Must Love Dukes (5 page)

“There was something familiar about her, but perhaps she has one of those faces that one sees everywhere about town.”

Devon did not think there was anything common about Lily’s face, and he’d never seen anything or anyone like her before. “She was familiar to you, then? She has purchased things from you before, perhaps?”

“No, not until yesterday. And she only paid for half of the pearls she ran out of here wearing.”

Devon remembered the pearls at her throat last night and quickly suppressed the distracting image. “Ah, she stole a necklace. Have you reported the theft?”

“No, Your Grace.” The man paused, loosening the collar of his shirt with one finger in his discomfort. “I had just put those pearls out on display, you see. I received them as part of an estate that was let go. I put a…well, a rather high price on the piece because I was hoping the family would choose to buy it back.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but if you had seen the fit the lady threw when I came to appraise some of the furnishings, you wouldn’t be asking that. Half my storage area behind the shop is filled with their treasures at the moment. Just didn’t have the heart to sell it off without giving them a chance to reconsider.”

“That’s…kind of you,” Devon responded cautiously. He had never known a shopkeeper to be accommodating in such situations and had doubts about the honesty of the man’s words. There must be some hidden benefit to his actions. “It’s too bad, then, that the necklace was stolen by the woman in blue.”

“‘Stolen’ is a strong word in this case since she paid about the price of its actual worth. She wasn’t a true thief, if you look at it in that light.”

“Yes, indeed. She’s not a true thief at all.” Devon bristled at the words but did not want to tell the man the woman had followed him and stolen from him. He certainly didn’t want to cover the details that came somewhere in the middle of this story.

“It is odd that you would ask after her, for she described the very watch you purchased. She wanted to purchase something with a fox decorating it—for her brother, I believe.”

“Is that so?” Devon’s jaw clenched. Her brother, indeed. Some man was now wearing his pocket watch. Anger bubbled beneath the surface of his skin but he suppressed it.

The shopkeeper nodded. “She ran from the store after I told her I had sold just such a watch only minutes prior.”

“Did she? Interesting. Did she leave behind an address or a way she could be reached with you? A card perhaps?”

“No, I never even caught her name. She was in a terrible hurry, from the looks of it.”

“I’m sure,” Devon replied wryly. “I won’t take any more of your time, then.” He nodded his thanks, dropped a pile of coins on the counter to cover the cost of yet another timepiece, and turned for the door. His new pocket watch was in his hand, although he could not find any enthusiasm for the piece. His mind still lingered on the sapphire eyes gazing his way last night, and those of the small fox’s as well.

He had nowhere else to look. Lily Whitby was gone and his property with her. He walked out into the weak afternoon sun much as he had the day prior. Yet it seemed like his life had altered in drastic fashion from the previous day. He shook his head and started for home. Why could he not easily shake her hold on his memories?

Bixley Manor, Whitby

One year later…

“Thank you,” Lillian said to a passing footman as he took her hat and the basket filled with fresh flowers. She dusted off her skirts and patted her hair into place as she added, “The tulips are finally blooming. Aren’t they lovely? I think they’ll be perfect in the drawing room.”

The weather seemed to have forgotten to be warm this spring. The months moved by on the calendar, yet the garden had remained frozen in a winter that would never end. When Lillian woke that day to find brilliant sun pouring in through the windows, she was outside in the garden within the hour.

With the basket now laden with cut flowers to cheer up the inside of her increasingly dreary home, she planned to get a bite to eat before returning to the garden with a good book. Having read all the available travel journals, she had moved on to a borrowed gothic novel. She simply had to know if Victoria would be rescued from the clutches of the madman keeping her in her tower. With her mind lingering on foreign castles and cloaked dangers, Lillian made her way toward the drawing room where she could have some tea.

It was only then that she heard male voices drifting from behind the mostly closed door to the library. She paused. Her eldest brother, Josiah, could occasionally be found skulking around the estate, but who was with him today? She stepped closer to the door to find out.

“She interferes with every change I put into place around here. Does she not know it is not her place to do so?” Josiah’s voice rang out in indignation.

“Calm yourself, Josiah. Lillian is but a girl.”

Lillian’s reaction to the voice slid down her spine and landed like a rock in her stomach. Solomon. There was no mistaking the sound of her middle brother’s distinctly cool tones.

When had he arrived?

Why were they discussing her behind mostly closed doors? She was bristling with anger as she inched closer to the doorway, being careful to stay out of sight.

“Calm? Do you know what she forced me to spend on Christmas gifts for the servants? It’s their privilege to work in a house of consequence. That should be enough for them! They should consider themselves fortunate.” Josiah paused to take a draw from his cheroot. His next words became thick around the smoke in his mouth. “Only last week, she used household funds to purchase shoes for a stable hand who is but eleven years of age. His feet will grow still. Why am I to be held responsible for the shoeing of neighborhood children?”

