Page 2 of In Want of a Wife
Down.
CHAPTER 1
Cumbria,1823
Felton wasn’t coming.
Lily braced her gloved hand over her stomach and sucked in a sharp breath, scanning the restless crowd before her in the pews of the small chapel.
Her father snapped his pocket watch shut and stuffed it into his maroon brocade vest.
She was a jilted bride.
Again.
“Can you please close the door?” she whispered to her father. She remained frozen, even as her heart drummed relentlessly in her ears. Her fingertips were freezing. Strange, considering it was a warm May day.
He grumbled, crumbling Felton’s short missive in his meaty hands.
“Father?”
She couldn’t stomach the pitying looks. The clock struck eleven, and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing back the tears.
“What’s wrong with you, Lily?” he hissed. Hetossed the bridegroom’s missive aside. It bounced off the potted fern and rolled onto the stone floor. “What did you say to him? You must have done something.”
“Now, Mr. Abrams,” Felton’s father said, finally shutting the door and providing some privacy in the small foyer. “I saw my son at breakfast only two hours ago, and I… I am quite confused as to why he’s not here. There must be a good reason.”
Lily wasn’t confused.
Felton Lloyd, the Viscount of Harlington, would have made an excellent husband, albeit a boring one at nearly fifteen years her senior. Their marriage would have brought some much-needed security into her world. Just as her first betrothed, William Crainfeld, would have with his mining business. And while marrying the viscount would have stopped the wagging tongues of thetonas to why she was left at the altar the first time around, her being jilted again only added to her biggest problem—her reputation.
No man wished to marry a woman who might as well have been married to studying the stars. Her stepmother had even gone so far as to lock up her telescope to keep her focused on the impending nuptials.
Her father’s wide face reddened like a strawberry under the late June sun. “You can’t run away from this, Lily. You have ruined us.”
Unlikely, considering her father was the second son of an earl and the Abrams were considered a very esteemed family in London. Which was all the more reason the viscount was eager for the match.
Lily vaulted a quick glance between the two older men, then edged backward for the exit.
“Forgive me, I need a… moment.”
What she needed was a husband.
Lily spun and hurried outside, ripping off her bonnet and ignoring the shouts behind her as she raced through the fields toward home.
What a fool she had been to trust Felton. There was another way, surely. Her mother had always told her she was excellent at solving problems.
This was simply a temporary challenge. She wiped at her eyes andquickened her pace as she barreled down the well-appointed hallway of her father’s Cumbria estate. If only her heeled slippers weren’t a shy too big. She wouldn’t risk a sprain for the sake of a husband, no matter how deep his pockets were.
Lily had to draw the line somewhere.
Another set of footsteps tagged behind in a perfect echo. Lily held her chin high to the quiet murmurings of the servants who passed and tried their best to fade into the worn silk wall coverings. No one ever knew what to say to Lily when she was always the betrothed and never the bride.
“Perhaps you should head to your room and remove your wedding dress first,” her friend Kate’s soft voice cautioned from behind.
“No need.” Lily stretched onto her tip-toes, reached above the doorframe to her father’s office, then clutched the spare key to the door in her palm. She wiggled the key into the keyhole, then shoved her shoulder against the door to counteract the early summer humidity. The door burst open, and she stumbled inside, wiping her palms against her thighs as she righted herself.
Heavens above, her father’s office was a jumble of books and stuffed mallards. Where even to begin?
