Page 74 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream
Why aristocrats like Viscount Merrivale thought he could snap his manicured fingers, and she, born on the wrong side of the blanket, would agree to his demands?
The pompous boor.
Life was wholly unfair.
Every day now, she dreaded going through the post, expecting a letter from his lordship or a solicitor on his behalf.
So far, no correspondence had arrived from either, and that was most peculiar.
As agitated as Lord Merrivale had been that afternoon, Lilly was at a loss to understand his continued silence.
And Layton’s.
Shouldn’t the pain from his continued silence diminish with each passing day?
It had not.
How could Lilly heal if she could not stop thinking about him?
Dreaming about him?
Her conclusion that he was married must be accurate, and that explained why he had not written to her.
Layton was a man of integrity.
She had known that about him even before she knew his true identity.
Corresponding with an unmarried woman could be considered inappropriate, and he would never dishonor his wife—even if he had kissed Lilly.
He had done so, not knowing who he was or if he was married.
Lilly should regret that wonderful kiss, but she could not.
No, she would not.
It was a gift she would always treasure.
Inhaling a bracing breath, she glanced upward, grateful the pleasant weather had held. Stars sparkled overhead in the inky night sky.
This was a good life.
Before Layton had arrived, she had been content.
More than content.
She had been happy.
Lilly would be so again.
She was determined to make it so.
Hadn’t the philosopher Seneca said, “A wise man is content with his lot, whatever it may be, without wishing for what he has not?”
Well, somehow, Lilly would create her happiness, though that would be easier done without the albatross of Lord Merrivale’s threat looming overhead.
“Again, Dr. Montrose. Again,” the children chanted.
Hopping up and down, the boys and girls danced about giddily as Charles, several feet away for safety, lit another squib.
