Instead of the momentary, sheer panic she’d felt a second ago, a quiet, calm kind of delight spread through Lily’s limbs. She’d always wondered what love would feel like, and now she knew.
Love felt like certainty, like knowing precisely where one belonged. Like stepping out of a winter’s day into the front door of home and letting that familiar warmth and scent chase the chill away.
Lily finally had her answer. Now all that was left was to get the courage to tell Bradford the truth.
“You are getting shavings on the carpet,” Lord Harper said.
Bradford’s attention shifted from Lily back to his wooden dowel in an instant. “You would make an admirable housekeeper, Lord Harper. If your current goal of snagging a wealthy bride doesn’t work, perhaps you should consider taking a position.”
“Of all the insulting?—”
“More tea, Lord Harper?” Lily interrupted mildly. She held up the teapot in offering. “It’s a fresh pot.”
The man’s face was red, his mouth pinched as he looked back and forth between Bradford and Lily. “No thank you, Miss Preston,” he finally said, stiffly coming to his feet. “I fear I must retire for the day.”
Lily offered him one of her very best false smiles as consolation. “A pity.”
CHAPTER 24-BRADFORD
When Bradford reached their regular meeting spot the next morning, Lily was already waiting for him. She’d never beat him to the park before, and he felt a lurch of fear in his midsection that she was about to ask him to leave London and never return. There was another, more distant, possibility, of course—that she’d come to confess her love for him. Then he would have to tell her the truth.
He hardly knew which outcome he feared more.
But when Lily greeted him, it was with a comfortable smile and the customary question of how he’d passed the previous evening. He hardly thought it wise to tell her he’d paced and wrestled with the two halves of himself—one half insisted he was a fool to think Lily could feel anything tender toward him; the other half was a love-sick sap who could put up little defense, save for the intensity of his feelings.
They walked toward the pond, as they always did. As they spoke, Bradford took a deep breath and relaxed. Things were the same as always between them, too normal for her to have made up her mind yet.
That was fine, Bradford told himself. He had promised her as much time as she needed; he could be patient. He wasn’t certain he was quite ready for that monumental conversation, either. It wouldn’t be only joy or sorrow—if she accepted him, he’d have to confess; if she denied him, he’d be spared that terrible explanation.
Lily wrinkled her nose and dodged a splotch of goose dung on the path. Bradford had the sudden, wild impulse to take the lady in his arms and kiss her senseless. It wasn’t a strange desire—as of late, he’d had to push the thought back a dozen times a day. He settled for clasping his hands behind his back and pressing his lips firmly together instead.
When they reached the pond, Lily said, “You have asked me many questions, and I feel it is my turn to ask you several.”
She gave a gentle smile to the duck who’d waded hopefully forward and studied her—probably wondering if she had breadcrumbs in her pockets. That was the difference between him and Lily, Bradford thought. She smiled at the duck while he was determined to punt the thing if it charged her.
“Very well. Do your worst,” he said.
She meandered forward and the duck waddled away. “We never speak of your late wife. I’ve been giving the subject much thought, and I daresay I know why.”
Of all the things he thought she might ask, this was the last. But he should have known better; he should have prepared himself. It was only natural she would be curious about the late Lady Hayes.
Lily’s eyes roved over his face. He wondered what expression he wore. Hers was nothing but compassion when she said, “I think you loved her, very much. And it pains you to speak of her.”
You’re only half right, he wanted to say. But how could he admit as much? How could he disabuse her of such romantic notions?
Lily seemed to read the silence that followed as his assent. She nodded sadly. “I can only imagine how painful your parting must have been.”
Before he could catch himself, Bradford shook his head. She couldn’t possibly imagine. In that moment, he felt he could never bring himself to tell her. And if that were the case, what on earth was he doing here? Or in London at all, for that matter? The thought shook him so badly he froze.
Lily kept walking for several steps before turning back to him and saying, “That’s quite all right. We need not speak of her now. Truthfully, I didn’t intend to start my questions with the most difficult of them all. I have many others.”
“Oh?” To his own ears, his voice was hoarse, guttural.
“Of course.” She smiled up at him, her voice playful when she said, “Our relationship has been built upon honesty, after all.”
Bradford knew she was teasing him about the many questions he’d asked her and the vow she’d made when he first came to London, to only tell him the truth. Yet her assertion that their friendship had been built upon honesty was absolutely false. Bradford knew her full history; Lily had answered every trifling question about her upbringing and childhood. Though he had no doubt she’d been fully honest with him, he had never come close to returning the favor.
He knew her, but she didn’t knowhim.His own duplicity stunned him, soured his stomach.
