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Authors: Colleen Coble

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BOOK: Butterfly Palace
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Lily’s heart pounded as she entered Mrs. Marshall’s room to wait for her as instructed. The bedchamber was enormous. Blue-and-white toile paper covered the expansive walls that rose to a domed ceiling at least twelve feet high. The fresco around the top gleamed with gilding. The Chippendale furniture was in impeccable condition. Her feet sank into thick carpeting the color of rich butter, and the sweet aroma of flowers permeated the room.

She touched the blue cover over the gigantic bed. Real silk. She whirled and put her hands behind her back as her employer entered from the balcony. Mrs. Marshall was dressed in a pale pink robe, and her hair was still on her shoulders.

She lifted a brow at Lily’s appearance. “Ah, there you are. I’m finished with breakfast. You can take the tray away when you’re done assisting me.”

“Of course.”

Mrs. Marshall walked to a door and pulled it open to reveal lustrous gowns of every imaginable color. “I’m going out with Belle for a ride with Mr. Vesters, but I’m not sure what I want to wear.”

“May I?” When Mrs. Marshall nodded, Lily reached past her. “This is very fashionable. I’ve only seen it in magazines.” She pulled out a pale gray walking skirt. “The shorter length will make it easier to get up and down from the carriage. And you have a lovely frilly blouse that will echo the frills on the hem.” She pulled it out too.

“I haven’t worn that yet. The skirt seemed scandalously short.”

“It’s only two inches higher than normal.”

“Clearly you have studied fashion.”

The tension began to ease from Lily’s shoulders. “Yes, ma’am. My mother taught me well, and I’ve read every
Godey’s
I could get
my hands on.” She caressed the fine fabric of the skirt. “This is very well made.”

“It should be. It cost the earth. I’ll trust your judgment and wear it.”

“And these shoes.” The skirt and blouse over her arm, Lily grabbed up a pair of white patent leather shoes.

“Indeed.” Mrs. Marshall allowed Lily to dress her, then moved to the dressing table. “I’d like a chignon if you can manage it.”

Lily gathered the woman’s thick blond hair in her hands and began to style it. When she was done, she stepped away. “Does it pass muster?”

Mrs. Marshall put her hand to her hair. “It’s lovely, quite lovely.” She twisted on the stool and looked up at Lily. “Your talents are wasted in the kitchen, Lily. I think you would suit quite well as a lady’s maid to Belle. I shall talk to her at once.”

Lily’s heart sank a bit. “I’ve heard she doesn’t wish to have a maid.” And Emily might not appreciate a fast promotion for Lily.

“That’s true, but I’ll prevail upon her. Leave it to me.” She rose and slid her feet into the shoes. “Run along with the tray. We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lily curtsied and went to the balcony to retrieve the tray.

The garden looked glorious in the morning sunlight. Blooms of every color imaginable burst forth from green leaves. The hedges were perfectly manicured. But her gaze fell on a familiar form. Andy stood with his hands in his pockets, an achingly familiar stance. It felt strange to see him dressed in such a stylish morning coat instead of work clothes.

She stepped away when he turned. Her heart couldn’t bear to look in his eyes.

FOUR

D
rew mopped his brow and stared at the patio door. Butterflies swarmed the bushes in the garden that surrounded the stone patio. The sweet scent of some kind of flower filled the air. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lily’s face. What was she doing here? Had she found him somehow? But no, he’d seen the shock in her beautiful blue eyes when she’d seen him.

He pulled out his pocket watch. Nearly eight. Maybe he could slip into the house and find her.

The door opened and Emily, one of the kitchen maids, stepped out of the large French doors onto the patio. She carried a tray. Her hazel eyes sparkled under her cap. “Good morning, Mr. Hawkes. I’ve brought your breakfast.”

He waited until she set the tray on the table. “Thank you. I was wondering about the young woman I knocked down last night. Is she up? I’d like to make sure she suffered no ill effects.”

Emily nodded. “Oh yes, she’s been up for hours. Shall I fetch her?”

