Wilfrey turned to Lily. Something shifted in his composure, something that looked like regret, though Hugo suspected it was closer to recalibration.
“I must say, I think you are well suited. You are both rather… unconventional.”
Hugo felt Lily stiffen against his arm. Her fingers pressed into his forearm, and the smile she offered Wilfrey turned brittle.
“How kind of you, Lord Wilfrey.”
Wilfrey bowed and withdrew. Hugo watched him go and felt a sharp, sudden dislike.
Sophia and Edward materialized moments later. Edward shook Hugo’s hand, and Sophia leaned forward to kiss Lily’s cheek.
“What have you done?” Sophia whispered.
“It was planned,” Lily murmured. “I will explain everything later.”
Sophia studied her face, nodded, and tucked her hand into Edward’s arm. “We will speak tonight. Congratulations, sister.”
Hugo steered Lily toward a quieter stretch of the garden. A stone bench sat beneath an arbor draped with climbing roses, and he guided her toward it, putting distance between them and the nearest guests.
“Something is bothering you. And it is not the engagement.”
Lily stared at the roses as if they had personally offended her.
“Unconventional.” She said the word the way another woman might sayvermin. “If Lord Wilfrey thinks I am unconventional, he will never propose. Not after this. He will choose someone conventional instead.”
Hugo glanced over his shoulder. The nearest guests were out of earshot. He turned back.
“Why are you so fixed on Wilfrey?”
“Because he is the only man in thetonwho would not bore me to tears within a fortnight of marriage. He reads. He travels. He does not speak to me as though my opinions are decorative.”
“He pressed a fern and called it the highlight of his Season.”
“You mentioned that yesterday.”
“It bears repeating.”
“The fact that you find botanical interests tedious does not make them objectively so, Your Grace.”
“I do not find them tedious. I find a man who considers a dried plant the pinnacle of an entire social season to be lacking in imagination.” He crossed his arms. “You want a man who will let you be yourself. I understand that. But Wilfrey does not want you to be yourself. He wants a version of you that fits neatly into his world. The moment you exceed those boundaries, and you will, he will call you unconventional and mean it as a warning.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. He watched the conflict behind her eyes, the collision between what she wanted to believe and what she suspected was true.
“You do not know him.”
“I know men like him. They attend the right events, say the right things, and marry the right women. And the right women spend thirty years smiling at dinner parties and wondering what happened to the version of themselves that once talked too fast about their love of literature and poetry.” He met her gaze. “The men in thetonadmire intelligence in a woman the way they admire a well-trained horse. They appreciate the quality while insisting it be kept under control. Wilfrey is no different. He will value your mind as long as it does not outshine his. He will enjoy your wit as long as it does not cut too deep.”
Lily’s hands tightened in her lap. “And what would you suggest I do? Abandon the only prospect who has shown genuine interest?”
“I would suggest you understand what draws a man like Wilfrey in and what pushes him away. You are clever, Lily. Sharper than half the men in that garden. But cleverness alone does not capture a man’s attention in a ballroom. Elegance does. Softness does. The ability to make a man feel as though he has discovered something rare, rather than being lectured by someone formidable.”
Her chin lifted. Color rose in her cheeks, and her green eyes flashed with the fury of a woman who has been told something she did not want to hear and cannot entirely dismiss.
“You think I am too formidable.”
“You are unique. I think Wilfrey is not equipped to appreciate it.” He uncrossed his arms. “But if you are determined to have him, then you need to learn how to make him believe he can.”
Silence stretched between them. A bee droned through the roses. Hugo watched Lily wrestle with pride and pragmatism and felt, with uncomfortable clarity, the moment pragmatism won.
