Page 71 of His Lordship's True Lady
Avery giggled and confided something about Uncle Worth and Aunt Jacaranda taking more naps than the baby—what a scandalous observation for a small child to make.
Lily had paid attention to the children, though, for her ears were pink, and she was taking inordinate care donning her gloves. She twisted them around her fingers, then both gloves fell to the terrace.
As a young man, Hessian had studied all the flirtations as general studied battle maps. Fans were a popular means of conveying ballroom code, but parasols, gloves, flowers, and other items had been appropriated by lovers seeking to communicate silently.
Twisted gloves meant: Be careful, we are being watched.
Both gloves dropped at once meant: I love you.
And yet, Lily was apparently to wed her goose of a cousin, for no reason Hessian could discern.
He was furious, hurt, and bewildered, but still a gentleman. He picked up Lily’s gloves and passed them to her one at a time.
She smoothed them on, thanked him, and looked ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.
Hessian took her arm to escort her through the house, and the throng came with them—the children, the dog, the damned cousin, Worth, and Jacaranda. Hessian used the few moments of sorting through walking sticks, pelisses, and gloves at the front door to study Lily one last time.
He wanted to see devastation in her eyes, and found it, also a wildness he’d never noted before. This version of Lily was hanging on by a thread. She’d asked him once about eloping, and he’d dismissed the question. He couldn’t dismiss it now.
Jacaranda passed Hessian Lily’s cloak, a light silk wrap of blue that complemented the sprigged muslin of her puffed-sleeve day dress. He tended to the civilities, bowing low over Lily’s hand and taking special care with her frogs, while Worth promised Daisy to bring Avery over for tea “soon.”
A father learned to prevaricate.
Somebody else had apparently learned to prevaricate.
Hessian watched Lily accept Oscar’s escort to the waiting coach in the street.
“You noticed?” Worth murmured.
Hessian nodded. “No birthmark near her elbow.”
“Birthmarks can fade.”
Jacaranda was tying Daisy’s bonnet ribbons, while Hessian’s insides were already in a knot.
“Birthmarks can fade,” Hessian said, “scars can heal, memories grow unreliable, but I’ve recalled something else: The young Lily was right-handed. Did you notice when this Lily drew a flower with the chalk on the paving stones?”
“She used her left hand,” Worth said.
“She throws a ball with her left hand too—throws it accurately.”
Daisy swung Hessian’s hand, clearly ready to get back out into the fresh air.
“You whispered something to the lady as you did up her cloak,” Worth said. “Oscar was occupied pretending to love my dog, but I noticed.”
“One should enjoy the lovely weather while one can. I suggested she unfasten her window tonight.”
Worth’s brows drew down. Jacaranda laced her arm through her husband’s and led him toward the door.
“Thank our guests for coming, Worth.”
Worth thanked Daisy effusively and shook Hessian’s hand. “If you need anything, Hessian, anything at all…”
He’d needed to hear that he had his brother’s unequivocal support, but he also needed answers, and only Lily could provide them.
Chapter Fifteen
The evening wore on more slowly than a funeral procession, the clock ticking loudly in the family parlor in counterpoint to Miss Fotheringham’s snores. Oscar had gone out, of course, while Uncle Walter remained across the room, nose buried in the financial pages.
