A Season to Be Sinful Page 35

  Lily shook her head. “No. It does not surprise. I never thought he was a madman, Sherry. I might have been able to find pity for him in my heart if that were true. I think he is both clever and ruthless and that what he proposes as though it were reasoned and reasonable is naught but amoral.”

  Sherry turned his head and regarded her a moment. “Did I not say they could not have had you? You see it so clearly.”

  “He did have me, Sherry.” Lily picked up her shawl and drew it around her shoulders. The evening had not grown colder, but she had. Her skin prickled, and the tips of her fingers tingled. “I did not see it at all. Not in the beginning. Not for a very long time. And even afterward, after he’d introduced me to what he thought should be a pleasure to me, I wasn’t certain yet that he had done something wrong. I thought it must be me. He was able to make me believe that. Of all the things he did to me, I bear him the most hatred for that, for what he was able to make me believe about myself. So, no, I did not see it.”

  Sherry sat back. Lily’s profile was elegant in its line, the chin lifted a fraction, the tilt of her head regal. She had not emerged unscathed by what had been done to her, but she also had not emerged bowed.

  Then quietly, in the manner of a confession, she told him, “I cannot conceive your children, Sherry. He has ruined me for that.”

  Sherry said nothing for a long time. He recalled asking her once if there had ever been a child; she had not answered him on that occasion because he had proved to her that he had not truly wanted to know. “How can you be certain?”

  “I never conceived when I was with him. He had two children, so the fault cannot lie with him. I was glad of it then, but now, knowing I am barren, it is not a secret I can keep from you. It would not be fair.”

  It was then that he clearly understood why she was telling him. “We will have the scoundrels, Lily, and even if there are no other children, we will want for nothing.”

  She turned to him, her smile faint, a bit uncertain. “Do you mean it, Sherry? I would not have you hold out hope for what cannot be. Will we be enough for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Lily took full measure of his features and saw nothing held back. She nodded once. “Then I should very much like to accept your offer of marriage.”

  Fourteen

  Lady Rivendale regarded the cards in her hand with a suspicious eye, then looked at each of her fellow players in turn. They stared back, waiting patiently for her to make her first play, their features set with such perfect innocence that she was made even more dubious. “You rogues. I believe you fixed the deal, Master Dash.” She turned in her chair and addressed her concerns to the pair sitting at the pianoforte. “They are cheating. Sherry? Miss Rose? What do you have to say to that?”

  Sherry kept his finger on the passage that Lily was trying to master and glanced over at his godmother. “I say they cannot be very good at it yet. You caught them out easily enough.”

  Lily’s head snapped up. “My lord! You should not say such things.”

  Sherry shrugged, his face cast with the same innocent expression as the scoundrels. “Try this fingering, Lily.” He demonstrated it, bringing her attention once again to the lesson.

  Lady Rivendale turned back to the boys, one eyebrow severely arched. “So it is Sherry who has been teaching you these tricks. I suppose he thinks it is amusing, but I do not.”

  Lily was listening to this scold with half an ear. “Thank you, m’lady. They should not—”

  Lady Rivendale continued as if she were not the one doing the interrupting. “He does not have the skill for it, boys. Now, if you desire to learn the pianoforte, then naturally you should apply to his lordship, but if you want to learn to manipulate the cards, then you—”

  “My lady!” Lily’s head swiveled around. “Please do not—” She stopped because Sherry was directing her fingers to the keys again.

  “Surrender,” he whispered under his breath. “You cannot hope to win.”

  Dash gathered up all the cards and pushed the deck toward Lady Rivendale. “Show us the deal again,” he said. “The one where you pull cards from the bottom.”

  “Of course,” Lady Rivendale said with great aplomb. “It will be my greatest pleasure.”

  Lily groaned softly while Sherry chuckled, and the card game resumed. It was late by the time the boys were put to bed, and when Lily returned to the music salon Sherry and his godmother were already engaged in another enterprise, one she had as little liking for as teaching the boys to cheat.

