No, he didn’t even know the lady, not truly. And he wouldn’t allow his baser instincts to prevail this time around. He wouldn’t be fooled by a beautiful face and an innocent-looking smile. He would be measured, careful.
Bradford turned from the mirror and began to pace the grand bedroom. The townhome could use a bit of refreshing. No wonder—he hadn’t darkened its doorway in years, and home fashions changed at only a slightly slower pace than that of the ladies. Bradford supposed that the carpeting and the drapery were years out of mode.
Even so, it had all been spotlessly clean when he arrived. The home was as charming as the last time his mother had redecorated—and Bradford supposed that was the problem. His parents had been much more inclined to city living than he was. He himself had enjoyed town much more before…
Well,before.
That was what his life was—thebeforeand theafter.
Which was yet another reason he couldn’t have Miss Lily Preston, and another excellent reason to leave her well alone.
Bradford found himself much like a young man at the races who didn’t have enough money to buy a horse. He just wanted tolook. Just wanted to be near her. And wasn’t that quite enough, for the moment? Wasn’t he perhaps owed as much, considering?
Even as he had the thought, he frowned. The lies Miss Lily Preston had told weren’t damaging in the least. She had been polite to his staff, an excellent resident of his household, and a wonderful governess to Rebecca.
Still, Bradford thought it reasonable that he might want to know more about her. That he might wish to spend as much time as possible learning who she truly was. For the sake of justice, if nothing else.
Lies,that perpetual truth-teller within grumbled.
Bradford shut the mental door firmly in that voice’s face and once again set about tidying his hair.
Though Bradford had contentedhimself that his hair looked as well as it was able, it didn’t seem as if it was going to matter. When he arrived at Lily’s house, he was waylaid before he even made it to the parlor where the Preston ladies were accepting gentleman callers.
“This way, Lord Hayes,” the butler said, gesturing down the hallway perpendicular to the front parlor.
Bradford was certain he heard Lily laughing at someone inside. Was this her way of getting rid of him? He wondered if she’d faked the kindness in their conversation yesterday, if she was looking to prevent him from visiting her again. Perhaps Bradford was being led toward a trio of large footmen in a room so far removed that none of the other guests would be able to hear the scuffle.
The butler must have seen the flicker of foreboding on Bradford’s face, for he said, “Lord Cavendish would like to have a word with you.”
That was hardly more reassuring than the footmen scenario. Lord Cavendish had a reputation as a dangerous pirate. Bradford didn’t believe such nonsense at face value, but he knew better than most that rumors often had some basis in fact. He’d learned that the hard way.
The hallway the butler led him down was half the width of the main one, though it was no less grand. Thick woven rugsfrom the Orient muffled their footsteps as they passed a carved sideboard whose surface was inlaid with gold filigree. The piece of furniture had been placed cleverly opposite a window, and with the light streaming through, the sideboard glowed.
The butler stopped and rapped his knuckles against a thick paneled door. There was a murmur within; Bradford waited as the butler announced him and waved him through, shutting the door behind him.
For all the opulence of the house, Lord Cavendish’s study was nearly spartan. A thick plain green rug spanned the room. A large desk faced two chairs, and beyond those, two floor-to-ceiling windows. Two sitting chairs angled towards a fireplace. There was a globe, a brass telescope, and a large world map hanging on the wall, and that was all.
Bradford realized it reminded him vaguely of a captain’s quarters in a ship—containing only what was necessary and nothing else.
The owner of the office was dressed much in the same manner. Lord Cavendish’s suit was of excellent quality, but there were no frills or flourishes. This, Lord Hayes could appreciate, as he was under much the same opinion of clothing. If one bought classic pieces, well made, one only had to replace one’s clothing when it wore out.
Hayes had seen him before—once in the park that day he’d first seen Lily in London, and again at the first ball. Neither of the sightings had given him the full scope of the man, however. Lord Cavendish was tall and broad through the shoulder.
Lord Cavendish didn’t rise from his chair behind the desk as manners dictated. Instead, he studied Bradford for moments that stretched under some unnamed tension.
Unnamed until Bradford realized the issue and half smiled. “You know who I am.”
Though his coloring wasn’t dark or his jaw as chiseled as his own, Bradford understood why some men claimed Cavendish was dangerous. There was something sharp as a honed edge about his eyes, something that made Hayes think of sharks—those leviathans of the sea with rings of teeth.
Cavendish nodded and gestured for Bradford to take one of the chairs facing the desk. “Though I haven’t figured out what you’re doing here. Forgive me, Lord Hayes, but you’re not known for spending time in London. In fact, before you arrived a month ago, you hadn’t set foot here in years.”
It was clever of Cavendish, to let Bradford know he’d looked into him, that he knew something about him. Bradford refused to shift under the discomfiting thought. What else, he wondered, had Cavendish learned? How far back had he looked?
But there was no possible way Cavendish knew—the only people who truly knew lived in Northumberland and were loyal to Bradford. There were people out there who mightsuspect, but that was far different thanknowing.
“I’m going to rob you of your speculation and tell you the truth,” Bradford said. He was proud that his voice was even. “I came here to see Lily.”
Cavendish’s frown deepened. “For what purpose?”
