Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(21)

And her lips…

He focused on them much too often.

Her mouth made a perfect full bow. Laughing, smiling, grinning, speaking in glowing terms about their experiences in Paris and their move into this house.

The hour waned. The time for tea had passed.

The Hardestys and the Templetons made their farewells. The Manchesters rose to leave.

He must, as well.

As they stood in the foyer and the butler collected the guests coats and umbrellas, Mrs. Manchester told the Hanniford ladies that she hoped they would meet again soon.

“We’re to present our Dahlia in society,” Mrs. Manchester said with a frisson of delight. “Just like you, Miss Hanniford.”

Dahlia Manchester pressed her lips together, blushing red as a radish. “Mama, please.”

“You understand, I’m sure,” the lady said by way of apology for her forwardness. “We’re eager to get on with showing her about. Will all of you attend the Earl of Darforth’s supper?” She took on the air of a conspirator.

Marianne shifted. Chaumont froze, her face made of ice, at the lady’s gauche mention of another’s invitation.

Julian set his teeth at the woman’s breech of etiquette.

Lily smiled, ignoring the lack of protocol. “We will.”

“Marvelous. And the Carbury house party?”

Marianne cast a stern eye at the butler to continue his task of assisting all with their coats.

Lily grinned, all grace. “That, too.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Mrs. Manchester clasped her hands before her in joy.

Dahlia secured the buttons on her coat. “Mama, we must go. Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon.”

“The Carbury party will be our first in the country.” The lady was not to be diverted. “Lord Chelton, I understand you are invited, too. So we will be a lovely intimate group.”

His guts twitching at the possibility, Julian wished to show some restraint lest he wag his tail, eager as a puppy to see Lily again. “I’m afraid I have not yet replied.”

Chaumont gave him the drollest look. “But your lands adjoin, do they not, Monsieur le Marquis? I would say you would be the first to attend, oui?”

“I have another pending engagement and may not be able to attend.”

“A pity,” said Mrs. Manchester.

And when Lily Hanniford’s gaze met his, Julian stilled. Disappointment lingered in those blue depths. Longing, quickly covered by a fluttering of lashes.

So. She was conflicted as well.

Dare he deny the hunger he’d glimpsed in her eyes?

He’d be a fool to call it nil. An idiot to go. A cretin to refrain.

He bowed over each lady’s hand and lingered before Lily. “I bid you good day. Until we meet again.”





Chapter Five


“Good afternoon, Burton,” Julian greeted the aging butler whom his father had brought with him from Shanghai three decades ago when their merchant house had gone bankrupt. “Is His Grace arrived in the library?”

His father had sent a note to his bachelor quarters earlier this morning. The man had been testy of late and Julian would rather face the fire than fan it by not attending his so-called ‘urgent meeting’.

Besides, Julian adored the grand house. On Green Park, the family home of the Dukes of Seton backed to the flowing lawn near the old St. James’s Palace. Not as grand as Spencer House farther up the green, nonetheless, the London residence was as renowned for its Palladian splendor. Maintained year-round by a regular staff of butler, two maids and two footmen, the white stone beauty rose three stories. Drafty as it could be in winter, it was refreshing in spring when the breezes from the park flowed into the jade Peacock salon and washed the wood-paneled library in sparkling sunlight.

“Yes, my lord. He awaits you there.”

Unusual for the old man to summon him with any urgency. What was amiss? The mills? The workers? Julian divested himself of his walking stick, gloves, hat and coat. Tugging on his cuffs, he smiled at the taciturn servant whose good will he always was careful to cultivate. “Excellent. I shall go. Is my sister at home from her calls?”

“Lady Elanna arrived a few minutes ago, my lord. She and Her Grace also await you.”

“Ah.” A family meeting. Rare, those. And not a sign of a topic meant to bring a smile to his lips. Rather it importuned a row. “Thank you. I’ll go up.”

When he opened the door and strode through, Julian breathed in the abject silence—and the anxiety. His father glared at him. His mother took note of his presence and sniffed, her usual sign of impatience. His sister pressed her lips together, her eyes round and intense, pleading with him to save her from whatever evil had befallen her already.

“Good you’re here. Come, come.” His father waved him into his smoke-filled study. Standing before the fire, the old man hooked both hands behind his back and tipped his head toward the only remaining vacant chair. “Have a seat.”

Julian took it, but couldn’t take his gaze from his father. The man was pale. His skin an uncharacteristic color of gray. Whatever today’s topic, it was worse than ever before.

His mother inhaled, her eyes floating along the alabaster mantel. “Now, Seton. Do get on with it, will you?”

“Have a dinner engagement, dearest?” his father chided his mother. “Why should I have to ask?”