The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

Her head turned, and startled eyes met his. “It was a gift. I did not expect to be paid.”

But his mother should have known what it would have cost a woman of Lily’s means to create such a rich garment worthy of a marchioness. Lily was kind and very caring, qualities he deeply admired. It did not escape him that it was her wages she had been using to buy gifts for her family. He admired that she pursued her passion so ardently and wasn’t content to accept the life handed to her. It was a pity she wasn’t of a different class, for he could see himself wooing a woman like her.

“Ah…here we are,” she said with a nervous laugh, waving toward a cottage nestled charmingly off the beaten path. “This is my parents’ home, and I…I’m decidedly unsure what is the proper etiquette here. I had no notion the Marquess of Ambrose would spend the day with me in such a menial manner. Not that I imagined you being with me in any other manner,” she hurriedly assured him.

A blush pinkened her cheeks, and the most befuddling sensation filled his chest and arrowed down to his cock, hardening it. Shock froze him, and with a will he’d never thought himself capable of, he suppressed the sneaking desire worming through his body for a bloody servant within his household. Wresting his gaze from her beguiling eyes, he scanned the yard. Several chickens clucked, and a young lady was hanging billowing white sheets on a line. As if she sensed his regard, she looked up.

“Lily!” she cried, abandoning her laundry, running over to clasp her in an embrace.

“Mary Rose,” Lily scolded. “We’ve company.” She took a steadying breath. “May I present Lord Ambrose. My lord, this is my sister, Mrs. Mary Rose Evans.”

“Lord Ambrose!”

His lips twitched as he caught the pinch Lily placed behind her sister’s elbow as she gawked. Mary Rose possessed the same dark red hair and brown eyes as Lily and was just as pretty. She quickly curtsied and stammered a greeting. Oliver did his best to put her at ease. He bowed. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Evans.”

“Mamma and Papa have gone to call on Miss Shelby. She’s not feeling too well, you see,” she said to Lily. Though Mary Rose spoke to her sister, her widened eyes were pinned on him.

What was he doing there with her sister was the clear question. And the answer eluded him, to his great annoyance. “I spy the most charming garden westward,” he said abruptly. “I’ll leave you to see the arrangements.”

“They are my father’s pride and joy,” replied Lily with a wide smile, and he did his best to not lower his regard to those sweet, pouty lips.

“You’ll not find better, my lord.”

“If you ladies will excuse me,” he said, offering a courteous bow before handing Lily the basket.

They dipped into curtsies, and Oliver walked away, inhaling the mix of fragrances redolent on the air. Life had turned rather strange ever since meeting Mrs. Layton this morning. He had never spent a day so simply but so pleasantly. He hadn’t once thought about his estates or burying himself in his darkroom to paint his erotic murals. He hadn’t even thought about the young ladies back at Belgrave Manor, all of whom were apparently eminently suited to be his wife. He’d enjoyed Lily’s company, and most befuddling, Oliver could not recall having a more amiable time.

…

The Marquess of Ambrose had spent the day with her. The very notion still confounded Lily. Even more disturbing, she very much liked his splendid and good-natured company. She had never thought it possible to be at ease with someone so far above her in, well, everything, but not once had he made her feel as if she were inferior.

Her parents had returned home only a few minutes after Lily’s arrival. They’d had a pleasant afternoon chat with tea and sandwiches before she had departed. She visited her family weekly, and so enjoyed spending time with them. Their three-bedroom cottage was fully occupied, since it was also her sister and her husband’s abode. Her brother-in-law did not make enough of a living to fully support his family. He was terribly kindhearted and did not charge many of his patients who could ill afford medical care. Lily dearly wished to someday earn enough to hire a kitchen maid to help them with the chores.

She had been indecisive about presenting the marquess to her parents, so she’d been relieved to find he had wandered off to the far fields when she finally drummed up the courage to venture outside to offer him refreshment. Lily still couldn’t fathom why she had felt so discomfited at the thought of Lord Ambrose in her humble and sparsely furnished home.

Now they were walking at a far brisker pace back to Belgrave Manor. Thunder rumbled, and she

glared at the sky. “I believe it is about to rain.” She hurried her steps, almost running. “There is a hunting lodge not too far from here. We could wait out the rain there.”

A low curse sounded from the marquess. Lily peered back at him. “What is it?”

There was a dangerous warning in the gaze that stared at her, and she gasped at the dart of heat that quivered to her core. Dear God. Her desires were ungovernable. A drop of rain landed on her cheek, and not wasting time to examine the unexpected tension, she ran ahead, uncaring if he followed. Arriving at the hunting cabin, she clambered up the small steps, wrenched open the door, and spilled inside.

“What is this?” The marquess’s voice came from behind her.

Lily flushed under his gaze. The hunting lodge was clean, with a fresh bedspread and a curtain by the small window. There was even wood stacked by the fireplace and a few books neatly packed by the small table. She cleared her throat delicately. “The lodge is always empty. I frequently visit here on my off days.”

He shot her a considering glance but refrained from commenting.

A burst of raindrops spattered against the glass panes of the window. Several seconds later, it started to storm in earnest. Lily strolled to the lone chair by the window and sat, a trembling breath escaping her when the marquess lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. Why hadn’t she ever tried to get another chair for the cabin?

He was a handsome rogue who was a threat to any woman’s virtue, even if she were only a paid companion. “Everyone will wonder where we are. I am certain Mr. Crauford relayed to them that we are together.”

“It will be evident our delay is because of the inclement weather.”

“Our being alone will be seen as scandalous.”

One of his eyebrows arched in apparent incredulity. “I doubt it,” he said drily.