One
Lady Lilliana Enshaw, known to her friends as Lilli, gazed at the translucent piece of quartz in the palm of her hand. The delicate chain attached to one end slid over her fingers like liquid gold.
“Thank you, Eva.” Excitement coursed through Lilli’s veins as she spoke to her cousin, the Countess of Somerset. “You cannot imagine how long I’ve looked forward to wearing this.”
“You’ve had to wait the longest, which can’t have been easy.” Eva offered a soft smile and sipped her tea. “But with three successful weddings as proof of the stone’s matchmaking powers, I’m sure you’ll meet your future husband soon.”
Lilli prayed Eva was right, for she yearned to fall headlong into her own romantic adventure. As happy as she was for her cousins, Eva, Annie, and Henrietta, who’d all gotten married within the past year, it was difficult not to be envious of the loving glances and sweet endearments they frequently shared with their husbands.
“I hope so.” She carefully fastened the chain around her neck so the stone hung snugly against her skin, immediately above the décolletage of her lilac gown. “Unfortunately, my parents and I will be leaving London for Stratham House next week. I don’t anticipate forming any attachment while I’m there since no one else will be joining us besides Henry. So I fear I may have to wait until next year’s Season to find my true love.”
One would think that by being the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Stratham and the sister of Viscount Islington, one would have every chance in the world of meeting one’s intended. Not in Lilli’s experience.
“I doubt that will be the case,” Eva said. “Don’t fret, Lilli. I’m sure the stone will surprise you as much as it did me. Perhaps with a duke who’s passing by or maybe a friend of Henry’s.”
Lilli appreciated Eva’s encouragement though she failed to see how one of the last unmarried dukes in England would suddenly come knocking when none of them had familiar ties with her family. As for her brother, Henry’s, friends, she’d met them all and hadn’t been impressed.
Besides, Henry had specifically informed Mama that he would be coming alone. Which meant there would be no one to make Lilli’s heart beat faster for some time yet.
She expelled a breath and accepted this truth. As eager as she was to get on with a courtship, she didn’t feel the same sort of urgency as had her eldest cousin, Annie, who’d almost been on the shelf by the time the rose quartz crystal – and what it could do – had been discovered in their grandmother’s attic.
With regard to marriage, Lilli had time. She was only nineteen, so things weren’t too dire yet, but that didn’t make her less impatient. She’d always been the sort of person who craved activity and action. She disliked having to sit still and wait for any reason. Worst of all, she hated feeling as though she lacked control – the ability to get things done through her own force of will.
“Thank you for stopping by,” she said when Eva prepared to leave, “and for giving me the pendant.”
“You mustn’t fret,” Eva said, taking Lilli’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “The stone will see you happy before you know it.”
Rather than voice her concerns, Lilli nodded and saw her cousin out. She then climbed the stairs to her bedchamber where she began compiling a list of all the things she would have to take with her to Stratham House next week. Between her science journals, the edition of Much Ado about Nothing she planned on re–reading, a few new adventure novels, her diary and correspondence, she hoped to distract herself from the cravings of her heart.
Seated in the well–sprung carriage belonging to his employer, Viscount Islington, Tristan Henley reviewed the tasks he’d jotted down for himself in a slim, leather–bound, pocket notebook. Number one, purchase a new bottle of sandalwood oil to replace the nearly depleted one he’d packed for Islington.
Next, he had to remember to write another response to the Earl of Fretmire on Islington’s behalf, turning down the invitation to visit him. Islington had answered the first letters himself, politely declining. But when the earl had grown more persistent, Tristan had promised to step in and handle the situation since Fretmire, who wanted a match between his daughter and Islington, refused to take a hint.
Tristan considered how to best phrase the letter, then paused to reflect. Perhaps, before seeing to tasks one and two, he ought to inform the cook at Stratham House of Islington’s newfound fondness for crêpes, which he preferred for breakfast instead of eggs, bacon, and toast.
“You’re very quiet today.” Islington spoke from the opposite bench, his voice pensive. “I hope there’s nothing troubling you.”
“Not at all,” Tristan said. “I’m only making some mental notes.”
He closed his notebook and gave his employer his full attention. He wasn’t so much troubled as wary and determined. Because he needed this job and the impressive salary it provided.
Many men in his position would think it beneath them to work, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Tristan sorely needed the money. And since he’d grown accustomed to handling his own clothes and shoes as the family budget tightened and servants departed, he’d been prepared for the unusual position Islington had sought to fill. His only regret was the lie he’d told in order to secure the job. But if Islington had any inkling of who his valet truly was, Tristan feared he’d have turned him away.
Instead, he’d enjoyed three months of employment with a man he might have called a friend had his own situation been different. But fate had dealt a rough hand from which Tristan could see no immediate escape. Not that he minded. Serving the viscount had provided him with a new purpose along with the means by which to enjoy a visit to Cornwall.
“You work too hard,” Islington said, his firm voice scattering Tristan’s thoughts once more.
“I’d have thought that a welcome trait in an employee,” Tristan said.
Islington tilted his head. “For some, perhaps, but I am not the sort of man who enjoys working others to the point of exhaustion. And besides, you’re my valet, which literally makes you my closest confidante. I’d not mind having a leisurely chat with you on occasion. Least of all when we’re stuck together for several hours without other form of distraction.”
Tristan answered Islington’s warm expression with a smile. “My apologies. Is there a particular subject you’d like to discuss?”
“Let’s start with my sister.”
Tristan almost choked on his own tongue. “Pardon?”
Schooling his features, Islington locked gazes with Tristan. “Lady Lilliana is as spirited as they come, and while I adore this about her, it’s a characteristic destined to land her in trouble. In London, friends and family have always been kind enough to help keep her out of it. In Cornwall, however, she has more freedom. While there’s little for her to get up to in the ways of causing a scandal, I fear for her safety.”
“How so?” Tristan asked, his posture rigid and his mind in sudden turmoil. Babysitting what sounded to him like a willful hoyden had not been part of the job description.