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Lily turned on the stair with exaggerated slowness, mustering the brightest smile she could manage. In most cases, her smile came effortlessly. It was her instinct to greet the world with cheer.

But not today.

Today, she had to summon it like a soldier donning armor.

Today was different.

“Mama! I am so happy to see you. I feel as if we have barely spoken, what with the coronation and everything happening this week. So many late events without me. Did you enjoy …” Lily’s voice faltered. She could not, for the life of her, recall where her parents had been the previous night. “Last night?” she finished, the rising note in her voice betraying her weak delivery. She nearly winced at herself.

Under normal circumstances, she might have chattered on with deflections and charm, but words were elusive this morning. She had cast off one burden of guilt only to shoulder another. And soon, she would have to summon the courage to confess the dreadful truth to her mama, who lived and breathed for the marriage prospects of her only daughter.

But not yet.

Right now, all she wanted was to reach the haven of her bedchamber, scale the step at the end of her great high bed, and bury her face into her pillows until the world stopped spinning. She would lie there and contemplate her ruination at length. Ruined!

All because of that appalling man, Grimes. If he had only done his duty instead of fastening onto Mr. Ridley like a leech!

Lily shook her head minutely and tried to focus. Her mother’s expression was thunderous.

“Where were you?” The heat in Lady Moreland’s voice was uncharacteristic and made Lily retreat a step. Her slipper caught the edge of the stair, and she had to seize the banister to keep from toppling.

Smile. Keep smiling.

Her lips curved again with effort, trying to present a picture of blithe innocence. “I took a constitutional. With Nancy.”

“On your own?” The question rang more like a lament.

“Nothing happened. I am here, all safe and sound.” A boldfaced lie, soon to be shredded to ribbons when the truth came out. But Lily needed a moment longer—just a little more time—to collect herself for the inevitable onslaught.

Speaking with Grimes had been an exhausting ordeal, particularly following a sleepless night of tossing beneath her counterpane, the linens twisted about her legs. Lily had dug deep to summon every ounce of insouciant chatter she could muster while enduring the runner’s scrutiny. His cold, beady eyes had surveyed her as though she were something foul tracked in from the gutter.

“What if someone had seen you? Of course someone saw you! How are we to explain this? What if it ruins you entirely, young lady?”

Lily restrained the grimace that tugged at her brow. If Mama believed that simply walking with Nancy in the early morning light was enough to tarnish her reputation, she was in for a veritable fit of apoplexy when she learned the full truth.

It pained Lily to know she was about to cause her mother such distress. But she could not carry the guilt of allowing an innocent man to be tried for patricide, not when she possessed the power to stop it. Mama would recover in time—of that, Lily was certain. She would find distraction in arranging Aidan’s match or in having the silver polished for the next soirée.

In the grand tapestry of Abbott family legacy, Lily’s marriage might have added a stitch or two, but it was not the hem that held the thing together. Viscount Moreland was well connected through generations of strategic unions. One daughter’s deviation from the path would not undo it all.

“Mama, I had a chaperon, and I was in a respectable neighborhood, in full daylight.” Another untruth, dropped lightly as sugar into tea. Lily just needed this conversation to end. Her limbs ached with the weight of responsibility, and she longed for solitude to contemplate how best to reveal what she had done and why. Someday, she hoped, they would understand. She had done what was right. What was honorable.

Her mother’s voice broke, tremulous and wounded. “Oh, Lily! Why would you do this?”

Lily bit her lip as she watched her distraught mother pace and lament her impropriety. A pang of sadness struck her, knowing that life in their household was on the cusp of irrevocable change. Lady Moreland had always been a devoted parent. Yes, a touch suffocating at times and far too concerned with the whispers of high society, but Lily had never doubted her mother’s love or the sincerity behind her tireless efforts to shape her future.

They disagreed frequently on what constituted best for Lily, but even now, Lily could not fault her mother’s intentions. She swallowed against the knot rising in her throat, the ache of guilt blooming in her chest. She sincerely hoped that, in time, Mama might understand the choice she had made, might see that it had been the only course of action left to her.

“I needed some air,” Lily said softly, “because I have been cooped up all week with all the coronation goings-on.”

Lady Moreland clutched at her chest, her expression crumpling. “Is this my fault? Have I neglected you?”

Tears welled in Lily’s eyes, blurring the silk hangings along the stairwell. She had not anticipated that particular consequence. It had never occurred to her that her mother might blame herself. Hurting her overly watchful but loving parent had never been part of the plan. Then again, it had never been much of a plan at all.

Descending the remaining steps, she stood in front of her mother and reached out to clasp her gently by the arms. Lily lifted onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to her mother’s smooth cheek. “You are the very best of mamas,” she whispered. “And you have never neglected me.”

She stepped back before she could say more, before her resolve crumbled, and turned swiftly, gathering her skirts in both hands. Without waiting for a reply, she dashed up the stairs.

“Do not run! It is not ladylike!” her mother called after her, her voice thick with emotion.