11. Chapter 11- Lily #3
Bradford looked infinitely amused. “What’s the other thing?”
“You must stop calling me by my given name.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” Bradford frowned at his empty teacup, set it upon the tray, then frowned at Lily’s.
He filled them both. As she watched, he deftly poured a heavy dollop of cream and one pressed sugar flower into her cup, stirring it well before handing it to her on a saucer. She took it dumbly.
Lily was transfixed. She wasn’t sure what was more shocking to her—that Lord Hayes knew precisely how she took her tea, or the sight of those large masculine hands performing such a domestic task so skillfully.
“Why must I stop using your first name?” he repeated gently, when it was clear she’d gone mute.
Her eyes flew to his. She was surprised to find him smiling at her again—one of his rare real smiles. She felt that she was collecting them, one by one. He’d never smiled at her in her months as governess, and now he’d given her five smiles in only two meetings.
“Because,” she said lamely, studying the flecks of deep gold hidden within the brown of his eyes. They were partly amber, she was shocked to realize.
“Because why?” he asked patiently.
It was one of the things she’d always respected about him—his patience. As his daughter’s governess, Lily had ample chances to see him display rash anger or impulsive, casual cruelty. He never had, not once.
Not when Rebecca had dumped not one but two cups of tea down his front while he was holding her.
Not when the dogs had muddied the kitchen garden and romped through the main hall with mud caked to their haunches.
Not when the laundress had turned all his whites a little grey because she hadn’t seen the new black handkerchief in the wash…
“Why, Lily? Why must I stop using your first name?” His tone was deeper, darker than it had been a moment before. It was rich like chocolate, and it jarred her attention back to their conversation. She realized she’d been staring at him like an imbecile. Again.
Heavens, she hoped he’d been too busy doctoring his own tea to notice.
She cleared her throat and soldiered onward. “Because other gentlemen will think we have some sort of a relationship.”
“Don’t we?” He cocked his head.
“Well, yes, but?—”
“Of all the gentlemen who’ve paraded through your front door so far, of all the ones who undoubtedly will,” he said, sounding a bit disgruntled.
Some small part of Lily was pleased at his tone, but she shoved that odd emotion down and did her best to focus as he said, “You know me far better than any of them, and I certainly know you better than they do. Isn’t that true? ”
“Well, yes, but?—”
“Do not forget that we shared a dinner table together every night for months. And though I uncharitably suspected as much when I first discovered your duplicity, I don’t believe you’re a liar at heart. Are you, Lily?”
“No,” she said.
It had been the worst part of all of it—lying to him.
Lying to Rebecca was easy. She was a young child—even if Lily had told her the truth, it wouldn’t have mattered to her.
Lying to the other staff was a bit more difficult, especially when Lily thought of how she’d taken the position from someone who needed it.
Until she remembered that she and her sisters were in dire straits, indeed.
But lying to Lord Hayes had been torment.
“I didn’t like lying,” she murmured, her eyes scanning the room to make sure no one was watching or listening.
They were all too far away, too engrossed in the business of courting to note the serious conversation taking place between her and Bradford.
“I did it as little as possible. I only lied about my name.”
“Which is why I feel comfortable calling you by your given name and I insist you do the same. We’re very close to friends, if not friends already.”
That statement was too much to comprehend at the moment, so Lily chose to ignore it.
“But why are you here?” she asked, a tinge of desperation in her voice.
“I told you Lily, I came here for you. And though we are something like friends, rebuilding the trust between us will certainly take time.”
Lily frowned. She was surprised that Bradford would take any amount of time away from Rebecca for such an endeavor, even more surprised that it sounded as if he intended to remain in London for the foreseeable future.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I suppose I don’t understand what you hope to gain from being here,” she said honestly.
“Wouldn’t you be curious, if you found out you’d been lied to for months, that the person helping to raise your daughter wasn’t at all who they’d led you to believe?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Though I don’t understand why you thought it worth it to travel all the way to London to speak with me if you don’t want restitution of some sort.”
“I do seek restitution.”
Her forehead creased; she opened her mouth to ask, even as her mind worked at formulating the question.
“Lord Watson and Mr. Ross to see Miss Lily Preston,” the butler intoned from the doorway.
Bradford abruptly stood. “I must take my leave or I might start kicking other gentlemen in the shins. It would be very undignified. You understand.”
Even as she nodded, Lily wanted to shriek, No, I don’t understand at all!
“We’ll discuss this further tomorrow.” He bowed and left.
Lily stared at Bradford until he disappeared through the archway, then tried to smooth her expression for the gentlemen it was her duty to greet.
Dear Winifred,
Besides Claire and William, you are the only one who knows my secret, and I fear that neither Claire nor William is best suited to being my confidante.
You see, Lord Hayes has found me. Here, in London.
I don’t know what to think. While he assures me that he means neither me or my sisters any harm, I’m sure that you can appreciate the depths of my fear.
If my transgressions would only affect me, I wouldn’t be nearly as frightened, but you know as well as I do what my exposure would mean, for all of us.
I would never forgive myself if all of William’s efforts were for naught, if none of our sisters found good matches because of a foolhardy decision I made.
And even while I am scared of what might happen, I feel some relief, too.
It is as if two halves of my person were joined at the seams the night Lord Hayes approached me at the ball.
Claire and William have worked so hard not to speak of what I did, of what happened, that part of me believed it never had happened.
But that part of my life is just as real and important to me as any other.
More, for I fell in love—not just with dear little Rebecca, but also the wilds of that northern country.
It’s true that it’s cold and rugged and remote, but it possesses a wild kind of enchantment.
Only people and buildings who can weather hardship can survive there.
There is a stalwart kind of beauty in that, don’t you think?
Something far more sturdy and sound than any of our pristine parks in town, that’s for certain.
I miss it. I miss her. And heaven help me, I’ve missed him, too.
Sincerely,
Your sister, Lily
Lily reread the letter and found it far too revealing.
She lay it flat like an offering upon the coals of her grate and watched her honest emotions curl and smoke into nothing.
Then she turned back to her writing desk to try again, to write another letter to her sister in Paris, one with no mention of Lord Hayes at all.