Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(42)

“Papa,” Lily said tonelessly.

George Lawson acknowledged his daughter with a glance over his shoulder. He straightened his spectacles. “Lord Raiford informed me that you are leaving.”

“I’m being forced to leave.”

“I expected that,” he replied ruefully.

“Did you say anything in my defense, Papa?” Lily’s forehead creased. “Did you tell him I should be allowed to stay? Or are you happy I’ll be gone? Do you have a preference one way or the other?”

“I have reading to do,” George said in a befuddled way, indicating his books.

“Yes, of course,” Lily murmured. “I’m sorry.”

He turned in his chair to face her, his expression perturbed. “There is no need to apologize, daughter. I am no longer surprised by anything you do or any commotion you cause. I ceased to be surprised a long time ago. You never disappoint me because I never expect anything of you.”

Lily wasn’t certain why she had come to find him—for what little he expected of her, she expected even less of him. As a child, she had bothered and provoked him relentlessly—sneaking into his office, pestering him with questions, accidently spilling ink all over his desk while trying to write with his pen. It had taken years for her to accept the crushing fact that he wasn’t interested in her, not her thoughts or questions, her good behavior or even her bad behavior. She had always tried to find a reason for his indifference. For a long time she had felt it was some terrible fault in herself that caused him not to care. Before leaving home for good, she had confided her guilt to Totty, who had managed to assuage it somewhat.

“No, dear, he’s always been that way,” Totty had said placidly. “Your father has a quiet and withdrawn nature. But he’s not a cruel man, Lily—why, there are some men who beat their children for disobeying them! You’ve been fortunate to have a father of such gentle disposition.”

Privately Lily had considered his indifference almost as much a cruelty as beating would have been. Now she was no longer resentful, or puzzled by his lack of caring, but resigned and rather sad. She tried to find words to tell him how she felt.

“I’m sorry for being such a scapegrace,” Lily said. “Perhaps if I’d been a son, we might have found some way to get along together. Instead I’ve been rebellious and foolish, and I’ve made such mistakes…oh, if you only knew, you’d be even more ashamed of me than you already are. But you should be sorry, too, Papa. You’ve been little more than a stranger to me. Since I was a child I’ve had to forge my own way. You were never there. You never punished or scolded me, or did anything to show you were aware of my existence. At least Mother bothered to cry.” She raked her hands through her hair and sighed. “All the times I needed someone to turn to…I should have been able to rely on you. But you kept to your books and your philosophical treatises. Such a fine, scholarly mind you have, Papa.”

George glanced at her then, his eyes filled with protest and rebuke. Lily smiled sadly. “I just wanted to tell you that in spite of everything…I still care about you. I wish…I wish you could say you felt the same.”

She waited, her gaze fixed on his face, her small hands clenching into tight fists. There was only silence.

“Forgive me,” she said casually. “I think Mother’s with Penelope. Tell them I love them. Good-bye, Papa.” Abruptly she turned and walked away.

Controlling her emotions, Lily descended the majestic staircase with its multitude of landings. She realized with regret that she would never have occasion to see Raiford Park again. Surprising, how she had come to love the quiet grandeur of the place and its rich classical design. What a pity. Were it not for Alex’s sour disposition, he could have offered such a splendid life to a woman. Bidding good-bye to the butler and two housemaids wearing forlorn expressions, Lily went outside to watch the last of her belongings being loaded onto the carriage. Shading her eyes with her hand, she saw a lone figure ambling along the drive. It was Henry, returning from a morning spent with his friends in the village. He held a long stick in one hand, swinging it aimlessly as he walked.

“Thank God,” Lily said with relief. She gestured for him to come to her. Henry quickened his pace. When he reached her, he looked at her with questioning blue eyes. Affectionately Lily pushed a few locks of golden hair from his forehead. “I feared you wouldn’t return in time,” she said.

“What’s this?” Henry glanced at the carriage. “In time for what?”

“For good-byes.” Lily smiled wryly. “Your brother and I have had a falling-out, Henry. Now I must go.”

“Falling-out? Over what?”

“I’m leaving for London,” Lily said, ignoring his question. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to teach you all my card tricks, old fellow. Well, perhaps we’ll cross paths again one day.” She pasted a doubtful expression on her face and shrugged. “Perhaps even at Craven’s. I spend most of my time there, you know.”

“Craven’s?” Henry repeated in awe. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“Well, I’m quite good friends with the proprietor.”

“With Derek Craven?”

“So you’ve heard about him.” Lily concealed a satisfied smile. Henry had gone for the bait, as she had known he would. No healthy, hardy boy could resist the lure of the forbidden masculine world on St. James Street.