Good Earls Don't Lie by Michelle Willingham Page A

around and saw that Iris had gone pale. When she took her mother’s hand, Iris’s palm was sweaty, and her eyes seemed unfocused. “Are you all right?”
    “My arm.” Iris’s voice was slurred, as if she were intoxicated. “I cannot lift my arm.”
    Lily guided her toward her bed. “Sit down a moment.” She kept her voice calm, soothing her mother by telling Iris to take deep breaths and rest.
    The episode passed within a few minutes, and she helped her mother lie back. Within minutes, Iris curled up to sleep.
    Lily pulled a blanket over her, wondering whether she should summon a physician or if this was merely part of her mother’s illness. She rang for her maid, and when the girl arrived, Lily asked her to watch over her mistress.
    She needed to speak with Rose and determine what to do now.

    Rose leaned back in her chair, while her bare feet rested in a basin of warmed water. She wore a clean nightgown and wrapper, and she had decided to take a tray alone in her room this evening. Her hair was damp and combed over one shoulder, but she held no regrets about being rained upon. Instead, she had enjoyed her moment of foolishness.
    Oh, she knew that Calvert loathed being her personal servant. Though he tried to hide his malcontent, it was very clear that he resented these duties. He preferred to polish silver rather than take her anywhere. More than once he’d tried to convince her to get a Bath chair.
    But she refused to let herself be confined indoors or imprisoned within a chair—even one with wheels.
    The warm water in the basin was growing cooler, and she attempted to wiggle her toes. There. She smiled at the slight movement, gratified to see that she had managed the feat.
    A knock sounded at the door, and she heard her sister’s voice. Rose called out for Lily to come inside, and when her sister entered the room, it was clear that something had happened.
    “We’re not going to London,” Lily began without preamble.
    “Sit down and tell me.” Rose pointed toward another chair, and her sister brought it closer.
    Lily hesitated as if she didn’t quite know how to begin. “Mother was having a better day until a little while ago. She . . . brought me a gown she wanted me to try on. But then, her voice grew slurred, as if she were intoxicated.” Lily went on to describe the strange illness and how their mother was now sleeping in her bed. “I think we should call a physician . . . but I’m afraid to.”
    The worry in her voice mirrored Rose’s concerns. Neither of them wanted their mother to be thought of as mad. And yet, they could not ignore the onset of this spell.
    “In the morning,” she said. “We will send for one then, if it’s necessary. Perhaps a day or two of rest will make everything right again.” Rose lifted her feet from the basin and rested them upon a linen cloth.
    Her sister looked startled. “Why, Rose. You moved your feet.”
    “So I did.” She beamed at her sister. Though it was such a small movement, it was the first time she’d managed to lift them without using her hands. Hope burgeoned up within her until it felt as if she’d swallowed sunlight. “By summer’s end, I hope to dance, Lily.”
    “With whom?” Her sister laughed and ventured, “Calvert, I presume? Or perhaps the handsome Mr. Donovan, if you summon him back to Penford?”
    Rose’s smile faltered at the mention of the Irishman. She had neglected to say anything about her agreement. “He . . . hasn’t left yet, Lily.”
    “What do you mean, Mr. Donovan hasn’t left? I thought you sent him away.”
    “Not exactly.” She reached down and lifted her feet from the water, drying her ankles and legs. “I told him he could stay until Grandmother returns from Bath.”
    Her sister’s expression grew incredulous. “Why would you do this? We don’t even know who he is.”
    Her sister was right, but Rose couldn’t help but think that he was truly an earl who had fallen into misfortune and was in