Chapter One

January 1819

Lily’s husband had not come home for four days. Her trunks had been packed for two. And today, whether her husband showed or not, she and her trunks were leaving.

They stood outside her cold bedchamber, somber as the maidservant next to them. Three leather trunks. A pitiful showing after three years and one hundred thirty-three days of wedded regret.

The grand confrontation she had envisioned was like so many other unrealized moments in her marriage. Birthdays alone. Anniversaries alone. Holidays alone.

The tea and lemon scones she’d forced down had hardened in her stomach, much like her resolve. How long would it take for him to notice he was alone?

Of course, that wasn’t her true question. No, she wondered if Robert would notice she was gone at all.

Lily gave her head—and her heart—a stern shake. Evening had disappeared into night, and there would be no more lollygagging.

She was stalling. Not because she wasn’t sure this time, but because she was. She had to leave, before she became as insignificant to herself as she was to him. She’d made the decision: she was going to America to live with her mother and sister. She’d booked passage.

Though Robert couldn’t care less where she resided, once Lily left this townhouse, she had another man to face. Her ship didn’t leave for a fortnight, so she had to return to her brother’s home.

She’d rather clean the chimney, in pouring down rain, than tell Adam he had been right about her husband.

The sound of the front door banging closed sent her heart straight to her throat. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, couldn’t see him, but suddenly the three-story townhouse seemed charged by her husband’s presence.

Her lady’s maid, Anna, blocked the corridor like a tiny, blonde guard dog ready to bite the heels of an intruder. “Do you still wish to leave right now, milady? Shall I have them come for the trunks?”

“Yes.”

“Now?” Anna obviously envisioned the goodbye would take a while. Lily held no such illusion anymore.

“Yes, now.”

Anna gave a mournful nod and hurried down the hallway. Lily turned to give her room one last perusal. Had they forgotten anything? Her solitary bed had been stripped of her linens. Her armoire stood empty. Lily’s presence had been scrubbed clean.

“Lady Lily.”

She jumped at his deep voice, noted the thread of surprised annoyance in his tone, and turned to face him. “Good evening.”

Robert stared at the trunks, not at her.

Her lips pressed inward and she couldn’t stop the sadness that welled in her eyes.

This was the last time she would likely see him.

She had no intention of returning to England, and if she did, he wouldn’t be among those to receive her calling card.

She hadn’t seen him since she’d returned from the holidays with her family. Unkempt, dark curls and a hard-edged jaw framed lips that rarely smiled anymore.  His disarray spoke of long nights and little sleep and carried that do-not-ask-what-I-was-doing scent.

Lily had spent far too many hours considering what he might be doing. She’d been given plenty of fodder, for the papers never ceased to let up on the comings and goings of her husband.

Come morning, the scandal sheets would have inevitably spelled out his entire evening for her. Perhaps the Rose and Thistle this time?

When his gaze lifted to hers, her breath held.

“Have a pleasant trip.” The indifference in his tone matched the cool glance he offered as he passed, continued on to his room. Lily froze, staring at the space he had occupied for so few seconds.

A spark of anger flickered in her belly, one she had thought long-since dormant after being shoved aside by a weary acceptance for so long. It ignited to full flame until her throat, her face felt hot, flushed.

How dare he?