Her aunt was handed to her chair across the table by Mr. Jacobs. Mrs. Hemming said loudly, “I’ll be glad to sit down, I think. I feel quite overpowered. I am sure if I were younger I should like the brightness of it all. I suppose I am rather dull these days. I venture I should go on quite well as long as the food does not arrive in so many shades.”
Lily stole a look at their hostess. Lady Blakeley had most assuredly overheard her aunt’s comments. The lady pressed her lips together as if she would stop herself from laughing.
Mrs. Hemming’s attention was captured by her niece seated so nearby, and then Lord Ashworth by her side. “Is that one of those Pact fellows? Yes, I suppose it is, though he does not resemble his father. I see him at Lady Carradine’s on occasion though I don’t get to talking to him. I wonder how old Dembly gets on these days, always a pleasant fellow. Though rather on the short side, if I recall rightly.”
Lily’s cheeks, she knew without needing to peer into a glass, had darkened to match the ruby red chairs. Lord Ashworth stared at Mrs. Hemming.
Quietly, Lily said, “Do forgive my aunt, my lord, she is prone to speaking all her thoughts.”
“Apparently so,” Lord Ashworth said.
His expression was impossible to fathom. Lily could not at all determine if he were irritated or amused.
Fearing he might be annoyed and feeling a great urge to defend her aunt, Lily said, “She is kind, for all that. She has very graciously opened her house to me.”
“You do not stay with your father?” Lord Ashworth asked.
“I do not,” Lily admitted, knowing that she was also likely admitting that her father could not afford to rent a London house for the season. “My father had too much pressing business to attend to.”
“Business? Cannot his steward manage during the season?” Lord Ashworth asked, the surprised tone impossible to ignore.
“Apparently not,” Lily said hurriedly.
Lord Ashworth considered this and said, “It seems hard luck to have to forgo a season because one’s steward cannot go forward on his own. Your father might perhaps do well to employ a more skilled man. He would not find himself so harried if he had a competent fellow at the reins.”
“I’ll not seek to advise my father on any matter, my lord,” Lily said with some asperity. The truth was, she was not particularly offended by the comment, but could not admit to the real circumstances. Her father did not employ a steward. He was his own steward. In fact, their collection of servants in general had always been on the thin side. Lily had never had a lady’s maid, and she had only sometimes got help from her mother’s maid, Clara. Even her aunt’s maid, Pips, found the notion bizarre.
“No, of course you must not advise him, I only think of my own experience,” Lord Ashworth said, appearing to perceive that he had stepped too far. As if he would change the subject, he said, “What amusements are to be found in that neighborhood in Surrey?”
Glad he had taken himself off the examination of her father’s estate, Lily said, “All the usual sorts, I suppose. The riding is picturesque, we have various routs and balls. There is an assembly in Guildford that is pleasant.”
“You are fond of dancing?” Lord Ashworth asked.
“Oh yes! Though, it is sometimes a less welcome diversion, for I might prefer to play cards. I am very fond of cards.”
“Indeed?” the lord asked, and Lily was certain he suppressed a smile. “I do not believe I have ever heard of a young lady preferring cards to dancing.”
In all seriousness, Lily said, “That would surprise me, my lord. After all, one knows how a dance will unfold. Beyond whatever idle chatter that might be had, the outcome is known. The outcome of a game of cards is not known and therefore more interesting. And then of course, there are stakes.”
Lord Ashworth nodded. “Do you consider yourself skilled in any particular game? I suppose whist must be your preference?”
“Whist?” Lily said, a shade more derisively than she’d meant to. “I prefer to play without a partner. Piquet is far more to my taste.”
Now Lily could see that the lord was vastly amused. She supposed he thought himself the far greater master of the game. She had noticed that same attitude among some of the gentlemen in Surrey. She was a female, and so could not possibly best them at anything. That particular attitude had assisted her in winning tidy profits from those mistaken gentlemen.
“I presume you have won great sums in Surrey,” Lord Ashworth asked, with a small and patronizing smile.
“Enough to teach those who may doubt my capability,” Lily said.
“I wonder,” Lord Ashworth said softly.
“I do not see why you should,” Lily said.
The lord laughed. It was not a loud or long laugh, but that hardly mattered. It was a supremely condescending laugh.
“You must realize, Miss Farnsworth,” he said, “that the play in London is at a more advanced skill level than what one might find in England’s more bucolic locations. I only mention it to caution you.”
He thought she was ridiculous. He thought she’d gloried in winning at piquet against another country bumpkin who played as badly as she. He thought she could not measure up to London standards.
