Love According To Lily (10 page)

Part of her wished he would—that he would tell her she was welcome to stay as long as she liked, or even better, that he
wanted
her to say. But alas, she knew the measure of her importance in his life.

She gave a parting smile to Annabelle, but when she left the room, she felt worse, not better. She did not want to be on the outside of Whitby’s life. Not now. She needed something more.

Lily decided at that moment to offer to watch over him again tonight.

Chapter 12

“How is he?” Sophia asked, rising to her feet when Annabelle entered the drawing room later that evening.

Lily stood, too, anxious to hear any developments.

“He’s sleeping now,” Annabelle replied.

“And the fever?”

“Still high. He was asking for brandy.”

Lily and Sophia glanced at each other with concern.

“He’s very uncomfortable,” Annabelle said, “but he doesn’t argue when I say no.”

Sophia gestured toward the chair opposite. “Come and sit down. You must be exhausted after the day you’ve had. I’ll ring for tea.”

Annabelle joined them, and they chatted about her long journey from Bedfordshire and other small matters until the tea arrived, then Annabelle’s expression turned apologetic.

“You must both be wondering why Whitby was so desperate to see me. And Lily, you heard some of our conversation earlier.”

Lily and Sophia did not pry. They simply waited for Annabelle to continue.

“I’m not sure if you are aware of the ‘bad blood’ in our family—the problems we’ve had with Whitby’s cousin, Magnus.”

Sophia leaned forward to pour the tea. “James mentioned something once about a disagreeable cousin, but gave no other details. Did you know about it, Lily?”

Lily shook her head.

“Well,” Annabelle continued hesitantly, accepting a steaming cup of tea from Sophia and holding it on her lap, “Magnus’s father was cut off socially and financially from the family when he was just a boy—and for very good reason. He was a hateful, jealous child, and tried on many occasions to harm his older brother, the heir.”

“Good gracious, I had no idea,” Sophia said.

“His son, Magnus, is just as cruel and very bitter about the feud, and he envies Whitby the same way his father envied his brother. But now, if anything happens to Whitby, Magnus will inherit the title and house.”

“Is he that bad?” Lily asked.

Annabelle paused a moment before she replied. “You both know Whitby is a good man. He would not deny a family member what is due to him. But in this case, his feelings are well founded. Magnus has always coveted the title, you see, and there were suspicions that he may have caused the death of Whitby’s older brother, who was earl before him. That is where Whitby’s hatred comes from.”

“Good heavens,” Sophia said. “It all sounds positively dreadful.”

“That happened many years ago, when Whitby was only ten.” She raised her cup and took a sip.

Tension spread through Lily’s shoulders. “Does Whitby truly believe Magnus killed his brother?”

“No one could ever prove it, and Magnus denies it of course, but he is extremely hateful.”

“That is why Whitby is concerned about you?” Lily asked. “He thinks Magnus might hurt you? But why? You would have no claim over the title.”

Annabelle took a long time to answer. She seemed to be considering whether or not she should even try to explain, but finally she did. She lowered her cup and saucer to her lap again.

“Magnus has done harm to me in the past, simply to hurt Whitby. As I said, hatred and vengeance run in his veins.”

Sophia and Lily stared at Annabelle in stunned silence. “What did he do?”

She lowered her gaze and shook her head—again taking a long time to answer. “He seduced me five years ago, while keeping his true identity a secret. Then he abandoned me most callously, all to spite Whitby. I was young and very foolish.”

Sophia touched Annabelle’s knee. “I am so sorry.” She glanced helplessly at Lily. “No wonder Whitby is suffering so much anxiety right now.”

Annabelle nodded.

“What did Whitby do when he found out?” Lily asked, setting her tea on the table because she was too shocked and upset to drink it. “Did he confront Magnus?”

“Yes, and Magnus paid the price. What he did to me did not go unpunished.” Annabelle raised her tea to take a sip, but the cup and saucer rattled with the shaking of her hands.

Neither Lily nor Sophia asked her any more questions after that. They sat in somber silence for a minute or two, then Annabelle gazed toward the window.

“If only Whitby had married someone years ago and had an heir. Then at least if he was to die, he would be able to die in peace. It’s sad, how death almost inevitably brings regret.”

“For things we did not do when we had the chance,” Lily added, realizing suddenly that she was speaking to herself. She knew she had been drifting aimlessly in life’s current for too long.

Both Sophia and Annabelle smiled sadly at her.

“Yes, exactly,” Annabelle said. “That’s it exactly, Lily.”

* * *

That evening, Lily stood outside Whitby’s bedchamber with her ear to the door, trying to hear what the doctor was saying to Whitby and James. From what she could decipher, the doctor had found no change in Whitby’s condition, and his future was still as uncertain as ever.

