“And then when he died I was, of course, in mourning,” she continued. She didn’t add that she had never mourned her husband in truth. That she’d felt a wicked sense of freedom rather than sorrow. Certainly she couldn’t add how she’d judged herself for those awful feelings for months.
The woman she’d been at the Donville Masquerade might have told her gentle, passionate lover such a thing. She might have let her Ares in and allowed him to comfort her. But here? No. That would be entirely inappropriate.
“My condolences,” he said softly.
She pursed her lips. “Thank you.”
She looked at him once more instead of dodging her gaze away. Lord, he was beautiful. How could a man be so beautiful with all those angles, how could he look so proper when he was clearly built for passion and sin under those perfectly pressed clothes?
She shook her head. This needed to stop. “And what about you, my lord? What secrets doyouhave to reveal?”
“Secrets?” he repeated. There was a hesitation in the conversation as the empty plates were drawn away and replaced. Normally Lily would have enjoyed the surprise of whatever dish came next, but at present she didn’t even notice the supper. As the servant stepped away he continued, “Is that what we’re exchanging here?”
“Facts then,” she said, happy that her tone could be cool, at least, when everything else felt close and hot and dizzying. “That is how people get to know each other, after all.”
“That sounds very efficient.” He smiled slightly. “So whatfactsdo you wish to know, Mrs. Manning?”
She looked at Alice again. Her sister had glanced down the table at Lily and Lockhart and there was sadness on her face. Worry. Girding herself, Lily set her fork down on the edge of her plate and said, “I suppose I wonder what a man of your age and reputation finds of interest in my innocent sister.”
* * *
George nearly choked on his bite of food at the intensity of Lily’s question. He set his own cutlery down and tilted his head. “That is…that is direct.”
She shrugged. “We have little time until you two wed. And I’m not the sort of person who dodges important topics.” She flushed. “Not usually, at any rate.”
“And here I thought you’d question me about books or my favorite country dance,” he said, hoping the quip would melt some of her ice. It didn’t. She didn’t laugh or smile, just continued to watch him with those bright brown eyes that seemed to catch a man and yank him forward even if he didn’t wish to be there. He cleared his throat. “Obviously you have serious concerns about this union.”
“I do.” She looked away from him, as she always seemed to do when they were too close either physically or when they began to understand each other in even the slightest way.
He nodded. So all his fears were correct, then. “Well, I’d like to address them, but perhaps not at the family supper table.”
She jerked her face up and glanced around, as if recalling exactly where they were. Heat suffused her cheeks, bringing attention to high cheekbones. She truly had the most fascinating face.
“Yes, of course. Forgive me, my lord,” she said softly.
“Perhaps we could discuss it later,” he said, wanting her to know he was willing to speak to her, that he wasn’t just trying to put her off. As much as he wanted to do just that, how could he? “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to know my thoughts on art?”
She shifted a little and glanced at him. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I did notice your family home has some wonderful pieces by artists I’ve only ever seen in museums.”
He smiled at her response, at the quiet thrill of her words. So, shecouldbe cracked. Which meant he might be able to ease her fears. Later, when they could have privacy so he could do just that.
* * *
Lily stood by herself in the parlor, sipping her sherry as she pondered the night. Despite herself, she had enjoyed Lockhart’s company at supper. She found him to be educated, focused and his charisma was impossible to deny. He could easily discuss her favorite artists and then shift to current events of the day. He might make a quip that made the room smile or ask a question that truly seemed to focus in on who a person was.
She had evaded all those types of questions, of course, because the last thing she could allow him to do was see her. Not the truth of her. Not ever.
To her surprise, she felt a hand slide through her elbow and she jumped as she realized Alice had crossed the room and joined her. Her sister rested her head on Lily’s shoulder for a moment and then she looked up at her. “You and Lockhart seemed to be involved in deep conversation at supper. Did you have a good talk?”
Lily flinched. “We—we did,” she said, and added nothing more.
Alice didn’t seem to care that she didn’t expound on the topic, she merely looked thrilled. Relieved. Why so relieved? As if Lily could save her somehow. It was intensely troubling.
As was the fact that when she looked across the room she found Lockhart watching her. Not her sister, not them as a pair: her. His gray-blue gaze flitted over her briefly and then returned to Clarissa and Lord Kirkwood as the threesome talked.
“Alice,” Prudence said sharply as she joined the two. Alice’s hand tightened on Lily’s arm for a fraction of a moment before she smiled at her mother.
“Yes, Mama?”
