Missing Lily (Tales of Dalthia) (3 page)

I let out a breath, relieved to have ‘the master’s’ help.

Rosamond set her tray on a table in the corner and I was just about to sit, drawn by the smell of biscuits and meat, when the sound of hoofbeats reached my ears. A memory of the cloaked rider flashed across my vision and I jolted.

“It’s only His Lordship returning,” Rosamond informed me.
 

I hobbled toward the door. “I can go home then.”

She stopped me before I reached the door. “Of course, Miss Lily. But let’s lace up your dress first, shall we?”

I forced myself to stand still until my dress was secured, then rushed out of my room. “Where is he?”
 

“Follow me, miss.” Rosamond took my hand and guided me through the house. I kept trying to move more quickly, but I was too stiff. I went along as best I could, gritting my teeth against the pain. We went down the stairs and then headed to the back of the house, through the kitchen and out the door. Rhys was dismounting just outside the stables and I tried to run to him, but ended up limping instead.

As soon as Rhys saw me, he came to meet me. “Miss Lily, you should be inside.”

I took hold of his forearms when I reached him. “Will you take me home now, please?”

“Let’s go inside.” He tried to turn me toward the door, but I tightened my grip.
 

“Please, my family! They don’t know what happened to me.”

He turned to face me, compassion written in his eyes. “I couldn’t get through. The roads are a mess. Do you live across the river?”

“Yes.”

“The bridge has been completely submerged. It may be gone altogether.”

“A boat—”

He frowned and shook his head. “Perhaps in a day or two. But the river is running too high and too fast right now.”
 

 
I sighed. He managed to turn me toward the house and put a supporting arm around my waist. “Let’s go inside.”
 

We settled in the kitchen and Rosamond bustled about, preparing breakfast while Rhys went upstairs to change out of his mud-caked clothing. I sat silent, lost in my worry. My staring out the window was interrupted when Rosamond set a hearty plate in front of me. My stomach clenched in anticipation as Rhys returned and took his seat.

The meal was simple and delicious. I felt enlivened after eating, but winced when I stood.
 

Rhys came to his feet.

“Don’t you worry, Your Lordship,” Rosamond lilted. “The little one is just stiff, I’m sure.” She put an arm around me. “How about we take a nice slow walk up to your room, see if we can’t work some of the stiffness out.”

“Yes, thank you.” I tried to walk normally, but didn’t succeed.
 

“We’ll get you all cleaned up and then see how you feel.”

I put a hand to my hair and sighed in disgust. It had been through a great deal since yesterday morning, and I was certain I looked the worse for wear. My sister Lorraina would disown me if she were to see me in such a state. For her, appearances were paramount.

We made our way up the stairs, Rosamond encouraging me to walk on my own but at a reasonable pace. My frantic flight out of the house this morning had aggravated my injuries.

Reaching my room, she helped me out of my dress so that she could treat my wounds before throwing a clean chemise over my head. She crossed to a trunk in the corner. “I had Giles bring this up for you.” She pulled out a brush and some other niceties.

“To whom do they belong?”

She gave me a sad smile. “They belonged to Rhys’s mother when she was living.”

“When did she die?”

Rosamond started the arduous task of brushing out my hair. “She and Lord Fallon passed away only a day apart five years ago.”

The stark realization that Rhys was Lord of this manor because of his parents’ untimely deaths weighed on my heart. Suddenly the name Fallon resonated with me. My father had known the late Lord Fallon. In fact, they had been great friends, as I recalled. I remembered my father’s sorrow over the passing of Lord and Lady Fallon when I was only thirteen, and wondered why I couldn’t remember meeting any of the family.

“They died of sickness,” I said.

“Yes, dearest.”

“How old was Lord Fallon?”
 

“You mean the late Lord Fallon, or Rhys?”

“Rhys.” It felt strange saying his name out loud.
 

“He was not quite twenty when it happened.”

No wonder he had no time to pretend at being a socialite. To take charge of an estate at so young an age—when his parents had just died—I couldn’t imagine.

Rosamond braided my hair, winding it around my head like a crown. It was a little girl’s fashion, but I didn’t mind. It cheered me a bit.

I was ready to step back into the dress, but Rosamond pulled a different one from the wardrobe. It was a simple day dress that had once belonged to Rhys’s mother. She pulled the laces as tight as they would go, but it was still loose, for which I was grateful.
 

“There we are, little one.” Rosamond stepped back to look at me. “Do you feel up to spending some time downstairs? I could use the company.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Her face lit up as she smiled at me then pulled my arm through hers.
 
We walked downstairs at a measured pace. She seemed always aware of my injuries without drawing direct attention to them.

We returned to the workroom where I had sat before the fire two nights before. It was actually just an extension of the kitchen, so I was able to watch as Rosamond bustled about with two other servants. They carried on a quiet discussion about the evening’s meal until one of the maids spoke up, quite forcefully.

“But that’s the young master’s favorite.” Her indignant shriek made me stare.

“I’m aware of that, Cora.” Rosamond seemed used to this sort of outburst.

“He’ll not be happy if we serve it tonight.” It was an odd thing to say. I couldn’t think why Rhys would ever be unhappy about his favorite meal being served.

“Perhaps not, but that’s not really your concern, is it? Now why don’t you tend to your responsibilities?”

Cora frowned before bowing her head and scuffling from the room.

The other servant dipped her head, excusing herself.
 
“I’ll just be about my duties, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Juliann.”

