Page 75 of A Lady's Key to Passion

Liliane kept smiling, but her stomach churned. She had spent the past couple of weeks with Eleanor, blessedly away from home and all itsdifficulties. That word didn’t nearly encompass all the problems Liliane faced at home, but she didn’t want to give her troubles a more specific term. The truth was more alarming.

Eleanor tilted her head, looking over Lady Henrietta’s shoulder. “It appears the ballroom is ready. Shall we?’

There was a general murmur of agreement as the ladies rose. Liliane remained close to her stepmother as they all exited the fine parlour and walked to the ballroom.

“Once Eleanor has returned to Scotland, you should arrange to visit her,” Lady Henrietta said. “The country air does wonders for raising one’s spirits.”

Liliane nodded, but she doubted such plans would ever come to fruition. Her stepmother might’ve been the one to suggest them, but Liliane had no doubt that when the day came for her todepartfor Scotland, Lady Henrietta would’ve already devised several reasons for why Liliane inexplicably couldn’t set a foot outside of Kent.

They took the familiar path from the parlour to the grand ballroom, the beautiful colours of sunset streaming into the room and illuminating the gilded walls and marble floor.

“Andtherethey are! The two most luminous ladies in the room!” Liliane’s father, Captain Ward, approached them. He grinned rakishly and bowed to Lady Henrietta. “May I have the first dance?”

Lady Henrietta smiled. “I suppose. Ithasbeen a long time, after all.”

It had been months, actually. Liliane remembered it well, as she did every time her father was home. Those were the only times, fleeting as they were, that Liliane could really pretend that her family was together and happy.

“Too long,” George replied, his brown eyes soft. “It pains me to be away for so long from the both of you.”

But it was necessary, as George had explained time and time again in Liliane’s youth. Being an earl’s second son was a difficult prospect. More difficult still was managing the Earl of Lyndon’s many estates and ensuring that all his tenants were content.

The Earl of Lyndon was an old man, and his eldest son and successor had yet to abandon his rakish ways and treat his inheritance with any sense of dignity. Someday, Liliane’s father insisted that his brother would grow into the role, but that had not happened yet.

“You’ll have the second dance, of course,” her father said, grinning at Liliane.

She nodded and clasped her hands before her. “I shall look forward to it, Father.”

He gave her a final grin and turned away. Lady Henrietta’s hand rested on the crook of his elbow. Liliane followed them with her eyes, but she was mostly resigned to remaining a wallflower until the first dance was completed. She stood near the wall, letting the music and the vision of swirling dancers sink within her.

She wanted to hold onto the moment—to imprint it in her mind like a painting and hold it forever. Moments like this came so seldomly to her, and once her father left again, she knew enjoyable occasions such as Eleanor’s soiree would be rare.

The song ended, and Liliane straightened her back. Her father and stepmother both strode toward her. Lady Henrietta’s head was tipped back, her eyes shining. “I shall surrender him to you now, Lily. He is all yours.”

Her father bowed. “May I have this dance, young lady?”

Liliane’s heart was in her throat. She extended her hand and let her father guide her into the ring of dancing couples. George smiled affectionately. “Is that gown a new one? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

It had been purchased over a year before, but Liliane wasn’t surprised her father had never seen it.

“Indeed,” she replied, lying to spare his feelings. “Do you think it suits me?”

“I think any gown would suit you. You have your mother’s beauty. I daresay she might have been beautiful, even wearing dirty rags. You look more like her every day, too. I wish she could’ve been here to see you.”

Liliane’s chest ached at the mention of her mother, who’d died when she was a young girl, only ten years of age. Memories of her mother were scarce, but sometimes, Liliane still missed the mother she had never really gotten to know. It was strange knowing that once there had been a mother who truly loved her always.

Once, Lady Henrietta had loved her. When she had married Liliane’s father, she had been the recently widowed wife of a baron, and she had been so kind in those early days. Liliane knew that her stepmother had. Such affection was surely incapable of being faked. But something had changed over time, and Liliane had lost the doting stepmother who treated her just as she did her own daughters.

She had lain awake many nights trying to discover precisely what she might’ve done to draw her stepmother’s distaste, but she had never managed to learn what that might be. Still, she hoped—especially in those brief moments when her stepmother was kind—that her loving stepmother might one day return to her.

“We met at an event like this,” her father continued. “I still remember the way that the light of the setting sun caught in her hair.”

“Yes?” Liliane asked.

She tried to imagine how her mother would look, based on the portraits that she had seen around the estate. They did greatly resemble one another. Both she and her mother had the same colour of hair and the same delicate, hazel eyes. The same high cheekbones and soft-featured face.

They danced, and Liliane’s mind whirled. The air was heady and lovely with the sound of music and scattered laughter. Despite not dancing for some time, she found that her feet remembered the steps well. She and her father moved elegantly over the floor, weaving through the other couples in flashes of brightly coloured gowns and flickering candlelight.

Twice more, they danced before George led his daughter from the centre of the room. Lady Henrietta waited for them.

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