He smiled as if her assertion amused him. “How so?”
“I’ve experienced wealth and poverty, life as nobility and a servant. I’ve spent time in Paris, London, and the countryside, and felt comfortable in all three places.”
“That’s true.” He seemed to be considering her words. “And yet you’ve not yet been a parent, not yet been married.”
Lily exhaled a laugh. “Are those experiences so far removed from my realm of understanding that since I have not yet experienced them firsthand, all my empathy and opinions on the subject are worthless?”
“That’s not what I meant, precisely. But empathy and experience are a wide margin apart.”
“Fair enough.” She turned and resumed walking along the gravel path. “Though in my twenty-five years, I’ve learned that people invent objections to another person’s opinions no matter their circumstances. If one is wealthy, they can’t possibly have an understanding of the common man or of real life. If one is poor, they cannot understand the burden of responsibility that comes with wealth.”
Bradford smiled. “I suppose we all like to think we’re unique and therefore incomprehensible to someone.”
“The truth is that people are much the same everywhere. Rich or poor—we’re far more alike than we are different.”
“You certainly sound very wise for only twenty-five.”
Lily narrowed her eyes up at him, unsure if he was mocking her.
He held up his hands and laughed. “It was a sincere compliment.”
“Very well, then. Thank you, I suppose.”
They meandered past the pond and down a wide pathway framed in trees. Though the sun was out, it was a cool day. Now and then, Lily thought she saw the shadow of one of their breaths upon the air. Still it was lovely, and her trim wool coat, gloves, fur-lined muffler, and the walking kept her warm.
They sank into a comfortable kind of silence. It was the same sort as when one of her sisters joined Lily in reading before the fireplace at night, when the only sounds that marred the silence were the crackling of flames and the crisp sigh of turning pages.
Lily wondered how it was that she could feel so content with Bradford—who was, by his own admission, here to perform an inquisition of sorts—yet she felt none of this same ease with the gentlemen who called only to compliment and delight her. It felt backward, yet knowing that did little to change the truth of it.
“What are you thinking?” he finally asked.
“How strange it is that you’re here. How strange it is that I’m here with you.”
He watched her closely. “It’s notthatstrange, is it?”
“Perhaps that was the wrong way of putting it. I only meant that it’s strange how not strange it is.” She wrinkled her nose. “I fear I’m not explaining my thoughts well.”
“I think I understand. I suppose it’s no mystery why there’s a level of comfort between us. After all, we did share a dinner table for four months. Though we spoke mostly of Rebecca?—”
“Oh, is that how you remember it?” She arched an eyebrow. “You might as well call it what it was—relentless questioning on your part.”
He frowned. “I certainly don’t think it was quite as bad as all that.”
“You’re lucky I was desperate for money, or I would have left after the very first evening,” she teased.
“I was concerned for Rebecca’s well-being,” he said, sounding mildly defensive.
“That’s all well and good, but there was no need for you toglowerat me the entire time.”
“I certainly didn’t?—”
“Until you came to London, I wasn’t certain you were actually capable of smiling.”
“Scurrilous falsehoods,” he said mildly. “I smile all the time at home.”
“Never at me, though.”
He stopped in the center of the pathway and his eyes roved her face. “Certainly you understand why, don’t you? It would have been inappropriate if I’d gone about grinning at my daughter’s governess.”