  “I thought we were agreed the wedding would be a small affair,” she said. “Is that the proposed list of guests? It looks considerably longer than the last time I saw it.”

  Lady Rivendale protectively raised the list to her bosom. “I was just eliminating some names, m’dear, though I can tell you it is an onerous task when one has so many friends. Still, I will persevere.” To prove this point, she dipped her quill in the inkwell and drew a line through two names. “There. It is done. Mrs. Hoyle and Lord Ballard cannot expect an invitation even though they live not far from here and might reasonably anticipate joining us at Granville.”

  Lily glanced at Sherry. “M’lord?”

  He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and challenged her with a single arched eyebrow. “If my opinion matters at all at this juncture, then I am for Gretna. Did I not say so at the outset? When you agreed to marry me, was I not all for going straightaway to the stables and ordering the carriage for us? A fortnight has passed since then, and we have yet to have the banns read for the first time.”

  Lily went to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you pouting? I think you are pouting.”

  Lady Rivendale continued to study the list. “He is.”

  “I am,” Sherry said. He caught Lily by the waist and brought her down on his lap.

  “Sherry!” Lily tried to scramble off, but he would not release her. “Lady Rivendale is here!”

  “And she will pay us no heed as long as she is adding names to the list.”

  Lily looked at his godmother and saw she was blithely ignoring them as she scribbled down more names. “Gretna,” Lily said softly. “Why did I not agree?”

  “Because you are a sensible child,” her ladyship said. “And a kind one. Sherry would think nothing of breaking this poor woman’s heart. What do you think of Mr. Armbruster? He has long been a friend to the Granthams.”

  Sherry chuckled. “Every compliment she gives you will increase the list by at least one or two.”

  Sighing, Lily slipped her arm around Sherry’s back and laid her head against his. They sat in companionable silence, alternately amused and dismayed by Lady Rivendale’s revisions, but offering no objections.

  Her ladyship ran an index finger along the names. Satisfied, she looked up. “Now, Lily, what about your side of the family?”

  Lily blinked. “My side? I thought you understood there was no one.”

  “Nonsense. Of course there is someone. Frankly, I have been troubled by the way you have cut them off, or perhaps it is they who have cut you off, though it is hard to believe. Your mama was well loved, and it seems to me that you should have been taken into the bosom of her family without a second thought after she died. I cannot think why it didn’t happen.”

  Straightening, Lily looked at Sherry. “Did you know about this?”

  “Nothing.” He addressed his godmother. “I understood you to say there was no one remaining.”

  Lady Rivendale replaced her quill in the ink and folded her plump arms under her bosom. “On her father’s side. That is perfectly true as far as I am aware, but I am speaking of Lillian, not Howard, and Lillian was better known to me. I know there was at least one cousin that was more in the way of a sister to her. Caroline. Have you never heard of her, Lily?”

  Lily shook her head. She moved off Sherry’s lap and chose another chair at the table. “It is not at all familiar.”

  “Well, it may be that you are to
o young to remember that sort of connection, and I do not know what happened to Caro, for I lost touch with her long before I made my own come out. I am not certain she attended your parents’ wedding, though I cannot recall any comment regarding her absence. Odd, that. I remember quite clearly that John was there. That is her brother. Do you know that name? John Bingham.”

  Color drained from Lily’s face so quickly it alarmed Lady Rivendale. Sherry also leaned forward in anticipation that she would falter. Lily caught her breath and waved aside their concern, though this was accomplished with a hand that trembled slightly. “I’m fine. It is rather more than surprising to hear him spoken of by anyone other than . . .” Lily’s voice trailed off. Her slight smile mocked her almost superstitious reluctance to say the name aloud. “It should not be so difficult to say his name, yet I find that bringing him to mind is often accompanied by a strangling hold on my throat. It cannot be good that he can stop my voice so easily.”

