From anyone else, the tone and the words would have coaxed a smile. But Lily’s attention was still snagged on the fact that he’d seen her in the park and she hadn’t even known he was there. It felt wrong that such a thing could be true—after all, whenever Lily was aware of his presence, it was difficult to focus on anything else.
“You were wearing a great deal more ribbons than I’d expected.” His words sounded like a very harsh censure, indeed.
“But how…” she breathed.
“I hired an investigator.”
Lily hiccuped, eyes wide, and accidentally kicked him sharply in the ankle. For some infernal reason, Bradford smiled down at her. It was a real smile, atruesmile—the kind of smile she’d never seen upon his face before.
It brightened all of his features as if he were a lamp who’d merely been waiting for a light. His dark countenance softened and it shaved ten years from his features. If Lily had privately considered him a very handsome man before, it was nothing compared to when hesmiled. Heaven help her.
“I thought you said you were an accomplished dancer,” Bradford said.
“Pardon?” she nearly whispered.
“I distinctly remember your letters of recommendation stating so, and you confirmed as much during our interview.”
Lily couldn’t help it—her chin wobbled. It was too stressful—it was not only her first ball of her first Season, but then her former employer arrived and asked her to dance. And she’d not only stepped on his foot butkickedhim, too?
“None of that, Lily,” he murmured, suddenly drawing her closer. He gave a gentle squeeze to both her waist and hand that served to center her. “It was meant as a jest, nothing more.”
This close, she could see the varying colors of brown in his eyes, the handsome strong plane of his forehead, the tiny slash of a scar almost hidden in his dark eyebrow. She wanted to run her thumb over it and ask him how he’d acquired the memento, but it was one of the things she’d given up as a flight of fancy, something that would never be.
And perhaps that was something that Claire and William had never understood—that when they’d called her back to London, they hadn’t beenrescuingher. Instead, she’d had to grieve a thousand little things and several very large ones, along those miles back to London and in the interim months.
“What are you thinking?” Bradford murmured, his sharp eyes searching each of hers.
“Nothing.” It was a lie, and the quickness of her answer proclaimed it.
Even so, he nodded. She was half grateful, half disappointed he’d let it go.
“Why are you here?” she asked one last, desperate time.
The waltz was ending, the strains of the music repeating and slowing to warn the dancers it was nearly time to stop.
“I think it’s far too soon in our acquaintance to be so honest with one another,” he said lightly. “After all, we’ve only just been truly introduced.”
Lily nearly spluttered at the sentiment. They’d shared a roof for four months, a dinner table nearly every night during that period, including the one time when she was too ill with a cold to come down, and in that instance, he’d brought her the dinner tray himself under the watchful gaze of Mrs. Clark. She remembered it clearly—it had frightened her half to death.
The waltz ended before she could think of what to say. Bradford bowed; Lily curtsied by rote and allowed him to lead her back to the suspicion of Margaret.
“I will visit you tomorrow and we’ll speak more on the subject,” he murmured, right before they came within earshot of her frowning sister.
Lily blinked through her surprise. Claire had reminded them there was always someone watching in a ballroom—and in the gardens beyond. The Preston sisters would be the subject of much curious scrutiny. Why, even now, a group of dowagers, glittering in their careless layers of diamonds, studied Lily and Bradford, while a massive dark-haired fellow casually stared at Margaret.
Now was not the time for Lily to react poorly. Or at all, for that matter.
“Very well, Lord Hayes.” Lily nodded.
“It’s Bradford.” He gave a crisp nod and disappeared through the crowd.
CHAPTER 11- LILY
“Ididn’t see that fellow again all evening,” Margaret whispered the next afternoon. “And believe me, I was looking.”
Lily gave a noncommittal hum and smoothed her light blue day dress for the hundredth time before tsking herself and determining to hold still. She was not the only one of her sisters who seemed a bit twitchy, though Lily supposed they could all be excused for their nerves.
When the porcelain mantel clock proclaimed that it was ten minutes to visiting hours, they’d all assembled. They’d walked into the front parlor in a grim, silent line, and then exposed their private hopes by sitting on separate sofas, leaving plenty of room for visitors.
