24. Chapter 24-Bradford
When Bradford reached their regular meeting spot the next morning, Lily was already waiting for him.
She’d never beat him to the park before, and he felt a lurch of fear in his midsection that she was about to ask him to leave London and never return.
There was another, more distant, possibility, of course—that she’d come to confess her love for him.
Then he would have to tell her the truth.
He hardly knew which outcome he feared more.
But when Lily greeted him, it was with a comfortable smile and the customary question of how he’d passed the previous evening.
He hardly thought it wise to tell her he’d paced and wrestled with the two halves of himself—one half insisted he was a fool to think Lily could feel anything tender toward him; the other half was a love-sick sap who could put up little defense, save for the intensity of his feelings.
They walked toward the pond, as they always did. As they spoke, Bradford took a deep breath and relaxed. Things were the same as always between them, too normal for her to have made up her mind yet.
That was fine, Bradford told himself. He had promised her as much time as she needed; he could be patient.
He wasn’t certain he was quite ready for that monumental conversation, either.
It wouldn’t be only joy or sorrow—if she accepted him, he’d have to confess; if she denied him, he’d be spared that terrible explanation.
Lily wrinkled her nose and dodged a splotch of goose dung on the path.
Bradford had the sudden, wild impulse to take the lady in his arms and kiss her senseless.
It wasn’t a strange desire—as of late, he’d had to push the thought back a dozen times a day.
He settled for clasping his hands behind his back and pressing his lips firmly together instead.
When they reached the pond, Lily said, “You have asked me many questions, and I feel it is my turn to ask you several.”
She gave a gentle smile to the duck who’d waded hopefully forward and studied her—probably wondering if she had breadcrumbs in her pockets. That was the difference between him and Lily, Bradford thought. She smiled at the duck while he was determined to punt the thing if it charged her.
“Very well. Do your worst,” he said.
She meandered forward and the duck waddled away. “We never speak of your late wife. I’ve been giving the subject much thought, and I daresay I know why.”
Of all the things he thought she might ask, this was the last. But he should have known better; he should have prepared himself. It was only natural she would be curious about the late Lady Hayes.
Lily’s eyes roved over his face. He wondered what expression he wore. Hers was nothing but compassion when she said, “I think you loved her, very much. And it pains you to speak of her.”
You’re only half right, he wanted to say. But how could he admit as much? How could he disabuse her of such romantic notions?
Lily seemed to read the silence that followed as his assent. She nodded sadly. “I can only imagine how painful your parting must have been.”
Before he could catch himself, Bradford shook his head. She couldn’t possibly imagine. In that moment, he felt he could never bring himself to tell her. And if that were the case, what on earth was he doing here? Or in London at all, for that matter? The thought shook him so badly he froze.
Lily kept walking for several steps before turning back to him and saying, “That’s quite all right. We need not speak of her now. Truthfully, I didn’t intend to start my questions with the most difficult of them all. I have many others.”
“Oh?” To his own ears, his voice was hoarse, guttural.
“Of course.” She smiled up at him, her voice playful when she said, “Our relationship has been built upon honesty, after all.”
Bradford knew she was teasing him about the many questions he’d asked her and the vow she’d made when he first came to London, to only tell him the truth.
Yet her assertion that their friendship had been built upon honesty was absolutely false.
Bradford knew her full history; Lily had answered every trifling question about her upbringing and childhood.
Though he had no doubt she’d been fully honest with him, he had never come close to returning the favor.
He knew her, but she didn’t know him. His own duplicity stunned him, soured his stomach.
Lily didn’t seem to notice. She smiled, reached up, and touched the tip of her gloved finger to his nose.
On any other day, such an act of intimacy would have delighted him.
Even now, it threatened to break through his sudden consternation—a glint of sunlight peeking through the roiling stormclouds.
“I’ve always wanted to know how you broke your nose. Was it a folly of your youth?”
“You might say that,” he finally said through gritted teeth.
It was as near to the truth as he could manage. If Lily’s imaginings of his late wife were the warning thunder, then her question of his nose was like the arrival of the freezing sleet that soaked through his coat.
Any hope of getting out from beneath the clouds slipped away. The best he could do was to weather it and not invite Lily to join him in the storm.
Lily finally seemed to realize that something was amiss. She studied him for several moments, then said, “I hope you’re not self-conscious about it. I think it’s an endearing imperfection that adds to the handsomeness of your face. But if I’ve embarrassed you, I apologize.”
“Not at all,” he said stiffly.
“It just occurs to me that’s the first apology I remember offering you. Perhaps I’ve never apologized about lying to you about who I was, but I am sorry.”
Bradford stared down at her. “What, precisely, are you sorry for?”
How very like Lily, to think that she was the source of his discomfort.
It struck Bradford that, if he succeeded in wooing her, Lily might do that for the rest of his life.
If he were unable to tell her the truth of the matter, then every time he sank into that periodic, inevitable despondency, she would feel responsible.
She would feel the need to stoop and join him in his melancholy, in order to try to lift him from it.
Lily shook her head again, those beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears. “I’ve tried desperately to be sorry for all of it, but I can’t quite manage it.”
