“I was not particularly offended, I only sought to put you off. My father does not have a steward. He is his own steward.”
Lord Ashworth nodded gravely. “I had been only speaking what had been much on my mind. I had dismissed my own father’s stewards. They were in large part responsible for the estates coming to such danger.”
And so they went on, speaking in low tones. Anybody viewing them from afar might have assumed they commiserated over the news of a desperately sick friend, so serious were their expressions. If theyhadspoken of a desperately sick friend, they might have been forgiven for how little attention they gave to anybody else.
The supper passed by surprisingly fast and Lily was sorry to go home. She was gratified, though, that Lord Ashworth made arrangements to follow them to Cork Street. His carriage stopped close behind their own and he descended to the road, scanning it up and down. He’d stayed in that stance until she and her aunt were safely inside the house.
*
Hayes sat inthe library with a lone candle and a large glass of brandy. What revelations had been made to him this night!
He’d never have guessed at Miss Farnsworth’s straightened circumstances. He had not supposed her to be any great heiress, but she had presented herself as any other well-financed lady just in from the countryside. Now, he knew the truth of those fine clothes. He knew the truth of where whatever money she did have had come from. My God, how had she not trembled when Lady Montague had named the wager at fifty pounds at that blasted card party?
He saw how it had been with her father’s estate. Some who did not think deeply about such things would presume that it would be far easier to right a smaller estate with less expense to manage, than it would be to right a larger estate the size of his own. That was not the case, however. His expenses might be higher, but his resources would have far outpaced Mr. Farnsworth’s own. His land produced an enormous surplus while a smaller estate could only produce a little surplus. If debts were piled upon the smaller estate it was disastrous. Further, creditors did not dun a lord very often, though they may have felt free to be on Mr. Farnsworth’s heels. He suspected Miss Farnsworth’s father had made a Herculean effort to keep the thing going.
Hayes had, at times, pitied himself, that his father had brought them to such a pass. What nonsense he thought that now. He had not spent his childhood walking on thin ice and wondering when it might give way. He’d spent his childhood surrounded by everything good. As a boy, he had only to mention a thing and it arrived. He’d been petted and cossetted by an indulgent governess. Even his tutors were likely to give way to his every inclination. Dembly Castle had been rock-solid beneath his feet. He was beginning to think that, while it had been pleasant, it might not have done him much good. Until only recently, the world had felt at his convenience. He might have done better to have experienced some early setbacks.
Miss Farnsworth had no doubt faced setback after setback. It was little wonder the lady maintained such steady nerves at a card table. No wonder she’d done battle with Lady Jersey’s butler—the stern and formidable Riddick. No wonder she’d not fainted dead away when Mr. Shine locked them up. She’d been holding her nerves steady all her life.
She was not like any other lady he’d known. She appeared delicate, fragile even, but there was iron under that porcelain skin.
Considering her porcelain skin led to remembering the smallest curl that had escaped and lay charmingly against her neck all evening. He’d been tempted to touch it, to wrap it around his finger. And then perhaps allow all of her curls to escape.
Contemplating letting down her hair led to thoughts of her stockinged legs as she climbed out Lady Carradine’s window.
He downed his brandy and stood up, lest his thoughts take him anywhere else.
*
Lily sat inthe drawing room, at a window that let in the morning sunshine, making a great effort to attend to her sewing. She did not particularly care to embroider on a usual day and this day did not feel usual at all. She’d taken a long time to fall asleep the night before, her head full of her conversation with Lord Ashworth over supper.
They had been so direct with one another! There had been no veiling or prevaricating, no social mask hidden behind. She had said all her thoughts, rather than examine them and say only those that might be found acceptable.
It had felt as if she had spoken to a man. Not a tricked-out gentleman at a ball, working to be amusing and showering her with vague and practiced compliments, but a real man.
How much they had in common. How much they had revealed.
Then, he’d followed her home and waited until she was safe in the house. He’d said he’d do the same to Lady Blakeley’s half mask this evening.
The night before, as their carriage rumbled through the dark streets, her aunt had once more revisited the idea that Lily’s initial dislike for Lord Ashworth might not be quite right. Lily had felt compelled to admit that it was true, her initial impression had been exceedingly revised. Mrs. Hemming had seemed pleased by it and noted the lord’s good looks. Fortunately, she did not stay on the subject, as it somehow led her to considering how looks were passed down in families and she did not think the lord’s father had ever been that handsome and who really knew how the whole thing worked.
Contemplating the coming evening felt fraught with excitement and nerves—Lady Blakeley’s ball. Lord Ashworth claimed he did not care for such a thing, but he liked Lady Blakeley and would not let her down. His mask the year before had been a gold coin, a comment upon his gambling. He did not know what she would choose this year, but he hoped it was equally good-natured.
That had given Lily some pause. What would Lady Blakeley choose for her? She was very much afraid it would be something to do with cards. That would be unfortunate—she’d begun to get the feeling that her matches with Lord Ashworth were losing ground as the topic of the day. She was still asked about it, but it had ceased to be the sole topic of conversation. After all, there was Miss Darlington’s new phaeton to discuss and Lily had heard just the night before that a young lord had flown to France to escape his debts. There would be only so much left to say about a few games of piquet and she hoped her mask would not once again set the subject alight.
She would see him again. Lily felt that the evening must carry some weight. If he were to take the dance before supper once more, it would point to a real inclination.
Yes, they’d had an interesting and intense conversation last evening, but did that say anything? Did she wish that anything be meant by it?
It seemed extraordinary, but she very much thought that she did.
Mrs. Hemming bustled in, Ranier coming behind carrying two large boxes.
“They are here,” her aunt said. “The masks.”
Lily laid down her sewing, her hands showing the faintest tremble. She would find out now. How was she to walk into Lady Blakeley’s ballroom? Who was she to be, for all the world to consider?
Ranier had placed the boxes on the table. He at once looked as if he would depart, and that he had no wish to depart.
