“Which is?”
“Neither of us wish for Lily to be forced to marry me to salvage her or her sisters’ reputation.”
Cavendish studied him; Bradford stared back and let him see the seriousness with which he’d said the words.
The man nodded. “And you’ll respect her wishes? If she wants you to go, you’ll go?”
“Yes.” Bradford nodded. “You may rest assured that I have no ill will toward Lily or your family at large.”
“It would have been cleaner if money and not curiosity were your goal. I’d much rather send you away with a check rather than have you hanging about,” Cavendish grumbled, leaning back in his chair.
“I imagine so.”
Cavendish frowned at him and mulishly added, “You might have at least brought her some roses.”
Bradford stood. “Roses make her sneeze.”
CHAPTER 13-LILY
Lord Hayes wasn’t the first to arrive the following day. Instead it was Lord Bennett and Lord Wright who occupied the two closest spots, and others soon followed. But there was no Bradford.
For some reason, this vexed Lily. She told herself that it was because she might not have the opportunity to question him more about his purpose in coming to London. They couldn’t possibly discuss what they needed to when there were others present.
But as the first hour of polite talk passed, Lily grew internally despondent, even while maintaining her kind smile. It was possible Bradford had simply left—gone back to Ballam Hall without answering any of her questions, or her having answered any of his.
Perhaps she’d never have the opportunity to regain his trust. Perhaps Bradford had come to London on business, and frightening Lily was only a passing amusement that was easily forgotten. And why shouldn’t the man take some small sort of revenge upon her in that way? She had lied to him, infiltrated his household, cared for hisdaughter.
A deep pang resounded through her chest, much like the echoing reverberation of a gong—just like every time she thought of Rebecca. Now she’d probably never see the girl again. Nor would she ever see Bradford.
Lily frowned, but only because it had taken all her self-control not to let her chin wobble.
“Not to say that I don’t enjoyotherpastimes,” Lord Lawrence hurried to add, searching her features carefully. “It’s simply that reading history is so very edifying.”
Lily relocated her thoughts to the conversation at hand. “Indeed. Forgive me, I was just trying to remember a story from history that my brother recounted the other day, but I’m having difficulty remembering the name. Perhaps you might help me?”
“Oh, of course!” Lord Lawrence sat up straight, his eyes intent and his smile wide. He looked as if he’d been waiting his entire life for a young lady to request his assistance with historical facts.
He was blond with thinning hair, which he valiantly tried to hide with a clever application of comb and pomade. His features weren’t unpleasant, but he was rather round in the middle.
Lily had known within a quarter hour of meeting him that she’d not wed him, but she quite liked the man. Not as a suitor, but as a friend. He was enthusiastic and had allowed the other gentlemen within the group to speak first, as if he didn’t think too highly of himself. She wished courting was as simple as sorting chess pieces into piles—if only Lily could separate the gentlemen who visited her into prospective husbands and friends, without bruised ego and hurt feelings being a factor.
“It was about a great battle, you see.” She leaned forward and nodded earnestly. “I think it was a very famous one. There was a general and some soldiers…” She trailed off expectantly, her eyebrows raised.
“Why, it sounds just like the battle of Waterloo!” Lord Lawrence exclaimed with a grin.
“Waterloo. That’s it, precisely.” Lily smiled. “How clever of you to remember. I enjoy historical events, but I confess I struggle to remember their names and the dates they occurred.”
Lord Lawrence plowed into telling the entire story of Waterloo. Granted, he made the topic very interesting—it took no effort at all on Lily’s part to nod at all the best parts.
“How wonderful,” she said firmly, once he’d finished.
She felt a bit bad for the fellow and wanted to cheer him. He’d looked around the grouping right at the end with an open, hopeful expression, as if he’d fully expected everyone else to be as engaged as he was. Lord Wright had taken that inopportune time to yawn widely behind his hand.
The other men were either scanning the room—possibly to see which other Preston lady they found attractive, as there was quite the crowd of competitors around Lily—or frowning directly at Lord Lawrence, trying to signal him to shut his history-loving mouth in order that they might speak to Lily themselves.
“Quite a wonderful story, indeed,” a voice from the rear of the grouping agreed.
Lily started, even as her eyes met Bradford’s. He was there. He’d come.
