She was happy to see Lady Kirkwood’s expression light up with as much joy at the mention of Esme as Lily herself felt. Esme deserved good friends who stood by her. She might have continued the conversation with the lady, but Alice squeezed her arm.
“Let me fetch your tea,” her sister insisted, and rushed to the sideboard.
“Good afternoon, Prudence,” Lily said, glancing toward her stepmother at last.
The viscountess sniffed lightly. “Lily. You are late.”
Heat suffused Lily’s cheeks and she immediately felt guilty even though she’d done nothing to cause her own tardiness. “Oh yes, I know. The weather just outside London slowed our progress the first day. I do apologize for the inconvenience it might have caused.”
“None at all,” Lady Pembrooke said, motioning to a chair that had been unoccupied. “Though I am sorry that you were not also greeted by Lockhart. He is a little late himself from a ride around the estate, but should be back soon.”
Lily pursed her lips briefly but forced a smile as Alice came to her with a cup of tea. Her sister then took the chair beside hers and grasped one hand just as she always had when she was a little girl.
So her fiancé couldn’t even bother to join his future wife for tea. One more little mark against him, for his tardiness couldn’t be explained away so easily as her own, certainly. It could be for lack of care. Or pure selfishness. Neither would be good answers to all the questions that boiled within her.
She pushed the thoughts away. “It is no trouble. There was no way to anticipate my arrival and I’m certain I will have plenty of time in the next few weeks before the wedding to make his acquaintance.”
She glanced at Alice and noted the slight tightness of her lips, but then the small group launched into conversation and she fell into the politeness of getting to know them all.
It was impossible not to like Lord and Lady Kirkwood. They were both friendly and the countess was very kind, especially to Alice. Lily had believed they would be friends after everything Esme had shared about the woman, but she knew it now.
The Earl and Countess of Pembrooke were also easy with her sister, though the gentleman was not particularly engaged and she thought she sensed a slight tension to the countess. That hesitation that didn’t seem to have to do with Alice, thank heavens, but something else.
She was beginning to find some ease and comfort when the door to the parlor opened and the group began to rise for the newcomer.
“Forgive my lateness,” said the male voice behind her. “Carson and Ward were doing some work in the old castle site and one of the horses thew a shoe, so I assisted in fixing that.”
Lily caught her breath. That voice felt so familiar. Slowly she turned and it felt like every light in the world went out except for a piercing spotlight on the man standing in the doorway, still speaking although she had no idea what was being said anymore.
It washim. The man from the Donville Masquerade.
Oh, he had neatly trimmed his hair and shaved his beard so that the rakishly effortless mess of him was hidden. He was dressed more formally. But it was definitely him.
“Lily.” It was Alice’s voice saying her name and Lily fought to surface from her shock. “Come and meet Lockhart.”
Lily’s stomach turned and the tea she had drank lifted all the way to her throat and threatened to cast itself back up. No. No, that couldn’t be correct. The man standing there, the man who had pleasured her not three nights before, wasLockhart? Her sister’s future husband? A man Lily had so many questions and fears about?
Thiswas the fantasy man who had made her feel things that still haunted her every dream, and she feared would continue to do so until she took her last breath?
Her world felt like it was collapsing and she barely stayed on her feet as she stepped forward and extended a trembling hand.
* * *
George stared at the woman coming across the parlor toward him, her hand outstretched, but also slightly shaking as she stared at him with unblinking eyes. He’d never met Mrs. Manning, his intended’s older sister, though Miss Westinghouse had mentioned her a few times in conversations he had frankly forgotten along with much else they discussed.
He took the woman’s hand and for a moment there was a flutter of electricity that surged between them. She was truly beautiful now that he really looked at her. She had dark hair, bright brown eyes and full lips. But it was her expression that continued to draw him in. She looked something between terrified and sick as she choked out, “Lord Lockhart, a-a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”
She withdrew her hand immediately and stepped back, her gaze dropping away, darting toward her sister instead.
“And yours, Mrs. Manning,” he said with a smile he hoped would soothe whatever was troubling her.
Instead she pivoted away from him and returned to her seat, refusing to meet his stare.
Did he know this woman? As the others continued talking, he moved his gaze to her. It felt like he might. Was that why she was having such a strong reaction to him? Had he slighted her? Or worse, flirted with her at some boring party he didn’t even recall?
He moved to the sideboard and prepared himself tea. When he turned back to the group with cup in hand, he found Mrs. Manning watching him, but she jerked her gaze down again when he met it. Flummoxed, he took a seat beside his parents on the settee and tried to focus in on the conversation with his family and that of his intended.
It was mostly light chatter about nothing at all. He noted that Mrs. Manning didn’t engage in most of it, even as her sister and his cousin Clarissa continued to make efforts to draw her out. She always responded when they did, but there was no point when she looked at George again.
