13. Chapter 13-Lily
Lord Hayes wasn’t the first to arrive the following day. Instead it was Lord Bennett and Lord Wright who occupied the two closest spots, and others soon followed. But there was no Bradford.
For some reason, this vexed Lily. She told herself that it was because she might not have the opportunity to question him more about his purpose in coming to London. They couldn’t possibly discuss what they needed to when there were others present.
But as the first hour of polite talk passed, Lily grew internally despondent, even while maintaining her kind smile. It was possible Bradford had simply left—gone back to Ballam Hall without answering any of her questions, or her having answered any of his.
Perhaps she’d never have the opportunity to regain his trust. Perhaps Bradford had come to London on business, and frightening Lily was only a passing amusement that was easily forgotten.
And why shouldn’t the man take some small sort of revenge upon her in that way?
She had lied to him, infiltrated his household, cared for his daughter.
A deep pang resounded through her chest, much like the echoing reverberation of a gong—just like every time she thought of Rebecca. Now she’d probably never see the girl again. Nor would she ever see Bradford.
Lily frowned, but only because it had taken all her self-control not to let her chin wobble.
“Not to say that I don’t enjoy other pastimes,” Lord Lawrence hurried to add, searching her features carefully. “It’s simply that reading history is so very edifying.”
Lily relocated her thoughts to the conversation at hand. “Indeed. Forgive me, I was just trying to remember a story from history that my brother recounted the other day, but I’m having difficulty remembering the name. Perhaps you might help me?”
“Oh, of course!” Lord Lawrence sat up straight, his eyes intent and his smile wide. He looked as if he’d been waiting his entire life for a young lady to request his assistance with historical facts.
He was blond with thinning hair, which he valiantly tried to hide with a clever application of comb and pomade. His features weren’t unpleasant, but he was rather round in the middle.
Lily had known within a quarter hour of meeting him that she’d not wed him, but she quite liked the man.
Not as a suitor, but as a friend. He was enthusiastic and had allowed the other gentlemen within the group to speak first, as if he didn’t think too highly of himself.
She wished courting was as simple as sorting chess pieces into piles—if only Lily could separate the gentlemen who visited her into prospective husbands and friends, without bruised ego and hurt feelings being a factor.
“It was about a great battle, you see.” She leaned forward and nodded earnestly. “I think it was a very famous one. There was a general and some soldiers…” She trailed off expectantly, her eyebrows raised.
“Why, it sounds just like the battle of Waterloo!” Lord Lawrence exclaimed with a grin.
“Waterloo. That’s it, precisely.” Lily smiled. “How clever of you to remember. I enjoy historical events, but I confess I struggle to remember their names and the dates they occurred.”
Lord Lawrence plowed into telling the entire story of Waterloo. Granted, he made the topic very interesting—it took no effort at all on Lily’s part to nod at all the best parts.
“How wonderful,” she said firmly, once he’d finished.
She felt a bit bad for the fellow and wanted to cheer him. He’d looked around the grouping right at the end with an open, hopeful expression, as if he’d fully expected everyone else to be as engaged as he was. Lord Wright had taken that inopportune time to yawn widely behind his hand.
The other men were either scanning the room—possibly to see which other Preston lady they found attractive, as there was quite the crowd of competitors around Lily—or frowning directly at Lord Lawrence, trying to signal him to shut his history-loving mouth in order that they might speak to Lily themselves.
“Quite a wonderful story, indeed,” a voice from the rear of the grouping agreed.
Lily started, even as her eyes met Bradford’s. He was there. He’d come.
If manners didn’t dictate that a young lady should never make it too obvious that she was delighted more with one suitor’s presence than another, she very well might have grinned at him.
As it was, she managed to hide her surfeit of happiness by resettling her skirts and folding her hands demurely in her lap.
Her reaction surprised and confused her. Only yesterday she’d been frightened that he would appear. Today, she’d been frightened and quite convinced that he wouldn’t. It cheered her that he was in attendance—apparently he’d simply arrived so late he’d been shunted to the rear of the group.
Lily pressed her lips together in consternation, only realizing at that precise moment how many gentlemen truly surrounded her.
