him go, then watched the gold band on her finger catch the lamplight.
Mrs. Aldridge guided her up the grand staircase and along the east wing corridor. The rooms she led Lily to were large and well-appointed, with tall windows overlooking the gardens and a fire already burning in the grate. The furniture was deep oak and cream silk. The bed was enormous, dressed in ivory linens that smelled of lavender.
“These are the Duchess’s chambers, Your Grace. His Grace’s rooms are through that door.” Mrs. Aldridge gestured to a connecting door on the far wall. “And this is Nell, your lady’s maid.”
A young woman with dark hair and steady hands stepped forward and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Nell. And thank you, Mrs. Aldridge. I think I would like a moment alone if you do not mind.”
They withdrew. The door closed, and the room fell quiet.
Lily sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her palms flat against the ivory linens.
