“Can I help you find a seat by the fire, Miss Brennan?”
Tilly’s heart danced in her chest. And while the inside of her felt a riot rage on, outside she cooled her features and narrowed her eyes. If she could fashion herself from ice, then perhaps she could protect herself from falling madly and recklessly in love with the earl.
An earl. Oh. She had really done it now.
“Thank you, no.” She was surprised by the resolve in her voice. “Mrs. Craven is correct. It was an ordeal, and I wish to retire to my room.”
A lady’s maid hurried down the stairs and whisked Tilly away, leaving Mrs. Craven with the earl.
All she could think of as she turned the corner on the stairs was that she still didn’t know his name, and she was jealous he now knew hers.
If it mattered.
Did it matter?
Had he thought of her as often as she had thought of him?
It had been such a whirlwind evening. They shared only a handful of minutes together, but she had sworn that evening, and since, that they must have known each other in some other way. How else could she explain how she felt so completely at home with him?
Love wasn’t struck in an instant. It was built over time. It required trust and understanding. Lust at first sight she could understand. But kissing the earl in the dark in the ring of sycamore trees had nothing to do with lust.
But it was foolish to think it was love.
It couldn’t be.
Her lady’s maid showed Tilly into her room. It was a beautiful room overlooking a hedge maze that was flanked by a beautiful stone statute dusted in snow.
She curled up into her chair and tucked her feet under her. She pulled a blanket tight around her shoulders and closed her eyes, stealing a nap.
And avoided the conversation that awaited her downstairs with dark eyes.
CHAPTER 5
Usually, Ethan bounded into Tilly’s bed before daybreak. Some days, he dressed as a pirate and on others, he insisted she look at his drawing when her eyes could barely focus from being at the theater too late.
But his pudgy hands would wrap around her cheeks and draw her gaze to his, and her heart would melt.
Always.
Only two days until Christmas and she would be forced to spend the holiday with a group of strangers. Well, except for Mrs. Craven. But Mrs. Craven might as well have been a stranger. Tilly didn’t dare utter a word of the truth to the old woman for fear of what she could do. Being old and crotchety had enough power, and she didn’t wish to share that Ethan was Tilly’s illegitimate son. So much of protecting her reputation meant balancing how others regarded her, including which roles she selected, which parties she attended, and which charities she supported. A careless whisper from Mrs. Craven could send ripples throughout the beau monde, and the delicate balance Tilly had fought for to maintain the public’s favor would be gone.
Five years and that secret never grew lighter.
If anything, it became something of a chain, binding her to Roger these past few months now that he knew.
But it helped that her family was supportive of her acting. The seven Brennan brothers and sisters stormed into London’s theater scene after Ethan’s first birthday with a story that Ethan was her mother’s youngest, but with their father gravely ill, Imogen and Tilly agreed to care for him.
And the story stuck.
Imogen eventually married a vicar and left London, and Tilly’s performances garnered enough attention that London adored her. For the moment, anyhow.
She was fortunate that she wasn’t immediately cast off for being an actress. The ton embraced her and delighted in her company, and she had hung on to that for as long as she could.
But Tilly was tired.
Bone tired of pretending. Of not letting her guard slip. Of performing for everyone on and off the stage.
Of being alone.
She was so alone.
Tilly wiped at her cheeks, annoyed with herself for being overly sentimental. She would celebrate Christmas with the others when she returned to London, and Ethan would be delighted at having the opportunity to celebrate twice. And she would do as Roger wished so that Ethan could do just that.
“Miss, I hope I am not bothering you. Mrs. Craven insisted I bring up a breakfast tray for you before you expired from hunger.” The lady’s maid floated into the room and set the tray by her bed.
Tilly propped herself up, forcing on a sleepy smile.
She had practiced lines far too late last evening. While she appreciated Mrs. Craven’s thoughtfulness, she needed more sleep now that she had the opportunity. Though, if she were being honest, five years of mothering Ethan had turned her into a reluctant morning person. There was not much sleep to be had with a rowdy five-year-old in the house.
The maid threw back the velvet curtains to reveal a bright white light. “Oh, I know the weather made travel difficult, but there is nothing more magical than a fresh coat of snow before Christmas.”
“I have only experienced snow for Christmas once before now. Has the storm finally lifted? The wind was horrible last evening.”
“It has, m’lady. And Haddington looks beautiful. If you wish to go for a sleigh ride later, I would be happy to arrange it for you.”
“Thank you.” Tilly reached for the teacup on the tray and drank it without a touch of cream or sugar. She preferred the bitterness in the morning to jolt her awake. “That sounds grand.”
