Page 5 of Long Live the Baron
It was better than fending off elderly lords at a ball, but still. After three years, it was time she met a genuinely eligible man so she could enter a courtship, but that seemed as likely as sprouting a tail, after her third Season of no success. Where were the truly intriguing gentlemen? Not on the marriage mart, it would seem.
CHAPTER2
“Carefully study the welfare of your men and do not overload them. Focus your energy and build up your strength. Keep your army constantly on the move and make unfathomable plans.”
Sun Tzu, L’Art de la Guerre (The Art of War)
* * *
Lily had called for Nancy, her father’s former nursemaid, to sit with her while she worked on her embroidery. The dear woman was advanced in years. She was also as deaf as a post, which suited Lily because she could chatter her private thoughts to the servant without any concern for them being heard or remembered. This was infinitely preferable to being alone or, heaven forfend, chattering to herself like a madwoman. With Sophia gone, Lily had fallen into the habit of jabbering to Nancy far too frequently.
Dash it!She desperately needed to find a suitable gentleman. No debutante was meant to wander the social events for this long.
“It is all rather trying, Nancy. I have discovered that chattering to the gentlemen who are unsuitable has chased them away as I had planned. The problem is now I babble more than I ever have, so when I meet a gentleman who might be interesting, I become nervous and overtalk more than I would under normal circumstances.”
“I thought you already attend formal dances, Miss Lily?” Nancy had looked up from her sewing, confusion on her wizened old face and her mobcap askew in her white hair, which gave her the appearance of having just risen from bed.
Lily hesitated, running her words back through her head before suppressing a giggle. “NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES … not formal dances.”
The old woman nodded without comprehension before lowering her head to continue darning with arthritic fingers. Papa had many times attempted to pension off his beloved childhood servant, but Nancy was adamant that she wanted to remain working in their household and he had not the heart to reject her wishes. Her duties were minimal, mostly darning and companionship to Lily when she was wont.
“Lord Ashby was scared off, but then later that night, I met his son, Mr. Ashby. The gentleman was quite fine, and I was excited to share a dance with him. But instead of getting to know each other, I babbled like a fool about the flavor of the orgeat, which I thought was exceptional, until Mr. Ashby’s eyes glazed over. He hurried me back to Mama and ran off as if his father’s hounds were chasing him. How am I to make a meaningful connection when my nerves trip me up so? It was all very disappointing!”
“Mr. Ashby was pointing? Innit rude?” Nancy’s raspy voice interjected.
Lily blinked, staring down at her needlework for a second while she tried to think what Nancy thought she had heard. “DISAPPOINTING. MY BABBLING … is disappointing.”
Nancy shrugged. “Yes, miss.”
Lily gazed sightlessly at her floss, admitting the truth of it. She had quite been looking forward to meeting Mr. Ashby, a handsome gentleman of a similar age to herself. One of the very few braving the marriage mart in search of a bride, and she had frightened him off within seconds of meeting him.
Biting her lip, she sighed heavily. She needed to find a match so her life could begin, but she did not want to settle for someone for whom she shared no affinity. Her unfortunate habit of overtalking was a gift when it came to warding off unwanted attentions, a crafty stratagem she had developed after reading the book on military strategy her cousin had given her. But craftiness did not help her be any more measured or composed when she met a man she could genuinely consider marrying and a certain amount of shyness settled in.
Most men thought she was a silly flibbertigibbet. After three Seasons, she suspected they might be right. She was barely five feet short, had the general appearance of a young girl dressed in the ridiculous white and pastels Mama insisted she wear despite her over twenty years on this earth, and being a chatterbox reinforced the impression that she was merely an exuberant child.
“But I shall eventually meet the right gentleman. I could meet my future husband anytime, and be betrothed within two weeks. I simply must persevere. Sophia met the earl only twice, and they wed within a week of their second dance so my luck could change at any moment.”
Lily was relieved that her usual optimism had caught up with her. Her thoughts had been taking a cheerless turn, and she did not want to dwell on the passage of time, nor her shortcomings. She was bright and friendly. When she wed, she could finally wear the rich colors that would accentuate her brown hair and chocolate eyes. Until then, she would need to persist in her quest to find the gentleman who would find her irrepressibly charming and make an offer to Papa.
“Is someone betrothed?” Nancy’s question brought her back to the present.
“NO, NANCY! BUT I WISH TO BE. To the right man, of course.”
Nancy nodded politely, clearly not understanding.
“Perhaps now that Aidan is home, he could introduce me to some younger gentlemen. I wish to make a match with someone I will spend a lifetime with, not an old man who can barely hold himself up without my assistance, or is as old or older than Papa.”
“You wish to eat your supper?”
Lily frowned at the fabric in her hand, trying to work out what Nancy was going on about. “NOT SUPPER—PAPA!”
“Master Hugh is home?” Nancy swung her head round to the door to look for her young—old—charge, causing Lily to burst into a fit of giggles. Aidan could not leave her alone tomorrow night, because if she did not soon have a forthright conversation with someone who could actually hear her, she was sure to be committed to Bedlam before she could meet her match.
Noting the old maid stifling a yawn, Lily took pity and sent Nancy off with an affectionate shooing. She could not formally send her to bed so early in the evening, but she knew Nancy would find a comfortable spot to doze off until bedtime. Anyone who stumbled upon the old maid sleeping would simply turn a blind eye and wander off to a different part of the townhouse.
* * *
Brendan was enjoyinga snifter of fine French brandy at his club when a horde of young men came in. With the lords occupied by the coronation, evidently the clubs were being overrun by green fools taking advantage of the usuals not being present to take the prime seating nor frown at their youthful antics.
