Once an Heiress (8 page)

“Such a crush last night,” Mrs. Bachman said. “Lady Northington-Jones must be thrilled, but I fear the air was not good for my lungs. So much going and coming, the air never settled.”

“I found it stifling,” Lily said. “Fresh air is better, anyway, Mama.”

Mrs. Bachman pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I disagree. After all, you don’t leave the windows of a sick room flung open, do you? Of course not. Warm, still air is more recuperative.”

Lily took a sip of tea and replaced her cup in its saucer. Around the rim, fanciful peacocks in the Oriental style flew against a wide blue band. The service altogether clashed with the breakfast room’s traditional décor, but Mrs. Bachman insisted the set was the crack of fashion. Lily hadn’t the heart to tell her mother that chinoiserie was already passé.

“What is that you’re wearing?” Mrs. Bachman asked, her cheeks drooped in a frown.

Lily glanced down at her dress. “What, this? It’s new. This is the first I’ve worn it.”

Her mother lifted a lorgnette and squinted. “Is it muslin?”

“Chintz.” Lily broke a morsel off her bread.

“I don’t recognize the fabric,” Mrs. Bachman said.

Lily dipped the bread in her tea and popped it into her mouth. “You were present when I selected it.”

“Was I?” Mrs. Bachman dropped the lorgnette. It fell against her ample chest, dangling from a chain around her neck. “I must say I don’t recall. I certainly don’t think I’d have approved the color. The blue of those flowers does nothing for you. And there it is again in that ribbon ’round your … ” She gestured below her own bosom. She clucked her tongue. “Not a thing for you, my dear.”

Lily closed her eyes and counted to twenty, so as to not lose her temper at her mother this early in the day.

She’d only gotten as far as twelve when there was a rap at the front door.

Lily startled. Her eyes rested on the breakfast room door. Quite a few callers had come in the week since she’d danced with Lord Thorburn, but not him. She’d convinced herself he would come, outing himself for a Leech like all the rest.

But he hadn’t.

Lily didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed that he never came. If he had, she’d have been happy to see him, but sorry he was only interested in her money. But since he hadn’t, she was deprived of laying her eyes on his handsome face again, even if she was still put out at him for kissing her. And then leaving her. She wasn’t sure which offense put her out more.

Gah, she was a mess. She drummed her fingers on the table.

“No, no, that is most inelegant,” Mrs. Bachman scolded. “Very mannish. And with your unfortunate height, you simply cannot utilize such gestures. The Duchess of Monthwaite could,” she said with a nod. “Such a petite, pretty thing. It would be quite modern of her, and soon become all the rage. But it just looks odd on you, Lily. I don’t suggest you continue.”

Lily groaned and pushed back from the table. “I’m sure you’re right, Mama.” She dropped a daughterly kiss to Mrs. Bachman’s cheek. “I shall strive to curtail my hoydenish ways.”

She went to the entrance hall to see who had called.

The butler, Wallace, was arranging several bouquets on a platter. He glanced up at her approach. “I was just bringing these to your room, miss.”

Lily looked over the assortment of colorful flowers. “Who sent these?”

Wallace handed her a collection of calling cards. “Several gentlemen have stopped by this morning. I took the liberty of noting which gift is matched to each card.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. With trembling fingers, Lily flipped through the cards. “Mr. Faircloth?” she muttered. “Still?” She tossed it onto the sideboard and looked at the next. No, no, and no. None of them were from Lord Thorburn.

She scowled. “Box them up, Wallace,” she directed. “Send them to the Navy hospital.”

With a heavy sigh, Lily took herself to the library, the one room in the house where she could be reasonably certain of privacy. Mrs. Bachman had not read anything more intellectually strenuous than the scandal sheets for as long as Lily could remember. The cozy room offered a sanctuary in which to work on her school.

She unpacked her papers from a decorative box on a large mahogany table tucked into the corner of the book-lined walls. So far, she and Mr. Wickenworth had viewed five properties, including Lord Thorburn’s. None of them were quite what Lily envisioned for the school, but the time was coming to make a selection.

She laid out her notes, and then withdrew a fresh sheet of paper. On it, she listed each property down the left side of the page, then proceeded to jot down a few words for each, describing the strong and weak points of the houses. Beside the address of Lord Thorburn’s Bird Street house, she wrote,
Advantages: Taller than I; Handsome; Kisses quite well. Disadvantages: Arrogant (insufferably so); High-handed; I ought not be in the position of knowing he kisses quite well.

