The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

Lily could only stare at Lady Ambrose, frozen in indecision. “You are quite mistaken, my lady. I cannot imagine a more ludicrous notion. If you have seen me staring, I assure you, I have only been admiring the cut of his jacket or studying the richness of the material. You know I am forever fascinated with fashion, and I am quite determined to be a sought-after modiste of the ton.”

The marchioness could have no idea that Lily’s dreams had been filled with the marquess doing wicked things to her body with those firm and sensual lips. She had never acted inappropriately within his presence. In fact, the man hardly acknowledged her. It was as if he did not see her, so faded was Lily into the background of their lavish lifestyle. She was simply the hired help with the lovely euphemism of lady’s companion.

The marchioness pinned her with a searching glance, her lips pursed in a moue of disapproval. “You must come to the ball on Friday, my dear,” she said, giving a benevolent wave of her hand.

A ball! A shimmer of excitement went through her. “My lady—”

“Sir Ellington is in attendance, and I’ve detected the keen regard he pays to you. Mr. Crauford also seems decidedly interested. He is the grandnephew of Baron Hayford, so Mr. Crauford is not without connections, and he commands two thousand pounds a year. My dear, I don’t believe you will be able to secure better.”

“Oh, no, my lady. The offer is most kind of you, but I must politely decline.”

“Nonsense. If you are worried about your wardrobe, I have the most delightful gown that with only a few alterations will fit you quite well. If you are a seamstress worth her salt, two days should be sufficient to make the changes to your satisfaction.”

Lily stood and strolled to the window overlooking the lake. She did not like the fierce burn of excitement that had flared through her. She had never been to a prestigious ball before—only several country routs, which had been immensely delightful.

“Your ladyship, I appreciate the kind offer, but I truly have no desire to attend a fashionable ball.” Liar, her heart cried softly. It was vastly appealing, but what would be the point? She did not belong to that extravagant world.

“Every young lady wishes to attend one of my balls,” the marchioness rejoined, with an arrogant lift of her chin. “If you have any hopes of capturing Mr. Crauford’s attention, Friday’s ball will see it done. When he sees how you comport yourself within high society, he will be more apt to court you, despite you having no dowry or suitable connections.”

There was little point in reminding the marchioness that she did not desire marriage. She had already endured two, and despite the saying, the third time would not be charming, pleasant, or amiable, but a reoccurrence of banality and shame at her wanton heart. However, Lily could not ignore the opportunity that attending the ball presented. This could be her chance to impress the ladies of high society with her designs. She could alter the gown in several ways, ensuring she outshone many there, and perhaps they would be compelled to ask after her dressmaker. That was the way to foster the connections of which she had been dreaming.

“Thank you, your ladyship. I believe I will accept your offer of the ball gown.”

The marchioness nodded approvingly. “Wonderful, Mrs. Layton. The dress is from last season, and I only wore it once, for I did not find the color flattering. The soft rose would look quite charming on you, my dear.”

She rang the bell, and a maid hurried in shortly after. The marchioness ordered the gown to be delivered to Lily’s room and also for a picnic hamper to be prepared.

Lily smiled. “Do you need me for the rest of the morning, my lady?”

“You may have the rest of the day.” She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing pink. “Lord Clayton and I will be having a light repast in the south gardens before joining in the outdoor games.”

Lily dipped into a quick curtsy and departed, belatedly realizing the marchioness had required her presence less of late. Their afternoon readings had been canceled for more than a week now, and their last weekly jaunt into the village had occurred almost two months ago. She faltered, pressing a hand to her stomach. How had she not noticed? Because of her inattentiveness, she had less than a month to plan for her unencumbered future.

She pushed open the door and collided with Lady Lucinda, the marquess’s younger sister, a petite, blue-eyed brunette with slender curves, a winsome smile, and a most charming personality.

“Oh, dear me!”

Lily smiled. “Lady Lucinda, how are you today?”

Her eyes twinkled, and Lily had the sneaking suspicion the girl had been eavesdropping.

“Dear Mrs. Layton, may I prevail upon you for assistance?”

“In regard to…?”

A generous smile curved the girl’s lips as she considered Lily with an odd sort of anxious scrutiny. “I need you briefly in the music room. I am trying to practice my steps for the waltz, but

Mr. Potter doesn’t seem inclined to indulge me today.”

Lucinda waited expectantly, and Lily stared at her for several seconds, embarrassed but delighted at the girl’s kindness. “You are very thoughtful, Lady Lucinda, but it is very unlikely I will be asked to dance at the ball. And you should not eavesdrop.”

Lucinda flushed. She had a romantic soul and was quite naive in the matters of the heart, and Lily loathed the day the girl would realize marriage was not all that she imagined it to be. Lady Luciana was eager for her debut and had spoken of little else for the past few weeks.

“Please, Mrs. Layton, indulge me. It will also help me prepare for when I am launched into society. I want to be as graceful as a swan when my beaux twirl me about the floor. And you just may be asked to dance. Imagine how mortified you would be if you had to decline because you are unable to.”

Lily smiled at her earnestness. “I’ve been persuaded, but not now. Perhaps in a few hours.”

Her entire face lit with her smile. “How glorious. You will not regret it!”