  Lady Rivendale was sympathetic. Unfolding her arms, she laid one hand over Lily’s. “In time, m’dear, it will be different. You will see. It is a testament of your great courage that you have revealed even a single particular about all you know. I do not think you should find fault with yourself for being unable to easily speak of him. It is a great comfort to me that you have taken Sherry into your confidence, for I know he will champion you.”

  Lily glanced sideways at Sherry and did not mistake the resolve that cast his features in sharply defined edges. “Yes,” she said quietly. “He will. It makes me afraid for him.”

  “I understand.” Lady Rivendale also looked at her godson. “But if I were that villain Woodridge, I would be afraid of him.”

  Sherry calmly sat back in his chair and stretched his legs under the table. “It is the nose, you know. I have it on good authority that it is fiercely aggressive. Is that not right, Aunt Georgia?”

  She not only agreed that it was but reminded him that she had despaired that he would ever grow into it. This raised a small smile in Lily, and the difficult moment passed. Sherry had no desire for either of the women in his company to dwell overlong on what they had glimpsed in his eyes. It was not always possible to shield them but neither did he mean to frighten them.

  Lady Rivendale removed her hand from Lily’s. “How is it that you know John Bingham, Lily, if you do not know him as a relation?”

  “I do not know him. Not really. He is Sister Mary Joseph’s brother.”

  Sherry swore softly, bringing the attention of both women back to him. Hardly aware of what he’d said, he did not apologize. “Lily, that’s extraordinary. Are you quite certain it was John Bingham?”

  “Perhaps it is not the same Mr. Bingham, but I could not forget that name. Sister made certain I knew it. She wrote it down for me as well as how I might find him. The baron discovered it all. Some of it he knew before he found me in Le Havre; the rest he learned from the letter I carried with me from Sister.”

  “Do you know what was in the letter?” asked Sherry.

  “No, not the details. It was not for me, so I never read it. I am certain it was unexceptional, a letter of introduction only.”

  “Yes, but an introduction that identified you as someone more important to him than a mere student of an abbey school. Sister Mary Joseph is Caroline Bingham, his own sister. It explains why she was so certain he would accept you into his household.”

  “We are probably mistaken,” Lily said. “I should have known if Sister was also my cousin. Why would she have kept something of that nature a secret from me?”

  Sherry did not answer immediately. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his godmother shaking her head so faintly as to be almost imperceptible. Taking that as a warning, he spoke with a certain caution in his voice. “A desire to protect you might account for it. After your parents were killed, she wanted to keep you close. Perhaps she believed that if the connection were known you would have been removed from the abbey.”

  Lily frowned. “But before my parents died, Sherry? What of then? If Sister were truly my mother’s cousin and dear friend, wouldn’t that have come to light at the outset?”

  It was Lady Rivendale who responded. “It is entirely conceivable that a familial connection would have been frowned upon by the abbess or the bishop. You might have been rejected for admission if your relation to Caro had been known, and I suspect your parents very much wanted you to be there because of Caroline.” The wedding guest list lay in front of her. She ironed out the wrinkles in the paper with the flat of her hand. “In any event, it is all speculation. We cannot know what was in their mind.”

  “Or even if there is a connection,” Lily reminded them. “As you said, it is all speculation.”

  “True.”

  Lily watched Lady Rivendale’s hand press the list first one way, then the other. Her ladyship hardly seemed aware of what she was doing, as though it was the necessity of keeping herself busy in some way that was imperative. “Sister Mary Joseph was English,” Lily said at last. “Did I tell you that, Sherry?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never knew how she came to be at the abbey or even how she came to be in France. She never spoke of it. The girls talked, created stories as young girls are wont to do, but interest in that aspect of her faded as one knew her better. She spoke flawless French. That intrigued us also. Not everyone noticed she had an accent.”

  Sherry asked, “Did she speak to you in English?”

  “Sometimes. Rarely in front of anyone. She said she did not want me to lose my facility for the language. I did not think it was so important, but she insisted.”

