Love According To Lily (3 page)

Her mother led her across the room to the gentlemen who were gathered by the piano. There were a few familiar faces, but some new ones, too. One in particular stood out—a young, dark-haired man who was not unattractive. He was staring at Lily with apparent interest.

Lily’s mother made the introductions, and sure enough, the young man was Lord Richard—her potential future husband if her mother had her druthers.

Lily smiled politely, then listened to the conversation rather than joining in, while at the same time stealing discreet glances at Lord Richard. A few times their eyes met, and he gave her a smile. She began to feel more at ease. Her pulse slowly returned to its normal pace.

A short time later, the conversation was clipping along and Lily was smiling brightly at all the people in the group. She forgot about her flushed cheeks. She forgot about Whitby. She did not look across the room, perhaps because she was very aware of Lord Richard’s interest in her, watching her and evaluating her. She did her best to be charming and friendly, laughing at witty remarks that were made, gazing with interest at whoever was speaking at any given moment. Then, when the dinner gong rang out and the time had arrived to proceed into the dining room, she smiled candidly at Lord Richard before taking the arm of her elderly neighbor, Mr. Horton, for they were to line up two-by-two according to precedence.

They entered the vast, formal dining room, lit by dozens of candles set in silver candelabras, spaced evenly down the long length of the white-clothed table that was set for thirty. Colorful bouquets of flowers trimmed each place-setting and filled the room with the delightful fragrance of a summer garden. Before long, everyone was seated and the extravagant service began.

Lily sat at a diagonal across from Lord Richard, so they were unable to speak to each other directly, but it was a fine opportunity to observe him and see how he behaved with the others around him. He seemed very polite. Occasionally he smiled at Lily, and she smiled back.

On other occasions, she found herself gazing up at the other end of the table where James, Sophia and Whitby were laughing and engaging in more animated conversation. Whitby was seated next to Lady Stanton, who was very beautiful and evidently very amusing. Everyone laughed at the things she said.

Lily forced her gaze back to her plate and resolved to keep her attention on the people sitting beside her and across from her.

After dinner, the ladies returned to the drawing room for coffee, while the gentlemen went to the library for claret and cigars.

“It’s nice to see Lord Richard here,” Lady Stanton said to Lily’s mother, while the coffee was being poured. She leaned forward to pick up her cup. “He has become quite handsome of late. Indeed, I believe he would be a very good match for the right young woman—a woman who enjoys country life.” She directed her smiling gaze at Lily, who said nothing as she picked up her coffee cup and stirred it with a spoon.

“He is indeed an upright young man,” Lily’s mother said. “Any young lady would be fortunate to catch his interest. Very fortunate indeed.”

Lily glanced across at Sophia, who was watching her. Sophia smiled warmly.

Later, after the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room, Sophia approached Lily who was sitting alone on the settee by the window.

“You look lonely over here,” Sophia said, sitting down and touching Lily’s knee.

Lily raised her eyebrows. “No, not at all. I was enjoying watching everyone else talk.”

With a quiet, gentle voice, Sophia said, “You know, Lily, there was a time when you enjoyed social gatherings like this. You used to long for excitement and a new face now and then. A
handsome
face.” She gave Lily a knowing, sidelong glance.

Lily managed to reach the edges of a smile, though she felt little joy to go along with it. “That was when I was young and innocent and knew nothing of the wicked ways of the world.” She spoke with mocking humor, though there was more than a little truth to it, and they both knew it.

“So what do you think of Lord Richard?” Sophia asked, thankfully changing the subject. “Your mother thinks he would be a very good match for you.”

“I’m sure he would be,” Lily replied. “I’ll look forward to getting to know him over the next few days.”

Sophia stared intently into Lily’s eyes. “Will you?” The skepticism in her voice was unmistakable. Sophia had always been direct. “Or would you prefer to get to know someone else?”

A thick cloud of uneasiness descended upon Lily as she sat speechless on the settee.

Sophia knew.

