Page 25 of Wild Lily
Chaumont fell back in her seat. “Why ever not? He is most handsome and of a proper lineage.”
Lily beseeched Marianne with a look. “You won’t help me here?”
Her cousin laughed. “You’re digging a big enough hole for yourself.”
“Ah, thank you.”
“Lord Chelton is heir to a very fine title, lands that are extensive and a few houses, one here in town.”
Clutching her hands together, Lily vowed to close this topic. “His father and mine are in a dispute over a business dealing. I know few details, but from what I gather it is bitter.”
“However, you told me their name is not on your father’s list. Therefore,viola!”
“I tell you, madame, their dispute won’t end amicably. I know my father.” She shot from her chair. “It’s bad enough I came here appearing the pitiful supplicant with dollars in her hand shopping for a husband. But I will not entertain any man who thinks ill of me or my father. I agree to look at those gentlemen who appear before me, and I refuse to mix my father’s aspirations for my future with his intentions for his own.”
“As you wish,Mademoiselle. I will speak no more of him.”
“Thank you, Clemence,” Lily said, using the countess’s given name for the first time and employing one of her father’s techniques to endear an adversary to his cause. She needed the woman for many reasons, not the least of which was to smooth the path for her to meet men, many men, many English men of some means or much or none. Lily really did not care how many were set before her. How many she danced with or ate with or curtsied to. She cared only that none of them be an opponent of her father’s. And no one bear the carriage or the beauty or the name of Julian Ash, the Marquess of Chelton.
Foster appeared in the doorway.
“Yes? What is it?”
“Miss Hanniford, the first guests have arrived.”
“Wonderful.” She could get on with this little tea party and end this useless argument. “Do show them in. We’re ready for them, aren’t we?”
Marianne tossed her a grin.
Chaumont nodded.
The procession began. The Templetons were an older couple, graying and doddering. Assisting them to their chairs was their son, Charles, also gray but very sprightly, talkative and nervous. Charles, his parents were quick to tell the ladies, was a bachelor. He deftly changed the subject to the weather.
In the midst of that, Lord Hardesty and his sister, Lady Rose, arrived.
“They rented a house near mine in Troyes last summer,” said Chaumont as the two took their seats and were introduced all around. “Lady Rose is a talented pianist. I thrilled to hear her play each evening, the notes waltzing on the night breezes to my little house.”
Lady Rose, a pale blonde with small plain features, inclined her head in polite acceptance of the praise. “You are more than kind, madame. I play only to amuse myself and my brother. Do either of you play? I notice you have a portrait of Chopin.”
So on the conversation went among them all at a pleasant pace when Foster once more appeared to announce a new set of arrivals.
“Superb, Foster,” Lily said, glowing that this reception was going along so very well with lively discussion and great harmony among them all. She rose to her feet.
But froze in her tracks.
Behind Mr. and Mrs. William Manchester and their daughter, Dahlia, stood the very man who had not been invited. He was imperious, tall and dark and faultlessly attired in a black suit, fine linen shirt and bronze waistcoat that set golden fires in his dark brown eyes. He smiled politely, his gaze finding hers, friendly and cool for teatime ambiance. Gratefully, she discovered her manners did not desert her and introduced them all in turn. He was appropriately apologetic for having intruded on the invitation. But Manchester came to his defense sighting a meeting between them that had gone on too long and the hope to bring him along, knowing the Hannifords wished to make new acquaintances here in London.
“We’re delighted to have you, Lord Chelton,” Lily lied through her teeth.
“Thank you, Miss Hanniford. I assured Mr. Manchester we had met before and you approve of me.”
Approve? You rogue.You know I do no such thing.“We did meet in Paris when Madame le Comtesse’s coach was waylaid by a dog running in the streets.”
Lily moved, a hand out indicating he should sit beside her on the sofa. It was no particular honor as it was the only seat vacant. Settling into a quietude, she let the others complete the tale of the afternoon when Remy performed his valiant service in the Rue de la Paix. Taking his tea from her, Julian sat back to enjoy his proximity.
Manchester was an acquaintance of his father’s. Well known in the financial streets, the American banker was hale and hearty, a fellow most got on with, especially indebted English aristocracy. Like his father.
Like me.
