“Of course!” Lily sounded vaguely offended.
“Then I truly don’t know what to tell you. Most ladies would pick the one with the best title and the most money and bat their eyelashes at him until he got the message.”
Lily peered at him through slightly narrowed eyes as if remembering their previous conversation about marrying for an esteemed title.
He grinned down at her. “I’m sure you could become a marchioness or even a duchess if you put your mind to it.” He pretended to scan the ballroom. “Where’s Ettrick? You’ve already been introduced to him—ouch.” His mouth dropped open and his eyes twinkled. “Did you truly just pinch my shoulder?”
Her cheeks were far pinker than the exertion of the dance justified. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t mind.” He grinned. “Actually, if you’re uncertain how to encourage a fellow, just pinch him during a waltz.”
She shook her head, her blush increasing. “Forgive me for blathering on. You certainly don’t wish to hear my every aimless thought.”
“On the contrary, I like hearing anything you wish to tell me. It’s only natural for you to speak freely to me. We’re already in one another’s confidence.”
“Indeed. You know my secret.” She nodded, and to him it looked like penance. Then she peered up at him. “And you’ve repeatedly assured me you aren’t going to expose the truth of it to anyone.”
“Someone told me that it would ruin your sisters’ chances, and I quite like Margaret and Beatrice. They’re protective of you, and that endears them to me immensely.”
She smiled, and the tip of her nose dipped in that adorable way it did when she was truly amused. “My sisters are all a force. You’re just lucky that Claire seems to be otherwise occupied.”
He arched a brow. “As if anyone could convince me thatyou’renot the true force in your family, that any other Preston sister is more dangerous.”
At least when it came topersonaldanger, no one would ever present the same risk as Lily, not to him.
Bradford batted the truth away. Lately, however, pesky truths were flying at him too quickly for him to prevent them from landing. It was as if he’d stumbled down into a wet gorge in the springtime, where the mosquitos were chokingly thick in the air.
“I never meant to pose any danger. Not to you, and certainly not to Rebecca,” she said earnestly.
“If I didn’t believe that, Lily, I wouldn’t have spoken to you at all. I would have done what I threatened to do at the outset—called a magistrate and had you arrested.”
“Arrested?” a different voice said—it was Lord Anderson, leaning too close. “What’s this about being arrested?”
“I was saying that I’ll have you arrested if you encroach upon our space one more time,” he said coolly. “Dancing so poorly in a London ballroom ought to be a crime.”
Lord Anderson huffed and turned his partner away so quickly that the poor young lady nearly tripped.
“Point proven,” Bradford grumbled.
“Poor Miss Stephens,” Lily said. By the compassion in her tone, Bradford thought she actually meant the charitable sentiment.
“Perhaps if she were more selective with her dance partners, such awkwardness could be avoided.”
“You have no idea how difficult it is to turn a gentleman down once he’s asked—why, I’ve only barely managed to do it when my card was already completely filled.”
“No doubt that explains why you agreed to dance with me that first evening.”
“Well, yes,” Lily laughed.
“You looked positively terrified.”
“That’s because I was! And I still couldn’t tell you no.”
He frowned as an unwelcome thought intruded. “And has it been the same, every subsequent dance?”
She gave a sly smile. “Only the first four, Lord Hayes.”
He groaned. “I wish you would call me by my first name.”