How long she had known, Lily had no idea. She remembered telling Sophia three years ago that she had once fancied Whitby when she was a girl. Lily had thought she was over him at that time. She had sincerely believed she was. In fact, she had thought of him very little over the year prior to that.

But something had changed lately. Lily had gone to London in May and thrown herself back into the scorching crush of the Season. She’d seen Whitby over and over at balls and assemblies after not having seen him for almost two full years—the years after Pierre, when she had retreated from society in general. She had skipped the London Season altogether in those years.

But when she saw Whitby again last May, she’d remembered all too clearly the day he had come with James and Sophia to fetch her out of that boardinghouse and bring her home and save her from certain doom. He had carried her down a flight of stairs and taken her into the safety of a private coach. He had not judged her—like she’d felt the others had, especially her mother after she’d arrived home. But she couldn’t blame them. Even Lily had judged herself and continued to judge and condemn herself. But Whitby never had, nor did he seem to judge her now. It was all forgotten. He never mentioned it. Though he never talked to her about anything of consequence…

Sophia took Lily’s hand. “You know you can trust me, Lily, don’t you?”

Lily nodded.

Sophia squeezed Lily’s hand a little tighter. “I like to think that we are close, and I believe that we are, but there is something you have been keeping from me—and everyone else, for that matter—for a very long time. I believe you care for Lord Whitby, but you haven’t wanted anyone to know.”

Lily looked down at Sophia’s hand upon hers and said nothing for what seemed like an eternity. At last, she sighed. “You are very intuitive.”

Sophia’s shoulders relaxed, as if she’d been preparing to coax it out of Lily with a large conversational pump.

“How long have you known?” Lily asked.

Sophia glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening, then spoke quietly. “I’ve known since the day you told me three years ago, when I was first married to James. But since then, I thought you were over him. I continued to believe that, until you left London unexpectedly in June when everyone thought he was going to propose to Miss Scott. But when James and I returned home, you never mentioned him or asked about him, so I thought perhaps I was wrong. Until tonight.”

Feeling exposed all of a sudden, Lily asked, “Am I that transparent?”

“No. If you were, your mother would know and Whitby would know, too. He has a very keen awareness when it comes to women expressing their interest.”

Yes. Lily knew how clever he was with women. She had been watching him for years. “Does James know?” she asked.

Sophia shook her head. “No. I’ve mentioned my suspicions to him a few times, but he has never believed it could be true. Perhaps because you’re his sister, he has a hard time imagining you being in love—with Whitby, at any rate, since you’ve known him forever. James most likely sees the two of you like a brother and sister.”

“But we’re not.”

“No, you are not, which is very clear to me.”

Lily couldn’t begin to express the elation that came from knowing that someone saw her as something other than a sister to Whitby.

“I think you’re the only one who sees it that way,” she said, still finding it impossible to imagine anything coming of it.

Sophia grinned with gentle compassion. “Only for the moment.”

Lily’s heart bounced a little in her chest. “What are you saying, Sophia?”

“I’m saying what you think I’m saying. Perhaps the time has come to see if there can be more between you.”

Lily stared dumbfounded at Sophia. She had been talking herself out of loving Whitby for so long, she couldn’t even begin to comprehend the possibility of any other fate.

Her thoughts went immediately to all the reasons why. “But mother despises him.”

“James doesn’t.”

“But Whitby’s so much older than I am.”

“Twelve years,” Sophia replied. “A mere obstacle, easily circumvented.”

Lily felt her eyebrows lift. “Easily circumvented?”

“Yes.” Sophia glanced discreetly around the room again. “Life is too short, Lily. You’ve cared for Whitby for a long time, and you haven’t seemed able to care for anyone else, even though you’ve tried. If you want him, you should pursue him and see what comes of it. Then at least you’ll know whether or not the two of you are meant to be together.”

Lily laughed out loud, then put her hand over her mouth, afraid she’d attracted the attention of the other guests. “Just like that?
Pursue
him?”

