Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(27)

“Does she have warts on her nose? No. On the contrary, I understand she is quite lovely. And you like her.”

Who had told him that? Elanna knew his reaction to her. His mother, too, had witnessed the scene at the opera in Paris. He’d been careless to allow anyone to see it. But he’d been entranced.

“You like her quite a bit.”

“And I would predict you have more than one reason to suggest her,” Julian said with bitterness filling his throat.

“She has thousands of reasons to commend her. More than that Van de Putte girl.”

Julian had met the American, Priscilla Van de Putte, last spring and had spent the next few months escaping her clutches. Selfish, spoiled, Priscilla was the epitome of a woman he would never take to his arms, let alone to the altar. “I’ve avoided marriage so far. I intend to extend my run.”

He rose from his chair and headed for the hall.

As he reached for the door, his father called to him.

He paused. “Yes?”

“I must tell you Killian Hanniford sent a request around yesterday to meet with me.”

That spelled trouble. His father had no head for negotiating. “And?”

“He still wishes to buy shares of Cardiff Shipping.”

“I see.” Julian had refused to continue talks with Lily’s father in Paris. He’d informed his father of it as soon as he returned to England.

“I must try because you couldn’t get a decent price out of him.”

And neither can you. “The company is decrepit. It needs new ships, repair of the old ones and new management. It’s nigh unto bankrupt. Give over, sir. I wish to hear no more about it.”

“But his daughter is worth so much more.”

More than you know. Julian ground his teeth. “Sell your shares, sir, if you wish. But do not think you can barter away my marriage bed in the bargain.”





Chapter Six


Lily and Marianne took the stairs down to main floor of Carbury Manor.

“I hope there’s tea,” Lily whispered.

“With fat cucumber sandwiches,” Marianne said.

“Frankly, I could do with a shot of brandy.” She hated being caged with a dozen people she did not know for four solid days. Worse, the Duchess of Seton was here and her greeting to them had not been warm. “Especially when facing a certain gauntlet.”

Lily and Marianne had arrived minutes behind the lady and her daughter, pretty Lady Elanna. All four had politely recalled their meeting at the opera in Paris. When Marianne, bless her for her ingenuity, had inquired about the health of Lord Chelton, his mother was quick to add how well he was and that all could soon see for themselves, as he would be along soon. Lily feigned serenity at that news, while her stomach did a little flippity-flop. Thankfully, Lord Carbury kept the introductions brief and summoned the housekeeper to show the ladies to their bedrooms.

“How long does tea last?” Lily asked Marianne.

“Forever,” Marianne said, as she took the last step into the marbled foyer.

Lily stifled a groan as Carbury’s butler appeared from the service entrance.

With an officious nod, he showed them into the drawing room.

The party had already assembled and they alternately stood or sat, sipping tea and nibbling biscuits, looking as jovial as if they’d been stuffed for mounting. Carbury shot to his feet, offering his chair to Marianne and showing Lily to the sofa beside Lady Elanna. Carbury began the introductions.

“Her Grace met you earlier,” he said and they exchanged polite nods. He went on to bring them to the three older ladies sitting like well-dressed little dolls in three separate wing chairs.

“Lady Struthers. Lady Summersfell. And Lady Fielding. I wish to present Mrs. Marianne Roland and her cousin, Miss Lily Hanniford.”

The three ranged in age from sprightly to doddering to snoozing.

“What? What?” said the last one when she heard her named invoked. “Yes. Yes, I see you.” She struggled to loop her glasses over her right ear. “Pretty things. American, aren’t you?”

“We are, my lady,” Lily said, smiling at the woman’s delicate skin, pale as parchment and just as pure. “We’re delighted to meet you.”

“Don’t be silly, girl. If Carbury has his way, we three will take to our beds for four days.”

“Now, madam,” Carbury began, flustered.

“Tut tut, Gruffyd. We’ve known you too long.”

“These ladies,” he said as color rose to stain his cheeks, “are my great aunts.”

“We love him,” proclaimed Lady Struthers.

“He needs a wife,” announced Lady Summersfell.

“And he’s unlucky in love,” mourned Lady Fielding with a shake of her head. “But you could do.”

Lily smiled. “Thank you for the compliment, madam.”

“Aunt, please, do not press the young lady.”

“Nonsense, Gruffyd. Thought you said you wanted a wife. Is this not the one?”

Lily swallowed the urge to laugh. But from the corner of her eye, she saw Elanna freeze, her teacup midway to her mouth.

Lord Carbury cleared his throat. “Aunt—”

“Tell me which is the one, Gruffyd. I must know so I can give her my dancing slippers. A gift from the Prince Regent, they were. Magic slippers.” Her thin white brows shot high as she rolled her eyes back and forth in a merry beat.