His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(10)

Peace, a happy marriage, and the green dales of Yorkshire were working their magic though.

“The earl has blue eyes,” Daisy said. “I had a cat that had blue eyes, but Alba fell in love and had kittens in the stable.”

Grampion let the child lead him out to the terrace, a space that put Lily in mind of the earl himself.

Not a single leaf lay on the flagstones, the balustrade was in excellent repair, and below the terrace, the garden was divided into tidy symmetric beds arranged around a dry fountain. The whole was pleasing, but… lacking something. Dull, unremarkable, and… uninviting.

Though safe. Daisy would come to no harm playing in this garden, and play she must.

“I have a cat,” Lily said. “A more contrary fellow than Hannibal, you never met. When I was younger, I never knew if he was about to scratch me or curl in my lap. Now he mostly sleeps.”

Grampion led his guests to the wrought-iron grouping in the sun. “Daisy, if you’d like to return to the nursery, I will look in on you later.”

Lily nearly stomped on the earl’s toes. “I’m sure Daisy needn’t return indoors quite yet.”

“Do the mews lie across the alley?” Rosecroft asked.

Thank you, my lord.

“They do,” Grampion replied.

“I am a great admirer of the equine. Perhaps Miss Daisy might introduce me to the horses?”

“Hammurabi likes carrots,” Daisy said. “I don’t like carrots, but I like Ham.”

“Then you must introduce his lordship to Hammurabi,” Lily said. “Grampion can remain here and enjoy the pleasant air with me.”

And also endure a lecture or two.

“One carrot,” Grampion said, “and mind you don’t get your pinafore dirty.”

Rosecroft left with the girl at his side, and Grampion watched them make their way across the garden. The earl had blue eyes, as Daisy had said, and those eyes were worried.

“Rosecroft has a daughter about Daisy’s age,” Lily said, “and another younger daughter. The novelty of a child participating in an informal social call won’t bother him in the least. I had hoped that Daisy and Bronwyn might become friends.”

Grampion’s gaze remained on the girl even as Rosecroft took her hand and led her into the alley. “Would that be wise, Miss Ferguson? When my objective in London has been accomplished, I’ll return to the north, and Daisy will come with me.”

Lily wasn’t unduly plagued by romantic sentiments—she could not afford to be—but finding a mate should be more than an objective.

“Is Daisy to have no friends because you’re determined to rusticate into great old age? Determined to never vote your seat? Never to visit family in Town as the rest of society does? Should she have been denied even a pet because animals seldom outlive their owners?”

When she’d been not much older than Daisy, Lily had been denied pets, friends, and so much more.

Grampion held a chair for her. “You’re very fierce, Miss Ferguson.”

And he was very polite. His eyes, an unusual sapphire blue, held nothing but respect. A respectful man was a treasure, if the respect was sincere.

“My parents are both gone, and I have no siblings, my lord.” How that half-lie hurt. “If I could have friendship for an afternoon, I’d be grateful. The company of even one friend made a very great difference to me when life became challenging.”

Tippy, though a finishing governess, had been an ally when Lily had been without other sources of support.

Grampion lacked friends. This insight came to Lily as she smoothed her skirts and took the proffered seat. Grampion didn’t understand the loneliness Daisy was enduring, the way a fish didn’t understand water. The earl also lacked extended family, or his dealings with the child wouldn’t have been so… tentative, so careful.

“I note you refer to having friends in the past tense,” Grampion said, taking the seat beside Lily. “Have you no longer any need of these friends?”

Drat all perceptive men to the mews. “My closest friends are mostly married.” And they were all acquired in the past few years, chosen in part for their own recent arrivals in London.

Grampion patted her hand. “You’ll marry. We all marry eventually. If we’re lucky, we marry one of these friends you esteem so highly, or so I’m told.”

Lily wanted to swat him with her reticule, when he was merely offering well-intended reassurance.

“You said you’d come to Town to find a wife.” He’d plainly admitted as much, and being a man, his search for a spouse was a commendable attention to duty. When a young woman sought a partner in holy matrimony, she was forward, fast, pathetic, or scheming.

“One comes to London when seeking a spouse,” Grampion said. “How long do you suppose it takes to perform introductions to a horse?”

“Rosecroft loves all horses, and he’s fond of cats too. I suspect he’s allowing us a private moment on purpose.”

The rascal. Lily was out of doors with Grampion, and the neighboring houses would have a view of this terrace, in theory. In fact, trees shaded that view, and the servants in the house were not adequate chaperones.

“How do you endure it?” Grampion asked as a green leaf had the effrontery to twirl down from the towering oaks. “How do you endure the relentless matchmaking, speculation, and innuendo? I was married as a younger man, but the situation was…”