“Why, yes.” Sophia was looking at Lily as if she couldn’t understand what the problem was, which was very typical of Sophia. She had a tenacious will, and every Englishman knew that Americans had hard noses for getting what they wanted. Lily supposed she could do with a few lessons in diligence from her sister-in-law.

Lily dropped her gaze to her hands again. “But James is right in one respect. Whitby does see me as a child and a sister. If he sees me at all.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. He barely notices me when there are other women around—women who know how to flirt with him. In fact, he barely notices me even when there
aren’t
other women around. Just tonight, he was far more interested in hearing about Lord Spencer’s new rifle than he was in talking to me. Whenever we’re in the same room together, it’s like I’m invisible.”

“Have you ever tried to make him see you?”

Lily scoffed at the suggestion. “By doing what? Jumping up and down and waving my arms over my head?”

“No, silly,” Sophia replied quietly. “He’s a man. You’re a woman, and a very pretty one. All you need to do is flirt with him, but don’t be too available. Don’t chase after him. A good flirt will manipulate the man into thinking he’s chasing after
her
. And perhaps wear a more daring gown. Surprise him, so that he has no choice but to finally see that you’ve grown up.”

Lily gazed pensively at her mother sitting before the fire. “I was going to wear my blue Worth tonight, but Mother thought I should wear this. She thought it would be more suitable to meet Lord Richard.”

“Ah, yes,” Sophia said, glancing over at him. “Lord Richard.”

Lily looked over at him, too. He was talking to his father and a few others. “He seems very nice. I certainly wouldn’t want to discount him.”

“Neither would I, if I were in your shoes. But you know, if Whitby sees that you have captured the interest of another man, it might be just the thing to make him notice you.”

Lily began to feel uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to use Lord Richard, or mislead him in any way.”

“No, no, of course you wouldn’t do that,” Sophia said. “What I’m saying is that you are young and unattached, and this is the time to test the waters with different men. I think you should try to get to know the both of them over the next few days. Do you think you can do that?”

Lily’s lifetime dream came to her mind—the vision of Whitby leaning down to kiss her, his lips touching hers lightly at first, before he pulled her into his arms for a more passionate kiss.

Her heart began to race with excitement. “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“I wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t.”

The blood stirred in Lily’s veins, sending a burst of excitement from the top of her head down to her toes. Sophia was confident. She believed it could be done. Could Lily believe it, too? Gooseflesh tingled on her thighs.

“I don’t have a daring gown,” she said. “Even the blue Worth has a conservative neckline compared to what some of the other women are wearing.”

Sophia smiled wickedly. “I have a few. And my maid knows how to use the sewing machine. We could easily alter one to fit you for the dancing tomorrow night.”

“But what about Lord Richard?” Lily said. “I don’t want to do anything that might spoil my chances with him. If I am to be realistic, I must remember that the chances of Whitby actually falling in love with me are slim.”

Sophia patted Lily’s knee and smiled. “Don’t worry, Lily. I suspect if Lord Richard is like most men, he’ll approve of your new look. They both will.”

On the other side of the drawing room, Marion set down her coffee cup and realized she was only half listening to the conversation around her, for she was distracted. She did not like the look of things over by the window, where Sophia and Lily were speaking privately and keeping their voices noticeably low. It was not proper. They should be here with the other ladies, conversing politely.

She glanced over at them again, and saw a look in her daughter’s eye that she had not seen in quite some time. Lily looked rather eager and animated.

It was a look that caused Marion some concern, and she was most agitated by the involuntary clenching of her jaw.

Chapter 3

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” James asked Whitby, who was sprawled out in a chair in James’s dressing room. James slipped his arms into the gray tweed hunting jacket his valet held out for him.

Whitby, already dressed in his hunting attire, flipped his hat over in his hands. “Yes, it was a fine time. Sophia seemed to enjoy herself.”

“She always does. She likes entertaining.” James turned away from the cheval mirror and faced Whitby. He stared at him for a moment. “Pardon my candor, but you look like hell again this morning, Whitby. Tell me you ate breakfast.”

Whitby continued to flip his hat. “I’m quite sure I did.”

