Lily Read Online Free PDF Page B

his bleak blue eyes frightened her. Gathering her nerve, she said, “I’m Lily,” in a quiet voice, and waited for whatever would happen next.
    Devon’s stare narrowed. She was tall and slender in her dark gown. A pale, gentle face. Green eyes, or maybe gray. Her mouth looked soft; a forgiving mouth. He couldn’t tell what color her hair was. While he watched, some of the fury in him abated, seemed to shrivel under the steadiness of her level gaze. “Are you?” he said, and was surprised to hear something close to composure in his tone. “Yes, I can see the resemblance.” He wanted to touch her, to find out if her white cheek was as soft as it looked. Lily. But he had a bottle in one hand, a candle in the other. “What are you doing in my house, Lily?” She could tell him anything, he thought, anything at all: what he wanted was to hear her voice again.
    Lily realized she wasn’t afraid. There was no anger in the man’s face now, only pain, and a whimsical politeness. “I’m your new housemaid, sir,” she explained softly. And then, appalled, she watched his face change again, slowly, this time to cold contempt.
    Devon stepped back. “Of course,” he said, lips twisting in a nasty smile. He let the candle thud to the floor and reached into his pocket. The girl’s frightened gasp pleased him. Behind him, Cobb muttered something; he broke off when Devon whirled and jerked the pistol up and out with both hands. Squinting, he squeezed the trigger and fired.
    The great glass chandelier in the foyer dropped like a boulder and struck the bare wood floor with a deafening crash. Lily screamed, twisting away from a spray of flying crystal. The master spun back around. She saw his face, black with some inscrutable emotion, and shrank back. He took a step toward her, at the same moment the man named Cobb plucked the gun out of his hand.
    Devon snarled; Cobb braced himself. But instead of attacking, Devon fell back against the wall, striking his shoulders with a rough thud. He uttered curses in a soft, passionless monotone. His hand shook when he raised the brandy decanter to his lips.
    Cobb turned away, toward Lily. “Get upstairs, girl,” he advised in a low voice.
    “Why?” Devon wiped his mouth with his sleeve and fixed her with a sardonic eye. “She’s the bleeding maid, isn’t she? Let her clean up the mess.”
    Her knees wouldn’t stop trembling. She looked back and forth between the two men in confusion, unsure if the master was serious or not.
    “Go on,” Cobb repeated stolidly. “Where be your room?”
    “I—I’m to sleep with someone called Lowdy.”
    “Go up, then. Say naught o’ this to Lowdy or anyone, d’you hear? Keep it to yourself.”
    “Yes, I will,” she promised. But she saw skepticism in the man’s black stare.
    She threw a last glance at Devon Darkwell. He had slid to the floor. His forearms hung heavily between his knees; the empty decanter dangled from his fingers. He was staring into space, head against the wall, and there was nothing in his hard eyes now except emptiness. Lily picked up her skirts and ran.
    “My real name’s Loveday. Loveday Rostarn. Pretty, edn it? People’ve called me Lowdy all my life, though, so I reckon I’m stuck wi’ it. Is that all ee d’ have t’ sleep in, an?”
    Lily glanced down at her worn shift. “Aye, this is it.”
    “Well, they d’ say winter’s over, though hereabouts you can’t be sartin till summer. An’ ’ave ee no clawthes but that dress yonder, an’ no other shoes? How did ee come t’ such a press?”
    “I—it—everything was stolen, at a fair. All me money an’ every stitch I owned.” It was almost impossible to speak Irish to Lowdy Rostarn; Lily’s brain was too tied up trying to understand what Lowdy was saying to her in Cornish. What a pair they were going to make!
    “Ee d’ look all done in, poor lamb. Blaw out the candle an’ crawl in. Mrs. ‘Owe d’ give out but one candle a week t’ each maid’s