“My lord,” Mrs. Quill said. The tightness around her pale-blue eyes smoothed out. She stepped away and opened the door wide, revealing Constance sitting at her dressing table.
Mrs. Quill picked up a wicker basket full of wool. “Summon me when you wish to sleep, my lady.”
As the lady’s maid closed the door, Constance dove toward her bed. She lifted a pillow and withdrew a blue, leather book, identical to the one he held in his hands.
He eyed the slip of paper tucked in the book. “Have you read ahead?”
She plucked the bookmark free. “Of course not. Shall we continue at chapter…eight?”
“Six,” Thel said as he sat on the chair by the fire and cracked open his copy ofLady Audley’s Secret. In moments, he was swept away by George Talboys’s grief upon learning of his wife’s death. It reminded him of the nights he’d spent alone in his room after Marguerite’s funeral. A lump formed in his throat. He might have followed his wife into death if it had not been forthe promise she had extracted out of him, that he would care for their daughter until she wed.
He finished the chapter, set it down, and waited. It was not long before Constance sighed and clutched the book to her chest.
“It’s so romantic,” she said. “I cannot wait to find a man who loves me as much as George loved Helen.”
“That is why we engaged Lady Allen. We will not rest until you have a George of your own.”
She scooted to the edge of her bed and tugged at a strand of her hair, a sure sign she was troubled.
He crossed the room and put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“If George had found another woman to be his wife, he might not have been exiled by his family.” Her lower lip trembled. “What if I fall in love with a commoner?”
Rather than placate her with assurances that had no real merit, he leaned back and considered. What would he do if his daughter’s choice of husband was someone the rest of the family could not accept?
He knew what Marguerite would have done. She would have supported Constance, even if that meant they were expelled from society. Unfortunately, he was not so brave. He had spent a significant portion of his life bringing his family together. The moment they turned on each other, the harmony he had worked so hard to achieve would dissolve, and he’d end up alone once again.
“We would find a solution,” he said. “One that would not involve shipping you to Australia.”
It was the best he could come up with, and it seemed to satisfy his daughter, but as he said goodnight, he resolved that the next book they read would be one that would not raise such uncomfortable questions.
Chapter 3
LADY OLIVIA ALLEN STAKES HER CLAIM. I have become aware of a close acquaintance between the Countess Dowager Allen and Marquess of Lowell. It should be cautioned that this is not yet cause to celebrate, for the woman’s promiscuous nature is well-known. The marquess might yet prove too pedestrian for Lady Allen’s tastes.
Olivia crumpled the newspaper into a ball, dropped it onto the sticky floor of the carriage, and crushed it beneath the heel of her blue, satin slipper. She should not have been surprised that Lord Lowell had not stopped the articles, despite their deal. The man was a better actor than any she had ever seen on stage. He maintained a careful innocence when she was in his presence, then returned to cruelty the moment she left his sight.
Or perhaps she was attributing too much intelligence to her enemy. This wasn’t a man who understood how to manipulate, but one who used whatever clumsy tool was at his disposal to achieve his goal.
The carriage rattled to a stop, and a servant dressed in green-and-gold livery opened her door. She took his hand and ascended the pristine steps leading to a towering house. It was three stories tall with a brick façade covered in winding ivy and dormers over the three windows on the top level. A ducal residence. She had almost forgotten that Lord Lowell was heir to a dukedom.
A bead of sweat dripped down her chin. It was unfortunate that the nature of her visit required tighter adherence to formality, or she would have worn something lighter than her pale-blue linen day dress. The garment accentuated her figure, but the full-length sleeves clasped her in a tight embrace and the jet beads decorating her hat hung like a noose about to drop around her neck.
She fluffed her skirts and followed the footman up the steps. The closer she got, the more she became aware of sound filtering through the door: the murmur of many voices speaking, the shrill cry of children’s laughter, the patter of running feet. It was a remarkable amount of noise, and she hoped it didn’t mean she was about to interrupt an event, even though Lord Lowell had explicitly invited her the previous afternoon.
The footman reached the top of the stairs before her and drew the door open, causing her to stop short.
If she had the wherewithal to design an entryway that perfectly suited her tastes, it would be very similar to what lay before her. An enormous, gold chandelier hung above white, marble floors that led to a grand staircase carpeted in a pattern of silver stars on red. There were no cracked tiles or mildewy corners. Every inch of space was spotless, a difficult feat with so many people living under one roof.
And there were people, so many bodies bustling about, that her fears of being an inopportune caller returned. When no butler or housekeeper appeared to greet her, she nearly turned on her heel. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and strode into the chaos.
The appearance of Lady Allen always attracted attention—eventually.
She had barely passed the threshold when a group of four brown-haired children appeared out of nowhere, running toward her with their arms outstretched. She stood rooted to thespot, a rock jutting out of the ocean, and let them wash over her. They pressed their sticky hands to her dress and began speaking all at once.
“You’re the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen,” a rosy-cheeked child said. “My name’s Bennett. What’s yours?”
“Connie’s gowns aren’t as pretty as yours,” a child with the same dark eyes as Lord Lowell asked. “Go away, Bennett. I got to her first, and I’m older than you.”
