Page 7 of In Want of a Wife
“Lily’s shock? What of mine? I have never been so embarrassed in all my life…”
“Yes,” Charlotte said again in a placating tone. “I know it must be difficult for you. I will see that someone brings you tea as well. You rest, and I will assist with Lily. Mr. Abrams, can you accompany your wife upstairs?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I think that best,” he answered tersely.
Miracle upon miracles, silence fell outside the office. Kate unlocked the door and clapped as Charlotte entered triumphantly with a tea tray, still wearing her fine gloves and a perfectly turned-out bonnet.
“Pay them no mind, Lily,” she said, setting the tray down on the partially cleared desk. Charlotte spun around, glancing from floor to ceiling. “What’s happened here?”
“It is best not to ask,” Kate answered.
Lily rose, sighing as she tripped in her insufferable shoes. Well, those must go. She leaned an arm out to Charlotte, then balanced, removing each and tossing them by the door. “My idea is perfectly sound.”
Kate poured tea from an old French teapot. “We have heard that before.”
Charlotte fought back a grin, but her big blue eyes were filled with sadness. “Have some tea. We don’t need to discuss this right now. We will talk about?—”
“The weather,” Lily supplied, turning to gaze out the office window at the beautiful day, perfectly suited for a wedding. Her father’s estate was impressive, and she would miss it but not half as much as she longed to leave. “I do love to talk about the weather.”
No one seemed amused by her teasing, so she shoved the newspaper in Charlotte’s direction. Charlotte was the oldest and, therefore, the wisest. In Lily’s estimation, she was also the most sensible.
“What am I looking for?” Charlotte asked, scanning the newsprint. The fine silk shawl slipped from her delicate shoulders, revealing a wide neckline of a gorgeous gown that was the lightest of blues.
Lily flopped back onto the ottoman and took the delicate teacup in hand, slurping it in a rather unladylike fashion.
“The section that reads like the worst idea ever,” Kate said. She winked at Lily when she turned to counter the point.
Really, the idea was not at all that terrible. It wasn’t as if she had been hit on the head. Her solution was namely that—a solution. One that would ferry her away from the gossip of society and the scorn of her parents. When put that way, she thought she was rather lucky to have spotted the advertisement the other day. No knights in shining armor for Lily, just a marriage arranged in black and white. The man needed a wife, and she was in want of a husband. They were a perfect match.
Graceful and the picture of perfection as always, Charlotte’s delicate features froze. “Lily. Dear.”
No one understood her brilliance.
“If Kate is hinting at what I am reading, then that is not the solution to the day’s dilemma.”
“Oh, keep reading,” Kate insisted. “I had the paper rudely ripped away from me. We left off at the bit about five thousand pounds.”
Someone had once told Lily that one’s future could be read by tea leaves. She was more a woman of science, but she glanced down at her teacup just then, in case such an answer appeared. Also to hide the red heat biting at her cheeks as Charlotte cleared her throat.
“Robust health, five feet four inches without her half boots. Possesses all teeth. Not one to swan about or boast. Not chatty, nor one that is eager to admonish. Of a pleasing disposition...”
Kate threw her head back against the sofa and guffawed. It made no difference that Charlotte followed with a laugh far politer and quieter. It hurt all the same.
“No, no,” Kate said, wiping spilled tea off her dress and standing. “Stop, you must stop. I can’t laugh any longer.” Her freckled face, usually pale as virgin snow, was scarlet from laughter, tears brimming in her gray eyes.
“I’m glad you both find this so humorous. Neither of you were abandoned by her bridegroom this morning.”
Charlotte stopped chittering, her face suddenly drawn in seriousness. Lily thought for a moment that Charlotte’s hand shook at the wordabandoned. It was no secret that the duke much preferred spending his time in London or on the Continent rather than with his wife, whom the social columns had nicknamed The Honey Duchess.
“You are right,” she conceded. She floated across to Lily and drew her in for a tight embrace. Tears pricked Lily’s eyes once more as Charlotte whispered, “You will be stronger because of this. I promise you, in time you will see.”
Charlotte, oh so wise, like the older sister Lily never had. Lily strived to set the same example, even if her four younger sisters were not truly her own, but she thought of them as such. The fact that they did not was a sore point best left untouched.
“It has been a long morning. Maybe we should call for your maid.”
“No,” Lily said, her voice stern. She did not need to be coddled, only supported.
She spotted the bottle on the floor beside the desk, the sun hitting the amber liquid, lighting it up like a golden fire.
