Once an Heiress (18 page)

Fiercely, she swiped at the sides of the window frame, scrubbing away the filth
he
had brought upon the house with his irresponsible indebtedness. It was only too bad she couldn’t scrub away her own stupidity and undo the events that had brought her to this.

At last, his steps retreated down the stairs. The front door opened and closed again. She peeked out the window in time to see Thorburn don his hat and stride down the walk.

“Ethan,” she murmured, testing his given name. He’d not invited her to use it. She rested her fingertips on the dusty glass and watched until she couldn’t see him anymore, then exhaled a deep sigh.

It
had
been a sweet little ceremony, she reflected as she resumed her work. She might never fully appreciate the lengths Mr. Bachman must have gone to in bringing the event together in such a brief period of time. Her mama had still been abed with her back pain for the five short days of her engagement, so Papa had taken it upon himself to see to the details of his daughter’s wedding.

They’d married at St. George’s. The morning ceremony had been attended only by Naomi and Aunt Janine, accompanied by Lord Grant, and a few of Papa’s friends. Though Thorburn had been urged to invite whom he pleased, he’d provided her with no names or addresses. Other than Lord Umberton, Lily didn’t know who her husband’s friends might be. Just another gaping hole in her knowledge of the man, she thought with a scowl. In any event, he evidently hadn’t thought his own wedding important enough to share with anyone.

“And he’s already left you,” she grumbled as she moved on to the mantelpiece. “What a rollicking success this shall be.”

At last, she stood back in the doorway to appraise her work. She swiped a bead of perspiration from her temple and nodded. “Not bad for an empty room.” The carpet and draperies still wanted cleaning, and the fireplace needed a sweep, but it was a good beginning.

Lily blew out her cheeks and wondered what to do. Next week, she would resume her work on the charity school. All of her papers were still at home — she’d have to retrieve them tomorrow or the next day.

“In a hackney, no less.” It was mind boggling that she was now a viscountess — someday to become a countess — and living in far meaner circumstances than she was accustomed to. “That’s because you fell for a Leech’s tricks, you foolish girl.”

Her life had been entirely upended since meeting Thorburn, culminating with this disaster of a marriage. She growled in frustration and stomped her foot against the bare hall floor. The sound clapped off the walls and bounced back again, a satisfying reiteration of her ire.

She wouldn’t regain control of herself and her life standing around pouting, she scolded herself. Lily lifted her bucket and trudged down the hall, opening doors until she found the library.

Remarkably, the bailiff’s lackeys had spared this room. The book collection seemed intact; most of the shelves were densely populated with volumes. There was plenty of furniture, too — wing chairs in front of the fireplace, a table near the back wall, and two sofas facing one another in the middle.

She opened the curtains to admit the weak remnants of the afternoon’s light. The room was drafty; Lily looked longingly at the fireplace, a cold, gaping mouth in the middle of the wall.

“Get moving,” she told herself. “That’ll warm you up.” A quick appraisal of the furniture showed it to be of good quality and in general repair; however, she grimaced at the ubiquitous layer of dust on the upholstery. “Couldn’t be bothered to cover your own chairs, even?” She made a disgusted sound in her throat at the additional evidence of Thorburn’s incompetence.

Her annoyance fueled her efforts. She made short work of dusting the windowsill, and turned her attention to the frames of the landscapes adorning the walls.

The sound of the front door closing made her breath catch. She turned expectantly, waiting for Thorburn to appear.

He did not.

After a moment, she furrowed her brow in confusion. What was the man doing? A few more minutes passed without his making an appearance, so she resumed her work and swiped her rag over the wall.

“Still at it?”

She yelped and spun, clutching the dirty cloth to her chest. “You scared the life out of me!” she scolded. “What are you doing, creeping about?”

Thorburn leaned against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling most of the portal. A smile flitted across his lips. “I don’t creep about. You must have been engrossed in your task.” He leaned over and lifted a bucket from beside his feet.

Lily’s face flushed. “Fresh water? How exceedingly thoughtful.” Her words dripped acid. It was one thing for her to choose to do some cleaning — it was quite another for him to expect it of her!

