17. Chapter 17-Bradford #2
“I was going to wait until you went to visit your estate in Whitehaven after Easter.” Her eyes were wide and guileless. “Mrs. Clark would welcome me in if you hadn’t warned against it.”
Bradford exhaled an incredulous snort and shook his head. This was the danger of having the lady under his roof for four months. She knew him well enough to know when he’d be absent. And she was right—Mrs. Clark wouldn’t dare deny entrance to any upper nobility.
Bradford wasn’t sure if it was that fact that bothered him so, or the fact that Lily had planned upon marrying so well—to someone far above even his own station.
Like a great many other thoughts he’d had in Miss Preston’s presence, he locked it away for future contemplation, at a more convenient time.
Never would suffice.
“Out of curiosity, what were you planning on telling Rebecca?”
“The truth, more or less.”
“I’m guessing it would have been less more and more less,” he quipped.
She chuckled. “I figured that I had time to craft a story that would have explained my absence without causing her more pain.”
“One Season is not such a great amount of time.”
“There’s no guarantee that I’ll receive an offer this year.”
He arched a brow and teased, “Are we perhaps spending time in different parlors?”
“You know as well as I do that just because gentlemen visit doesn’t mean they’ll want me as a wife. Some of them are probably not that serious. My sisters and I often do the same sort of window shopping on Bond Street.”
“You’re afraid the gentlemen are just there to look, not to purchase.”
“In a matter of speaking, yes.”
Bradford thought the dusting of pink along her cheekbones only served to highlight her nearly scandalous level of beauty. “Your modesty is admirable. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d suspect it was a charming affectation.”
“Truthfully, I thought this whole thing would be simpler.” There was a hint of a frown on her features as she scanned the room.
“How so?”
“I assumed I would have fewer visitors, for one thing.”
Bradford dearly wished to roll his eyes but caught himself just in time. “You and your sisters are pretty, smart, and rumored to be in possession of large marriage settlements.”
“That’s what makes things complicated. How on earth is one supposed to get to know anyone when the sheer numbers prevent all but the most shallow conversation? I might know that Lord Derond prefers a chestnut to any other horse, but how am I to make a lifelong decision upon that?”
Bradford shook his head, pressing his lips together. She was so very earnest in her question that he found unexpected humor in it.
“And furthermore,” she continued, “how is one supposed to know which gentleman is serious? Perhaps I’m wasting time thinking of Lord Derond and his horse preference.”
“There you and I agree,” he said swiftly.
“Do be serious.”
He sighed. “I hardly think it’s sporting for one gentleman to give courting advice in general.”
“Are you truly courting me?”
The question threatened to jar his concentration; it was with great difficulty that he kept the steps of the dance.
“I’ve told you several times now, Lily,” he said, careful to keep his voice light. “I’m here for you.”
He steered her away from Lord Anderson and his partner. Anderson kept making swooping circles that were far too wide for the crowded nature of the dancefloor.
“If that’s true, I’d hear your advice,” she said.
“Do you genuinely not have any preference?”
Lily appeared to be deep in thought for several moments before saying, “I know who I don’t want to marry.
There are several of those. But the others?
I don’t know them at all. I find it perverse—that we ladies aren’t allowed to ask the questions that might matter ten years into a marriage.
And even if I did get up the courage to ask those questions, any gentleman who wished to make a good impression would just lie. ”
“What would you ask them, if convention allowed it?”
“I want to know if they’re cross with their servants in the morning or after a long day’s travel.
I want to know if any of them have ever kicked their hound or pressed their horse too hard.
I want to know if they truly like children and wish to raise them, or if they just want to pass along their title. ”
“Excellent questions, all.”
“Yes, but as previously stated, I’m not allowed to ask.”
“Don’t you think that some of these things would become apparent deeper into a courtship?”
“Perhaps, but how am I to achieve that? They must be the ones to deepen the relationship.”
“I suppose you could encourage a couple of them.” There was a twisting in his midsection as if he’d just plunged in a dull knife.
He guided them in a different direction, as Lord Anderson was encroaching once more.
“How?” she asked.
“A smile would be enough,” he grumbled.
“I doubt that, but it hardly matters when I don’t know if I even want to encourage any of them.”