“Whyever not?” he said, barely paying attention to their words any longer. All he heard was the howling of the wind, the warmth of the blood on his face, the taste of iron in his mouth…
“Because of Rebecca. Because of…” Lily trailed off, biting her lower lip and looking across the water again.
Bradford had to focus very hard on not reaching up and releasing that trapped lip from the bite of her teeth and demanding she finish her sentence. He loved her. And he was realizing too late that it was too much to ask of her to love him back.
Lily was all that was fresh and lovely and beautiful. She was a perfect spring day come to life. She had the entirety of glittering London spread at her delicate little feet. When it came time for her to choose a husband, all she had to do was reach out that slender hand and pick the finest one.
She certainly shouldn’t pick a gruff widower who’d glowered at her far more than he’d ever smiled, who’d threatened her with arrest and caused her to flee on foot across the countryside like a vagabond. Who hadn’t been honest with her from the start.
She finally turned to him and all but gasped, “Because of you.”
Lily looked up at him with such raw hope in her eyes that Bradford nearly staggered back.
And if she had gazed up at him in such a way in any other moment during the rest of their acquaintance, he hardly knew what he would have done. Kissed her, probably. Or more appropriately, dropped to one knee then and there—damp gravel and goose droppings be damned—and beg for her hand.
But Bradford had just glimpsed his own foul nature. The reek of his actions and subconscious intentions still filled his nostrils. The roll of thunder echoed down through the years, taunting him.
Lily continued, “I can hardly pay attention to any other gentleman when you are in the room. How could I? At first, it was because I was terrified that you would reveal my secret. I told myself that was the reason I couldn’t focus on anyone else, long after you’d promised not to tell anyone.”
Lily had never been quite this honest. Bradford hadn’t known that she’d been frightened of him long past when he’d assured her that he wouldn’t tell anyone her secret. It stabbed at his sense of decency, his sense of honor.
Besides, Lily was just confirming what the detestable Lord Rigsby had accused—that Bradford was a distraction from the suitors who’d come to her parlor with pure intentions.
She smiled and said, “I suppose there is one way to guarantee your silence on the matter forever.”
Though her tone was teasing, Bradford jolted at the implication that her affection was a requirement for his silence. Had he unintentionally coerced Lily into a friendship? Into having romantic feelings for him?
Bile rose in the back of his throat; he fought the sudden urge to gag.
In retrospect, why would Lily believe him when he’d said her secret was safe with him? Heaven help him, he’d set hounds after her!
The only reason she’d welcomed Bradford into her parlor was out of subconscious fear of what he might do to her and her sisters’ chances.
And at the beginning he’d allowed her to have that thought, encouraged it, even.
Because he didn’t want to leave her. Because now that he’d found her, the real her, he was loath to ever let her go. But that simply wasn’t fair.
Bradford would have to release her, once and for all, from the unspoken threat of what he might do with her secret. Anything else was courtship under duress, which was precisely what he’d been doing.
He nearly retched at the realization, at the true glimpse of his own twisted reasoning. Had he thought he’d matured these past seven years? Surely he still had much to learn, if he was willing to keep Lily under his thumb in such a way. His stomach rolled in disgust.
Lily opened her mouth to continue, but Bradford held up a hand. He had to stop her. He saw the words in her eyes, and he didn’t trust himself to do the right thing if she actually uttered them aloud. He couldn’t bear to hear any more, not when his resolve was already frayed and delicate.
“Please,” he said. “Allow me a moment.”
Bradford turned and took a shuddering breath, looking out over the pond to avoid Lily’s curious gaze. He could think of only one way to put her fears to rest in a final, unequivocal fashion.
Then Lily would be free of the distraction Bradford presented.
She would be free to make an attachment to another gentleman.
If she thought she felt affection for Bradford, surely she was open to the sentiment in general.
It would take her but a short time to forget her momentary fondness for Bradford if he were out of the picture.
Though the thought nearly made him ill, he felt the rightness of it. Lily should be with someone she truly knew, someone without his own bleak past…someone who had actually been honest with her from the beginning.
Bradford’s thoughts swirled until they finally coalesced into the certainty that anything Lily thought she felt for him was false. How could it possibly be true, when she didn’t truly know him?
Or, even worse, perhaps she didn’t truly feel anything for Bradford at all—perhaps she thought this was what he wanted, what he was demanding in exchange for secrecy—for her sisters’ safety.
Lily would sacrifice herself to keep her sisters safe. Hadn’t she done so before?
Lily was sunshine, and he was trapped in the memory of a Northumberland storm. The best thing he could do for her was leave. He should leave—he was a distraction to her chances. Hadn’t she said so herself only moments ago?
He nodded grimly in response to his own thoughts.
“Miss Preston, I will tell you what I should have from the first. Although they perplexed and grieved me at the outset, in light of what you and your sisters experienced, your actions were understandable. You have my word of honor that I won’t say anything to anyone about it.
If rumor of it comes about, I will even deny it vehemently.
You were an excellent governess to Rebecca, and I hope that when…
” Here, he had to clear his throat in order to continue.
“When you make your match and are married, you are more than welcome to visit her at Ballam Hall.”
Bradford gave a kind—albeit sharp—bow, and strode off through the park before the keening of his heart overrode his sense of honor.