The Debutante Is Mine Read online

  “So I demanded that he marry me once more, or we could never be together. And when he asked for understanding, instead I used our love against him. All the secret fears that lovers confess when they believe they are in a safe harbor—I used them as weapons, turning our love into the bitterest hatred. It was no wonder that he chose to leave, and I made him promise never to return,” she finished, her voice breaking.

  Jack sat forward in the chair, short of breath, and suddenly feeling as if the one person on whom he’d always counted had betrayed him. “If you were married, then that means . . . ”

  “You are legitimate. Or at least, you would have been, if not for the annulment before your birth.”

  Lilah returned to London later that evening, just as Aunt Zinnia and Juliet were donning their hats in the foyer, in preparation to leave and dine with Mrs. Harwick.

  “It was a long journey, wasn’t it, dear,” Aunt Zinnia said, her typically stern voice softer now. “If you’d prefer, we could all stay in and talk about your visit with your mother.”

  Juliet took notice as well, moving closer and placing a comforting hand at Lilah’s shoulder. “We could have cups of chocolate and pieces of cake for our supper.”

  That sounded truly divine. A night of staying in and drinking cups of warm chocolate normally would have been Lilah’s remedy of choice. Yet at the mention of Mrs. Harwick’s, Lilah instantly thought of Jack. There was a possibility that he would have been invited as well. And seeing Jack was the only remedy her heart required.

  “Actually, if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, I should like to go to Mrs. Harwick’s as well and put this day behind me.” Far, far, behind her.

  Unfortunately, when they arrived at Mrs. Harwick’s, Jack was not there. Nor did he arrive at any time during dinner. Neither did Thayne. Instead, it was just the four of them, chatting away about recent gossip. Though Mrs. Harwick, Aunt Zinnia, and Juliet carefully veered wide of anything relating to Winthrop’s announcement at Tillmanshire’s party or to the Season’s Original.

  By the time they adjourned to the parlor, Lilah could no longer bear it. She had to know. “Was there anything of note in this morning’s Standard?”

  “Of note?” Mrs. Harwick asked, her eyes blinking for four counts, as if a metronome controlled her lashes.

  “There was that fascinating tidbit about the scalloped lace spotted on the cuff of Lady Amberdeen’s sleeve,” Aunt Zinnia added. “Four tiers of it, mind you. On a sleeve. Needless to say, it caused quite a stir.”

  Juliet remained quiet, seemingly distracted by the tassel at the end of the pillow beneath her arm.

  “Was there any mention of the Season’s Original?” There. She’d said it, and now the question must be answered.

  Mrs. Harwick and Aunt Zinnia exchanged a look. Juliet cleared her throat and offered, “There was.”

  And then the room fell silent again.

  Lilah stood and placed her hands on her hips. She’d had enough of politeness, and meanness, and everything else in between.

  “I would just like to know who was named.” Her voice cracked under the strain of her emotions. “Miss Ashbury?”

  “No, dear,” Aunt Zinnia said. “No one was named the Original.”

  “What do you mean? The committee always names the Original after the first month.”

  “Usually, yes,” Mrs. Harwick added. “But not always.”

  Juliet brushed her hands over her skirt and lifted her gaze. “The Standard announced that the anonymous committee informed them, by way of messenger, that they were delaying their announcement until the end of next month.”

  “Next month?” Lilah shook her head, not wanting to believe that it was over. She searched the faces in the room, hoping. But it was futile to deny the truth. She’d failed. “Juliet, I’m sorry. I had hoped—albeit foolishly—that I might win for you. That, perhaps, the committee had decided before Lord Tillmanshire’s party.”

  “I never should have let Max goad me into that wager and involve you. It is my own fault.” Juliet stood and took Lilah’s hand, squeezing it with affection. “You were perfect.”