  Lady Rivendale pushed the list away suddenly and set her hands in her lap, threading her fingers together. “Percy Bingham, that is John and Caro’s father, was your mother’s uncle. I believe I am in the right of it there, though no one outside the family can be sure of such things. One need only to regard the havey-cavey manner in which Woodridge makes his claim of a tie between us to know the truth of that.” This statement was greeted by a heavy silence, and she went on quickly. “I cannot say that I am more than passingly acquainted with the Binghams, but it seems to me that Mr. Percy Bingham’s wife was French. Oh, it has been so long ago that you should not depend upon my memory. Really, I have no conviction that I am in the right of it any longer. Sybil perhaps was her Christian name. Sylvia. Sylvie. Yes, it might have been the last. Sylvie. It is pretty, is it not?”

  Looking past Lily’s shoulder, drawing on her memory as best she could, Lady Rivendale finally threw up her hands. “It is no good. I cannot recall her maiden name, indeed, I might have never known. One does not always know these things. It would be best, I think, if we applied to Mr. John Bingham for the answers. He must have wondered what became of you. Can you not imagine that his sister would have inquired after your arrival? And what of your own silence? It would raise many questions.”

  Lily remained unconvinced. “But it might be some other Bingham. It is not an uncommon name.”

  Sherry rose to his feet. “I am all for a drink. Aunt? Lily?” They each shook their head. “Very well.” He went to the sideboard and poured himself two fingers of whisky. “Lily, there is no reason to correspond with Mr. Bingham unless you wish it, but you must realize that the announcement of our engagement will no doubt bring about the end you seem bent on avoiding. It cannot matter greatly if your John Bingham is the same John Bingham my godmother has spoken of; we shall sort it out in time, I expect. I can—”

  Lady Rivendale interrupted. “I think I will have that drink, Sherry. The same as you’ve poured for yourself, though half as much, please.”

  Belatedly aware he had been pressing his point too hard, Sherry did not take exception to the interruption. He poured a single finger of whisky for his godmother and carried it to her.

  Lily waited until Sherry returned to his chair before she spoke. “I don’t think Sister Mary Joseph can have been my mother’s cousin, Sherry, but mayhap I will write to the abbey. I do not know if sh
e is still there, or even if she is yet alive, but no one will stop my correspondence from reaching her now. If there is an explanation to be made, it should come from her.” She turned her attention to Lady Rivendale. “Please do not add Mr. Bingham’s name to your list, or the names of any other relations you think I might have. I would rather there was no list at all, but if you cannot help yourself, confine the names to your dearest friends who can be counted on not to spoil our wedding with gossip about what might remain of my family.”

  She stood, her bearing a trifle stiff, her self-possession a fragile thing. “If you will excuse me. I am for bed.” She put out her hand when Sherry started to rise. “No. I don’t require an escort. Good night.”

  Sherry stood anyway, but he didn’t move away from the table as Lily turned and left the room. When she was gone, he sat slowly and regarded his godmother. “You might have said something to me. It was rather more than she was prepared to hear.”

  “I did not realize how little either of you knew about her family. That she was kept so much in the dark is unconscionable. I understand not speaking of it to her when she was yet a child, but as she became a young woman . . .” Lady Rivendale shook her head and her mouth flattened disapprovingly. “And when she was sent off from the abbey, well, she should have been apprised of the whole of it then.”

  “I do not know the whole of it, Aunt, and neither do you. You are speculating.”

  “Do you think Lily is not also? She is afraid to know the truth now, and I cannot say that I fault her for it, but she has retired to her room so she might do so in peace. I doubt she will find any sleep tonight. To have been through so much, then to be confronted with the prospect of being a bastard, really, it is more than anyone should be made to bear.”

  “It does not matter to me if she is Caroline Bingham’s child.”

  “It matters to her.”

  Sherry drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “What is to be done?”