“Please do.” He spread the white napkin on his lap, but his stomach clenched at the thought of swallowing anything. He’d been ready to blurt out everything last night, but in the bright light of day, he realized how disastrous that would be.

“I’ll send her right out. She’s fine though, sir.” Emily stepped back through the French doors into the dining room.

Drew put down his fork and waited. What should he say to her? He couldn’t tell Lily why he’d left her. Better to let her think he didn’t care than to put her in more danger. Seeing her had knocked the props out from under him.

When Lily stepped into the sunshine, his heart nearly stopped in his chest. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered from last night. The sun illuminated the planes and angles of her cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her smooth skin looked soft and touchable. A hint of a blush ran up her neck. How was it possible she was still single—and that she was here and not in Larson?

“I like your hair down better,” he blurted when the silence grew between them.

Her color deepened. “I’m a grown woman now, Andy. Not a callow girl to be taken in by your deceit.”

Her words stung, but he couldn’t let her see him flinch. He rose and thrust his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing here, Lily? Why aren’t you home with your mother?”

“She’s dead, and I have to earn my living.”

A band of grief choked his voice. Her mother had been one of the sweetest women he’d ever met, and he loved her instead of the mother who had deserted him at the age of one.

Lily’s eyes widened as she stared at him. The defiance on her face eased, and she touched his hand. “I know you cared about her.” When he started to take her hand, she snatched it away. “At least you appeared to, though I now question how you could leave us without a word.”

He would have to ask her not to betray his identity. “Please remember to call me Drew here.”

She lifted a perfectly formed brow. “I hardly think so. I’m a
servant here. If I were presumptuous enough to use your first name, I would be sacked. I shall call you Mr. Hawkins.”

“Hawkes. I’ve shortened my name.”

She clasped her hands together at the front of her oh-so-proper black skirt. “What’s happened to you, Andy? The man I knew would not condone falsehood.”

“The man you knew is dead.” When she flinched, he softened his tone. “There are things you don’t understand, Lily. I hope to explain myself someday, but it’s impossible right now. May I have your word to keep my secret?”

Her gaze locked with his. “I can’t promise that. What legitimate reason could you have for hiding your identity? I once trusted you with every fiber of my being, but you broke that trust. What right do you have to ask me to keep silent while you deceive my employer?”

No right
. He gave a slow nod. “When is your next day off? I’d like to hear what’s happening back home.”

“I don’t know. Mrs. O’Reilly has not told me my schedule yet.”

He reached toward her but she stepped back. “Keep silent, Lily. There is a good explanation for my behavior.”

“All of it?” Her words were barely above a whisper.

His gaze fell from her penetrating gaze, and he let his head drop.

“I see,” she said when he didn’t answer. “Very well. I will say nothing for now, but only because Mama loved you. As far as any relationship between you and me, you died to me long ago.”

She turned and stepped back through the door. A faint scent of honeysuckle trailed her, a forgotten reminder of their love.

Lily fumed about Andy as she prepared coddled eggs and toast. The young mistress had sent word to the kitchen that she wished the
new maid to attend her this morning. The kitchen was empty at the moment, though she heard Emily talking to Mrs. O’Reilly in the dining room.

The tea, brewed exactly three minutes per specification, was the perfect temperature when Lily loaded the items onto a solid silver tray and moved with haste up the back stairs to the main hallway on the second floor. Outside Belle’s door, she balanced the tray in one hand and tapped softly.

“Come in.” Belle’s faint voice held impatience.

Lily stepped inside the room and spied the young woman outside on the veranda. Seated on a small iron chair at a round table, Belle barely glanced up from the book in her hand. The white cover she wore over her nightgown was the finest silk, and her dark brown hair lay loose on her shoulders.

The breeze, carrying with it the scent of grass and flowers, blew across the balcony railing. Lily eyed the flimsy look of the railing. She’d been afraid of high places ever since she got stuck in a tree trying to retrieve her kitten when she was five. It was a long way down to the stone patio from here.

