Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,68
tell her best friend everything, but how did one confess they were in love with one man and betrothed to another? How did one confess that their character was so weak that they’d been contemplating for three straight days just how horrid it would be to break off her engagement and had barely managed to push the selfish thought away each time? Because even if she did break off her betrothal, she could not guarantee that Nash would be as dishonorable as she was, and if he would not have her, that left her mother and sister—and her, though she hardly cared about that—near homeless and poverty stricken. Never mind that she would hurt Owen and he would hate her.
“Isn’t that terribly funny?” Guinevere persisted, looking wide-eyed and innocent.
“It’s hilarious,” Lilias choked out.
“I also find it funny that you have not come to see me once to tell me personally of your betrothal to Owen. I had to read it in the scandal sheet.”
“I…I have been busy.”
Guinevere’s eyebrows arched high. “Too busy to share the happy news with your best friend that you are marrying the man you now love?”
Guinevere had not said outright that Lilias was a liar, but her tone and expression implied it. And of course Guinevere knew! She was her best friend!
“I happened to overhear Greybourne tell Asher that this woman, Lady L—” Guinevere paused “—was in desperate need, and he would do anything in his power to aid her. He was there to ask Asher to help him with some task, I think in regard to her, but I could not hear what.”
Lilias swallowed. Nash likely wanted Carrington to ensure she did not go on any missions alone as she had promised him. She wondered if she’d look out her window tonight to find Greybourne or someone he’d hired guarding her from below.
Guinevere looked contemplative for a moment. “Maybe he loves this Lady L and he doesn’t think she’ll have him.”
“Did he say that?” Lilias asked miserably. “Did he say he loved me?” She no longer cared. Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
“Oh, dearest,” Guinevere murmured, then scooted forward and pulled Lilias into a hug. “He didn’t have to say the words. It’s painted on his face with the dark smudges under his eyes, the dark stubble, and the mussed hair. It’s in the wrinkled clothing he’s wearing, as if he cannot even be bothered to change. And it’s in his words, which sound filled with agony… Will you not tell me what is happening? Will you not let me try to help?”
Lilias pulled back and swiped at her tears. “You cannot help,” she whispered. And then she told Guinevere of the manuscript, Mr. Levine, the trip to the Orcus Society, and of her and Nash and all they had said to each other.
Guinevere shook her head slowly, smugly. “I knew that man loved you the moment I saw him at my ball!”
Lilias smiled weakly at her friend. Guinevere did so love to be right.
“Even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. I’m betrothed to Owen. I gave my word, and even if I had not, I must wed him. I cannot risk my mother’s and my sister’s futures to follow my heart when I do not even know if Nash would follow his.”
“I surmised that, too,” Guinevere pronounced, then gave Lilias a pat on the hand and a squeeze. “You are wedding because of finances, aren’t you?”
Lilias nodded and then quickly told Guinevere all Lilias had learned about her mother’s trips to Bath and the true state of her family’s situation. “I must wed Owen,” Lilias said, hating herself for even saying such a thing. “And I do not believe Nash would, in fact, make me his wife, even if I were no longer betrothed. There are things in his past that make him feel guilty, make him feel as if being with me would be a betrayal to Owen, and I don’t think he could live with that.”
“Tell me. Perhaps I can help?”
“You can’t change his mind, Guinevere.”
Guinevere smiled. “Perhaps Asher could?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a matter of honor, and I do believe penance. Anyway—” she plucked at a loose thread on her coverlet “—I would not want Nash to ever think I betrayed his confidence by telling you his secrets, and then you, in turn, telling your husband.”
“Fine,” Guinevere replied. “Let us forget Nash for a moment. Let us speak of you and Blackwood and your financial coil.”