She scowled at the paper and drew heavy black marks through that line of text. “The house doesn’t suit,” she muttered. “Neither does the man. And that’s an end to it.”

Forcing Lord Thorburn’s mocking smile from her mind, she set aside the property list, determined instead to review the letters they’d received in answer to the advertisement for a headmistress. There were several who seemed suitably qualified — on paper, at least. This was another decision that needed to be made soon, as she wanted to leave the hiring of tutors and staff to a competent headmistress.

Several hours passed with Lily engrossed in her work, scarcely noticing the passing of time. The sound of her mother’s voice wafting down the hall alerted Lily to an impending interruption.

“There you are!” Mrs. Bachman declared from the doorway. “I see you’ve not dressed for company, though it’s now gone noon. You know it’s our day to receive visitors, and only look who’s here!” She stepped inside the library and waved to an unseen guest in the hall, gesturing them forward.

Lily’s heart skipped. Had Lord Thorburn finally come?

Her disappointment at two female figures appearing lasted only an instant when she saw who it was.

“Naomi!” Lily cried, springing to her feet.

Lady Naomi Lockwood, the youngest sibling of the Duke of Monthwaite, squealed when she caught sight of Lily. She wore a lilac muslin dress with a lightweight shawl draped over her arms. Her reddish-gold hair was done up in a simple twist.

She embraced Lily and stepped back, her hands resting on Lily’s arms. “You look lovely, my dear. Please give me the direction of your modiste — that chintz is divine.”

Lily’s lips twitched and she shot an amused glance in her mother’s direction.

“Miss Bachman!” said the other newcomer. “I trust you are engaged in an improving activity.”

“Yes, Lady Janine,” Lily said, wrapping her arms around Naomi’s aunt.

“Pray, do not make me correct your address yet again, m’dear,” the woman said.

Lily laughed. “Yes, Aunt Janine,” she replied.

Lady Janine had never married, and so took particular interest in the doings of her niece and nephews. She had taken both Lily and Isabelle under her wing last Season, and insisted they also address her as Aunt. The older lady was a hopeless bluestocking, forever absorbed in some course of study, and shamelessly encouraged the young ladies to follow suit.

“Shall we adjourn to the sitting room?” Mrs. Bachman was already moving toward the door.

“Oh, no,” Aunt Janine replied in a faraway voice. “This will do very well.” She walked the length of the massive bookshelves, running her fingers over the spines of the numerous volumes.

“Bosh,” Mrs. Bachman, argued, “not a bit of it. No one wants to hang about these dusty old books. This room always puts me in mind of a tomb. Let’s repair to the sitting room. So much pleasanter.”

Aunt Janine’s jaw dropped open in horror.

“Mama,” Lily said firmly, forestalling any further offense toward Aunt Janine. “This will do.”

Mrs. Bachman looked from her daughter to Aunt Janine and back again. Then she sniffed. “Very well.” She took a seat near the fireplace and gestured for the others to join her.

“How is Her Grace?” Mrs. Bachman inquired of Naomi. “I was surprised to hear she would not be to town this spring; I trust she’s not unwell?”

“Her Grace fares well at Helmsdale,” Naomi answered in an ambiguous tone that sparked Lily’s curiosity. “Aunt Janine is staying with Lord Grant and me here in town.”

Tea arrived. Naomi helped her serve the older ladies, then they strolled around the room together. When they’d reached the opposite side of the library, Naomi asked, “Have I missed anything?”

Lily shook her head. “Just the usual preening and posturing.”

“Hmm,” Naomi said. She threw a sidelong smile at Lily. “We only just arrived yesterday, but I’ve already heard one interesting tidbit.”

“Oh?”

Naomi inclined her head toward Lily. “I heard,” she whispered, “that
someone
has had to ask all her suitors to form an orderly queue at the door.”

Lily snorted. “I believe what you’ve heard has been exaggerated.”

“But no betrothal?” Naomi asked. “After so many offers already?”

“No.” Lily shook her head. “I’m really not interested in marrying just yet. Besides,” she said, inclining her head toward the table where her papers were still laid out, “I have work to occupy me.”

She hoped to steer the conversation away from her gaggle of hopefuls, but Naomi refused to be redirected.