He brought the bucket to her work area and set it down. Then he unfastened the buttons on his coat. “If you need fresh water, you’re welcome to share mine.”

Lily’s eyes widened in alarm as his coat parted, revealing the brocade waistcoat beneath. When he pulled the coat from his arms and draped it over a chair, she looked away and reminded herself to breathe. “What are you doing?” she asked in a bewildered rush.

“There’s a bit of a chill on the room, don’t you think?” Thorburn arranged some kindling on the cold hearth and produced a match from the small pocket on the front of his waistcoat. In short order, a small fire crackled in the gathering dusk.

Lily watched, mystified, as the near-stranger she’d married just that morning came to stand in front of her. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She suddenly realized they were alone in the house — utterly, completely, entirely alone. There was not so much as a maid anywhere in the place. In fact, Lily had never been so thoroughly alone with any man in the entirety of her existence — not even her own father.

Banked heat smoldered behind Thorburn’s eyes. Her lips parted in surprise as he plucked the rag from her hands. Was he going to kiss her? she wondered, or demand his rights as her husband right then and there? She knew very well what would be expected of her, but already? Now? In the library? Her eyes flew around, looking for an escape.

“You look like you could use some assistance.” He squatted and dipped the rag in the clean water, wrung it out, and commenced dusting the wall.

Tension drained out of Lily like sand through a sieve. “Oh,” she breathed, lightheaded with relief.

She took up a clean, dry cloth and carefully wiped down the ornaments on the mantel. The fire sent shadows dancing around the library. They all seemed to point their long fingers at the silent man working nearby. Her eyes kept cutting to him, taking in the smooth, even strokes of his long arms as he slid his hands up and down the wall.

They worked together without a word passing between them for a time. Lily found it impossible to ignore his masculine presence, though he seemed not to pay her one iota of attention. What did he mean by assisting her in menial work? Her agitation only mounted as time passed.

Thorburn stepped back from the section of wall he was wiping and dropped his rag into the bucket. Lily looked away and hastily swiped at a table, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring at him. His footsteps carried him out of the library and down the stairs.

Gone again,
she thought, forlorn. She sighed, and then caught sight of his coat still lying across the chair. Not leaving, then. “What’s that man doing now?”

Lily liked order, she liked knowing what was happening around her. Thorburn continually knocked her off balance with his erratic unpredictability. She felt as though she were hurtling down a precarious mountain path in a speeding carriage, every wild curve threatening to send her over the edge. She longed for a return of her orderly life, the one that she had well in hand.

His heavy steps came back up the stairs. Lily paused in anticipation, but he continued up to the second floor. A little while later, she heard him descend again. She followed by sound as he went into his study. Then that door closed, and his steps came nearer.

Lily’s rag dangled from her limp hand as he entered the library without so much as a glance in her direction. He turned his back to don his coat. A sinking feeling overcame her as she realized he was going out again.

Probably to see Lord Umberton and his vulgar mistress.
Wasn’t it just like an aristocrat, she mused. Married in the morning, and already forgotten it by evening.

“Wife?” He looked at the hand holding the rag, a crooked smile on his lips.

Glancing down, Lily saw that her hand was shaking, releasing dust from the rag in a dirty snowfall onto the floor. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, dropping the cloth into the bucket. She spun around, looking for a fresh cloth to clean the mess.

“It’s all right.” Thorburn laid a hand on her shoulder. Lily froze; her stomach leaped into her throat at his touch. “You’ve done enough.” His voice was firm, but not unkind. “Come with me.”

Lily stared into his cravat, then uncertainly met his gaze. Amusement danced at the corners of his mouth. His hand slid down her sleeve to her bare forearm, trailing fire over her skin. It was the first time she’d felt his hands without gloves — they were warm and strong and stoked heat low in her belly. His fingers slipped around hers. Lily watched their twined hands, mesmerized, as Ethan brought her fingers to his lips. His eyes were scorching upon her face as he brushed his mouth against the inside of her wrist. She let out a little gasp at the intimate gesture.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “May I have the honor of escorting you to the table, my lady?”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “There
isn’t
a table, my lord.”

