Once an Heiress (32 page)

Opening her eyes, she pressed a hand to her temple to still her swimming vision. Across the room, Ghita wore an amused expression, clearly enjoying the effects of her performance.

Suddenly, the sound of feet pounded up the stairs. Lily looked up just in time to see the Ethan burst into the room, a heartbreaking grin on his face. “There you are, you magnificent girl! However did you do it?”

With lips pinched tight together, Lily held silent. Why did she still yearn to throw herself into his arms? Even now, she wanted him to hold her while she cried, though it was he who caused her distress. Taking in her stricken appearance, Ethan’s face fell.

Ghita rose and turned to face him. “My lord.” Ethan’s expression turned to outrage. “I’ve just had a delightful visit with your lady wife. I shall leave you two to your happy reunion — ”

“Stay,” Lily snapped.

Ghita tittered, her eyes darting between Lily and Ethan. For his own part, Lily noticed, Ethan looked on the verge of pitching Ghita out the window.

“Signora Bellisario has just appraised me of some startling intelligence,” Lily stated. Ethan took a step backward, his features shuttered and wary. “Is it true, Ethan?” she asked in a low voice. “That you wanted to marry me so you could make her your mistress?”

Ethan’s shoulders slumped a fraction, pain scribed across his handsome face. “Yes, Lily, it’s true. But listen, listen to me, princess.” He crossed the room and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. Lily whimpered and attempted to withdraw from his grasp, but he held tight to her fingers. Kissing the back of each hand, he then pressed them against his chest. Behind him, Lily caught a glimpse of motion as Ghita slipped out of the room, away from Ethan’s wrath.

“Yes, I said that before I knew you, darling, but once I had the opportunity to talk with you, to learn about you, I wanted nothing to do with it.”

Lily shook her head and looked away.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “The night of Vauxhall Gardens, I was disgusted with myself for contemplating such a course. But then, you were in the carriage with us, and everything happened so fast.” He pressed kisses to her hands again and started to draw her closer.

Wrenching violently, Lily succeeded in excising herself from his arms. She could not trust herself there — even now, her flesh betrayed her, awakened by his presence.

She fled from the parlor and ran up the stairs, tears staining her cheeks. Instinct carried her to the bedchamber, where she flung herself face-down onto the coverlet. Ethan’s measured steps followed her. “Go away!” The soft bedding muffled her indignant demand.

“Have you taken up residence in my room?” he asked, bemused.

Lily raised her head and groaned. She hadn’t realized she’d gone to her new bedchamber — his. Ethan’s weight sank into the covers beside her. Scooting back until she touched the mound of pillows against the headboard, Lily drew her knees against her chest. Ethan’s hand came toward her.

“No!” Lily slapped his hand away, lashing out with all the hurt and anger in her broken heart.

Ethan rubbed his hand with the other. “That was uncalled for, Lily.” His lips pressed together, and the corners of his eyes tightened. “I have never struck you, despite the many times you’ve tempted me. I should appreciate reciprocal restraint.”

Lily gasped. “You’re wrong, dead wrong! You
have
struck me, again and again.” Her voice rose in pitch and cracked with emotion. Her belly was in knots as she quelled the rising urge to vomit. “You struck me by duping me into this marriage for my money. You struck me with your lies.”

He shook his head in emphatic denial. “It’s not like that — ”

She pressed a fist to her chest and left her arm there, suddenly ashamed she’d put her bosom so much on display for her cad of a husband. “You only married me to get the woman you really want, that horrible little opera singer. Have you any idea how humiliated I am?”

“Listen to me,” he snapped. In a flash, Ethan knelt before her and leaned in close, his nose mere inches from hers. “I don’t want Ghita,” he said. “
You
are the woman I want. Only you.” Rocking forward, his mouth crushed her lips.

In vain, Lily fought against the raw need snaking its way down her back to twine in her abdomen. His smell surrounded her, clean, warm and spicy — somehow he’d managed a bath between Fleet and home. Where had he bathed? The question distracted her from the kiss.

Mistress.
He would have run of her house; he had probably been soaking in the tub even while Ghita came here to mock Lily with their affair.

With a mighty effort, she shoved him away from her while a sob wracked her body. “Go away!” she cried.