“Has no one captured your notice?”

A picture of Lord Thorburn’s provokingly handsome face sprang to mind.

“There is someone!” Naomi giggled. “You’re blushing. Now you
must
tell all.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Lily insisted. “The only man who has captured my notice has done so because he’s insufferable and rude and — ”

“Handsome?” Naomi supplied.

“That, too,” Lily admitted, “but it doesn’t matter when his character is so — ”

“Who is it?” Naomi asked.

Lily pressed her lips together.

“Out with it!”

“Lord Thorburn,” Lily whispered.

Naomi’s eyes flew wide. “Thorburn!” she yelped.

“What was that?” Mrs. Bachman looked over at the two girls.

“Who mentioned Thorburn?” Aunt Janine asked.

Lily winced.

Naomi had the good grace to look abashed. “Sorry.”

“Lily waltzed with Lord Thorburn,” Mrs. Bachman volunteered. “She ought not have done so, because they hadn’t even been introduced. But you can’t tell young people anything anymore.”

“He’s thoroughly disreputable,” Naomi said. “You must be careful, Lily.”

Aunt Janine snorted. “If debt renders one disreputable, then half the
ton
are notorious.”

Lily frowned. “Is he badly in debt?”

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Janine answered. “His proclivity for gaming is no secret, though with his past, it’s no wonder he’s picked up a vice or two.” She turned back around in her seat and sipped her tea.

Don’t be interested,
Lily told herself. Thorburn’s history wasn’t any of her affair, didn’t signify in the least. Besides, if he was in debt as Aunt Janine said, then he must certainly fall into her category of Leech.

Lily stared at the back of Aunt Janine’s head. Then, like a moth inexorably drawn to a flame, her feet carried her to the sitting area. She lowered herself onto the sofa.

“What of his past?” she heard herself say. No! shouted a warning voice in her mind.

But, she argued with herself, if she learned about him, perhaps she could relegate him to the proper compartment in her mind and forget that foolish kiss. As it was, he was an enigma she’d built up to mythic proportions.

The scholarly lady set down her teacup; her face took on a faraway look. “The poor boy didn’t have a chance of reaching manhood unscathed,” Aunt Janine said. “His father, the third Earl of Kneath, is known to be a cruel man. Lady Kneath was a lovely girl in her time, but after their wedding, she was seen more than once with bruises on her face and arms.”

Lily made a disgusted sound.

“How awful!” Naomi said. Lily hadn’t noticed her friend had joined her on the sofa, but she seemed as engrossed in Aunt Janine’s tale as Lily.

“It was,” Aunt Janine agreed. “His wife tried to leave him once. Kneath caught up with her, carried her home again and beat her worse than ever.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. “She lost that babe.”

Naomi’s cup clattered to her saucer. Mrs. Bachman let out a cry and pressed a hand to her cheek.

“She was
with child
?” Bile rose in Lily’s throat.

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Janine said with a sad nod. “And almost died herself. She had a son soon after, and another — the current Thorburn — about four years later. After the children were born, she embarked on a career of cuckolding her husband at every opportunity, although from what I hear, she has been settled with her Greek lover these several years now.”

“In Greece?” Naomi asked.

Aunt Janine nodded. “Lady Kneath has not set foot in England in ten years or more. It’s truly one of the most spectacularly failed marriages I’ve ever beheld.”

Lily shuddered. She couldn’t imagine the abject terror Lord Thorburn’s mother must have felt on a daily basis, knowing that at any moment, her husband might turn on her. And what of the children?

“You said there were two boys,” Lily said, “an older one. What happened to him?”

“Duel,” Aunt Janine replied. “Killed by his lover’s husband.”

Naomi wrinkled her nose. “Not much respect for the institution of marriage in that family.”

“Not much respect for it anywhere,” Aunt Janine rejoined.

A gloomy silence fell over the group. Lily thought about the Duke and Duchess of Monthwaite, who had been divorced but were now married to one another again. The duke was Naomi’s brother, and Lady Janine’s nephew. She wondered if that was where the others’ minds had gone, as well.

“Mr. Bachman and I have been happily married twenty-eight years this June,” Mrs. Bachman declared. “Not every couple strays from the vows.” She looked at Aunt Janine. “I’ll remind you there are two unmarried ladies present, and thank you not to scare them into spinsterdom.”