A short time later, the doctor left the room and headed down the dark corridor. Lily quietly followed him to the main hall and watched from the top of the stairs while he accepted his coat and hat from the butler. As soon as the butler had closed the door behind the doctor and left the hall, Lily dashed down the stairs and ran outside.

“Dr. Trider!” she called out, just as he was stepping into his carriage. She ran up to it and put her hands on the side to keep him from driving away.

“Lady Lily,” he said, appearing somewhat startled by her desperate chase.

She took a few seconds to catch her breath. “I know Lord Whitby is no better today, but tell me…” She paused. She was nervous, but she forced herself to dig deep for the courage to be blunt. “Can a man with an illness such as he has… conceive a child?”

The doctor stared speechlessly down at her in the dim light from the outdoor lanterns. He pursed his lips and considered the question very carefully. “I suppose so. There is nothing afflicting his reproductive abilities. Though the fever has weakened him.”

“If someone…
helped
him…”

To be honest, she didn’t really know what she was asking. She wouldn’t know the first thing about
helping
Whitby do anything regarding such intimate acts. But she could certainly carry out instructions if she had them.

Good Lord, this was awkward.

The doctor hesitated again. “I suppose it would be possible.”

“Would the child be healthy?” she asked.

The doctor leaned back against the seat, looking rather uncomfortable with this conversation, but he answered nevertheless. “There are never any guarantees that any child will be born healthy, my lady, but if you are asking if his illness would be passed on to the child… Current wisdom is that Hodgkins is not contagious, and whether it is hereditary or not is not proven either.”

“But do you truly think Hodgkins is what he has, doctor? It couldn’t be something else?”

He stared uneasily at her.

“Please be frank with me. What is your honest opinion?”

“I cannot say for sure, Lady Lily, not until I can do the proper test.”

“Please, doctor.”

He sighed heavily. “I believe, given his symptoms, that Hodgkins is the most likely malady. But again, I cannot be sure.”

Lily nodded and accepted the doctor’s opinion, then she stepped away from the carriage. “Thank you.”

He picked up the reins and slapped them on the horse’s back, then clicked his tongue. “Move along now.” The carriage lurched forward, the wheels crunching over the gravel. “Good night, Lady Lily.”

“Good night, doctor.”

She wasn’t entirely sure he knew what she had really been asking. He would probably figure it out about a mile down the road.

She hoped he wouldn’t drive his carriage into a tree.

Lily knocked softly on Whitby’s door at midnight, to take over for Annabelle, who had been sitting with him all evening.

The room was lit only by the fire burning in the grate and a single candle beside the bed. Whitby lay on his side facing away from the door, and just the sight of his masculine form beneath the light sheet made Lily’s heart pound with a longing to be near him.

Annabelle had been slouched back in her chair, but she sat up when Lily entered. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “I thought you’d never get here. He’s been asleep for hours, and I’m exhausted.”

Lily walked around the bed. Jenson had bathed and shaved Whitby earlier that evening, so his hair looked clean but wildly disheveled from lying in bed. He wore a fresh white linen nightshirt open at the neck, and Lily could see the hard, muscular lines of his smooth chest.

How many times had she dreamed of seeing him sleeping? And here she was finally, gazing upon him, realizing there was something extraordinarily intimate about watching someone sleep. The bedroom at night in the near dark was surely the most private place in the world.

Though she would never have wanted her dream at this cost.

She gazed down at Annabelle, who was staring at her. Lily smiled, trying to act nonchalant when in reality she was trembling inside—for she was about to attempt the unthinkable, and surely everyone would believe she’d lost her mind.

“You care for him, don’t you?” Annabelle whispered unexpectedly as she looked up at Lily.

Lily took a moment to consider how she should reply. Her first instinct was to deny it because that was her habit, but the time for denial was over. There was no point in it now. “How did you know?” she finally asked.

Annabelle took hold of her hand. “I can see it in the way you look at him.”

Lily sighed. “I suppose I’ve given up trying to hide it. Yes, I do care for him, Annabelle. Very much.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Forever.”

Annabelle squeezed her hand. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No. You’ve always been a presence in his life.”

“A sisterly presence,” Lily said.

“What makes you think that?”

Lily gazed down at him sadly. “He told me so this week—that he cared for me the same way he cares for you.”

Whitby breathed deeply and rolled over onto his back. Annabelle lowered her voice. “Whitby has never known permanence in his relationships with women, Lily, except for me, and I believe that because he has known you almost all his life and cares for you deeply, he doesn’t know what to make of those feelings, except to categorize them with how he feels about me. That doesn’t mean he could not find you attractive as a woman.”