Lily had long thought Bradford the best man of her acquaintance. Or perhaps tied for that title with her brother William. But Lily had never let herself truly consider it. Every time a small tendril of hope had curled in that direction, she’d taken the sharp shears of reality to it before it could stray too far out of bounds.
They were friends, she’d told herself, over and over, to keep her thoughts in line. Just friends. Now, the possibility of something more swept through her mind like a sudden flood, upending everything. Despite how wonderful it felt, it still was a mental disaster.
Even so, Lily thought she should offer Bradford honesty once more. Even if it terrified her to say the words.
“I don’t want you to go,” she blurted, her eyes wide with the admission. “I don’t…I don’t know precisely what I feel, but I know that much. Will you give me time?”
“Of course, Lily.” He nodded and smiled gently. “I’ll happily wait for you.”
CHAPTER 22- LILY
If Bradford had sensed Lily’s deep discomfort during the rest of their walk, he certainly hadn’t showed it. He picked up the limp end of the conversation and bore it himself, speaking of the latest news of Rebecca and Northumberland as if he hadn’t just tipped Lily’s mind upside down and shook the contents vigorously.
Though perhaps he had realized what a shock his words had been, as their walk was much abridged. They’d parted near the pond instead of walking past it. Lily walked home stunned, so distracted by her maelstrom of thoughts that she took several steps past her own front door before Mabel gave a sharp cough to draw her attention.
Lily avoided her sisters and went straight to her bedroom, closing herself inside. She sunk onto the velvet chaise and yanked at her bonnet strings while staring at the empty grate in the fireplace.
All this time, she’d viewed Bradford through a specific lens. She’d kept her emotional distance, lopped off any feeling that was more than comfortable companionship as soon as itappeared. But now, the possibility of it was all she could think about.
What would it be like to be loved by Bradford? What would it be like to be hiswife? She frowned. Bradford hadn’t quite proposed though, had he? What had he said, exactly? He’d mentioned his heart—that had made an impression. And he’d said he wanted to see if they could have something deeper than friendship. But Lily didn’t think Bradford had ever mentioned marriage.
She yanked the bows out of her laces and kicked off her boots. Mabel probably hated that she did that too—it couldn’t be easy on the polish. Lily began to pace in front of the fireplace. Outside her floor-to-ceiling windows, London was truly waking up. Ladies were taking their morning walks, their trusted maids in tow. Servants with big wicker baskets were heading to the market, their cook’s list tucked safely on their person.
And Lily was nibbling at her thumbnail, pacing. Bradfordwastalking about marriage. He had to be. That was the next natural step after declaring oneself. He hadn’t actually done that, but he’d certainly steered the conversation in that direction. Perhaps he would have made a declaration or a proposal, if only she’d given him the slightest bit of encouragement.
Lily huffed in exasperation at herself. She might be pretty, but that didn’t mean she’d ever learned how to flirt. Or how to tell a man that he should have some hope when he really very nearlyalmostdeclared his feelings.
Is that what she wanted, to encourage him? She certainly respected Bradford. He was possibly her closest friend. Her sisters had known her longer, but Bradford knew her best. She liked him a great deal. He was an excellent father, fiscally responsible, handsome. In fact, Bradford had every quality she could hope for in a husband.
She dropped onto the chaise, stunned. Perhaps she was confused because she’d always associated love with a rejection of sensible ideas. In Mrs. Clark’s novels, the ladies were always throwing themselves into the tumult of love even though their families and common sense railed against the match. There was always angst and usually a near-death experience.
Lily shook her head, bemused at her own stupidity. Certainly that had not been the kind of love her parents shared. Theirs was a quiet, confident relationship. Though they hadn’t been romantically demonstrative in front of their children—a fact for which Lily was exceedingly grateful—they were unfailingly kind to one another.
Why had she thought her relationship might be more like the fictional versions than the very real kind she’d grown up witnessing?
Was it as simple as applying good reason, then? Did she love Bradford? She certainly loved him as a friend, but she’d never allowed herself to examine him in the light of romance. Considering how they’d started, romantic love was as far-flung an idea as Timbuktu.
Objectively, she could see he was handsome, and she did feel a unique kind of warmth when he took her in his arms for a waltz or cupped her elbow to guide her around puddles on their walks. But was that enough to build a life upon? One that would determine the well-being of a child?
She had no doubt they could create a comfortable, stable life together—one based on mutual respect and common ideals. But if Lily were being honest, she’d wanted to marry for love. Not just the love of friendship, though that was a wonderful start.
Lily abruptly stood and resumed her pacing. The truth of the matter was that she hardly knew what she felt for Bradford. It was wonderfully thrilling that he knew how he felt, but she’dbeen honest with him that she needed time to untangle her muddled thoughts.
She supposed that Claire would write a sensible list were she in Lily’s shoes. Beatrice wouldn’t need a list—she would know how she felt long before the gentleman said anything at all.
Lily needed time. She needed to be sure of whether her affections truly lay with Bradford. She certainly knew they didn’t reside with any other gentleman. Lily suddenly had a hundred questions for Bradford—not the ones she’d mentioned to him the other evening about the horses and the servants, as she already knew the answers to those. Yet there were things she didn’t know that she longed to ask him.
No one could argue that theirs wouldn’t be a prudent match. He was handsome, steady, titled, and in possession of a comfortable fortune. But Lily wanted to be absolutely certain that she felt something for Bradford other than the warmth of an excellent friendship. They both deserved that much.
CHAPTER 23- LILY
The following day, Lily blinked as Bradford walked through the archway into the parlor. He was later than his customary arrival time, and the seats closest to her were already taken. Lily fought the urge to fluff her skirts in aggravation, even though Lord Platt sat to her right, and he was very handsome and charming, indeed.
Instead of bullying one of the gentlemen from their positions after greeting her, as Bradford had done before, he instead took a seat at the far end of the grouping—what one might have considered theworstseat for courting. The chair rested next to a floor-to-ceiling window and a small table, but nowhere close to her.
As Lily halfheartedly listened to Lord Platt speak of his estate in Berkshire, she watched Bradford take a leather case from his jacket pocket. From the other, he removed a small wooden dowel, no larger than a pencil. Then he did perhaps the most shocking thing of all—he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a pair of spectacles, and placed them on his slightly crooked nose.
Lily hardly saw what he was doing as he fiddled. She could only stare, transfixed, at the sight of Bradford in spectacles. Her stomach turned in the same way it did when a carriage went sweeping down a hill too quickly and her mind felt soft and pliant like barely cooled caramel.