“You’re quite sure? When someone asks if you ate and you did, you don’t say you’re
quite sure
you did. You say you
did
. Unless you’re trying to hide the fact that you weren’t hungry because your head was still swimming in brandy from the night before.”

Whitby leaned back in the chair. He wasn’t in the mood to defend himself. He had far too much on his mind.

He tilted his head at James. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? I remember a time when you avoided breakfast, too, after a so-called late night in the drawing room.”

James faced the mirror again while his valet tugged at his sleeves. “Yes, but I’ve matured, thank God. I don’t take this body for granted anymore.”

Whitby did not take his body for granted either. Not by a long shot.

“You, on the other hand,” James continued tersely, “act like you’re still nineteen.”

Whitby stared astonished at James. “And why not? What’s wrong with enjoying myself? I’m not dead… at least not yet.” He tried to sound playful.

James turned again, leaned down and reached into Whitby’s breast pocket. He pulled out the flask and stared at it, then tossed it into the trash basket. “You will be if you keep this up.”

Whitby stared in stunned silence at the flask in the bottom of the basket. An ominous silence ensued. James waved his valet away, and the man walked out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, James said, “You’re my oldest friend, Whitby, so I consider it my duty to ask. When was the last time you were sober for more than a day?”

Whitby, slouching in the chair, narrowed his gaze at James. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. He’d come here because he’d wanted to have a good time. He
needed
to have a good time. He did not come to be lectured.

For a long moment he sat there, and when he finally spoke, the irritation was clear in his voice. “I’m not a drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then explain this change in your appearance.”

Whitby glared at James. “What is this? For God’s sake, you’re beginning to sound like your father.”

James’s eyes narrowed with displeasure at hearing such a thing. His voice was low and controlled when he finally spoke. “And you’re sounding like yours.”

It was no great secret that Whitby’s father had been constantly inebriated during the final years of his life, before dying at the age of forty-two.

Whitby dropped his hand to the armrest. Normally, he would have stood up and faced James directly, jabbed a finger on his chest and challenged him to make such an accusation a second time. But today, Whitby just couldn’t. For one thing, he
was
still soused and he didn’t entirely trust himself to get out of the chair and stand steady.

Secondly, he was finding this whole conversation unsettling. It was reminding him of his failures regarding his duty to his family, in particular to Annabelle, who was the most vulnerable to Magnus. His cousin. His enemy, who was finally going to get what he wanted if Whitby’s health did not improve.

So Whitby simply rolled his eyes at James.

“Jesus. You’re way off course. I’ve had a sore throat lately, that’s all. Bloody hell.”

“A sore throat,” James said doubtfully.

“Yes, and the brandy numbs it.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Whitby glared at James, annoyed with him for asking these intrusive questions. He did not want to talk about this. “Yes, I’ve seen a doctor,” he lied, and that lie gave birth to another. “And for your information, he’s the one who suggested the brandy.”

James eyed his friend with careful scrutiny, then reached into the trash basket for the discarded flask and handed it back to Whitby. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were enjoying yourself too much, acting old and self-righteous. Now I know how Martin must feel, in the unenviable position of being your younger brother. Perhaps he and I should compare notes.”

Hearing the faint humor in Whitby’s voice, James appeared to relax slightly. He took a deep breath. “The doctor said it will pass?”

“The sore throat?”

“Yes, the sore throat,” James said, growing visibly frustrated with Whitby’s apparent lack of concern, and not appearing to be entirely convinced he was being honest.

Whitby nodded. “Yes, of course it will pass. I probably should have stayed home and nursed it, but I’ve never missed one of your shooting parties and damned if I’m going to start now.”

James turned to the mirror again and placed his hat on his head. “Well, let’s just hope you’ll be able to shoot straight.”

That evening, Lily entered the dimly lit drawing room at seven o’clock sharp. She paused at the door, glancing over all the guests and feeling self-conscious in Sophia’s deep crimson evening gown with a shockingly low off-the-shoulder neckline.

