13. Chapter 13-Lily #3
The servants only spoke of her diligence and that she’d given out baskets to the poor every Christmastime.
Lily had always thought that an interesting point—such things were expected of every lady of a manor toward the individuals nearby.
Christmas giving was the bare minimum, so the fact that nothing more was ever said made Lily wonder what sort of woman had given birth to Rebecca and died a fortnight later.
With great effort, Lily wrenched her attention back to the gentlemen she was meant to be conversing with. Thankfully, the men in front of her hadn’t noticed her distraction. They were trouser-deep in a debate about Spanish horses versus Prussian.
Nearly half an hour later, there was another shift in the grouping. Several men took their leave—Lily was grateful when the dark-haired man left, especially—and those who had not yet had the opportunity of a chair took them. Somehow, Lord Hayes sat just at her right on the sofa.
“Like you,” Lord Jenkins was saying, “I come from a very large family. Do you expect to have many children, Miss Preston?”
She smiled politely, even though half her attention was centered on the knee of Lord Hayes’s navy trousers as it edged ever closer to her skirts. “As many as my husband and I wish for, Lord Jenkins.”
He frowned and leaned forward. “And how many do you think that might be?”
Bradford said, “I have it on excellent authority that Lily is wonderful with children. Exceedingly patient, as long as they don’t fling sauced apples onto her dress.”
Lily’s eyebrows flew upward.
“What a charming anecdote,” Lord Platt said, smiling. “Was this a niece of yours?”
She smiled, though she longed to point out that none of her siblings were yet married. “A family friend. I do enjoy children, and I hope to have several someday.”
Lord Jenkins frowned as if her answer lacked the specificity he desired and therefore was unacceptable.
“I only have two siblings, and Mother always claimed we drove her to distraction,” Lord Platt said with a smile. “I can’t imagine a household with eight.”
“There were actually ten of us. My two brothers and us eight girls.”
“Heavens, what a household!” Platt chuckled kindly.
“It was never boring, that’s for certain.”
“With eight females to care for, it’s no wonder your brother was ruined,” Jenkins muttered.
Perhaps the comment had been meant to be too low for anyone to hear, but if so, he’d failed. Lily felt the smile freeze on her face. She blinked, even as the rest of her guests looked uncertainly to one another.
On her right, Bradford leaned forward into her field of vision. His face was stark with anger, the lines on his forehead deepened, his mouth a slash of fury. Lily was surprised to find him all the more attractive for it, because his expression was in defense of her.
Lord Jenkins glanced up and frowned, as if only just realizing his joke had landed poorly. “I only meant?—”
“Leave,” Bradford snapped, his eyes flashing. “Now.”
“It’s fine,” Lily said, instinctively trying to smooth out the social wrinkle, even though it was very clearly not fine.
Near the archway, she saw one of the large footmen subtly incline his head in their direction. Soon they had the attention of all three along that wall, and most likely the three standing at the wall behind her, too.
Lord Jenkins opened his mouth—to apologize, to argue, Lily would never know, for Bradford fairly growled at the man, “Leave or I’ll throw you out myself.”
The man stuttered to his feet, his eyes wide like he was the one offended, as if he hadn’t insulted the entire household and embarrassed Lily, besides.
Lily suddenly questioned why she should feel embarrassed at all. It wasn’t her fault her brother had been incapable of managing his funds.
On a whim, she steeled her spine and said, “You’re right, Lord Jenkins.
My eldest brother did go bankrupt. It’s hardly a secret, though none of us care to discuss it.
The measure of a man is how well he cares for his family, though it’s a gentleman’s instinct to protect and not harm that I value, far more than his means.
I can clearly see that, much like my late brother, you lack that instinct. ”
She nodded toward the footman at the archway; he frowned and stepped forward.
Lord Jenkins glanced over his shoulder to see whose attention she sought. “I hardly think the footman will be necessary,” he huffed.
Lily smiled sweetly. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Lord Jenkins turned and fairly stomped from the room. Lily shared a glance with Bradford. What she saw lit a flickering flame within her—he was staring at her with unbridled admiration. She tore her gaze from his before the moment could last long enough to draw attention.
She turned to the remaining gentlemen. “Forgive me. With the unreproachable quality of the remainder of my guests, I’m certain that awkwardness won’t be repeated.”
Several of the men sat straighter at her praise.
Lily looked around the grouping and gave them her very best smile. “Now, I fear I’m about to be quite controversial, but I must declare that I thought the horses in Paris to be just as high a quality as any we have here.”
There was a collective groan amongst several of the gentlemen, and one of them said, “Please don’t get Lord Porter started on the Auvergnes! We’ll be here till midnight.”
“Now that you mention it…” Lord Porter said, leaning forward eagerly.
Lily laughed.