Page 2 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Bess untied the ribbon and tore open the paper. “Oh!” she breathed, gazing down at the identical green silk pillows embroidered with bursts of yellow daisies.
“Do you like them?” Lilly asked.
Bess clutched one to her chest. “I love them. Thank you so much.”
They all drank their tea and munched on the poppyseed cakes Mrs. Ferguson had made, while Bess stroked her fingertips over the pillows. They were bright and sunny, a perfect match to Bess’s cheerful disposition.
Then Mama said, “Jo, dear, tell us about your new client.”
“Mr. Pellegrini is wonderful,” Jo said. “I can’t wait to find him his match.”
“What is he like?” Bess asked, dabbing her lips with her napkin.
“He’s very pleasant—like a bottle of champagne that has just been uncorked,” she said with a grin. “Exuberant and bubbly.”
He’d easily charm his potential brides, but she’d need to find someone to balance him, Jo thought, to ground him when he started to lose his footing. Names began filtering through her mind, but a knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.
Mrs. Ferguson popped up and went to see who it was. A moment later, she returned, bearing a letter. “For you, Miss Lilly.”
“It must be from Charles,” Lilly murmured. She rose, her smile beatific, and took it from the older woman before unfolding it and beginning to read. As she did so, her face changed. The smile slipped away, and her lips turned downward. Her shoulders hunched, her breaths began to come out in short gasps, and tears filled her eyes.
“What is it, dear?” Mama asked.
Lilly looked up, blinking around the room as if she was surprised at where she was, that other people surrounded her.
“I—” Lilly gasped. “Please…excuse me.” She spun around and rushed from the room.
Jo, Bess, Mama, and Mrs. Ferguson looked at one another, stunned, then Jo put her cup down and stood. “I’ll talk to her.”
Mrs. Ferguson rose, too. “I believe it is time we switch to a pot of my cheer-me-up tea.” Mrs. Ferguson’s special tea was heavily milked and contained a “secret” ingredient all the women in their household pretended not to recognize. They all knew what the ingredient was, though—a healthy splash of spiced rum.
As the older woman headed to the kitchen, Jo hurried up the narrow stairs and was just stepping onto the landing when Lilly slammed the door to her bedroom. Jo stopped outside it. “Lil, may I come in?”
No answer. Just the sound of muffled sobs.
Jo sighed. “I’m coming in.”
She pushed into the room, where Lilly lay curled on her bed with her knees tucked into her chest.
Jo rushed forward. “What happened?” Kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the bed and lay facing her friend.
Lilly squeezed her eyes shut. She reached toward Jo with a closed fist and opened her fingers. The crumpled letter dropped onto the counterpane between them.
Jo took a moment to unfold the tightly wrinkled-up ball, and then she read.
Lilly, My Dearest,
This is my eighth attempt to pen this, each attempt more painful, my pen growing heavier until I doubt my ability to heft it if I am forced to try one more time.
How to say what I must? How to say it without breaking us, destroying us both?
But I must say it. I must, as much as I would choose any other path offered to me. But there is none, no other path but one, and this is how it must be.
I shall not call upon you anymore. I will see you in town, certainly, and I do hope that we shall maintain a friendship, of sorts, but I must terminate our courtship at once.
Forgive me,my love. I would shower reasons upon you, but there is no point. Reasons, as powerful as they might be, will do naught to sew the pieces of our broken hearts back together.
Suffice it to say, I must marry another. Though whether I shall be able to offer the broken shards of my heart to that other lady remains doubtful. No, not doubtful.Impossible.There will never, in my life, be a love as pure as the one I have experienced with you.
