Once an Heiress (33 page)

“Filled to the brim! Such sights, Lily, you wouldn’t believe,” Isabelle said. “The very air was
thick
. My hair fluffed out and refused to behave nine days out of ten.” She waggled her fingers beside her neat coif, miming the wayward actions of her locks.

“Until the Yanomani helped you with that, as well,” Marshall reminded her.

“Indeed,” Isabelle replied. “With a nut oil rubbed into the scalp, and then combed through the hair.”

Lily leaned back and tapped her chin. “Gad, it sounds as though the Yanomani have the answer to every problem an English lady could encounter.”

“True enough,” Isa agreed. Her blue eyes looked toward the window, a distant, thoughtful expression on her face, as though she was once again seeing the marvels of the South American jungle. “They live in paradise,” she said softly. “The scent of flowers hangs in the air, and clings to your clothes — and such flowers! In vibrant colors you wouldn’t believe, Lily. They look like a child’s fanciful painting, I declare.”

“Don’t forget the animals,” Marshall added, taking a seat in an armchair and crossing his long legs at the ankle.

“Oh, gracious, no, I never could! Remember the first time we heard those howler monkeys?” She laughed at a memory Lily wished she could experience, too. “It was the middle of the night, and I woke from a dead sleep with this dreadful noise in the trees just outside our hut. I thought a jungle monster had come to devour us. Make the sound for her, Marshall — you do a credible imitation.”

Marshall frowned and shook his head.

“Oh, please!” Isabelle begged, clasping her hands together at her chest.

Marshall’s countenance was stone, and Lily was certain her friend’s pleas were in vain. Astonishingly, though, after another moment of Isabelle’s fervent imploring, the man relented. “Very well, my love, if you insist.”

“I do.” Isabelle gave an imperious nod, then winked at Lily.

Marshall sat forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his knees. He cleared his throat and dropped his head from side to side, as though loosening up for a round in the boxing ring.

“Quite a build-up,” she whispered to Isabelle.

Isabelle waved her hand. “Shh, shh, listen.”

The duke formed his mouth into a wide oval, drew a breath, and bellowed. The cry was something like the roar of a great cat, punctuated with a wheeze at the end. The eerie sound sent a shudder through Lily.

His performance concluded, Marshall straightened. Isabelle clapped her appreciation, and Lily joined her applause. With a mocking incline of his head, Marshall accepted their accolades.

“Gracious, me! What on earth is that racket?” Lily glanced back to see Aunt Janine and Naomi entering the morning room, followed by a house maid bearing a tea tray.

The ladies settled in while Isabelle poured. “Marshall was imitating a howler monkey for us,” she explained.

Aunt Janine eyed Isabelle over the rim of her spectacles as she stirred her beverage. “I trust you’ve sufficiently reacquainted yourselves, then, since you’re making animal calls for entertainment.”

“I’m afraid we’ve monopolized the conversation with tales of our expedition,” Marshall said. “Miss Bachman has graciously humored us.”

Aunt Janine’s spoon clattered to her saucer. “Miss — ” She shot Lily a disapproving stare. “You haven’t told them yet, girl?”

Isabelle’s brow furrowed as she looked from Aunt Janine to Lily. “Haven’t told us what?”

Lily cast an inquisitive glance of her own to Naomi. “I’m gossip for half of London, but you didn’t see fit to tell them?”

“It’s your news to share, not mine,” Naomi rejoined.

“What news?” Isabelle interjected.

“I’ve always been glad to share happy news,” Lily continued peevishly, “even if it is not my own. But it seems Lady Naomi does not view my news as anything worth rejoicing, and really — ” she scoffed “ — I can’t fault her. Not now.”

“Come now.” Aunt Janine leaned over to pat Lily knee. “It will all work out, m’dear, you’ll see.”

Isabelle huffed in frustration. “Will someone
please
tell me what is going on?” Her voice rose over the other women’s, drawing all eyes to her. “Lily? I think you’d best illuminate us.”

Fortifying herself with a sip of tea, Lily met Isabelle’s worried expression. “I have been married these past two months.”

The worry evaporated from Isabelle’s eyes as a smile replaced it. “Why that’s wonderful news!” she exclaimed.

“My congratulations,” Marshall added. “This is, indeed, joyous news.” His gaze drifted from Lily to Isabelle and back again. “I find the institution agrees with me most excellently.”

Lily couldn’t help but share her friends’ joy. She was truly happy that they had found their way back to one another after the disastrous divorce that should have alienated them forever.

