Free No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 by Katherine Kingsley

that goes on around here,” Mr. Smith said, warming to his tale. “You watch your step, my boy, or you’ll be out the door.”
    “No hope of that, I’m afraid,” Pascal said with a wry smile.
    “You don’t think so? Look at what happened to poor Mary McCofferty, here for twenty-two years and out the door this morning, bags packed and crying her eyes out.”
    Pascal’s head snapped around and he looked hard at the gardener. “Mary McCofferty?”
    “That’s right, Lady Lily’s nurse, and a dear-hearted soul. Gone to her sister’s on the public coach, George—he’s one of the footmen—told me. Now who does Lady Lily have to comfort her? No one. It’s all something to do with that monk and the man who came with him last night. No one knows what happened, but you can depend on one thing—that priest had something to do with it.”
    “Not really,” Pascal said. “He may have pushed his grace in the direction he wanted him to go, but Father Mallet didn’t actually say very much.”
    “How do you know that?” Albert Smith asked eagerly. “Did you hear something about it, then?”
    “Every word. Lady Elizabeth is to be married.”
    “Go on!” the gardener said, and it was his turn to look astonished. “How do you know that?”
    “Because she’s to be married to me.”
    Albert Smith dropped his trowel.

5
    Lily shifted on her sore, bruised knees and shivered in the dreadful damp of the chapel. She was amazed she hadn’t caught her death, although she almost wished she had, for after seven nightmarish days and nights she’d decided that she really might prefer oblivion to any more of this punishment.
    She’d said every penance known to God or man, she’d said confession every single day, she hadn’t once complained of her sore back and aching legs, nor of the pain in her empty stomach. She’d said nothing of her night terrors, of the times she’d been so frightened that she’d pounded on the locked door, pleading to be let out, knowing there was no one there to hear.
    She’d listened to Father Mallet drone on and on about humility and piety and obedience, her head bowed, her hands clasped together. Lily thought she’d behaved like a saint, but it had made no difference. She was still to be locked away in the chapel.
    She heard the key turn in the chapel door, and she quickly bowed her head, knowing that it was Father Mallet by the rustle of his cassock and the thin voice behind her.
    “Stand up, Elizabeth.”
    She obeyed, nearly stumbling, for her legs had gone numb. “Good afternoon, Father.”
    He looked at her pale face with satisfaction. “I can see that your penance is doing some good. Now, this afternoon I have a very important matter to discuss with you. Sit down.”
    She sat.
    “I have just come from your father. He wishes me to inform you that you shall be married on Sunday.”
    Three more days, Lily thought with a rush of relief. Three more days, and she would be freed from this prison. An image of the wretch flashed into her mind, but she instantly dismissed it. After she had had time to regain her senses, she realized that her father was trying to frighten her. He would never, ever marry her to a person of no consequence—and certainly not to a lowly gardener. The idea was ludicrous, and she was embarrassed that she had let them see her fear.
    “Are you attending me, Elizabeth?”
    “Yes, Father,” she said obediently.
    “Very good. Then it is—hahum. It is time to instruct you in your marital duties. Your husband will expect certain, hahum … certain things from you, which you are obliged in the eyes of God to offer him.”
    Lily felt the heat creep into her cheeks as she realized what he was about to say. “I am sure that Coffey will tell me everything when the time comes. But thank you for your concern,” she added for good measure.
    Father Mallet looked down his long beaked nose at her. “Miss McCofferty is no longer at Sutherby,” he said with a satisfied