The old lady shrugged. “One learns to deal with such things.”
Lily set down her glass and leaned forward. “How, Aunt Agatha? Tell me what I must do.”
“Accept it. Ignore it. Act as if it isn’t true.”
“I’m not even sure it is true,” Lily admitted. “It’s just a rumor—from an unreliable source.”
Aunt Agatha snorted. “And the evidence of your own eyes. Face facts, gel, men are feckless creatures. It’s their nature to stray. Now, do you want my advice or not?”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha,” she said humbly.
“To begin with, a lady simply does not acknowledge the existence of such persons as mistresses. Banish the creature from your mind and go on with your life. Behave exactly as normal, and don’t breathe a word of your suspicions to anyone—not to your sister-in-law, not to that whisky-frisky argumentative sister of yours, nor to Georgiana. All they will offer you is sympathy and a barrage of useless suggestions. Sympathy in these cases is poisonous—it will only encourage you toward self-pity and lachrymosity, which is revolting to behold.”
There was a well of deeply buried pain beneath the brisk advice. Who had offered Aunt Agatha sympathy? And would anyone ever know the cause?
“Your only possible choice is to stiffen your spine and get on with your life. Say not a word to your husband. On no account must you let him know that you are aware of the situation—not by word, deed or implication. It will do you no good—a leopard doesn’t change his spots—and it will only cause him to feel defensive and uncomfortable, and make him feel further justified in his infidelity. So, not a word to your husband, do you understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha.”
• • •
Edward sent a message to say he would sleep at his club again that night. Lily dined as arranged with Emm and Cal and Rose and George, and afterward attended the theater with them. Edward had been invited, of course, but she had to make his excuses, the ones that he’d given her the day before—that he was busy attending to his affairs. That important “men’s business” excuse he’d used so often.
She didn’t put it like that, of course. She simply smiled and said Edward was caught up in something and sent his apologies.
But she had a very good idea now what he meant by “men’s business.”
She slept badly—she’d become so used to having him sleeping in the bed that when he wasn’t there, she missed him. She supposed when they finally moved into Galbraith House he would revert to having his own bedchamber. It was a bleak prospect.
She rode out with Cal and Rose and George in the morning and when she returned, she found Edward home, changing his shirt. She glanced at his valet and, copying Edward’s tactics with her maid, jerked her head at him. He glanced at his master and made a discreet exit, leaving them alone.
Edward picked up a neckcloth. “Something you wanted, Lily?” He sounded quite unworried.
“Where did you sleep last night?” she found herself asking.
He gave her a quizzical look via reflection in his looking glass. “At my club—I told you.”
Aunt Agatha’s advice was all very well, but Lily was fed up with pretending all was well when it wasn’t. And she wasn’t going be plagued by questions any longer. “You have a mistress, don’t you?”
“A mistress?” He gave her a quizzical look in the mirror. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“People are saying you have one.”
He frowned and swung around to face her. “You’re serious?”
She nodded.
“Well, whoever these people are, they’re wrong. I don’t have a mistress. The idea is preposterous.” He snorted. “When could I possibly fit one in?” He saw her expression and added, “I have no interest in a mistress. Why would I when I have you?”
She said nothing, just folded her arms defensively. He was so plausible. Was this what her future was going to be like? Lies and pretense?
“Lily? You can’t possibly believe this nonsense.” He moved to take her in his arms.
She fended him off and stepped back. “I saw you with her yesterday.”
“What? Who? What are you talking about?”
“You went into a hotel with her—the Excelsior Hotel. I was having tea with—with someone in the tea rooms opposite. I saw you, Edward.”
He frowned. “I did go into the Excelsior Hotel yesterday, to meet a fellow that didn’t show up. There wasn’t any woman involved.”
“I saw you go in together. You had your arm around her.” She recalled the solicitous, almost protective way he’d placed his hand in the small of the woman’s back, and the way she’d leaned against him. A spurt of anger went through her.
He looked astonished, and a bit offended. “I did nothing of the—oh, yes, you’re right, I remember now. There was a woman.” His eyes narrowed. “She was increasing and felt faint. She asked for my arm to help her mount the stairs, told me her husband was inside. Naturally I assisted her, as any gentleman would.” He added stiffly, clearly resentful of her accusation, “But I’d never seen her before in my life.”
Lily bit her lip. It was credible. It could also be a clever lie.
The longer she remained silent, the darker his expression grew. “You don’t believe me?”
Her face crumpled. “Oh, Edward, I want to, I truly want to.” Hot tears prickled behind her eyes.
“I gave you my word before we were married that I’d never lie to you.”
She shook her head. “You took that promise back.”
“No, you took it back,” he said with quiet emphasis. “I gave you my word of honor that day. I meant it then and I mean it now.”
He put a lot of store in his word of honor, she remembered. He’d also promised that after they were married he’d be faithful to her.
“You really don’t have a mistress?” she whispered.
“No, I don’t.”
“Promise?”
He said in a hard voice, “I gave you my word.” He was so obviously offended by the suggestion that she believed him.
The relief