Isabelle’s hand covered Lily’s. “But tell us the name of your groom, my dear! I am in such suspense.”

Lily set aside her tea before answering, “My husband is Ethan Helling, Viscount Thorburn.”

Isabelle stared at her blankly for a second, while Marshall sputtered on his tea. “Thorburn?” he croaked.

“So … ” Isabelle started, rallying from her shock. “So, you are the Viscountess Thorburn. That’s … that’s wonderful, Lily, truly … ” Her voice trailed away as she apparently couldn’t bring herself to utter any more empty compliments.

Lily’s cheeks burned, and hot tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her friends were shocked at her marriage, appalled even.
And what would Isa say if she knew I loved the man? She must think me the most foolish female who ever lived.

“Thorburn?” Marshall repeated, his vocal cords recovered from their clash with his beverage. “But he’s not at all … That is, what they say … He’s so very much … ”

“Marshall, stop,” Isabelle gently ordered. She scooped up Lily’s hands and kissed them. “Can’t you see we’re distressing her? Lily, if you’re happy, then I’m happy, too.”

Her friend’s kindness was her undoing. Lily’s chin quivered. “But I’m not happy.” she whispered. Isabelle made a sympathetic moue, and all of Lily’s hurt came out in a great tumble. “I’ve made a horrible hash of things. But so did he. He was going to treat himself to a mistress if he married me.”

Isabelle’s mouth fell open in a gape of horror; the other ladies likewise gasped at this new, salacious intelligence; Marshall’s brows shot up his forehead. “Naomi,” he began in a low voice, “you’d best go. This isn’t appropriate for a young lady’s ears.”

Naomi scowled, but dutifully started to rise until Aunt Janine waved her back into her chair. “She won’t break, Marshall. I’ve been looking after her for half a year; I feel qualified to issue that guarantee. We’ve both been with Lily since the beginning of her dealings with Lord Thorburn. If the viscountess doesn’t mind including us, I see no objection.”

Marshall grunted.

His sister took it as permission to stay and leaned toward Lily.

Discombobulated by the interruption, Lily hesitated in continuing. “He … didn’t take up with this mistress.”

“Well, that’s good news.” Isabelle encouraged. “How could he, with beautiful, wonderful Lily for his wife?”

“I wasn’t a wonderful wife.” Lily’s hands tangled in her skirt. “He came to our marriage very much in debt.”

“That is my understanding of the man,” Marshall contributed with a tone of disapproval.

Isabelle shot her husband a look and pursed her lips. “Go on,” she said to Lily.

“I was determined he shouldn’t have my dowry. I insisted upon a detached, society marriage. I thought he ruined me on purpose, you see — ”

“Ruined!” Isabelle’s hand flew to her throat as she shared a look of pained camaraderie with Lily. She knew all too well the sting of social exile. “My dear, what happened?”

Lily glanced at Marshall, whose penetrating gaze bore into her. She did not care to divulge the details of her misconduct in his company. “It was in the papers,” she said in a rush. “Everyone knows.”

“Never mind.” Isabelle patted her hand. “It sounds like a rocky beginning. Marriage can be difficult.” Her lips quirked up at the corners. It was good to see her friend distanced enough from her own scandalous woes to find the humor in them, Lily mused. She hoped she would likewise arrive at a similar place someday.

“But all is well now, I trust?” Marshall asked. For all the casual air exuded by his lounging posture, Lily did not miss the hard lines around the duke’s eyes and mouth. He hadn’t jumped to any conclusion of domestic tranquility, despite his inquiry.

“No,” she admitted, “all is most unwell, in fact.”

Heavy silence hung over the room. There was not so much as the sound of a teacup tinking against a saucer as the four other occupants of the parlor awaited Lily’s explanation.

Her head bowed and her shoulders slumped, weighed down by the unhappiness of the past week, and the knowledge that she’d driven her husband into the arms of another woman. “He’s left me,” she confessed.

Isabelle cooed. “But he’ll be back soon. It’s just a quarrel.”

“No.” Lily, dejected, shook her head and stared at the toes of her kid slippers. “He’s living with his mistress.”

“But you just said — ” Naomi protested.

“Another one.” Lily lifted her head and looked out the window, too humiliated to meet the pitying eyes of her friends. “He did not take up with the one mistress, but now he lives with another — one he previously assured me was not his mistress at all, when I found her love letters.” She scoffed at her own stupidity. “What a dolt I’ve been.” A humorless laugh fell from her lips as she cast a sidelong glance at Isabelle. The petite, fair woman frowned. “Mrs. Vanessa Myles,” Lily said, drawing out the name of her husband’s lover. “It just drips sin, doesn’t it?”

