Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

She took a light breakfast in her chambers. With her maid’s assistance, she dressed in a cheery pink day dress and adorned her neck with a single strand of pearls. As the maid twisted her hair, Lily stared at herself in the mirror. Weary, red-rimmed eyes stared back at her from a pale, drawn face. She looked horrid, no question. But she couldn’t improve her aspect by sitting about the house moping.

She dismissed the maid and considered the possible activities. She could pay calls, Lily supposed. But then, whom would she visit? Amelia would want to hear all about last night, and Lily didn’t feel up to discussing it. As for others … it might be best to wait and see the scandal sheets today. She and Julian had departed the assembly abruptly, then vanished together into a coach. Who knew what the gossips might have concluded? She didn’t especially care, but neither did she wish to face the rumors unprepared.

Shopping? Maybe it would boost her spirits to purchase something frivolous and pretty. Several somethings, at that. On credit. But while she knew such a strategy worked for other ladies, Lily had never experienced similar success. Her mathematical bent would not allow her to stop mentally tallying expenditures and balancing them against the pleasure accrued. Quite spoiled the whole exercise.

Exercise. Now there was an idea. Perhaps the park should be her destination. Yes, a nice long stroll along the Serpentine would be just the thing. She could ask Holling to accompany her. The housekeeper would appreciate a chance to show off her new winter cloak.

“Oh. That cloak.” Lily sniffed back a tear, thinking of that lovely, luxurious garment. It was just like Julian, to be so inappropriate and so thoughtful at once. “Even Holling has a cloak to remember him by, and what has he left me? Two ruined gowns and an intact maidenhead.”

A bright flutter caught her attention.

“I’m sorry, Tartuffe. I didn’t mean to discount you.” She crossed to his cage and put one finger through the bars. The parrot nipped it playfully. “You’re right. I suppose I can’t say he didn’t leave me anything.”

But the bird would not be soothed. He bounced about his cage, flapping with agitation. Something must be happening downstairs.

Lily left her suite and padded down the corridor. She descended the front stairs and stopped three risers from the bottom. There was Julian, standing in the entrance hall, dressed in morning attire and clutching a rolled paper in his hand. His face was unnaturally pale. She thought he looked like he might swoon again.

“Good morning,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “No, it’s not. It’s a wretched morning, as you well know. I thought I told you if you deserted me last night, I didn’t want to see you again.”

“You did.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m hoping you’ll reconsider. Obviously.”

She gripped the banister, trying to steel herself. Yes, she was relieved beyond measure to see him alive, if not completely well. But she couldn’t go through this same torment, over and over again. The books had already been packed away. “Julian, I don’t—”

“Wait.” He approached, coming to stand at the bottom of the staircase. “Let me have my say. Please.”

Lily held her ground. If she was going to make it through this conversation without losing her nerve, she needed some space between them. Not to mention, the advantage of an extra eighteen inches’ height.

“I’m sorry for leaving you last night,” he said. “But I just couldn’t do it. All threats and mysteries aside … You’re a woman of remarkable character, Lily. Your brother was my very good friend. I couldn’t soil your reputation and disrespect Leo’s memory by taking your virtue that way.”

This? This was the reason he’d come here? Just to reject her to her face, all over again? Lily couldn’t believe it.

“However …” He made a beckoning motion to the side. A man emerged from the drawing room. He was youngish, with thin brown hair and an earnest mien. Tucked beneath his arm, he carried a formidable tome. Swift and Holling followed close behind.

“However what?” Surely Julian didn’t mean to present this poor fellow as a substitute? There was matchmaking, and then there was … well, she didn’t even know the word, that’s how unthinkable it was.

“I mean to do this properly. The way you deserve.” Julian gestured toward the man and said, “Curate.” With a nod in Swift and Holling’s direction, he added, “Witnesses.” He unrolled the paper he’d been holding and raised it for her inspection. “Special license.”

“Julian, what are you on about?”

He went down on one knee.

The room made a sudden twirl. She clutched the banister. “Julian, do get up.”

“Marry me.”

She stared at him. “What did you say?” She couldn’t rush to conclusions. She had to be sure. Although, there weren’t many other phrases that resembled “marry me.” Except “bury me,” perhaps. But given his sickly pallor—and the fact that the presence of a curate might be required for that activity, too—she thought it best to make absolutely certain.

“Lily Elizabeth Chatwick,” he said, slowly and solemnly, “I am asking you to become my wife.”

Oh. There was no mistaking that word, wife.

“Here?” she finally managed to ask. “Now? This very morning?”