  “It isn’t over,” Lilah said firmly. “I mean, it is for me but not for you. There is still a way for you to win part of the wager. All you need is to make sure that Thayne does not succeed with Wolford.” Then, remembering where she was standing, she glanced over at her hostess. “Forgive me, Mrs. Harwick.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” she said with a laugh. “I happen to enjoy a little rivalry from time to time.”

  Juliet’s eyes brightened to their usual gemlike quality as she nodded. “You have quite the devious mind, Cousin. If all goes well, I can continue to be a thorn in Max’s side. Heaven knows he deserves it—one redeeming moment aside, of course.”

  “What was that?” Aunt Zinnia asked, not hearing the last bit that Juliet whispered.

  “Hmm?” Juliet lifted her brows as if she didn’t understand the question.

  And before Aunt Zinnia could ask again, they were interrupted by the appearance of the marquess in the doorway.

  Juliet feigned a gasp. “It is true. If you speak of the devil, he does indeed appear.”

  “Then what they say about bad pennies is true about you, Lady Granworth,” Thayne said matter-of-factly as he stepped into the room, pausing to greet his mother with a kiss upon her cheek. “Good evening, Mother. Lady Cosgrove. Miss Appleton. I hope you don’t mind if I eat the rest of the cake. I’m starving.”

  Mrs. Harwick sighed. “I promise every single one of you that Maxwell was taught proper manners.”

  “And then he happily slipped free of those chains and became his own man,” Thayne said, loading a plate with a tower of little cakes, as if he truly intended to eat them all.

  “Maxwell, you wound me.” Mrs. Harwick affected a sniff. “I was not overly strict in your instruction. In fact, I was quite indulgent.”

  He tossed his mother a wink. “Quite right. You were far too indulgent when I needed strictness, and too severe when I required lenience.”

  Mrs. Harwick grinned. “You have too much of your father’s teasing nature. What has put you in such a playful mood?”

  After popping another cake into his mouth and licking his fingertips, he sat back against the cushions. “I am pleased to report that I have hired a team of laborers to begin repairs on my recently acquired townhouse.”

  All eyes turned to Juliet, and hers, in turn, narrowed. “How kind of you to ensure that once this house belongs to its rightful owner, I will be able to move in directly.”

  “Surely you cannot think to win, even now.”

  Juliet glanced at Lilah and grinned. “Do not forget, Max, you still have to ensure Wolford makes a good showing before this is over.”

  The marquess frowned. And though it seemed impossible, Lilah felt immensely better about the events of the day. At least for a moment.

  Then Mrs. Harwick changed that with one question. “Where was Jack this evening, Maxwell? I thought he meant to dine with us.”

  Yes, Lilah thought, eager to see Jack. He should have been here already. Until now, every time she’d needed him, he’d always appeared. That connection should have been even greater now, considering they were both in love. Weren’t they?

  Apparently no longer hungry for cakes, Thayne set his plate down on the table. “Marlowe is away, out of town, it seems. He did not leave word of when he would return.”

  Mother’s voice made an unwelcome appearance in Lilah’s mind. Men will say or do anything to slake their lust. They think nothing of ruining entire families, let alone one unmarriageable girl.

  And in that moment, a terrible heartbreaking fear crashed over her.

  Jack left his mother’s home before first light the following morning, his mind weighted. All that he had believed—all the loathing that had spurred him and formed him into the man he’d become—had been a lie. He felt betrayed.

  She’d apologized for not telling him the whole truth. She’d
even confessed that she’d omitted some of the details out of bitterness but also out of a fear that Jack would leave her too.

  There had been truth enough in his mother’s circumstances to reconcile her actions. Knowing what she’d suffered and all that she’d sacrificed, he’d forgiven her. But he valued honesty too much not to be angry.

  Not only that, but there was one part of the story that still remained a mystery. His father’s side.

  Once he arrived in town, exhausted, road weary—and yes, still angry—he did not go to his townhouse and mull over all that he’d learned. Instead, he rode directly to Mayfair and pounded on Dovermere’s door.

  “Why did you not tell me that you had been married to my mother?” Jack asked the instant he entered his father’s study.