Aunt Janine startled. Lily saw the older woman’s face had gone quite pale, and her eyes as wide as if she’d seen a ghost. “Vanessa Myles?” she said in a rush. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Tears clung to Lily’s lashes. She swiped them away, determined she would not cry for her faithless husband. “I should think I know the name of the woman for whom I’ve been cast aside.”

“But no one’s heard from Mrs. Myles in years.” Aunt Janine spoke to herself more than the others, she seemed not to have heard Lily. She tapped a bent finger against her thin lips in thought, then her sharp eyes trained on Lily. “You are absolutely certain Lord Thorburn is at the home of Vanessa Myles?”

“Yes!” Lily’s cheeks burned; her hands clenching the edge of the sofa in a white knuckled grip. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“And the letters you found, they were written recently?”

Marshall rose. “Aunt, that’s enough. You’re upsetting Lady Thorburn.”

With an irritated wave of dismissal, Aunt Janine forged ahead. “Are the letters recently written?”

Lily’s lips went cold as the blood drained from her face. “Why does it signify? Please stop!”

“Aunt Janine, leave her be!” Isabelle pleaded.

“Were they recent?” Aunt Janine pressed. She was trained on Lily like a hound on a fox, and no amount of protesting from the others would cause her to relent.

“I think so,” Lily answered. “I don’t remember the dates on them, but the ink was unfaded, the paper fresh.” Her chin trembled and she turned her anguished face to Isabelle. “They smelled of roses,” she whispered. “The paper bore her perfume.”

Isabelle pulled her close in a tight hug. “Aunt, stop this at once,” she insisted. “Why are you doing this?”

Staring at the rug, Aunt Janine continued on with a conversation no one else was privy to. “No, the question is: Why should Vanessa Myles send amorous letters to Thorburn? That doesn’t make sense, unless — ”

“Auntie, enough!” Naomi tugged on Aunt Janine’s sleeve, pulling the old woman’s attention away from her own train of thought.

Aunt Janine blinked and finally looked — really
looked
— at Lily, who was huddled against Isabelle. “I’m sorry, my dear,” she tutted, “I do not mean to cause you grief. It’s only that I’ve not heard the name Vanessa Myles in years — more years than I can recall. If it’s the same — but it must be,” she muttered to herself again.

Setting aside her tea, Aunt Janine rose and smoothed the front of her plain gray frock. She stood before Lily with her lined hands crossed at her soft waist. “My girl, stand up.”

Her heart sick with trepidation, Lily did so and looked down into Aunt Janine’s kind face.

“You know I am terribly fond of you, don’t you, dear?”

Lily nodded slowly.

“I think of you as a niece of my own, every bit as much as Naomi or Isabelle. Your sharp mind reminds me much of myself at your age.” Aunt Janine pressed a cool hand to Lily’s hot cheek. Her eyes were magnified in the lenses of her spectacles, enlarging the tender expression Lily saw there. “I do hope you know how it has pained me to see you unhappy these last months. I wish you only the very best in all things, Lily. Do you believe that?”

“Yes,” Lily answered.

Aunt Janine nodded once. “Good.” She held Lily’s hands firmly in hers. “Now, I need you to trust me.”

Lily frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I believe Lord Thorburn. Vanessa Myles is not his mistress — the very idea is preposterous.” Behind her, Naomi gasped.

“Auntie … ” Isabelle said in a warning tone.

Lily’s brows knit together. “How can you know that?”

“Because I do,” Aunt Janine answered. “You must be a very brave girl, Lily. I don’t know why your husband has gone to Mrs. Myles’s house, but you must go there and find out.”

Lily gaped at her in disbelief. “You would have me set foot in the house of a … ” Words failed her as her tongue refused to articulate the station of her husband’s lover.

“Yes,” Aunt Janine said hotly, “I would.” At Lily’s sputtered protest, she raised a hand. “Lily, I don’t know what the truth is, but I do know it is not
that
. I cannot promise you happiness in your marriage — that’s up to you and Thorburn — but I can promise you relief from your fears. Go to your husband, Lily.”

Confusion and fear gripped her soul; Lily looked to Isabelle for guidance, but her friend only shook her head. She had no better insight than what Aunt Janine had offered. More than anything, Lily wanted to cling to Aunt Janine’s words. How marvelous it would be if they were true! The bluestocking spinster spoke confidently about this Vanessa Myles woman, as though she knew something about her Lily did not. There was only one way to find out.