Matthew wanted to marry her before he left for India with her brother James. The two men had traveled together, supposedly because of Matthew’s investments with the East India company, but she wondered if the real reason was because they’d wanted to see the world and find adventure.
On their wedding night, her family had mistakenly believed she’d gone to visit her dearest friend Catherine—and she had never bothered to correct that assumption. Instead, she had spent the night in the arms of the man she loved.
Matthew hadn’t written to her in all this time. It terrified Lily to imagine that he’d been killed. She missed him more and more with each passing day. Even her brother had never answered her letters, and she didn’t know what had happened. They needed to send someone to India to bring James back, or at the very least, to tell him that he was now the earl. At the moment, their land steward was helping them keep the estate running smoothly, since their mother was unable to do so. But although everything was prosperous on the surface, Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that the illusion would shatter.
Her mother, in contrast, was ever cheerful, believing that all would be well. This morning, Iris had been in good spirits, talking of finding Lily a wealthy husband. I already have one, she’d wanted to say, but couldn’t. Instead, it seemed better to redirect her mother’s attention back to Rose.
Her older sister was desperate to walk again before they returned to London. And although Lily didn’t blame her, neither did she want Rose to worry about the opinions of others when they arrived—especially Thomas Kingford, the Viscount Burkham.
Quite frankly, the man didn’t suit her sister at all. Burkham was too dependent upon his parents—in particular, his mother. Lily couldn’t imagine what Rose had ever seen in him, except that Lord Burkham was a safe choice. Everyone knew him as a gentleman with a respectable title and fortune. But she’d always thought her sister could do better.
A knock sounded at the door, and her mother called out, “Lily, may I come in?”
“Of course.” She stood, and Iris entered the room, carrying a ball gown over one arm.
“I brought this in to see if it would fit you. You might be able to wear it to a ball in London.” Iris held out a high-waisted gown that was twenty years out of fashion. But Lily didn’t have the heart to say no when her mother’s good days were becoming fewer and fewer.
“Help me with the buttons,” she told her. Iris set down the gown and closed the door before returning to assist.
“It’s a gown I wore for my debut,” her mother admitted. “I had many admirers then.” There was a slight catch in her voice. “Perhaps it will bring luck to you or your sister.”
“I think Rose should find a husband first, since she’s the eldest.” That was a good enough reason, Lily thought.
But her mother turned to face her, and there was sadness in her blue eyes. “Do you think she’ll ever walk again, Lily?”
“She seems determined to find a way.” But inwardly, she didn’t believe it. Although Rose claimed she had feeling in her legs, not once had she been able to bear weight upon them.
Now that her mother was in a better state of mind, Lily decided to ask about the mysterious Mr. Donovan. It did seem that the handsome Irishman had provoked a response from her sister. And so she asked, “Mother, did you or Grandmother ever know Lord or Lady Ashton?”
“Why yes, of course,” Iris said. “I went to school with Lady Ashton. Moira Ryan was her name before she married. And a more lively girl than Moira there never was. The mischief that girl got into . . .” Iris finished unbuttoning Lily’s gown and lifted it over her head. “She married the Earl of Ashton and they had several children.”
“Were there any sons?” Lily murmured. Her mother’s hands stilled upon her corset, and she didn’t speak. “Mother?”
She turned
On their wedding night, her family had mistakenly believed she’d gone to visit her dearest friend Catherine—and she had never bothered to correct that assumption. Instead, she had spent the night in the arms of the man she loved.
Matthew hadn’t written to her in all this time. It terrified Lily to imagine that he’d been killed. She missed him more and more with each passing day. Even her brother had never answered her letters, and she didn’t know what had happened. They needed to send someone to India to bring James back, or at the very least, to tell him that he was now the earl. At the moment, their land steward was helping them keep the estate running smoothly, since their mother was unable to do so. But although everything was prosperous on the surface, Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that the illusion would shatter.
Her mother, in contrast, was ever cheerful, believing that all would be well. This morning, Iris had been in good spirits, talking of finding Lily a wealthy husband. I already have one, she’d wanted to say, but couldn’t. Instead, it seemed better to redirect her mother’s attention back to Rose.
Her older sister was desperate to walk again before they returned to London. And although Lily didn’t blame her, neither did she want Rose to worry about the opinions of others when they arrived—especially Thomas Kingford, the Viscount Burkham.
Quite frankly, the man didn’t suit her sister at all. Burkham was too dependent upon his parents—in particular, his mother. Lily couldn’t imagine what Rose had ever seen in him, except that Lord Burkham was a safe choice. Everyone knew him as a gentleman with a respectable title and fortune. But she’d always thought her sister could do better.
A knock sounded at the door, and her mother called out, “Lily, may I come in?”
“Of course.” She stood, and Iris entered the room, carrying a ball gown over one arm.
“I brought this in to see if it would fit you. You might be able to wear it to a ball in London.” Iris held out a high-waisted gown that was twenty years out of fashion. But Lily didn’t have the heart to say no when her mother’s good days were becoming fewer and fewer.
“Help me with the buttons,” she told her. Iris set down the gown and closed the door before returning to assist.
“It’s a gown I wore for my debut,” her mother admitted. “I had many admirers then.” There was a slight catch in her voice. “Perhaps it will bring luck to you or your sister.”
“I think Rose should find a husband first, since she’s the eldest.” That was a good enough reason, Lily thought.
But her mother turned to face her, and there was sadness in her blue eyes. “Do you think she’ll ever walk again, Lily?”
“She seems determined to find a way.” But inwardly, she didn’t believe it. Although Rose claimed she had feeling in her legs, not once had she been able to bear weight upon them.
Now that her mother was in a better state of mind, Lily decided to ask about the mysterious Mr. Donovan. It did seem that the handsome Irishman had provoked a response from her sister. And so she asked, “Mother, did you or Grandmother ever know Lord or Lady Ashton?”
“Why yes, of course,” Iris said. “I went to school with Lady Ashton. Moira Ryan was her name before she married. And a more lively girl than Moira there never was. The mischief that girl got into . . .” Iris finished unbuttoning Lily’s gown and lifted it over her head. “She married the Earl of Ashton and they had several children.”
“Were there any sons?” Lily murmured. Her mother’s hands stilled upon her corset, and she didn’t speak. “Mother?”
She turned
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