There were at least ten of them, and as there were only four chairs in proximity to her, several of the gentlemen stood behind her sofa.
Others stood behind those who were seated.
A chill ran down her back and she clenched her fingers together when that sudden, irrational fear took hold.
It happened to her sometimes, when she felt very closed in.
Usually the sight of a window or an open door soothed her.
She lifted her eyes and looked for one now, but all she could see were the waistcoats of the gentlemen ringed around her.
The sudden, irrational urge to stand and flee gripped her in sharp talons.
The archway is still there, Lily told herself, even as her breathing tightened in her chest. And this room has a great many large windows. You could get out if you needed to.
Dear heavens, one of the gentlemen was speaking to her, and she’d be expected to respond any moment now or be thought unforgivably rude.
What was he saying?
But her slightly panicked eyes rose to search for the exit again, and instead met Bradford’s gaze. He studied her for half a second, then frowned.
“Don’t you think, Miss Preston?” a voice to her left said.
“Everyone, step back,” Lord Hayes fairly barked, interrupting the man. “We’re far too close. We’re nearly smothering the lady. And those of you who’ve been in attendance for more than an hour should clear out. If you haven’t found the opportunity to speak to her yet, try again tomorrow.”
Bradford was being unforgivably rude by most social standards, yet Lily was so thankful when some of the other men complied that she could have cried. The men at her back stepped away, and two of the gentlemen sitting in chairs stood, said their polite goodbyes, and left.
Others took their place, and through the shuffle, Lily could see the archway clearly once more, along with one of the windows. The relief lasted but a moment, as one of the gentlemen made to move a chair into their arrangement, effectively sealing off the only break in their grouping.
“Good heavens, sir,” Bradford groused good-naturedly from where he now stood behind Lily. “How’s the maid going to replenish the tea tray without ending up in a gentleman’s lap? Sit over there.”
The young lord followed his instruction, and Lily took another full breath, shooting a momentary, grateful glance over her shoulder.
“I say, Hayes, I never knew you were such a stickler for decorum and seating arrangements,” the man next to him murmured in a teasing tone.
Lily supposed she wasn’t meant to overhear their conversation, especially since there was another taking place at her front that she was expected to participate in.
“I’ve always been a fan of order,” Hayes admitted easily in a low voice. “Especially when that order increases comfort and efficiency.”
“I like horses very much,” Lily said to Lord Bennett, when it came time to do so. “Such marvelous, beautiful creatures. My brother adores his Percheron, but I know some prefer a chestnut. What do you think, Lord Hearston?”
The nearby gentlemen quickly digressed into a conversation that surrounded Lily more than it actually involved her.
Lily smiled—William had been correct when he said the fastest way to distract most men was to ask their preference regarding horses.
It was not only a topic they all could participate in, it was one that would be helpful in sussing out who was more interested in showmanship than in the care of the animals themselves.
William had given Lily several such conversational ideas to help distract anyone who brushed too close to the truth of her own potential scandal.
It didn’t escape her sense of irony that the gentleman standing to the rear of her could expose her with a single careless sentence.
And yet, one thing she knew about Lord Hayes was that he wasn’t the least bit careless.
“How is your daughter, Hayes?” the man next to him asked.
Lily wished she’d paid better attention to remembering his name, for he obviously had some degree of personal connection to her former employer.
“Very well, thank you,” he said. Then, as if Hayes knew that she was carefully eavesdropping, he added, “She’s at home with her governess. I had a dastardly time retaining a good one.”
Lily resisted the urge to stiffen.
The man chuckled. “That must be blamed on your location, for governesses are thick on the ground here in town.”
“Ah, but that’s the catch. One cannot hire just anyone. Who knows what they might be hiding?”
It was decided. Bradford absolutely knew Lily was listening. Not that she would stop, now that she’d started. Not that she could.
“Good heavens, Bradford. You sound as if one of them made off with the silver.”
Lily couldn’t help it—her shoulders tensed. This was it—one of the moments where he could destroy her reputation.
“Nothing quite as tangible as that, but just as precious, I’d wager.”
What on earth did that mean?
“Pardon?” the other gentleman thankfully asked. “What did the thief take?”