She raised a hand to touch the ruby necklace she wore. The sensation of the cool air touching Lily’s collarbone and cleavage was most unnerving, for she hadn’t worn a gown like this in years, not since she was eighteen and full of courage and confidence. She had tried very hard to look beautiful then. But she was no longer that girl.

Lily swallowed over her nervousness and entered the room. A hot fire roared in the grate. The gold chandelier overhead gleamed with a dozen flickering candles.

Her mother had not yet arrived. Lily was glad, because she wasn’t looking forward to explaining the way she looked.

Whitby had not arrived, either, she noticed. Nor had Lord Richard. Sophia was standing by the piano, talking to a few of the ladies. She spotted Lily immediately and excused herself from the others, crossing the room with an eager look in her eye.

“You look exquisite,” Sophia whispered, when she reached Lily. “He will most definitely notice you tonight—especially in that color.”

“But what then?” Lily asked. “He’ll tell me I look nice and move on.”

“No, you will surprise him and capture his interest, like we talked about.”

Lily was doubtful. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off.”

“Of course you will,” Sophia said. “Just remember, it’s all about pretending to be confident, even if you’re not.”

Lily smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt. “No man has ever chased me before. Well, one did. In this very drawing room. And you know how that turned out.”

Sophia led her fully into the room and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Yes, but you mustn’t think of that. All you have to think about is Whitby, and how you’re going to let him know you want to be caught.”

Lily felt her cheeks flood with color. She didn’t think she had what it took to be coquettish, not with Whitby, for he had become like a character in a fairy story to her. She idolized him.

It was ridiculous, she knew, because he was just a man—a man she’d known her entire life.

At that moment, her eyes turned toward the door, and there he was, in all his handsome, heavenly splendor, walking into the drawing room and picking up a glass of champagne from the footman. Oh, he was spectacular. More than spectacular.

Over the years, he’d matured and become even more manly, if that was possible. More confident in the way he carried himself. The bones of his face were strong and well defined, and tonight, his golden hair was unruly in the most deliriously rakish way.

She glanced at his big hand holding the delicate, stemmed champagne glass. His emerald ring gleamed in the evening light. Lily nervously sucked in a breath and wet her lips.

Dressed in black and white formal attire, he moved to the other side of the room and stopped beside the window. He struck up a conversation with a few of the other gentlemen.

Sophia signaled to a footman who immediately came toward them with a tray of champagne. Sophia and Lily each took a glass, then Sophia touched Lily’s arm and redirected the way she stood. “Turn your back to Whitby.”

Lily did as Sophia suggested, and slowly sipped her drink while they chatted.

“He just looked at you,” Sophia said.

“Who? Whitby?”

“Yes. He looked you up and down from head to foot. My word, he has no shame.”

“He looked
me
up and down?” Lily said, astonished. “Surely not. He must have been looking at you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Well, that does it. I’m convinced. A red dress works every time.”

They continued to chat and sip champagne, and Lily finally got up the courage to look over her shoulder at him the way Sophia had told her to do.

He immediately met her gaze, and before she had a chance to look away, he raised his glass to her.

Shocked, she faced Sophia again. “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” Sophia replied, smiling. Not a minute later, the corner of her mouth turned up in a satisfied grin. “What a surprise. He’s coming over here.”

“Are you sure?” Lily asked, still not quite ready to believe he wanted to talk to
her
. Surely, he was coming to talk to Sophia. “What about my flirting with him and making him think he’s chasing after me? I had expected that to take all night.”

Sophia shrugged and chuckled. “I guess Whitby doesn’t need to be manipulated.”

Lily felt her face flushing red.

“Relax,” Sophia said, “and don’t turn around until he speaks first. Act unsurprised to see him, then after a few minutes of aloofness, say something witty and smile at him with your eyes. Men like that.”

At that moment, Lily felt Whitby nearing like a great tidal wave about to crash, then he stopped beside her. Her stomach did a wild, out-of-control flip. She strove to ignore it and do as Sophia suggested. She would act aloof.