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Lady Lily and Her Sly Older Man #1~3
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.Copyright © 2017 by Rosie Zweet
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereofmay not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoeverwithout the express written permission of the publisherexcept for the use of brief quotations in a book review.First Edition: June, 2017
Author’s note: All characters are 18+
Ride to London
I walk to the stable, looking for John, the coachman. I heard that he will go to London today.
This is the perfect opportunity.
After years of ignoring me finally, my Lord Father remembers my existence. I was happy when he sent me a letter a week ago but soon I became sad after I read it. He wants me to marry our Cousin Ezra. I don’t remember him much, he is few years my elder I suppose.
It is not marriage itself that makes me sad but I want to have a Season, going to balls and courted by many gentlemen. I hear many wonderful tales from my friends who already left this Academy of young lady a year ago. I should go with them but of course, my father forgot that his daughter is old enough to wed. I am eighteen now, more than ready to wed.
I already made a decision. I won’t stay still and meekly following my father wishes so I will go to London, to my aunt house. I am sure she will understand me, she even will sponsor me herself for the season, I am sure of it.
As I come closer to the stable, I see John is brushing the horse by himself. It is good that no stable boys in sight. I need to talk in private.
John is in his early fifty, I guess. He has dirty blond hair which streaked with gray, lean, frail, and not that tall, just shy below six feet. He can’t be called handsome but his lined, old face looks kind and gentle.
“Good morning, John,” I greet him amiably.
“M’lady,” he says, bobbing his head. And he keeps his head low. He is just so shy when he is around his better. “What I can do for you?”
“I need a ride,” I say.
His head jerks up; he looks at me wide eyed. “M’la—”
“I heard you will go to London,” I add.
His face slackens. “Oh, London, yes… yes…”
I take his hand in mine. “Please take me with you,” I plead.
It is hard to convince the poor man to let me ride with him.
“Please, I will pay you good, John,” I cajole. He is always nice. He often helps us, the young ladies, sneak to the village to buy ribbon, sweet or have a tryst with young men there.
“The mistress will have my head if she knows,” he says, still stubborn.
“Oh, please John, I will do anything. ANYTHING,” I plead and pouting.
“Anything?” he asks, his face reddened.
“Do you have something you want, John?”
“Ahh… M’wife left me years ago, my lady,” he says in small, weak voice.
I remember the story. The young ladies talk about it, couple years ago. His wife left John for another man, and they run away together to America.
Oh, poor, old John.
“Could you… ummm… a man has a need… ummm…” he trails, his eyes darted uncertainly.
Wife? Is he asking me to pretend to be his wife?
“Do you ask me to be your wife in our journey, John?” I say, helping the poor man. “Oh, that will be splendid.” It is a good idea besides. It will be suspicious if people see a young lady travel alone unchaperoned. And it will fun traveling in commoner clothes.
We stop after few miles ride from the Academy of young ladies’ manor. And now, we sit in the carriage, facing each other in silence.