Page 61 of His Lordship's True Lady
“Moral support with Daisy? That’s very kind of her. I do appreciate it.”
“With Lily Ferguson. You and Daisy will muddle along well enough. Have you read the diary?”
Hessian increased his pace. “When would I have had time? I’m too busy being only half priggish, playing cards with your friends, and writing to my wards.” He’d asked both of Daisy’s brothers to begin a correspondence with her, for purposes of engendering in her an epistolary habit, but also because siblings shared an important bond.
“What was the name of that doll?”
“Worth, how much brandy did you drink?”
“A good quantity. Tresham serves only the best, and it was free. Lily Ferguson’s doll ended up in a tree, and you had to climb up and fetch it down.”
“The doll’s name was Lilith Ann.” Hessian recalled the name because a biblical temptress was such an odd choice for a little girl’s plaything. “The Patton twins meant to toss it into a mud puddle, but it got caught in a handy tree limb.”
Lily had been distraught, all of her girlish hauteur dissolved in loud hysterics. The Patton boys—a pair of imps—had been equally horrified to see the doll stranded.
“That’s the only time,” Hessian said, “I’ve heard a female openly admit she wished all males to perdition with a case of dysentery.”
Worth tipped his hat to a pair of smiling ladies who probably weren’t ladies. “You were concerned that if Lily climbed the tree herself, the boys would peek up her dress.”
“I was concerned for my hearing. We missed your turn.”
“Youmissed my turn. I’m walking you home.”
Meaning Hessian would have no solitude before gaining his own doorstep. “Why aren’t I walking you home?”
“Because Jacaranda has spoken, and I am her slave in all things where some disobliging brother might contradict my story and make me look a fool before my wife. She said to walk you home, ergo, my fate is sealed. Does Lily Ferguson still have a birthmark on the inside of her left elbow? It was shaped like a dove, as best I recall.”
Hessian came to a halt. “How the devil should I know, and what the deuce sort of question is that to ask on a public street of your own brother?”
Worth ambled onward. “I couldn’t ask you in front of the children, now could I? I can’t help but think that I’m missing something where Lily Ferguson is concerned. I have come upon a bit of old gossip concerning a youthful indiscretion of hers, but even that doesn’t feel like the evidence I’m seeking.”
Hessian resumed walking. “She is still quite youthful, and you might have told me your investigations were bearing fruit.”
“Not fruit, not yet, but a few scented breezes. Tresham has recently acquired an auntie-in-law who prides herself on knowing everything about everybody, though she’s not a bearer of tales. The lady and I came upon one another walking our dogs in the park the other day and, as fellow admirers of the canine, struck up a conversation.”
“I will strike you, if you don’t soon get to the point.”
“See? That’s the unpriggish half of you talking. In any case, Her Grace of Quimbey has noticed you and Miss Ferguson on some occasion or other—playing catch, I think she said—and the duchess wondered if I’d heard the old rumor about Miss Ferguson eloping with her uncle’s house steward.”
Hessian’s steps slowed, for they’d turned the corner onto his street. “I cannot imagine Lily Ferguson being impetuous enough to elope with anybody.”
But youthful folly of that magnitude would explain why Walter Leggett kept such a close eye on his niece, why she’d been sent to Switzerland for finishing school, why a somewhat spoiled girl might have matured into a more cautious and self-possessed woman.
“Neither can I,” Worth said, “though my recollection of her is that of a young boy who had no use for females of any stripe, other than to torment them.”
“At which you excelled.”
“Thank Jacaranda for sorting me out.”
No light shone from the nursery window, which was a relief and a disappointment. “You have imparted this rumor for a reason. It’s old news, and apparently known to very few, if it’s true.”
Worth plucked a bloom of heartsease from the pot sitting beside the neighbor’s mounting block. “That little rumor fuels my conviction that the pieces of Lily Ferguson aren’t adding up. Why hasn’t she married, Hess? Her mama bagged a ducal spare, meaning Lily is a duke’s granddaughter, albeit an Irish duke. She’s an heiress, blue-blooded, comely, and a drain on her uncle’s finances. She should have become engaged halfway through her first Season. What puzzle pieces are we missing?”
Hessian had missed bedtime in the nursery, for the card party had assembled earlier than most of its kind.
“She may be as yet unwed because the heavenly powers intend her for me,” Hessian said. “I will seek Leggett’s permission to offer her my addresses next week.”
Lily had sent a note that Leggett was much occupied cleaning up some mess created by his son. She would explain further on the occasion of a ride in the park the day after tomorrow.
