Sinner! Whore! Wretch! Fallen woman!
But it's not my fault! He took me in the night while I slept, even as I begged him to stop!
Did you hear? Charlie Monroe's daughter bore a child out of wedlock! Can you believe! It's that new money, the middle class can't handle the rise in status, it overheats their brains. Didn't Charlie die a few years back? Poor girl lost her way without her father around to guide her. What a pity, she's so lovely, could have made a good wife for someone someday.
A poorhouse is no place for a baby, young missy. There's charity homes you might take 'er to, churches and the like.
I'm so hungry, I'm not producing enough milk for Rosie, she cries for hours from hunger, she is weak, her strength is fading, she's stopped crying, my child is dying, I must surrender her to save her.
I'm a failure as a mother.
Rumor has it that Lord Blackwood has his eye on you, girly, he's seen you in town, he knew your father.
Write him. Tell him I accept. I'll leave straight away.
Rosie, I'm coming!
***
Lily Monroe's heart was pounding as her carriage came to a halt outside the palatial Blackwood Hall. Situated on the outskirts of London, the estate boasted lavish gardens on all sides, bordered by high, spiked, wrought-iron fences. The facade was fashionable, with ornately carved moulding and stonework, but much of it was painted black or left its natural gray. The somber house seemed at odds with the garden outside, which was well-tended and tidy. She could just picture little Rosie running and shrieking about in the yard, chasing a ball or a hoop, and she would be well-fed, and warmly dressed, and Lily would know forever that her child was cared for. This thought made Lily smile as the coachman opened the door for her and helped her out. As it was now, she could only wonder whether Rosie was happy, and hope and pray that the charity home was taking good care of her.
Marry Blackwood, get Rosie back, were Lily's sole aims in life. Blackwood was such a repugnant man with such a horrendous reputation that after his second wife (rumored to be just as ugly and only half as agreeable as Lord Blackwood) died, there were no eligible women yet left in polite society who would consent to marry him.
Except for Lillian Monroe.
Her straits were dire indeed to ignore the warnings her uncle had given her as she readied to leave his home, but for years the guilt of abandoning her baby on the steps of the church had plagued her, and for years her heart had ached to see Rosie again. But the destitute orphan of impoverished aristocrats had not a cent to her name, and no means to care for her child. Lily could barely even care for herself, and she was now half-starved and sometimes sickly, forcing her into her uncle's care.
The only blessing to arise from her terrible circumstances was a fashionably tiny, seventeen-inch waist. Lily was laced so tight she could hardly breathe, the bones of the corset bruising the bones of her ribs, and as the manservant led her up the stairs, she surreptitiously pinched her cheeks to make her complexion more lively. Her heart was in her throat now as the front door of Blackwood Hall swung open, revealing a spacious, lavish interior that belied the family's long-standing wealth. Lily had to remind herself not to gape, for she was supposed to be a girl of breeding, even if destitute, and she knew it was rude to stare, but from the shining mahogany floors to the high, carved ceilings with colorful frescoes painted at the top of the walls, she had never seen anything so magnificent.
“Lovely, I know,” said a gruff voice from behind, heralding the arrival of a cloud of tobacco smoke and a certain other... odor. So, the rumors were true. Lily steeled herself and thought of Rosie, as she always did when faced with difficulty, and found the strength to plaster on a honeyed simper and turn around to meet, for the first time, her fiance.
He was of a height with Lily, which was remarkable, since Lily was not a tall girl, and he was thrice as wide as she. He bore his teeth at her in what she supposed was meant to be a smile but it was not very merry, nor could she focus on it very well for she was distracted by the appalling state of Lord Blackwood's teeth. Several were missing, and the others were brown and yellow from years of excessive smoking. He reeked of tobacco, was smoking tobacco (making Lily's eyes water and forcing her to suppress her coughs), and when he moved, a smell wafted from his person that made Lily think he had not bathed since the New Year. He was also more than twice her age, with wiry gray hair growing in unruly tufts from the sides of his head, but the dome of his scalp was bald and reflecting the light from the sconces on the wall. He had an unkempt mustache to match his hair. After trying to smile at Lily, Lord Blackwood put his pipe back in his mouth and furrowed his brow at her in appraisal.
Lily was twenty (to Blackwood's fifty), with soft, wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pinned in rosettes at the back of her head with just a few curls framing her face. The years of hardship had given her a delicate, angelic aspect, with wide eyes, pale skin, and a fragile frame. Her last pound had gone to purchasing the frock she wore, which was secondhand and at least two seasons out of fashion, but a pale blue color that enhanced her pallor, and of a cut which flattered her already pleasing figure. She widened her smile and curtsied at Blackwood.
“So thin,” he grumbled, “you look like a bloody scullery maid, but eh, you'll do.” Blackwood waved a hand in a circle, indicating she should turn around. “Hideous frock. My God. You'll change out of that at once. Minnie will help you. Go on change, or you'll spoil my appetite. Then join us for supper.”
Lord Blackwood lumbered off in a cloud of smoke, and a maid of an age with Lily took Lily's hand and led her down the hall to the stairwell. Lily bit back a retort that perhaps Lord Blackwood's appetite could use spoiling on occasion, judging by his size, but she needed Blackwood to like her so she kept it to herself.
As she followed Minnie up the stairs, Lily locked eyes with the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, whose face was so devastating and his body so slender and strong that her knees felt weak and she had to lean on the banister for a second. He was tall and very sharply dressed, with arresting blue eyes and tidy auburn hair.
It was easy to recover her wits, however, when the gorgeous man scowled at her in open disgust at her waifish appearance, then turned to Minnie and graced her with a devilish grin and a squeeze on the bustle, before sauntering off down the stairs and to the dining room.
“The young Mr. Blackwood, I assume,” Lily grumbled.
“Yes, ma'am,” Minnie said, blushing and breathless.