Rebecca wrinkled her nose and squirmed as if uncomfortable with the very idea of it. “Perhaps just one, Papa?”
“And what of the gift I’ve brought you back from London? Would you like to wait until tomorrow, in order to increase your suspenseful enjoyment?”
She grinned. “I think I should open that one right now.”
Bradford laughed.
There wasa busyness to any return home that kept him occupied until well past supper. None of his estate existed in a vacuum, and he’d never been so long away from home. There was a stack of letters to attend to—mostly correspondence from his sisters and normal reports from his stewards—but everyone expected a response.
He put pen to paper time and time again without truly ever explaining his absence. What was there to say, after all? That he’d gone to London to hunt down his governess and fallen in love with her somewhere along the way?
That he’d foolishly hoped that a wealthy, beautiful young lady might look at him with anything other than regret and hidden disgust if she knew the truth? That he’d unintentionally leveraged the potentially destructive knowledge he had of her so that he might spend more time in her very presence?
There were few times in his life that Bradford viewed with more self-recrimination than his own behavior the past few weeks. Of course he hadn’t set out to blackmail the lady. That had never been his intent. Still, the thing was the thing, even if accidentally done. And in the end, she’d been close to declaringsomethingin order to keep her sisters safe.
He had many regrets in his life, but leaving Lily in London and returning to Northumberland wasn’t one of them. There was a natural order of things, and Miss Lily Preston should marry someone as light and innocent as she was—a young lord with the fresh bloom of youth, or at the very least, without the baggage that Bradford had accumulated.
He’d already braced himself for what was to come—the inevitable announcement in the papers that he’d receive too late to interfere—not that he’d allow himself to jeopardize her happiness ever again. Miss Lily Preston would become Lady So-and-So, she’d have a husband, and children, and?—
Snap.The quill broke in his hand, sending ink splattering against the parchment. Bradford sighed, rolled up the mess into the piece of paper, tossed it into the fire behind him, and started again.
CHAPTER 27- LILY
It took Lily an entire day to decide whether to write, and another entire day to draft the letter itself. She knew how unreliable the post was—it could take five days for the missive to reach the northern part of the country, or it could take two whole weeks.
So it was foolish hope that had Lily searching the doorway every afternoon that entire first week. She supposed there was a wisp of a chance that Bradford had already turned back toward London, and the letter might reach him in a coaching inn along the way.
The following week was even worse for Lily’s nerves, for if the letter had arrived on time, then he might arrive on her doorstep any moment.
The third week, Lily told herself that he certainlywouldarrive, and that she must look her best every afternoon. Though Mabel was put through her paces, and the gentlemen who did visit seemed very appreciative of her efforts, there was still no sign of Bradford.
The subsequent two weeks were dismal, indeed. For there was no possible way a letter could take that long to arrive—she’daddressed it quite clearly. Which meant that if Bradford hadn’t come, it was because Lily’s words had failed to move him.
She spent her days avoiding her sisters—easily enough done, as each of them seemed busy with their own pursuits—and avoiding William. He’d caught her crying in the library late one afternoon and had brusquely asked what was wrong. When she’d been unable to catch her stuttering breath and articulate a clear reason for her sorrow, he’d frowned deeply and retreated, telling her he’d bother her no longer.
The following day, Mabel delivered a velvet box to her room. Inside was a sparkling tiara, woven closely with pearls and diamonds. The card was from William. It read:Hope you are feeling better.
Even through her private despair, Lily had to smile. William might not be able to handle a lady’s tears, but he was showing he cared the best way he knew how—with something expensive.
The only downside to experiencing a private despair—besides the despair part—was that one had to go on with life as if nothing had happened. Lily attended the theater with her family and tried not to think of Bradford. An impossibility—she’d seen several shows and he’d accompanied her each time.
She sat in the parlor and listlessly accepted visitors. She went to the balls and endeavored to avoid being asked to dance. And all the while, she thought of little but him.
“Good afternoon, Lily,” Rachel said, taking the spot on her right side one afternoon.
Lily blinked. It was five minutes until visiting hours were to start, and she hadn’t even realized Rachel was in the house.
“I hope you don’t mind if we join you,” Beatrice said before Lily could return Rachel’s greeting. She took the seat on the other side of Lily and continued, “I’m getting bored on my side of the parlor.”
“Are you?” Lily chastised herself for not paying better attention. “Do you not have a favorite beau?”
“Of course not. I don’t have any.”
“The sum of zero times zero is zero,” Rachel quipped.
Lily frowned. “I thought for sure you’d received several visitors.”
“Just because a gentleman visits doesn’t mean he’s all that interested. It’s thesubsequentvisits that are far more telling than the first.” Beatrice didn’t look too concerned; she was studying her fingernails.
