The trill of the strings in the corner announced that the next was a waltz. He turned to Lily and offered his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“Of course.”
Dancing with Lily was one of Bradford’s new favorite things. He thought it preferable even to riding his horse in complete silence upon a country road.
“Mrs. Holland intends to start teaching Rebecca how to dance,” he said to start the conversation. “I’ve had a letter only just this morning.”
“Do you hear much from home? I suppose you miss her very much.”
There was a resounding, hollow twinge in the vicinity of his heart—some combination of loss and guilt.
“I do, though Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Holland write me daily.”
Lily smiled. “I’m sure Rebecca will make a wonderful dancer.”
“Eventually. Doubtless it will take many years and much practice.”
“She is but a child.” Lily nodded. It was several moments before she said, “I hope you know I care deeply for your daughter.”
He smiled. “Your affection for her was the one thing I never doubted. Which makes me wonder…did you never plan on seeing her again?”
“Of course I was going to see her,” Lily said, her forehead crinkled. It was the crossest Bradford had ever heard her. He nearly had to bite back a smile, at least until she said, “I was going to visit after I’d married.”
He shook his head, ignoring the lance of jealousy that speared through him at the idea. “Did you truly think I would allow you in her presence after you left the way you did?”
“Forgive me, but there are some individuals one wouldn’t dare to turn away.”
He arched a brow. “That was your plan? To marry so well—to become a duchess or marchioness—that I’dhaveto let you visit my daughter? If you think I’m so easily impressed by a title, perhaps you don’t know me that well.”
“I was going to wait until you went to visit your estate in Whitehaven after Easter.” Her eyes were wide and guileless. “Mrs. Clark would welcome me in if you hadn’t warned against it.”
Bradford exhaled an incredulous snort and shook his head. This was the danger of having the lady under his roof for four months. She knew him well enough to know when he’d be absent. And she was right—Mrs. Clark wouldn’t dare deny entrance to any upper nobility.
Bradford wasn’t sure if it was that fact that bothered him so, or the fact that Lily had planned upon marrying so well—to someone far above even his own station. Like a great many other thoughts he’d had in Miss Preston’s presence, he locked it away for future contemplation, at a more convenient time.
Neverwould suffice.
“Out of curiosity, what were you planning on telling Rebecca?”
“The truth, more or less.”
“I’m guessing it would have been less more and more less,” he quipped.
She chuckled. “I figured that I had time to craft a story that would have explained my absence without causing her more pain.”
“One Season is not such a great amount of time.”
“There’s no guarantee that I’ll receive an offer this year.”
He arched a brow and teased, “Are we perhaps spending time in different parlors?”
“You know as well as I do that just because gentlemen visit doesn’t mean they’ll want me as a wife. Some of them are probably not that serious. My sisters and I often do the same sort of window shopping on Bond Street.”
“You’re afraid the gentlemen are just there to look, not to purchase.”
“In a matter of speaking, yes.”
Bradford thought the dusting of pink along her cheekbones only served to highlight her nearly scandalous level of beauty. “Your modesty is admirable. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d suspect it was a charming affectation.”
