Love According To Lily Read Free

gazed fixedly at herself in the mirror for a long moment. She thought of her childhood suddenly, and heard the distant sound of her own laughter as she dashed about the garden, playing tag with Whitby. His visits had always been a bright, shining light in an otherwise dark existence, when she’d lived in a house without laughter.
    Her heart ached suddenly with grief and a painful longing for those singular moments from the past. She laid a hand over her breast.
    “Are you all right, my lady?” Aline asked.
    “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied.
    But she was not fine. Not really. She hadn’t been fine for a very long time.
    She wished she could travel back in time and find the girl she’d once been. The girl who’d known how to skirt the shadows. The girl who was not afraid to act upon her passions. Was that girl gone? Lily wondered curiously. Or was there still a part of her alive somewhere, deep down inside? She leaned close to the mirror and looked carefully into the blue of her eyes.

 
    Chapter 2
      
    At quarter past four in the afternoon, a liveried footman with clean white stockings and shiny buckled shoes hurried down the steps of Wentworth Castle to open the coach door for one final guest—the Earl of Whitby, the duke’s oldest friend.
    Wearing an impressive dark brown wool overcoat and matching hat, Lord Whitby stepped out of the coach and smiled up at James, who had just emerged from the house with Sophia at his side.
    Whitby walked up the steps, pulling off his gloves as he approached. He stopped before James and Sophia, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep sigh.
    “Well. Another year gone by, another shooting party upon us. Where does the time go?” He reached for Sophia’s hand and kissed it. “Duchess, you look stunning as always.”
    She smiled at him. “Oh, Edward, give me a hug.” She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. But when she stepped away, she glanced with concern at James.
    Whitby had expected such a reaction from her. He was unshaven, exhausted, and he knew he’d lost some weight since they’d last seen him.
    Whitby turned to James and shook his hand. “You look well, too, James.”
    James eyed Whitby curiously. “But
you
look like hell, my friend. What the devil were you up to last night?”
    With one booted foot raised on a higher step, Whitby tapped his gloves on his thigh and looked toward the moors in the distance. “The usual, I’m afraid. Colchester had one of his theater parties at his country house last night. Went a little late.” Whitby returned his gaze to James and smiled. “So I just decided to stay up to catch the train this morning, rather than try to sleep. I’m tired, that’s all.”
    “You slept on the way, I hope,” Sophia said.
    “Yes, I did manage to get some rest.”
    Which was not entirely true. Whitby had in fact sat awake all day, worrying about his sister. Annabelle.
    But he did not want them to know that. They would ask why, and then he would have to tell them. And he was not ready to talk about it.
    Sophia linked her arm through Whitby’s and led him up the rest of the stairs to the front door. “Well, there will be no such wild, late night parties here. We will all retire at a decent hour like the mature, responsible adults that we are. Lights will be extinguished at precisely ten o’clock.”
    Whitby laughed and glanced over his shoulder at James, who was following behind them. “Who is this impostor leading me into the house? Or has your wife finally given up her American ways?”
    Smiling, they entered the grand hall, their laughter now echoing off the gray stone walls and the high cathedral ceiling.
    “And how are the boys—little Liam and John?” Whitby asked. “Getting into trouble yet?”
    “Gracious, yes, and growing faster than weeds,” James replied. “Just the other day, Liam rode the pony without either of us holding onto him.”
    “Rode the pony on his own. Good gracious, James. He’s