“With any more musical accomplishment, you’d no doubt become very full of yourself, indeed.”
They struck out along their usual path, Mabel trailing behind them.
“Just so. Besides, between the eight of us Preston ladies, we have the arts well covered. My younger sisters, especially. Winifred paints, Rose plays the piano even better than I do, and my sister Charlotte dances beautifully. In fact, she’s the only one who might have been happier had William never returned.”
“How so?”
Lily gave a wince of a smile. “A poorer woman would be free to take to the stage.”
“Ah,” he said meaningfully. “And what of you? Are you happier now that William has returned?”
Lily had to think about the question. “In some ways,” she finally answered. She turned to him in a rush, her nose wrinkled. “I suppose that sounds very ungrateful.”
“Not particularly, though I’d love to hear your reasons.”
Lily searched his face and found not a hint of judgement. She shrugged. “There was something freeing about no one knowing who I was. Or where I was. Granted, most of the time it was terrifying. But I got to experience being truly alone. I got to invent myself, choose which parts of myself I wanted to keep and which I’d outgrown. I think it’s difficult to do that when you’re at home, surrounded by people who see you much the same as you’ve ever been, even if you’ve changed.”
Bradford gave a thoughtful hum. “I’ve never thought of what it must be like to be a lady who’s never given the opportunity to be somewhere different than home. Most young men get that opportunity when they go off to school.”
“It’s not that I’m not delighted to be amongst my sisters once more. But I’ve changed, and none of them seem to realize it.”
“How have you changed?”
Lily twisted her mouth to the side and considered how to answer. “Perhaps ‘changed’ is the wrong word. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I’ve realized I’m different than I always thought.”
Bradford studied her as their footsteps crunched in the pea gravel. “In what way?”
“I always thought I’d love a Season.” She huffed a laugh at herself. “What’s not to like—the gowns, the balls…”
“The suitors tripping over themselves to bring you flowers.”
Lily looked over at him sharply. Had he sounded a bit disgruntled? If so, the moment had passed; he looked as unruffled as he always did.
She said, “The flowers make me sneeze.”
“I know. Besides that, what don’t you like about the Season?”
“Honestly? The sheer number of people. Of course, you’ve figured that out.”
He shrugged. “Lots of people get nervous in crowds. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. It is rather inconvenient, though. It feels like something I should be able to overcome.”
“It’s a quirk of personality, nothing more. You might be surprised to find out that I don’t care for heights.”
She glanced up at him. “Truly?”
“I detest them. When I get too close to a balcony railing, it feels as if I’m about to pitch right over the edge.”
The breeze flicked her bonnet ribbon across her chin; Lily tossed it back over her shoulder. “I never would have guessed.”
“If I’d have designed Ballam Hall, it would have been one story tall. Perhaps two.”
“An odd-looking country manor, to be sure.”
“Why on earth is everyone so keen to get as high as possible?” he groused good-naturedly. “It’s unnatural.”
“No wonder you took a seat in the back row of the theater box,” she said, smiling.