“Does she still receive the pin money that Father used to give her?” Solomon asked.

“Yes, of course she does.” Lillian heard Josiah’s chair slide away from the desk as he stood. “She should pay for her charitable works around the estate with her own funds.”

Solomon’s voice was quiet and sharp as its sound slid into Lillian’s ears. “She does seem to have outlived her usefulness at Bixley Manor.”

There was a pause in the conversation during which Lillian held her breath before Josiah asked, “Solomon, you aren’t thinking of having her…done away with? Because even I couldn’t go that far.”

“No, I only suggest that we make better use of her life,” Solomon replied cryptically.

No matter what was being discussed, Lillian was sure that it would in no way improve her life or better serve others. Her breaths were shallow and her heart pounded as she forced herself to stay and listen to more. She needed to know their plans for her so she could prepare to fight against them.

“How do you propose we do that?” Josiah asked.

“I’ve made some friends while in London. It may serve our purposes quite well to see her wed. She would no longer be a burden to you, Brother.”

Josiah paused before answering while Lillian stood rooted to the floor in the shadowed hallway. “That idea does hold some appeal. Although, we know nothing about the business of marriage.”

“Ah, yet it is business, and as in all things business, I will see to the arrangements.”

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? She’s quite on the shelf as it is. Who will you find to marry her?”

“I have a few ideas.” Solomon paused for a moment. “It’s past time Lillian married. Her leisure time at the estate has come to an end. She will go to London next week. I’ll handle it from there.”

Lillian couldn’t think. Her breath caught in her throat. She needed to get away.

Time to plan, that’s what she needed. Her feet were moving toward her bedchamber before she could direct them where to go. Marriage. She was four and twenty. This could not be happening. Her quick steps turned into a run as she disappeared around a corner, slipping into her private chambers.

She paced the floor, her mind racing. How dare they? After all she had endured! She should have known they would concoct a scheme such as this. The past year had been much too quiet, with Josiah only showing his face at the estate to empty its coffers of more family heirlooms. If only Papa had stopped him, perhaps her circumstances would be different today.

Going to her vanity table, she slid open the top drawer and reached her hand inside. The cool surface of the pocket watch slid under her fingers, yet she drew no comfort from it. She gave the trinket a quick squeeze before replacing it in the drawer. The memory she fought to keep at bay settled around her like a chilly morning fog.

Had it been a year since that dreadful day? It was odd how time slid by, passing like water through her fingers. She was unable to contain it, no matter how tightly she held it. A year ago she would have thought the sun would never rise again. And yet it did. Now a year later Josiah was poised to upend her life once again. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the thoughts of her past away, but they would not budge. Sinking to her vanity chair, she allowed the memory to consume her. Perhaps some knowledge could be gained from her past.

***

Her steps had slowed as she neared the bottom of the staircase. She had seen her oldest brother greeting a man she had never met before as the butler disappeared around the corner. “Josiah, I didn’t know you were still about the estate. Who is our guest?”

“Mr. Habersham, m’lady. Habersham’s Antiquities and Fine Artifacts, of London,” the man had offered with an outstretched hand and a thin smile.

“Mr. Habersham, this is my sister, Miss Phillips,” Josiah had interjected.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Habersham. May I inquire as to what’s brought you all the way from London?” At the man’s brief pause and sideways glance at her brother, Lillian’s gaze also turned on Josiah, who immediately adopted his superior stance.

His hands were folded behind his broad back, straining his waistcoat buttons as a knowing gleam filled his dark eyes. She knew that look well, and it was never a sign of good things to come.

“Mr. Habersham has come to look at a few pieces I see no need in keeping about this drafty manor. If you will excuse us, Lillian, we have some business to attend to. Right this way, Habersham.” Her brother turned on his heel to lead the way down the large central hall toward the back corner of the house where it overlooked the rose garden.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized he was walking toward Mama’s private parlor. Lillian hurried after them, lengthening her stride to catch up with Josiah’s heavy steps as he neared the end of the hall. “You cannot be considering touching Mama’s things!”

“Mr. Habersham, will you excuse us for a moment? I need to have a word with my sister,” Josiah tossed over his shoulder. He lowered his voice and leaned in before saying in a dismissive tone, “It is time you moved on from the past, as I have, Lillian.”

“Moved on? The furnishings in this house are Papa’s property, not yours. And Papa still lives. He is just upstairs. Shall I show you?”

“He has not visited this room since Mother’s funeral,” Josiah stated as his hand rested on the doorknob. “It is wasteful to leave things lying about when they would fetch a fine price in London. Don’t be such a foolish girl. Next you will be spouting poetry and offering sentiment over a mother who has been gone some twelve years. Do you even remember her?” He opened the oak door and stepped into the sun-filled room.

Every inch of the room was exactly as her mother had left it. The book she had been reading lay beside her embroidery basket on the sofa amid flowery cushions. Lillian ran a finger across an unfinished letter that sat beside an inkwell on the writing desk. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell her mother’s perfume clinging to the air. The room always gave Lillian the impression that her mother had just stepped out for a moment and would return at any time.

