Page 37 of Broken

When she walked away without another word or backward glance, Giles’ chest grew tight. He wanted to call out to her, and tell her they would always be friends. But then what? Giles didn’t know what to do with a woman other than to lay her flat on her back and give her pleasure. Lilly was better off without his kind of friendship.

Giles ordered himself to believe that and prayed he could make the lie true.

* * *

Lilly returned to her room in dejection, letting the door slam shut behind her. The heavy thud was a death knell for the small hopes she hadn’t realized she’d nurtured. She locked the door, too, determined to hide from the bleakness of life beyond the pretty walls. But the room’s sunny aspect cut through her control like a hot knife through butter.

She was not a woman. Not really. Giles had no real interest in her and could not even be bothered to pretend about it any longer. Moving to the foot of the bed, Lilly gripped the bedpost and held on as a painful sob escaped her. She couldn’t breathe; her chest tightened tremendously.

Those mocking voices had been right all along. She was no good for anything at all in this life. Not even the most pleasure-obsessed rogue could be bothered to befriend her.

Without him explaining in so many words, Lilly knew deep down how it would go. The little woman, Mrs. Osprey, would become her only company until her papa returned.

And then what?

Would Papa drag her away to yet another house and perhaps leave her there, too? Perhaps he planned to see Lilly compromise herself and finally be free of his responsibility. He might have thought that Giles, a rogue with the wickedest reputation, would be keen enough for the dubious honor.

Lilly would like to think well of her papa, but he had left her alone with one of London’s foremost pleasure-seekers. A man who would whisk away a beautiful woman if she so much as arched a brow at him.

She sat down, not on the bed but on the window seat, and gazed out at the small figures scurrying around the garden. At least they had friends, family, someone to turn to when they were sad.

Now she had no one. Another sob burst free. Furiously, Lilly wiped the tears away, tucked her heels up beneath her, and wrapped her arms around her knees to stop her shaking. When she laid her cheek on top, hot tears poured free beyond her power to control them.

Giles’ rejection hurt so much.

A week ago, Lilly could not have sat as she did now. A week ago, she had excruciating pain. Giles had taken it away. Today, he had given it back tenfold. A week ago, Lilly had not fooled herself into longing for something more than what life had given her.

She looked around the room and grimaced at the memories the space evoked. She couldn’t stay. She wanted to leave Cottingstone. And that thought was enough to begin a hopeless deluge of tears and sobs that racked her whole body, curling her into a tight ball of misery to grieve over the loss of an illusion.

A long time later, scratching at her door intruded on her misery and she stood to let Atticus into the room. Lilly was halfway there when she heard the sound of Giles’ distinctive footsteps in the hall. She froze.

She couldn’t see him again so soon. He shouldn’t know how badly he’d hurt her heart. He would try to explain, offering useless words that would give her no comfort.

Giles believed that putting distance between them was for her own good, for her reputation. But Lilly knew he would be happier the minute she took herself away.

Atticus whined. Ignoring the dog was difficult, but she stayed where she was, three steps from the door, and hoped the wolfhound would go.

As Giles spoke to the dog, Atticus began scratching at the door in earnest. Lilly did not want to upset the dog, but she could not unlock the door to let him in. She might see his master.

Giles was not succeeding at calming the beast, and his heavy knock shook the door. When she bit her lip to keep from answering, he tried the knob. “Lilly, open the door.”

She would not.

The door rattled in its frame as Giles pounded on the wood and Lilly jumped back, startled by his vehemence. She just wanted him to go away. She did not want to face anyone who had the power to hurt her so easily or without regret.

Lilly crept to the door and dropped down near the keyhole. Atticus whined as his sensitive ears picked up her movements. In a low voice, pitched directly to the dog, she commanded him to leave. A yelp assured her that he obeyed and the sound of scratching stopped.

Lilly turned away from the door. There, she was free of the man and his hound. The master could now forget she existed.

“That was cruel, Lilly. Unlock the door.”

Giles’ angry voice on the other side stopped her cold. Why did he care how she treated the dog?

Lilly refused to talk to him. He was not her friend. She was alone, and only had herself and Papa to please. A lonely, dark future instead of the bright one she might have had.

On the mantel was a bottle of Giles’ brandy, a remnant of her first night of temporary relief. She wrapped one hand around the bottleneck while the other hand reached for the tumbler. Brandy, as with laudanum, would take the hurt away.

She set both down on the small writing desk, ignoring Giles’ pounding at the door. Crystal clinked against the side of the tumbler as she poured a generous amount. Tonight, she would still be able to sleep no matter what racket he kicked up outside.