Rosamond put a few things in their place before joining me. She sat down to mend something, jumping easily into conversation. “So. Miss Lily. Or is it Lady Lily? I never really asked, did I?”

I was caught off guard. “Uh. Miss is fine, thank you.”

“You are a lady, though?” It was more of a statement than a question.

I mentally reprimanded myself. If I were pretending not to be a lady, I should have said so definitively. Then again, I knew that Giles had taken note of my clothing. They likely wouldn’t believe me if I claimed to be of a lower class. “Yes,” I answered.

“But I should call you ‘miss’?”

“Yes, please.” Somehow it felt like less of a lie.

“Well, that suits me just fine. Truth be told, we don’t hold to much formality around here.”
 

I smiled, having noticed the lack of formality. “Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it’s due to the fact that we’ve known Rhys since he was a baby.”

“But you still call him by his title.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not. And I don’t really think of it as a title. More of an endearment.” She looked up from her mending, pinning me with a knowing look. “He’s a right handsome lord, no?”

My eyes dropped to my lap as my cheeks burned. Before I could answer, Rhys’s voice came from behind me. “Good grief, Rosamond, don’t taunt the poor girl.”
 

I looked up as he sank into the chair beside mine. “You’ll have to excuse Rosamond. She lets her mouth run away with her far too often.”

I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. He sat there so casually, as though it were completely normal for him to be chatting with his servants. He treated Rosamond and Giles with more deference than was usual, but his sitting down with us in the servants’ workroom was more shock than I was prepared for. He caught my eye and I dropped my gaze to my hands, realizing my stare had reached the point of rudeness. I was so used to being Princess Lylin—used to the people of Dalthia being in awe of me—that finding myself in awe of someone else was disconcerting.
 

“I don’t want to intrude,” Rhys began, “But I thought you might like a tour of the manor—get a sense of your surroundings.”

I blinked at the unexpected invitation and had to find my voice before I could speak. “Yes, thank you.” Rising to my feet, I found his hand at my elbow. Men didn’t usually treat me with such familiarity.

Rosamond spoke up as we walked away. “If you end up outside, you be sure she gets a shawl on, understand?”
 

I glanced over my shoulder—Rosamond’s attention remained on her work. Rhys chuckled under his breath, then turned and walked back. Rosamond held up a shawl, her eyes still on her work, and Rhys took it while trying to suppress a smile. He draped it over my shoulders. “I’ll take good care of her,” he called over his shoulder.

We left the workroom and I sensed his gaze on me.
 

“Shall we start outside?” he asked.

I nodded and followed him as he crossed the entryway and opened the door. The sky was dim with residual clouds—clouds that could blow away to nothing or pour down buckets, depending on their mood. I prayed the storm was finished. I was stuck here until the land dried out, and while this was a pleasant place to be stranded, my anxiety over my parents was eating at my insides, as was my worry about Nathaniel. I had confidence in his skills with a sword, but there had been at least two men he would have had to deal with, and if there were more—I didn’t want to think of it.

“I’m sorry I cannot take you home today.” Rhys’s voice was quiet, sincere.

I continued to stare at the sky, barely registering his words. “It’s none of your fault.”

“Your parents will worry?”

His attempt at conversation forced me to focus on the present. “Exceedingly.”

“Are you an only child?”

I choked back a laugh, clearing my throat to cover the sound. “No. I have several sisters. I’m the youngest.”

“Does your being the youngest make them more protective?”

“I suppose it might. But their protectiveness has more to do with an incident several years ago than with my being the youngest. My sister was abducted a few years ago. It was hours before we found her.” His eyebrows shot up. I shrugged. “I know it shook my parents, my father especially.”

“That would be terrifying,” he murmured.

“It was.”

He seemed surprised that I had responded to his comment. Perhaps he’d just been musing to himself. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”
 

He cocked his head to the side. “And how old are you now?”

I smiled. “That’s quite a bold question.”

He cleared his throat. “My apologies, I meant no—”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. I’m eighteen.”

We walked in silence for a moment and I was once again distracted by the sky when he wondered aloud, “You’re not going to turn the question on me?”

“Pardon?”

“My age. You’re not curious?”

“I know how old you are.”

“And how is that?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

“Rosamond said your parents had passed away five years ago, and I asked how old you were at the time.” His attention dropped to the ground in front of him when I mentioned his parents. “That would be a lot to take on at twenty years old.”

“Yes. I hope you’re never burdened with such a load.”

I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t exactly mention that the chance of my becoming queen had gone up significantly each time one of my sisters had married. It wasn’t a prospect I liked to dwell on. Growing up, I had never given the possibility a second thought, but with no brothers, and five of my six sisters married, each to a man who could not or would not be king, the possibility was now very real.

I forced my mind back to our conversation. “Did you have anyone you could turn to for advice, for help?”

“Oh yes,” he said bitterly. “My uncle was more than happy to give me all the guidance I asked for. And his guidance always suggested that I step aside and hand the title over to him. I think he would have preferred if my parents had died a few years earlier, before I could take the title.”

“That’s awful.” He smiled at my blunt assessment. “Is the estate really falling to ruin?” The question was past my lips before I made the conscious decision to ask. His hand had been reaching for the latch on the stable door, but it froze. “My apologies, Lord Fallon. I have no right to ask that.”

He shook his head. “I’m the one that mentioned it at our first meeting. And no, it isn’t falling to ruin. Not the way I implied. There is just so much to manage, so much to learn, mostly by trial and mistakes. It never really feels in my control.”