She averted her gaze from the ground and set the tray on the small round table. “I brought your breakfast, miss.”

“So I see. I’m not really hungry this morning.” Belle put down her book and picked up a piece of toast. “You are the new maid?” Her tone held challenge.

Lily curtsied. “I’m the new kitchen maid, Miss Belle. Lily Donaldson. I arrived just last night from Larson.”

Belle’s gaze swept over her. “My cousin spoke quite highly of you.”

Lily smiled and nodded. “Mr. Castle is a good man. He loves you very much.”

Belle blinked fiercely. “I miss him. He is well?”

“Very well.”

Belle looked down at the tray. “I suppose I must eat. I have to go on a carriage ride with Mr. Vesters.” Her lip curled. “I can’t abide the man, but my uncle insists.”

Lily poured the tea into a nearly translucent cup. “He was at the party? I’m not sure which gentleman he was.”

“He was the short fellow with the red face. And he’s always perspiring.” Belle wrinkled her nose.

Lily remembered him. He’d been talking to Andy and her employer. “He’s looking for a wife?” She took the cover off the eggs, then spread the linen napkin on Belle’s lap.

Belle put her book facedown on the table. “Unfortunately, my uncle seems determined I’m to be that bride.”

Lily couldn’t imagine being pressured to marry someone. Her mother had always allowed her to make her own decisions. She barely suppressed a shudder at the thought of sharing a bed with someone she didn’t love. Heat raced to her cheeks at the memory of doing just that with Andy. And he’d betrayed her though she’d loved him with all her heart.

“I’d like some tea this afternoon. Please bring it up around three.”

Lily hesitated. “I’ll tell Mrs. O’Reilly. She’ll make sure it’s here.”

“I want
you
to bring it.”

Lily bit her lip. “I’ll try, Miss Belle, but Mrs. O’Reilly directs my work.” When Belle glowered, Lily gulped and retreated to the bedroom to pick up the discarded dresses and undergarments.

A shadow blocked the sunshine, and she turned to see Belle in the doorway. “Did you need something, Miss Belle?”

“I saw you speaking with Mr. Hawkes in the garden this morning. You seemed rather comfortable with him.” Her eyes sparkled with accusation.

Heat seared Lily’s cheeks. “He
did
knock me down. I think he wanted to assure himself I was unharmed.” She draped the clothing over the back of the chair by the door.

“It appeared to be more than that to me.”

Lily dropped her gaze. Had Belle seen her touch Andy’s hand? It had been quite familiar. She’d promised not to betray him. A tiny white lie lingered on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak it. “Emily showed me the stain on your dress. I hope to be able to repair it later today. In the morning light, it’s not as bad as we’d thought.”

“Truly? I did like that dress.” She waved a hand toward the wardrobe. “Now that you’re here, you can button my dress. My aunt keeps telling me to hire a lady’s maid, but I’m not at all fond of the idea. The creatures are usually scuttling around behind one’s back telling tales. I don’t suppose you know enough yet to carry stories to the kitchen.”

“I wouldn’t anyway, Miss Belle.” Lily moved to the wardrobe. “What would you like to wear?” She tugged open the heavy door and surveyed the myriad options of colorful attire. A faint scent of cedar wafted from the interior.

Belle waved her hand. “I don’t care. I hardly wish to impress Mr. Vesters.”

“How about this silk?” Lily pulled out a deep garnet dress. “It would look lovely with your eyes and hair. The trailing skirt is very stylish.”

“It’s new.” Belle allowed Lily to remove her nightgown, then drop the dress over her head and fasten it in the back. Then Belle sat on the small stool in front of the dressing table. “See what you can do with my hair. I want it up as tightly as possible. No curls, nothing to make me look too attractive.”

Lily nodded and picked up the silver hairbrush. Belle’s hair was
thick and fine. Trying to be gentle, she managed to get it up in a tight bun at the back of Belle’s head. “I think it’s impossible to make you less attractive, Miss Belle.”

BOOK: Butterfly Palace
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