Page 90 of The Trouble with Tweed

“I’m sorry, my lord.” She shook her head. Tears gathered along her lower lashes.

“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Your family name is Imsorry. No doubt you changed it out of embarrassment.”

Lily worked on controlling her tears. She hadn’t thought this would be all that hard--she’d thought telling Rebecca she was leaving would be far more difficult than telling the girl’s father.

“There’s no need to cry,” he snapped. “Tears won’t get you out of explaining yourself. You can start by telling me your real name.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I cannot.”

It was the one thing that William had demanded of her in his letter--that she was not, under any circumstances, to reveal her true identity. To anyone.

Lord Hayes braced his forearms on the desk and exhaled derision through his nostrils. “I should have you arrested.”

Lily blanched. Her knees knocked, wavered, then locked.

Lord Hayes didn’t seem to notice. He shook his head. "And where am I to find a replacement? What about Rebecca? Have you thought about her?"

Her tears threatened to catapult over her lower lashes. "I've thought of little else. I don't wish to leave her."

"Then don't," he said. "It's as simple as that. You should stay."

"I cannot disappoint my brother."

"Why does he require your presence more than we do?"

Lily thought that it would do little good to explain the full circumstances to Lord Hayes, that William had returned from India wealthy beyond measure, and now Lily and her seven sisters were to be presented--in slightly less-shocking batches of four--so that they might have a Season and find good noblemen to marry.

It sounded like a fanciful dream--something made up--even to her, and she was to live it.

Her silence only served to deepen Lord Hayes’ frown, to turn his expression into something truly foreboding.

“No. I forbid it,” Lord Hayes finally said.

He sent the letter sliding back at her across the polished surface. On instinct, she caught it before it hit the ground.

Lily’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me, my lord?”

“You are not excused. In fact, you’re not permitted to leave the grounds. Not until you tell me who you truly are.” He lowered his gaze to his ledgers and picked up his pen.

Lily stood frozen in fear, the letter of resignation clenched in her hands. When it became clear that Lord Hayes would say nothing further, she turned and let herself out of his study, closing the door behind her.

She stood there stupidly for long moments, their interaction rolling through her mind.

I should have you arrested.

The thought had Lily nearly running for the stairs. That’s undoubtedly what the man intended to do. Why else would he command her not to leave?

If he called for a magistrate, she would be questioned. She would have to tell them the truth, under the burden of the law. Even though she'd undoubtedly be acquitted were there a trial--she was nobility and she'd done nothing truly wrong--a trial would be public. Her name, and her family's name, would be dragged through that special mud unique to England's finest gossips.

There would be no point to any of the Preston ladies having a Season after that--not when it was discovered that Lily had been living under the same roof as an unmarried gentleman for four months. The ton had everything--money, prestige, a life of essential leisure--but what truly excited them were rumors.

And there was nothing quite as delicious to the gossips as a young lady gone astray.

It hardly mattered that Lord Hayes hadn't so much as brushed Lily’s hand. Everyone would leap to the most salacious possibilities. Her reputation would be ruined, and all her sisters' reputations along with it. And not even all the gold in England--which Claire claimed William had--could shield them from the censure.

Lily ran up the stairs, using the balustrade to pull herself upward. Thankfully, she didn't see a single other servant, or they would have known something was terribly wrong. Lily's eyes were wide, her breath coming in pants by the time she made it to the small bedchamber attached to the nursery.

Rebecca was only five--she would be moved to one of the grand family bedchambers on her birthday the following month. It was nearly all she could speak of, and Lily's heart clenched that she wouldn't be there to witness the little girl's joy that day.