Deb Marlowe - Her Cinderella Season

‘So what do you hope to find here?’

Eli glanced at him. ‘The same thing you were, I s’pose. Some hint o’ where he might be hiding out. With the Americans after him as well as the Royal Navy, he’s got to lie low for a while.’

‘The bastard’s got a ship and the whole world to hide in.’ Jack sighed.

‘Trey thinks he won’t go too far. He didn’t get what he wanted, and he thinks he’ll try again. Like any man, he’ll have a spot or two he goes to when his back is against the wall. Trouble is findin’ it.’

Jack stood a little straighter. ‘I might have a lead on that shipbuilder, Beecham. Perhaps he knows where Batiste would go to hide his head.’

‘Dowhatyecan, man.’ Elisighed. ‘I know Trey hates to ask ye—especially after ye got hurt the first time. But won’t none of us be truly safe until that man is caught and hung.’

‘I will. Tell Trey I will handle it.’ He stared at the old man with resolution. ‘In fact, I think it should be possible for me to begin right now.’

‘Mr Wilberforce asked you to do what?’ Lily’s dish of tea hovered, halfway up. The evening had grown late. Lady Ashford and her mother had arrived to fetch her, and Lady Dayle had pressed them to stay for a cold supper.

‘To make a tour through Surrey and Kent, speaking with local groups of Evangelicals along the way,’ her mother repeated.

‘Your mother has accomplished wonders in Weymouth, Miss Beecham.’ Lady Ashworth accepted a slice of cheese from the platter Lady Dayle offered. ‘She can share her methods and be an inspiration to many others.’

‘Of course.’ Lily’s mind raced. This was just exactly what she’d wished for; a chance to travel, to see new places and meet new people. Her breathing quickened and her pulse began to beat a little faster. ‘Mother, I’m so proud of you.’

‘Congratulations, Mrs Beecham,’ said Lady Dayle. ‘You shall be one of the leading ladies of a very great movement. And to have the request come from Mr Wilberforce himself is quite an honour, is it not?’

‘Thank you, it is indeed an honour.’ Her mother looked exhausted. Lily felt a twinge of guilt. She’d spent a perfectly lovely afternoon with the viscountess and her mother had not even had a chance to celebrate her accomplishment.

‘Will we be returning home first, Mother? Or shall we leave straight from town?’ she asked. ‘Either way, we must be sure that you rest beforehand. I can see you are quite worn out.’

An uncomfortable look passed across her mother’s face. ‘I’ll be leaving from London in a few days, dear. Lady Ashford has graciously agreed to accompany me.’ She met Lily’s eye with resolve. ‘You will be returning home.’

‘What?’ This time she was forced to set her cup down with shaking hands. ‘You cannot mean that!’

‘We’ve been away from home too long as it is. Someone needs to oversee the Parish Poor Relief Committee. The planning needs to begin now for the Michaelmas festival. We cannot abandon our duty to those less fortunate.’

‘There are plenty of ladies at home willing and able to take care of those things,’ Lily argued. ‘Mother, please!’ Resentment and disbelief churned in her belly. It was true that her mother had found less and less joy in life over the years. Her father’s death had been a blow to them both. Grief and guilt were heavy burdens to bear, but Lily had been forced to cope alone. Sometimes she felt she had grieved twice over, for her quiet, reserved mother had sunk into a decline and a militant stranger had climbed out the other side.

Restrictive, distant, hard to please—yes. But Lily had never suspected her mother of deliberate cruelty before today. First Mr Cooperage and now—

She stopped, aghast. ‘Does Mr Cooperage factor into this decision, Mother? Because I tell you now that I am not interested in his views on any subject!’

‘Lilith!’ her mother gasped. ‘We will not discuss it further. This is entirely inappropriate!’

‘Well then, it appears I have arrived at the perfect time,’ an amused masculine voice interrupted.

Lily turned to find Mr Alden framed handsomely in the doorway. An instant flush began to spread up and over her.

Was she doomed to always encounter this man at a serious disadvantage?

He advanced into the room and she tried to collect herself. Not an easy task. Poetic—that was the word that had sprung to mind earlier. Brooding was the one that popped up now. Darkly handsome and brooding. Though he had a sardonic smile hovering at the corner of his mouth, the effect was ruined by the rest of him. She just could not be entirely intimidated by anyone in that rumpled state. He looked as if his valet had dressed him in the height of fashion, in only the best silk and superfine, and then laid him down and rolled him repeatedly about on the bed. She tightened her mouth at the image evoked and her flush grew stronger yet. A great many women, she strongly suspected, would enjoy rolling Mr Alden about on the bed.

‘Jack, darling.’ Lady Dayle rose to welcome her son. ‘Do come in and join us. The ladies have only just finished with the fair and we are taking a cold supper.’

He kissed his mother on the cheek and made an elegant bow to the rest of the ladies. Lily shifted slightly away as he took the chair directly next to hers.

‘I should thank you right away, Miss Beecham,’ he said with a quirk of a smile in her direction. ‘Usually I am the one for ever introducing inappropriate topics to the conversation. My brother informs me that virtually no one else cares for my mouldy ancients.’ He leaned back. The seating was so close that Lily could feel the heat emanating from him. ‘But you have saved me the trouble.’ He raised a brow at her. ‘Which distasteful subject have you brought to the table?’

‘Never mind that, Jack,’ scolded his mother. ‘Mrs Beecham has been granted a singular honour. We are celebrating.’

Lady Ashford explained while Lily fumed.

‘My heartfelt congratulations,’ Mr Alden said to her mother when the countess had finished. He turned again to Lily. ‘I’m sure you will enjoy the journey, Miss Beecham. There are some amazingly picturesque vistas in that part of the country.’

‘I am not to go, Mr Alden.’ Lily could not keep the anger completely from her tone. ‘I am instead sent home like a wayward child.’

She noticed that he grew very still. ‘Where is home, if I might ask?’

‘In Dorset, near Weymouth,’ she answered, though she did not see the relevance of the question.

‘Ah.’ He steepled his fingers and thought a moment. ‘I suppose I can understand your mother’s point of view.’

Irritation nearly choked Lily. She glared at him.

‘You can?’ asked her mother in surprise.

‘Yes, well, it is only fair to consider both sides of the argument, and you must admit that travelling with an innocent young girl must always be complicated.’

‘Innocent young girl?’ Lily objected. ‘I am nearly three and twenty and I have seen and done many things in the course of my volunteer work.’

‘I do not doubt you, but the fact remains that you are a young, unmarried lady. As such you will most likely require frequent stops to rest, and special arrangements for private parlours to shield you from the coarser elements. If you stay at private homes, there will have to be thought given as to whether or not any single gentlemen are in residence. Not to mention that you will have to have a chaperon for every minute of every day. Without a doubt, two older, more mature ladies will travel easier alone.’

Lily gaped at him.

‘You can see the logic of the situation.’ He nodded towards her.

‘There are so many things wrong with that litany of statements that I must give serious consideration on where to begin,’ she responded.