Page 7 of Loving an Earl
A knock on the door startled her. She stood, wiping tears from her eyes and cheeks, and opened the door to see Mrs. Pemberton looking concerned.
Lilly opened the door wider to let her enter and found herself engulfed in the housekeeper’s comforting arms.
“There, there, my lady, I’m sure the earl didn’t mean what he said.”
“How did you know?” Lilly gasped into Mrs. Pemberton’s ample bosom, which made a soft pillow.
“I was right outside the door with the tea tray ready to enter when I heard his lordship accuse you of those dreadful things.” She huffed. “Someone needs to teach him some manners or box his ears or both. Come, let me tuck you into bed. A nice nap will make you feel better.”
Exhausted all of a sudden, she believed a nap would be nice. Mrs. Pemberton helped her undress to her chemise, tucked her in, and closed the window curtains, leaving Lilly in darkness. Snuggling beneath the counterpane, Lilly sighed and put the events from earlier out of her head as she succumbed to a restless sleep.
Where was she? She was shivering in the cold, clutching a threadbare cloak to her chest, and her feet were numb in her tattered kid boots. Her toes nearly peeked through the top of the worn leather. Why was she not at Langford Manor? Confused, she stood outside the cottage where she had lived with her papa and found it empty. There was no sign that anyone resided there. She rested for a spell, then headed out into the elements.
Where was Henry? Walking the two miles to Langford Manor took everything she had inside her. She knew if she stopped and curled up to sleep, which she wanted so desperately to do, she would die. The cold would freeze her body, and wolves would eat her. How terribly sad Henry would be.
She shuffled up the steps on legs she could no longer feel and banged on the large wooden door. She almost fell to the ground in gratitude when Wilson opened the door. Her happiness didn’t last long when he glared at her. “What are you doing here? Your husband, the earl, is dead, and you are no longer welcome. His heir cast you out for your sins. Be gone and never come back.” Tears silently trickled down her cheeks as the door slammed in her face. Henry was dead. Why did she not remember him dying? And why had his nephew thrown her out? She was a countess. Making her way to the stables, she snuck inside so the stable boy wouldn’t see her and cast her out. Finding the stall with Rose Petal, her mare who welcomed her, Lilly lay down on what clean hay she could gather and fell into an exhausted and troubled sleep.
“No!” Lilly screamed as she sat up, shaking and sweating, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Hurrying from the bed, she threw open the curtains and ran around the room, checking to see if all her belongings were accounted for. Sinking into the chair at the dressing table, she sighed with relief. Her dream had seemed so real. Was it a premonition of what would come? Surely the earl, no matter what he desired, wouldn’t throw her out, leaving her destitute and homeless? Wasn’t that why Henry set up a trust in her name alone? To secure a comfortable future for her?
Mrs. Pemberton knocked on Lilly’s door and entered. “Forgive me, my lady, but the earl has requested you join him for dinner.” Her voice was soft, and her features apologetic. “Campbell will be right in.”
Lilly’s shoulders slumped forward, and she fought the tears pooling in her eyes. She wanted to refuse, to put off coming face to face with that despicable man. But she knew deep down that it was only putting off the inevitable. She would have to see him eventually, and it may as well be at dinner.
Just then her maid entered the room, her face as solemn as Mrs. Pemberton’s. Clearly, the whole household heard what transpired between the earl and her that afternoon.
“Daisy, please bring my plainest black dress. I’ll not have the earl think I’m trying to make an impression dressing up for him. Also, I’ll wear the small hat with the half veil.” That way, she could eat, but he couldn’t see her eyes. He would get no respect from her after the way he treated her.
“Yes, my lady.”
Lilly studied herself in the looking glass and cringed as tears stung her eyes. Where had she gone? Where was the young lady who had just begun to enjoy her life being married to Henry? More importantly, what was to become of her? She needed to keep her chin up and fight the melancholy and the uncertainty of her future.
She swept into the dining room to find Langford seated at the head of the table, sipping a glass of wine and following her movements over the goblet’s rim. A quick glance at the table sent Lilly’s stomach tumbling. The only other place setting lay directly to his right. With the help of a footman, Lilly took her seat and welcomed the wine that was being poured into her glass. Without acknowledging the earl, she picked up her wine glass and took a nice sip before dabbing her lips dry with her napkin—anything to postpone having to look at or speak to him.
“I must apologize for my rash actions this afternoon,” Langford said with a deep voice that Lilly didn’t believe sounded contrite at all. In fact he sounded like an arrogant, entitled arse. “I was shocked when I found out Uncle Henry married so late in life. And, well...” he paused and cleared his throat, “to find he married someone so young.”
She couldn’t bear to listen to him babble anymore. “Yes. I’m sure you were shocked. Many people were.”
“Why did he marry you?”
His question sounded more like a demand for information. Lilly took her time answering. She sipped her wine. Signaled the serving footman for a refill. Sipped again. And she refused to look his way. Wearing the half veil was her best idea ever. “Your uncle decided he wanted children. Unfortunately, we were not blessed in the short time we were wed.”
His snort had her fighting back a smile.
When the dessert ended, Lilly excused herself and left Langford staring after her with his mouth open. Hurrying down the hall, she entered the library, collapsed into a chair before the hearth, tossed her veiled hat to the side and sighed. “Well, that was trying,” she whispered into the empty room full of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Her body froze when footfalls traveled down the hall and paused inside the library.
“Forgive me. I’m not following you. I seek something to read.”
Lilly’s breath suspended inside her lungs as her eyes followed his every movement. He may be her enemy, but he cut a fine figure in his tan-and-brown print waistcoat, his white linen shirt, and nicely tied cravat. His brown trousers were tucked into even darker brown Hessians. Between the dining room and here, he’d discarded his jacket. His hair was short and dark as night. His eyes were the darkest brown. They almost appeared as dark as the devil’s.
Heat curled in her stomach. A strange sensation. One she’d never felt before, but she recognized it as desire, and she didn’t like it being associated with Langford at all. Her traitorous body had better behave. She attributed her reaction to being in close proximity to a gentleman close to her age for the first time ever.
“Can you recommend something?”
“No.” She could, but she had no interest in doing so.
“Well then, I hope you don’t mind sharing the room because I may be a while.”
“Take your time. I was just leaving. Good night.”