  Dovermere looked up from his ledger with a start and, after a moment, slowly returned the quill pen to the stand. He gestured to the chair. “Good afternoon, Jack. Take a seat. You look like hell.” Then he glanced to the door, where the butler waited. “Mr. English, if you would be so kind as to have Cook send a tray, I would be much obliged.”

  “I did not come here to take tea with you. This is not a social call,” Jack said, even as the butler bowed and summarily disappeared. “I want answers.”

  “You’ve been to see your mother, I gather.”

  Jack offered a stiff nod, still standing firm, waiting.

  Dovermere exhaled. “I did not even know of your existence until you were ten years old, and your mother wrote to me, asking for your education.”

  As a child, Jack had known her reasons. Mother had explained that his father had chosen money and other obligations over her. The hollowness that any boy might have felt at such news had been understandable. Jack had filled that empty place with hatred for the aristocracy and with determination to live a better life than that of the man who’d abandoned him. “Why not tell me, then?”

  “I wanted to tell you,” Dovermere said, a razor’s edge cutting into the quietly spoken words. “Your mother did not want to you to be part of the society that had torn us apart. She wanted you to live free and be able to make your own decisions. I honored her wishes.”

  Honor. They had something in common after all, other than their likeness. “Still, you acknowledged me when you signed the papers at Eton. That act alone informed everyone in society of our connection. You had to know that they would draw conclusions that I was your bastard.”

  His father smiled. Not in an arrogant manner but more of tenderness. “I was proud to have you for my son, even from that first moment. You were so bold in the way you stood your ground. I already knew you were going to be a better, more determined man than I. And I wanted everyone to know that you were mine. Acknowledging you in a public sphere was the only avenue left to me, after I made my promise to your mother.”

  Jack swayed on his feet, exhaustion taking over. It must have been exhaustion. Otherwise, he would have been better prepared against the blatant attack his father launched at him. An attack of affection. Up until now, it had been easy to bat away his unwanted visits and constant needling to be part of Jack’s life. But this was too much.

  He stepped farther into the room and slumped down into the chair. “And now, what does all of it mean?”

  “Since our marriage was annulled, it took effort to prove the date of your conception. After that, my solicitor quietly set about legitimizing your birth, just in case.”

  Legitimate. Jack swallowed down a sizeable lump in his throat. Everything he knew about himself. Every step he’d taken in life. All of it fell under scrutiny. He wasn’t a bastard and likely never had been. Oh, but he’d lived like one. He’d fought like one. His identity and his determination both stemmed from that one single fact.

  “You are still holding to the promise you made my mother?” he asked and received a nod. “I could still refuse to be named your heir?” Another nod, this one more reluctant.

  “You could,” his father said as a familiar gleam lit his eyes. “However, that is not to say that it wouldn’t become an issue again after my death. Legal papers have a way of surfacing when one no longer has control. Perhaps it would be better to settle matters sooner, rather than later.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Four days had passed, and Jack Marlowe still had not come to call.

  The Standard issued the briefest of mentions, regarding a sighting of Mr. M— leaving Lord D—’s residence earlier in the week but nothing else.

  More than anything, Lilah wanted to see him, to tell him that she had broken ties with her mother. When she’d recounted her visit with her mother and told Aunt Zinnia, Juliet, and Ivy of her decision, they had all remained steadfast, promising to stand by her side, even if scandal rained down upon them, no matter what she planned to do next.

  The only problem was she wasn’t sure what to do next. The banns would be read in three days.

  In the meantime, however, she had to pay closer attention to Ellery, who’d arrived only minutes ago, having just returned from his time away.

  Aunt Zinnia was not in the parlor, acting as chaperone today. She was across the hall with Juliet, the doors to both rooms left open for a semblance of propriety. Lilah speculated that the reason was because her aunt expected Ellery to make an offer for her.