Suddenly the ball looked very cheerful to Bradford, indeed. Even with Anderson dancing with all the skill of a bee-stung bull.
“Are you certain you wish to be married?” he asked.
“Of course!” Lily sounded vaguely offended.
“Then I truly don’t know what to tell you. Most ladies would pick the one with the best title and the most money and bat their eyelashes at him until he got the message.”
Lily peered at him through slightly narrowed eyes as if remembering their previous conversation about marrying for an esteemed title.
He grinned down at her. “I’m sure you could become a marchioness or even a duchess if you put your mind to it.” He pretended to scan the ballroom. “Where’s Ettrick? You’ve already been introduced to him—ouch.” His mouth dropped open and his eyes twinkled. “Did you truly just pinch my shoulder?”
Her cheeks were far pinker than the exertion of the dance justified. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t mind.” He grinned. “Actually, if you’re uncertain how to encourage a fellow, just pinch him during a waltz.”
She shook her head, her blush increasing. “Forgive me for blathering on. You certainly don’t wish to hear my every aimless thought.”
“On the contrary, I like hearing anything you wish to tell me. It’s only natural for you to speak freely to me. We’re already in one another’s confidence.”
“Indeed. You know my secret.” She nodded, and to him it looked like penance. Then she peered up at him. “And you’ve repeatedly assured me you aren’t going to expose the truth of it to anyone.”
“Someone told me that it would ruin your sisters’ chances, and I quite like Margaret and Beatrice. They’re protective of you, and that endears them to me immensely.”
She smiled, and the tip of her nose dipped in that adorable way it did when she was truly amused. “My sisters are all a force. You’re just lucky that Claire seems to be otherwise occupied.”
He arched a brow. “As if anyone could convince me that you’re not the true force in your family, that any other Preston sister is more dangerous.”
At least when it came to personal danger, no one would ever present the same risk as Lily, not to him.
Bradford batted the truth away. Lately, however, pesky truths were flying at him too quickly for him to prevent them from landing. It was as if he’d stumbled down into a wet gorge in the springtime, where the mosquitos were chokingly thick in the air.
“I never meant to pose any danger. Not to you, and certainly not to Rebecca,” she said earnestly.
“If I didn’t believe that, Lily, I wouldn’t have spoken to you at all. I would have done what I threatened to do at the outset—called a magistrate and had you arrested.”
“Arrested?” a different voice said—it was Lord Anderson, leaning too close. “What’s this about being arrested?”
“I was saying that I’ll have you arrested if you encroach upon our space one more time,” he said coolly. “Dancing so poorly in a London ballroom ought to be a crime.”
Lord Anderson huffed and turned his partner away so quickly that the poor young lady nearly tripped.
“Point proven,” Bradford grumbled.
“Poor Miss Stephens,” Lily said. By the compassion in her tone, Bradford thought she actually meant the charitable sentiment.
“Perhaps if she were more selective with her dance partners, such awkwardness could be avoided.”
“You have no idea how difficult it is to turn a gentleman down once he’s asked—why, I’ve only barely managed to do it when my card was already completely filled.”
“No doubt that explains why you agreed to dance with me that first evening.”
“Well, yes,” Lily laughed.
“You looked positively terrified.”
“That’s because I was! And I still couldn’t tell you no.”
He frowned as an unwelcome thought intruded. “And has it been the same, every subsequent dance?”
She gave a sly smile. “Only the first four, Lord Hayes.”
He groaned. “I wish you would call me by my first name.”
“I usually do, but it’s a well-ingrained habit to call you Lord Hayes. When I call you anything else, I fear that Mrs. Clark will suddenly appear and click her keys at me.”
“What?” He grinned.
“It’s what she does when one of the staff displeases her. When she’s angry, she reaches into her pocket and fiddles with her keys.”
“You’re too perceptive for your own good.”
Even while dancing, she managed a graceful little shrug. “People are always inadvertently telling you things they don’t really want you to know. It’s only that most people don’t know how to notice them properly.”
Bradford was seized by two strong ideas all at once. The first was to gather Lily to his chest and spirit her from the dance floor before the investigator Mr. Thornton caught wind of what an asset she could be to his business.
The second was a much more alarming notion—what had he accidentally told Lily Preston that he didn’t yet want her to know?