Lord Claymoore, on the other hand, spoke of his family seat, Granger Hall. Lily was to understand all of its glories, including drafty rooms, murder holes, and secret passageways. The family did not go in for modernization and they stuck to old habits as they had done for hundreds of years. She was to know that the family did not approve of excessive amounts of vegetables, though their tablecouldbe counted on to provide meat of every sort. If it was good enough for Henry Tudor’s table, it was good enough for them.
Lily hinted that while Granger Hall sounded rather marvelous, she had a weak chest and would find herself dead inside of a year in such drafty accommodations. The Lord had briefly toyed with the idea of modernizing a bedchamber or sitting room, and even providing the occasional lettuce, but Lily had put an end to those ruminations by gently coughing.
All in all, Lily thought it fortunate that these fellows were born to families of some consideration, for had they been left to make their own way in the world they would surely have starved by the roadside.
She had not at all looked forward to finding herself Lord Ashworth’s partner. Though over time, and with the help of her clumsy partners, her dread had faded to a remarkable degree. At least he would be counted on to leave her toes alone and she doubted he would lecture her on the charms of his estates or what was put on the table in those places.
Now, he led her to the floor. His hand appeared dry on her glove and exerted just the proper amount of pressure. She felt she was guided by a man who knew what he was about and it gave her a thrill after the tediousness that the evening had so far provided. His tall person moved with an elegance that Lord Claymoore and Mr. Hackeray could only aspire to.
As they waited their turn, Lord Ashworth said, “Miss Farnsworth, I dislike enmity with anybody and hope that we can be on friendly terms.”
Lily was silent for a moment. It was precisely the sort of thing a gentleman highly placed would say. While another might feel pressed to apologize for rude behavior, the lord simply wished her to know he found discord disagreeable.
“My lord,” she said carefully, “to be accused of trickery is not easy to dismiss.”
The lord had the good grace to flush. He said, “I regret the use of that word. I did not mean to imply cheating of any sort; I know that was not the case. I should have been more careful in my speech.”
Lily only nodded.
“What I meant was that there is some method you employ that I have never encountered. I was surprised by it.”
“Apparently so,” Lily said, wondering if he would ever get round to a proper apology.
“I was correct?” Lord Ashworth said. “There is a method?”
“Indeed,” Lily said.
“I wonder if you—”
“No,” Lily said firmly.
The lord was not able to proceed further with the inquiry, as it was their turn.
He led her through the changes with grace, which was a relief considering her other partners. Not worrying about her toes gave her time to think. The lord was convinced that she had developed some method in her play. She supposed she had, though it was not one that she could teach to another, even if she cared to, which she did not.
It had not escaped her that others did not have the same facility for remembering cards that she did. She had noted it with Lord Ashworth when last they played, and others in Surrey. In fact, she had always known her memory was better than most. Was she not the person everybody turned to when an item was lost? She could view in her mind where she’d last seen the item. If she had not seen it, she was as hopeless as everybody else in locating it, but if shehadseen it and it had not been moved, she could recall it in a trice.
In fact, she had just received a letter from her sister Rose, asking after a particular spool of yellow thread. She would write back that it sat on a windowsill in the schoolroom, just behind a curtain. She had noted it there months ago when she’d chanced to pull the curtain back to look out onto the park. Now, she could see it as well as if she were in Farnsworth House looking at it.
The skill was a blessing when it came to cards, and one Lord Ashworth would have to carry on without. Let him believe she’d studied heavy tomes on gambling and chance and had developed some new strategy. She hadn’t, though she had tried. She had located an old book full of numbers and odds in her father’s library and had stolen it away to her bedchamber. There, the words and numbers fairly swam in front of her eyes and she had given it up. Lily Farnsworth was not a learned scholar, but she had averygood memory for what she saw.
The rest of the dance with Lord Ashworth had carried on in a more regular fashion, he apparently understanding she had no wish to talk further on the subject of cards. They had some desultory conversation about Lord and Lady Hampton, as they were a mutual acquaintance, and then she was collected by Lord Grayson.
Thatlord, unlike Lord Ashworth, was all pleasantries. In truth, he was all flattery. While she enjoyed it, Lily found it made her a bit wary, too. She almost began to wonder if he thought she was an heiress of some sort.
Still, he took her into supper and entertained with amusing stories and did not once mention any card games she may have been involved in. He was all geniality and Lily wished she could say the same for Lord Ashworth.
He was across the table and had taken in Miss Fitch, though Miss Blaise was on his other side and each time he turned to her, he looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. Miss Blaise did not seem to notice and spent a deal of time hitting his arm with her fan and telling him he wasvery bad.
*
The lords Ashworthand Grayson trotted through the quiet streets of Mayfair. It was just past one in the morning, Lady Catherine’s balls never going on too late from excessive enthusiasm.
“Well, my friend,” Grayson said cheerily, “we have done it. We have survived another of Lady Catherine’s dreadful soirees and you have dodged Miss Blaise for the third year running.”
“I wish the lady would cease hitting me with her fan,” Hayes said.
“She cannot!” Grayson cried with glee. “You are so very bad, she says.”