On some of the harder days over the past six years of caring for her father, she would wander the house and always find her way here. She found strength in the light feminine room, knowing that if her mother were still here, she would be brave and hold the family together. Now, in her absence, that duty fell on Lillian.

“Certainly I remember her. Her memory lives on today in this room. And yet you seek to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

“Lillian, the affairs of men are truly none of yours. Now run along. I have business to see to with Mr. Habersham.” Josiah’s plump fingers wrapped around her upper arm as he pushed her back toward the door, past a stunned Mr. Habersham who had wandered into the room.

“Who do you owe money to this time, Josiah? Is it Lord Harrow again? Lord Hingsworth?” She pushed back against his forceful grip and looked her brother in the eye as he propelled her toward the door. “Will you never learn you’re a dreadful gambler?”

“You presume too much, Sister! I will soon be Lord Bixley. It will be best if you become comfortable with my authority. Occupy your time with tea and needlework like every other lady, because this,” he indicated the room at his back before continuing, “is none of your concern.”

The door slammed in her face. She shook the sleeve of her dress back into place and exhaled on a puff of defiance, fighting her desire to scream through the door. How could her brother have no concern for their family history? He truly had no care for the place that seven generations of their family had called home.

Josiah was heir to Papa’s title and estate, and this was how he respected the family name? Selling off Mama’s belongings was unthinkable. But that was the problem: Josiah never thought. He hadn’t given it a thought when he’d gambled away his own allowance or Papa’s gun collection or Mama’s parlor furnishings—or so it seemed. He obviously had no issue with selling off property that was not yet his. And Mr. Habersham clearly had no issue with it, either.

Lillian despaired at the thought that she could do nothing to stop him. Soon Bixley Manor would be empty, her family’s legacy gone to pay for racehorses, loose women, and drink. Surely if she appealed to Papa’s sense of honor, he could put a stop to this shameful situation. Yes, Papa would force her brother to see reason. She was at the top of the stairs and striding down the hallway with her fists clenched before she had even thought of what she would say. All she knew was that she had to try. She swung the door open and was greeted by her father’s thin voice.

“I thought we were reading that dreadful novel of yours. I looked up and you were gone.”

“I apologize for leaving you, Papa. We had a caller downstairs,” Lillian explained as she returned to her chair by the bed.

“Oh? Who has come to visit? One of the neighbors, I suppose.” Papa coughed lightly and rested his head back on the pillows again.

“No, it was a Mr. Habersham of Habersham Antiquities and some such. He is here at Josiah’s request. It seems he is selling off the furnishings from Mama’s private parlor.” She paused a moment, allowing the words to sink in.

“Josiah is still here, eh?”

“Yes. He’s still here and selling off the furniture from downstairs.” Lillian tried again to drive her point home.

“I’m sure he has his reasons. Bright boy, Josiah. He always has a proper handle on estate business.”

Lillian bristled at the idea that her brother had anything to do with estate business. She had handled the running of the estate for years, as well as caring for her ailing father. “Josiah is not here often enough to handle estate business, Papa. He is selling off the family heirlooms.”

“Now, Lillian. Josiah is a busy man. He has great demands on his time that keep him away. If he feels the need to thin the manor of a few pieces that are not to his liking, so be it.” Her father coughed again and waved a hand toward the table of tonics.

Lillian rose and measured a dose of thick, foul-smelling syrup, handing it to her father. “He is thinning the house of Mama’s belongings as we speak!”

Her father took the medicine and lay back on the pillows, closing his eyes. “Lillian, your brother knows best. I have been blessed with two wonderful sons. I am truly fortunate.”

Did he not understand? Josiah was an arrogant imbecile. There was no possibility of him ever knowing best. In her opinion, only one of her father’s
three
sons even approached wonderful, and he had been banished from the estate years ago. She was losing any grain of patience she had left for the men in her life—or men in general, for that matter.

“Josiah is selling Mama’s things to cover another gambling debt. Do you understand that?”

“Hmm, well, if you had married someone of consequence and had a home of your own, perhaps you could have had your mother’s belongings moved there and this would not be an issue.” He closed his eyes as if to close a door on the conversation.

“I…I was…I couldn’t,” Lillian stammered, outraged that her father was going to sleep at a time like this instead of putting an end to her brother’s plans. How could he place the burden of saving her mother’s belongings on her shoulders? This was truly unfair.

“Stop your stuttering and speak properly, girl. Where were you raised, in the stables? Three and twenty, unmarried, and complaining of the actions of the gentlemen of this family. You are truly a disappointment.” He drifted off into a heavy sleep, his lungs rattling with every breath. Although he had voiced his disapproval of Lillian in the past, this time his words seemed to hang heavy in the air, decisive and final.