Lily liked that about him, she realized—that he took his time and didn’t rush. It was an unhurried, patient kind of look, the kind that came with the quiet confidence of having several years’ advantage over the other gentlemen present. And drat itif Lily didn’t notice and find it exceedingly attractive—a highly confusing notion.
Although Lily had realized that Bradford was handsome the moment she laid eyes on him all those months ago in Northumberland, at the time, it had been an innocent appraisal. It was the same kind of acknowledgement she might have made of a nice sofa or an excellent pair of drapes—a cursory appreciation for an item of quality make. For as she was his governess, Bradford’s handsomeness could mean nothing more to Lily than that of a nicely built chair did.
But now, what were they to each other? A former governess and her employer? A charlatan and her victim? Or something else altogether? All of Lily’s whirling thoughts inexorably pulled her to the same Charybdis at the bottom of her mind—why on earth was Bradfordhere?
She’d spent all night trying to ascertain his motives—the smudges beneath her eyes attested to it. Even Mabel, her maid, had tutted at her appearance and declared it must have been all the excitement. Lily didn’t have the heart to tell her it was sheer terror, not anticipation for the Season, that had kept her awake.
Bradford raised his eyebrow and smirked at her. “Good afternoon, Lily.”
She started. Though she’d risen to greet him, she hadn’t registered that he now stood before her. He plucked her hand from where it hung limply at her side and pressed it soundly to his lips. The warm breath that gusted over her lace-gloved knuckles spoke of barely concealed amusement.
Was helaughingat her?
Lily frowned and was determined to ask him such plainly, but the butler announced, “Lord Anderson, Lord Shaw, and Mr. Chapman to see Miss Lily Preston.”
Bradford grumbled something under his breath that might have been “too pretty for your own good.”
Lily frowned sharply at him; he arched an insouciant eyebrow in reply.
What on earth was his game? Didn’t he know how stressful this was for her, having him here, wondering if he would expose her at any given moment?
As they stared at each other—her frowning and Bradford seemingly studying her, something like realization passed over his features, softening the mocking lilt of his lips. But there was no time to address it, for the other gentlemen were approaching.
From the corner of her eye, Lily saw Margaret stand suddenly and relocate to a pair of chairs near the window. The Duke of Ettrick quickly followed. Lily would have to ask Margaret more about her acquaintance with the gentleman later. There was only half a moment for a passing thought in that direction before three gentlemen bowed lowly in front of Lily, one at a time.
Lord Anderson was tall, with a simpering smile and curling blonde hair that refused to stay in arrangement. Lily had danced with him the night before. Though he’d started the evening with his hair carefully combed with pomade, by the end, the product had conceded the fight and he’d been left with a puff of nearly white curls that had bounced right along with his steps to the daring Gallopade.
Lord Shaw was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with tanned skin and a capable air that reminded Lily vaguely of her brother William. Mr. Chapman had been introduced to Lily toward the end of the previous evening when she’d already been quite overwhelmed by the crowds. She barely remembered him. He was of medium height and build, untitled but rumored to be very wealthy indeed.
Lily greeted them each with warm politeness as she’d been taught—a difficult task with Bradford watching. It became evenmore difficult to focus once he sat next to her, close enough that his knee nearly brushed the edge of her satin skirts.
Lily was grateful for the momentary reprieve as the gentlemen took their seats—Lord Shaw to Lily’s left, the other two in the chairs facing her. The men greeted each other and made small talk while Lily did her social duty and poured tea, offering them each cream and sugar in turn.
But alas, it was eventually time to start speaking, and Lily’s hands trembled so badly that she dared not pick up her teacup, lest it rattle against the saucer. She pressed her fingertips together demurely in her lap until the bottom hand was quite pinched. The sensation helped her nerves, but not by much.
Lily wasn’t ignorant of the deep irony of the situation. She’d been given beauty that men greatly admired, along with a dislike for being looked at by more than two people at once, if she didn’t know them well. Her family didn’t count, neither did the servants or long-time family friends.
But strangers. Malestrangers, especially. And here were three of them, each smiling and staring and expecting Lily to say something clever. All she could manage was a stupid, insipid sort of smile while her mind whirred.
Did she know how to make conversation? She was certain she’d done so before. It was difficult to believe when she didn’t even remember how tospeakat the moment.
The time stretched, growing more awkward by the moment—at least by Lily’s imagination. She was aware that all of the men were looking at her, but she felt Bradford’s attention the most keenly.
He studied her carefully for several moments. Then he turned and said, “Lord Shaw, are you a military man?”
Despite their tense, unfinished business, Lily had the wild urge to kiss Bradford full on the mouth for starting a conversation.
Lord Shaw nodded. “I’m always curious to know which arm of the military someone suspects.”
On a wild impulse, Lily blurted, “The navy.”
There. Huzzah! She’d said something.
Lord Shaw dipped his chin and smiled. “How did you know?”
Lily smiled wanly. “A lucky guess, I suppose.”
It would hardly be appropriate for her to mention his tanned skin, the comfortable way he inhabited his own frame, the deep creases down the front of his pant legs. But it reminded her of the way William dressed. She’d asked her brother about it once, and he explained how his superiors had drilled a dress code into his very being. It was the same reason William was up early every morning, rain or shine.