  “If I may be so bold, Miss Appleton. You were in my thoughts a great deal during our time apart.” Ellery grinned at her, his gaze searching hers as he sat on the edge of his seat, his body leaning toward hers. “Each day that passed, I was eager to return and even more eager to share my experiences with you. With each of our conversations, I always discover new things we have in common. Such is not the case with any of the other young women I have met.”

  It would solve all her problems if she could return his sentiment. She did enjoy their talks, but more often than not, she found herself daydreaming of Jack. Yet if she were to attach herself to Ellery, then perhaps that would not always happen. In time, she could grow fond of him. “Your friendship has been most welcome. However, I fear that there has been some news that I must tell you immediately.”

  He reached out with his hand and settled it over hers. “Miss Appleton—Lilah, if I may—if you are referring to the rumor linking you to Lord Haggerty, then I must tell you that I have already heard. In fact, I confess that very news is the reason I cut my travels short and returned to you.”

  Lilah felt dizzy, the flesh on her brow puckering in confusion. “If you know that my cousin has laid a claim upon me, then why are you here?”

  “Because I wanted you to have your choice. I could not simply let this marriage take place without informing you of my regard.” Now, he drew her hand into both of his. “I realize there would be quite a scandal involved, should you choose me, but I have already spoken with my parents, and they will support any decision I make. They are still eager to make your acquaintance.”

  All she had to do was agree, and she could have this man as her husband. He was here before her, leaving her with no doubt of his regard or his plans for the future. He was kind, handsome, honorable, and . . .

  The type of man who deserved a chaste bride, or, in the very least, a woman who loved him.

  Lilah slipped her hand free. “Forgive me, Lord Ellery. Any young woman would be fortunate to have earned your regard, but I cannot commit my heart to you when it resides elsewhere.”

  “Oh.” He winced, and abruptly, his posture altered. He shifted back into the chair. Then, when that did not suit him, he stood and looked around the room, as if he’d dropped something earlier. Though Lilah suspected he simply did not want to meet her gaze again. “I was under the impression that your cousin’s suit was not welcome.”

  “It isn’t,” she said quickly. “Quite honestly, I despise Haggerty.”

  Ellery slowly nodded. “Then it is Marlowe, as I suspected from the start.”

  This would have been the perfect time for Lilah to pretend ignorance, but she respected Ellery too much to play him for a fool. Instead, sh
e neither confirmed nor denied his statement. “I have valued our friendship. That will not change. Not for me.”

  He chose not to respond but merely bowed to her and then turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the parlor.

  When the front door closed, Aunt Zinnia and Juliet rushed across the hall. It was the first time Lilah had ever seen her aunt move with such speed that her skirts tangled with her legs.

  “Did he make an offer, my dear?” Aunt Zinnia asked, her cheeks flushed, her eyes brimming with excitement.

  “He did.” Lilah wished she could leave it at that, but with her aunt’s hopeful countenance in front of her, she couldn’t. “I refused him.”

  Her aunt’s eager grin abruptly fell but then rallied. “If your reason was because of Haggerty’s involvement, then perhaps a simple explanation would set matters right.”

  Lilah shook her head and drew a breath. “He already knew, and he was willing to brave the scandal.”

  Juliet said nothing, but her tearful gaze spoke for her. Years ago, she’d taken her own path when faced with scandal. Out of respect, Lilah had never asked her about her reasons for it. Yet now, Lilah couldn’t help but wonder if Thayne would have stood by Juliet, if given the chance.

  Then Juliet squeezed her hand—a wordless display of worry as well as support. Lilah suspected Juliet knew that Jack held her heart. Even if he did not want it.

  Just as the cheerless thought formed in her mind, a fearsome knock reverberated against the outer door, filling the foyer and even the parlor with the commanding sound. Lilah felt her heart quicken and her gaze strayed to the open parlor door.

  A moment later, Mr. Wick appeared. “Mr. Marlowe to see Miss Appleton.”

  “Send him away,” Aunt Zinnia said with a tired wave of her hand.