Ethan blinked, his eyes desire-hazed but quickly cooling. “Where would you have me go?” He stood and prowled the room, his long strides eating up the floor. In reply, Lily only shook her head and swiped tears from her cheeks. Raking a hand through his hair, he pinned her in a fierce glare. “Answer me, Lily. What is it you want?”

“Time,” she said, her voice threadbare in her tight throat. “I need some time to sort this all out. Settle on where I can go, or where you can go — ”

“What?” he roared. Wrenching his arms down and back, he looked like a prizefighter ready to round on her. “You would throw our marriage away?”

“Yes,” she shot back. “It’s been rubbish all along — we might as well toss it in the midden heap.”

He stepped forward, rage blazing behind his eyes. Grabbing the vase from the bedside table, he howled as he flung it into the fireplace where it exploded in a spray of porcelain shards, water, and shredded flowers.

Lily cowered against the headboard, pulling her legs against her all the harder. “Stop!” she cried in terror, “You’re frightening me.” She buried her face into her knees. Her heart galloped against her ribs; the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

A moment passed, and nothing else happened. She chanced a glance up and saw him standing in profile, a trembling hand covering his eyes. A few seconds more, and his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Long fingers wiped down his face, and he regarded her, frowning.

Their anguished gazes met for an instant before he looked away again. “My profoundest apologies, my lady.” His fingers flexed and released at his sides. “That outburst was unpardonable, and I don’t blame you if … ” Shaking his head, he laughed bitterly and swiped his lips with the back of his hand. “It seems I can’t escape my birthright, after all.”

Lily’s brows drew together in confusion. What did he mean about his birthright? Fear still held her tongue, so the question remained behind her teeth.

“Just as well my bag’s not been unpacked.” He strode past her and out the room.

Lily shuddered as she followed his progress down the stairs. When the front door closed, she relaxed for a moment, heaving a great sigh of relief. Another moment later, though, the tears came again, great wracking sobs that sprawled her out on the bed, screaming and pounding the soft bedding.

Not even two months after it had begun, her marriage was over.

“Ow!” Lily pulled her pricked finger from behind the handkerchief she was embroidering. She sucked the wound, grimaced at the stain on the white linen, and tossed the scrap of material to the floor with a sigh of vexation.

A week had passed since Ethan’s departure, and Lily had not yet adjusted to life as a woman estranged from her husband. A note from Wickenworth the day before informed her that Lord Thorburn had taken up residence at the home of one Mrs. Vanessa Myles. Now there was no question that the mysterious Vanessa was, in fact, Ethan’s mistress. By moving into her home, he had announced his intention to leave Lily for good.

She stared around the room, her shoulders slumping. “Too many hours in the day,” she muttered, her voice cracking with disuse. Lily had not ventured outside since Ethan had left. She had not touched a newspaper, for fear of the sensational gossip her marriage must have given rise to. She’d been a ghost rattling around in her own home, shying away from windows and cringing at the sound of a knock at the front door. Rather than tell her parents what a muck she’d made of matrimony, Lily had avoided their missives and had staunchly been “not at home” for a week. She had even avoided Naomi’s letters and calls, too ashamed to admit she’d been wrong about Ethan.

Flopping onto the chaise longue with a heavy sigh, she picked up a novel and flipped through the pages before tossing it to the rug and sighing again. A soft tap sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called.

A maid entered, carrying a salver. “This just came for you, Miss Lily.”

She smiled wanly. Whatever strides the servants had made toward recognizing her as Lady Thorburn had evaporated with what they viewed as Ethan’s desertion. She was once more their Miss Lily.

She plucked the creamy package from the tray and noted the familiar hand that formed her name. Frowning, she broke the seal.

My dearest Lily,

Forgive my forwardness, but I must beg you to make all haste to Monthwaite House. It is a matter of utmost urgency. Please come this very morning — now.

Your friend,

Naomi Lockwood

At her friend’s alarming words, Lily sat bolt upright and stared in anguish at the maid. “What’s happened?”

“A carriage awaits you,” the servant said.

She stood and shook her head, clearing away the cobwebs of idleness. Had Aunt Janine taken ill? Was Naomi herself in distress? “Why could you not have given me a clue, silly goose?”

