“It is lovely!” Penny cried.
“I was to be a mermaid,” Lily said. “She wrote that a lady bold enough to challenge a consequential lord was as rare as any mermaid.”
“Ah, I see,” Penny said. “She obliquely references the card games with Lord Ashworth no doubt.”
“Yes, but she was kind about it,” Lily said. “I should have liked to have gone.”
“I do wish you had been able to. We had an exceedingly merry evening,” Penny said. “If you can imagine it, Lady Montague came, I believe for the first time. She has always been invited, but it is said that Lady Blakeley always sends her an insulting mask, knowing she will not wear it. Everybody was surprised to see her.”
Lily felt a vague wave of trepidation, as she always did upon hearing the lady spoken of. “Goodness, what was her mask that she dared it this year?”
Between peals of laughter, Penny said, “She was a Yorkshire pudding! It was a particularly unattractive mask and of course referenced her retreat to the north last season. She came in as bold as anything and claimed she was happy to celebrate the famed dish from her county. It seems she is determined to be everywhere this season.”
Though Lily had been distressed to miss the half mask, she found herself not at all sorry to have missed Lady Montague. She was a dangerous creature and Lily would not have liked to have been one of the party amused by her discomfort. While the lady would have played it off with confidence, she might have also taken some notes.
“Lord Grayson was a magpie,” Penny went on. “It was said to have represented his habit of collecting hearts. He found it very amusing, or so he said. Oh, and you would have laughed at the sight of Lord Ashworth too,” Penny said. “A fan of cards totaling piquet carte blanche. A small dig at him for losing to you, we all thought. Though, I will give him credit for appearing good-humored about it.”
Lily felt frozen in her seat. Lord Ashworth had gone to the ball? Why on earth would he, and then find it not suitable for herself and Mrs. Hemming? All this while, she had imagined him deep in the mystery of Mr. Shine. Perhaps even prowling around the town with his hired men or having turned his library into a center of command as men came and went with news. But that had not been the case, he’d gone to a ball. He’d just made sure that she did not.
And then, his note had been so vague. He’d not given any reason why they should stay away. She had invented the reasons; they had only been her own imaginings.
Lily had a sinking feeling that she might be able to account for this unanticipated circumstance. He meant to extricate himself from whatever attachment had been formed by their adventure together. She could not know it for certain, but she felt it.
“Oh, goodness,” Penny said, “I can see from your expression that I ought not joke about Ashworth. He remains a sore spot. Never mind, shall you like to go on a drive? We might have your carriage follow us, just as your aunt prefers.”
“No, I thank you, Penny,” Lily said, forcing herself to appear cheerful. “I had better not. I am much recovered, but I think I should stay close to home for today.”
Penny patted her hand. “Quite right, I should not like you to have a setback. Lady Hathaway’s ball is in a week. It comes early this year as her daughter is close to her confinement. Last year was divine, it was everything Russia. Lord Cabot tells me that this year we will encounter a Tudor court—we will dance the pavane and eat conger eel.”
Miss Darlington did not stay much longer, as she became convinced that Lily had begun to look a bit peaked.
Lily stayed by the window, watching Penny easily mount her phaeton while her tiger glared at all passersby who dared to look at his interesting mistress.
The phaeton trotted off and Lily propped her chin on her hands. She could see now that her intimate conversation with Lord Ashworth had caused him discomfort. Though she was deeply stung, she supposed he was attempting a kindness. He wished to put some distance between them. He wished her to know that while they had shared an extraordinary situation, and though they had experienced similar circumstances, there was nothing significant in it.
What a rube she’d been! To have imagined that because her own opinions had changed, his had as well. He had rescued her. She ought to be grateful for that, and not ever have expected more.
Lily felt her face flush. How important she’d begun to think herself! As if a country girl of her not-at-all considerable stature had any sway over a lord. She’d been so nonsensical. A lord like Ashworth would marry high or he’d marry an heiress. Knowing his circumstances, it would certainly be an heiress. Lord Grayson had as much said so—it was Miss Blaise who was favored. Lily had got the distinct impression at Lady Catherine’s ball that Lord Ashworth did not care for the lady, but he would do his duty. Had he not been working all this time to regain his estates’ footing? Of course, he would do what was necessary.
But how had she given herself away? He’d somehow sensed that her heart was in danger and moved quickly to disabuse her of her own inclinations. She supposed he’d done it in the gentlest way he could think of. After all, what had been the alternative? That she would go to the ball and he would not put his name on her card? Or he would, and then revert to his earlier aloofness? At least now she could suffer her foolishness in private. Nobody need know of it. Nobody would ever guess at it—it was the general opinion that she did not like him. Nobody need ever discover that her feelings had changed.
But perhaps she was allowing her thoughts to take her in the wrong direction? That idea began to cheer her. Could there not be another reason that it had been necessary for Lord Ashworth to attend the ball, and yet equally necessary that Lily was to stay home?
She could not imagine what such a reason could be and feared she grew over-fanciful. As her practical mother had often said—the truth is right in front of you, if only you would care to look.
Lily sighed. It was no use trying to talk herself round. The truthwasright in front of her.
She straightened her skirts and picked up her sewing. She must not let her ridiculous notions overcome her. Lily Farnsworth was here for one season only. She had a duty to her mother and father, and most of all, her sisters. All that had happened recently was only a mad adventure that must be forgotten.
She must see if she could like some gentleman who would find her dowry sufficient. One not placed as high as Lord Ashworth. It would not be as thrilling to think of, as whoever that gentleman might be, he would not be as dashing. Or courageous.
Thrillingandcourageousmust be cast aside for practicalities. She would not return home with nothing to say but having made a fool of herself.
*
The house atForty Berkeley Square went on in hushed tones, all overseen by Cobb, and Hayes’ valet, Molton. On the night he’d arrived back from his meeting with Shine, the doctor had been fetched and come quickly. The man had pried and poked and then said, rather merrily if Hayes remembered it right, that the shot had lodged deep near a bone but had not broken it. He had a vague recollection of the surgery—he’d been laid on a table in the kitchens as the housekeeper clucked round, scolding housemaids for staring. He was liberally dosed with laudanum, then would wake and be dosed again in what seemed an endless cycle. He had no memory whatsoever of being transferred from the kitchens to his own bedchamber.
After that, he was tended by a series of old women hired by his housekeeper, overseen by Cobb, and harassed by Molton—the valet failing to be impressed by their skills. Mostly, he remembered the women laying hot compresses on the wound and then covering it with honey and fresh bandages. Two days went by in a haze of being forced to swallow medicines and broths. Finally, he began to feel more in the world. His fever had abated and the danger passed.