Thorburn’s head cocked to the side. “Please play along, Lily. Your maddening literalism is putting a damper on the surprise.”

She drew back, abashed. He had a surprise for her? Her curiosity was well piqued. She glanced at the door, checking for the ever-present onlookers she was so accustomed to in her father’s fully staffed home. Of course, there was no one to see if she played along with Thorburn’s charade.

She nodded regally. “You may have the honor, my lord husband.” Her lips twitched. “Just don’t forget that it
is
an honor.”

He chuckled as he escorted her to the stairs. “I don’t think I’ll soon forget.”

• • •

Ethan smiled to himself as he led Lily downstairs, pleased with his own cleverness. Females, in his experience,
loved
to be surprised in silly little romantic ways — and this gesture was as silly and romantic as they came. If only Lily would be as impressed as he hoped she’d be. The day had not gone swimmingly so far, and he truly would like to see her smile.

But besides the comfort of knowing his new wife didn’t hate him, Ethan had to make her happy if he was to stand any chance of coming into her fortune. Having her throw a colossal fit and clean house in her wedding dress did not qualify as a definition of “happy” in any language he knew.

The one thing he knew they could both find enjoyment in was the considerable attraction between them. Ethan would have to seduce his wife. And if the passion she’d shown in her temper and kisses up to now were any indication, he was going to thoroughly enjoy the exercise.

They stepped into the dining room. Ethan watched Lily while her eyes widened at the sight before them. On the floor, he’d arranged a picnic supper, complements of Nessa’s cook. There was cold soup, roasted quail, vegetables wrapped in bacon, bread, cheese, two bottles of wine, and plum cake for dessert. The candles he’d lit just before collecting her from the library stood in silver candlesticks at each corner of the blanket occupying the center of the room.

Lily exhaled a sound of delight. “My lord, how did you — ”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Ethan,” he corrected. “There’s no other in all the world, through all of time, who shall be my wife. You must not stand on ceremony with me, Lily.”

Her plump, rosebud lips curved into a smile beneath his finger, and he had to resist the temptation to devour her mouth. He tamped down on his baser appetites, telling them to wait their turn. Instead, he kissed her hand before leading her to their meal.

Lily folded her legs beneath her skirt. She smiled shyly as he poured the wine and offered her a dish of soup. As the meal progressed, however, Lily ate little and grew increasingly nervous. Ethan found himself grasping for conversation. Lily answered him with the least degree of verbiage necessary to hold up her end and finally lapsed into silence, which hung thick and heavy around the room.

When they finished eating, her eyes flicked to his face. “I think I should like to retire now, my … Ethan.”

His name sounded alien on her tongue, as though she had difficulty pronouncing it. Ethan frowned.
Make her happy,
he reminded himself. So he blew out three of the candles and grasped her by the hand. In his other hand, he held the remaining candle high to light their way upstairs.

At the master suite, he pushed the door open. Lily stepped in and turned. Her hands wrung together at her waist as she regarded him. “Supper was lovely, Ethan, thank you. Well, good night.” She nodded and made to close the door.

Ethan stopped the door with his hand. Disregarding her startled expression, he turned sideways to move past her into the room.

“My lord, what are you doing?”

“Coming to bed, of course.”

Lily went ashen, her dark eyes wide in alarm. “But surely you have your own room — ”

“This
is
my room, Lily — or our room, I should say.” His lips curved up in a lazy smile as he considered the pleasant task ahead of him tonight. “Look around you, my dear. There’s your valise at the foot of the bed, right where I deposited it. And what is that adjacent to your valise?” He looked from the pair of Hessians on the floor to his bride, whose agitation mounted as she took in her surroundings and saw his things scattered around the room.

She shook her head emphatically. “It wouldn’t be proper. The lady of the house always has her own bedchamber.”

“I’m sorry, love, but this is a bachelor’s home,” he pointed out. “I obtained the place from another bachelor. If there was ever a lady of the house, it’s been many years past. Consequently, there is no lady’s chamber.”