Lily made ready her departure. A cream-lacquered carriage adorned with the Monthwaite crest stood at the curb. She took no pleasure in the vehicle’s plush interior, distracted as she was with worry.

Though her mind was plagued with numerous questions and dark prognostications, she realized after some moments that she had ceased moping for her own misfortune. Nervous energy had her feet tapping for the first time in days. Whatever the crisis, at least she could think about something besides Ethan.

When the carriage pulled into Grosvenor Square, Lily craned her neck for a glimpse of the great house, searching the exterior for any clue of the emergency within. A footman sprang to the curb to lower the stairs and hand her down. The front door swung inwards as Lily ascended the steps.

“You came!” Naomi grabbed Lily into a hug the instant she set her foot in the door. Lily pulled away and searched the young woman’s face. Naomi’s cheeks were in high color, but otherwise she did not look particularly discombobulated. Her plaited hair was wound around the crown of her golden head, and her dress was the very crack of fashion. “It’s good to see you, Lily,” Naomi said with obvious pleasure. “It’s been too long.”

“My dear, what’s happened?” Lily questioned. “Your note frightened me nigh to death.”

By way of reply, Naomi took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs. “Come. You’ll see.”

Apprehension caused Lily to hold her breath as they made their way past generations of imposing-looking Lockwoods glowering out of their frames on the walls. There was a wedding portrait of Naomi’s mother and father. Caro Lockwood had possessed a cold beauty even as a bride, Lily noted. A shiver of dread coursed her spine.

Naomi stopped at last at the door to the morning room at the back of the house. She hesitated with her hand on the knob. “Ready?” she whispered.

“What for?” Lily’s eyes were wide in alarm.

Naomi’s face split into a wide grin and she threw open the door.

Lily shrieked with glee as Isabelle, Duchess of Monthwaite, glanced over her shoulder from the sofa on which she sat, a delighted smile on her lips. His Grace, the Duke of Monthwaite, regarded the scene with fond warmth in his eyes from where he stood with his bent arm braced on the mantel. Naomi slipped out and closed the door.

“Isa!” Lily hurried around the back of the sofa as Isabelle rose, revealing a rounded middle.

Isabelle took Lily’s hands, and the taller woman held the other at arm’s length, delight bubbling up in her throat and spilling out in happy laughter. “Oh, a baby!” She embraced her closest friend — careful not to press against Isabelle’s blossoming abdomen. “How I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Isabelle replied, her blue eyes dancing with joy.

Lily couldn’t help glancing down at Isabelle’s middle again. “From the looks of you, Isa, you must be — ” Remembering she was in mixed company, she clamped her lips together, color rising in her cheeks.

“A little more than five months,” Isabelle supplied.

Lily turned, still holding fast to Isabelle’s hand, and clucked her tongue. “And you did not bring her home straightaway, Your Grace? I am all astonishment.”

Marshall glanced from Lily to his wife, the hard planes of his handsome face softened with a glow reflected in Isabelle’s countenance. “To the contrary, Miss Bachman, I was eager to abandon the expedition at once, but Isabelle wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted we see the whole thing through.” He looked back to Lily with a teasing smirk. “I’m delighted to find you in such excellent health, Miss Bachman. Your forthright nature has come to no harm in our absence.”

Lily blushed at his jibe. She’d never been able to restrain herself when it came to speaking up for Isabelle. But looking from Marshall to Isabelle and back again, Lily realized the time for defending her friend had passed. These two obviously adored one another. Even as her shoulders relaxed a fraction, a pang of sadness shot through Lily that she would not know the same happiness in her own marriage.

“Oh, but Lily,” Isabelle said, drawing her friend to sit beside her on the sofa. “I was in a very bad way with the sickness early on. Thankfully, we stayed in a village of Yanomani Indians, and the women gave me tea steeped from the root of a jungle plant, which quite settled my stomach. I’ve never had another worry from it, so long as I remember to drink that tea each morning.”

“Astonishing!” Lily proclaimed. “I do hope you thought to import this plant for the benefit of all Englishwomen,” she directed to Marshall.

The botanist-duke’s lips twitched. “Unfortunately, no. I brought but two specimens back with me for the purpose establishing its proper Linnean classification and registering it with the herbarium at Kew.” He heaved a happy sigh. “If you had seen our cargo hold, you’d understand my predicament.”