His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(57)
“That reminds me,” Grampion said. “A rumor regarding your past has come to my attention.”
And there went the rest of Lily’s hope. Her mare hesitated, as if a sense of doom had penetrated even the limitations of an equine brain.
“Rumors and fortune hunters follow heiresses in equal measure.”
They emerged from the trees into a clearing of dew-sparkled grass and sharp morning sun.
“The rumor comes from a reliable, disinterested source who claims that you eloped with your uncle’s house steward. You are lovely, intelligent, well-dowered, and of age. I ask myself: Have you remained immune to the addresses of London’s most eligible bachelors because you are already married?”
A salvo such as that had been commonplace when Lily had first returned from Switzerland. Somebody would remark a piece of music she had supposedly played exquisitely at some tea dance, and panic would follow, lest Lily be publicly caught out as only half the musician her sister had been.
She’d learned to duck, dodge, prevaricate, dissuade, and otherwise deflect incoming fire, until fewer and fewer cannonballs were lobbed at her decks.
She laughed at Grampion’s theory, for laughter was as effective at diffusing such moments as any retort she could manufacture, but her laughter had come one heartbeat late.
“You flatter me, my lord.”
Again, he brought his horse to a smooth halt. “I accuse you of living a lie, of deceiving all of polite society, and you laugh.”
In other words, he wouldn’t desist until he had an answer.
“You accuse me of being nigh irresistible, when in fact, I’m impossible to please—or I was.”
“And the house steward?”
This much, Lily could answer honestly. “I know not what became of him, but he and I are not married. His interest was inappropriate, and I was packed off to Switzerland for two years lest he persuade me otherwise.”
Uncle had strongly implied that both Annie and her swain had come to bad ends in the same coaching accident, but as in so many other particulars, Lily had dared not ask for details.
“Did this scoundrel break your heart, Lily?”
“No.” The truth had never been such a relief. Lily recited a litany Tippy had fashioned for her. “I was young, I was bored, I was not yet old enough to make my come out, and had no mama or auntie to keep me from foolishness. I strongly suspect the gentleman’s sole motivation was to get his hands on my settlements.”
Hessian used the tip of his riding crop to whisk a fly from his horse’s shoulder. “And the man’s name?”
This was what came after the warning shot—the destructive volley, intent on wreaking mayhem and inspiring quick surrender. Lily could not afford to surrender, and though she might have heard the house steward’s name at some point, she could not recall it now.
“Must we discuss this?”
“Not if it pains you.”
“We’re wasting a beautiful morning with these trivialities.” Though, if Hessian was intent on tracking down the house steward, that was far from trivial. “How is Daisy?”
The horses and the conversation moved on, while the earl grew effusive about letters he’d had from Daisy’s brothers. He knew the boys from their summers in the north and pronounced both to be fine young fellows whom Daisy missed more than she admitted.
As the Serpentine came into view and other riders filled the broader thoroughfares, the earl gently halted his gelding for the third time.
“I must speak to your uncle this week, Lily. I can find no reason to keep my interest in you from becoming public. Once I have permission to court you, once we are engaged, we’ll have much more latitude, and the fortune hunters will slink off to pursue other heiresses.”
Oh, Hessian. “And the widows will pursue other earls?”
“I’m told Wellington himself, despite being married to the sweetheart of his youth, has no artillery sufficient to dissuade that regiment.”
“His grace fires only smiles and flirtation in their direction, and he is a duke.”
“I am an earl. A paltry prize by comparison, but I would like to be your prize.”
Despite Hessian’s smile, despite the flattering nature of his objective, Lily felt a sense of doom. Uncle would wave off the only suitor Lily wanted for her own, and another ten years of being the testy, often-tested niece of Walter Leggett would be the best she could hope for.
“Have you ever considered eloping, my lord?”
“No, I have not. When a man of my station elopes for no apparent reason, scandal ensues. The last thing I need now, with Daisy newly added to my household, is scandal.”
Well, drat and perdition. “Because of Mrs. Braithwaite?”
The groom drew up ten yards back.
“Because I value your reputation and my own. Because Daisy does not need such drama and talk. Because I am the head of my family, small though it is, and have an unmarried half-sister to consider. As much as I’d love to carry you off and make endless passionate love to you, I cannot justify being that selfish.”
Felled by honor. “Then you must speak to Uncle, and if you are to be successful with him, the less said about my fortune the better.”
“Lily, I don’t give a hearty goddamn for your fortune. When can I see you again?”
This was another symptom of being too preoccupied with present pleasures and not focused enough on practicalities. Lily should have memorized her accepted invitations, the better to coordinate with Hessian.