Major Westhaven's Unwilling Ward. Emily Bascom
Читать онлайн книгу.
of it? Are we expected to give him free board and welcome him with open arms?’
‘Worse. She left the house to him,’ Lily told her mournfully. ‘Don’t you remember, Jo? It was in her will. Now he is returned upon hearing of his mother’s death, and he wants to sell it.’
‘To fund more gadding about overseas, I don’t doubt! His good mother—God rest her soul—has been in the grave these three months, and only now he comes?’ Puffed up with outrage, Jo came closer. ‘Miss Lily—what will you do?’
Lily shook her head, trying to calm the panic within her. ‘I don’t know.’ She could cope with this as she had coped with everything else, surely. If she just thought a little, the solution would come to her…And yet her mind was a blank. There was no money, nothing to sell…There was no question of being able to afford to buy the house from her cousin.
‘Your mystery benefactor? Could we ask him?’
Lily turned a worried face up to her maid. ‘No—certainly not. Even if Mr Morley would tell me who he was, I cannot ask such a thing from a perfect stranger! It’s bad enough that I must be reliant upon his charity as it is.’ She bit her lip. ‘Not that I’m not grateful…It’s just…’
‘I know, Miss Lily.’ Jo pressed her hand. ‘But don’t you fret—there will be a solution. God never gives us more than we can take.’
Lily looked again at the letter, as if the answer was somehow hidden there. ‘I am sure you are right.’ But still she could not, for the life of her, think of anything.
‘You’ll have to ponder it later, miss,’ Jo said tactfully. ‘That is, if you’re still going to the ball.’
With a gasp, Lily put a hand to her mouth. ‘The ball—I’d quite forgot! What time is it?’
‘Almost five.’
Lily’s eyes widened. ‘I shall never be ready by the time Lady Stanton’s carriage calls!’
Untying her apron, she hurried from the room, leaving her maid, shaking her head indulgently, to follow.
‘Does it truly look good enough, Jo?’
Examining herself in front of the mirror, Lily bit her lip for the hundredth time and frowned into her own deep green eyes.
She was wearing a gown she had made herself and that she was proud of, a far cry though it was from those in the windows of the fancy dressmakers of Bond Street. The cobalt-blue silk complemented her light colouring and its full sweeping skirts, gathered and padded at the back, served only to further emphasise her slender waist.
Her hair, the colour of honeycomb, was swept up on her head in an array of soft curls that cascaded downwards in ringlets, brushing her shoulders. She was pleased with the effect her maid had achieved, but still she worried. This ball, a week into her second Season, was important for her future. She needed to make an impression, now more than ever—and that meant hiding her true circumstances from the world.
‘You look like any of them posh folks and more,’ her maid told her with affection. ‘’Cept you’ve still got flour on your cheek.’
‘Heavens—get it off!’ Lily angled her head into the mirror. ‘Where?’
‘Let me.’ Josephine deftly swept a hand over her mistress’s smooth skin.
‘Well, it is fashionable to be pale, I understand.’ Lily met the maid’s eye in the mirror and grinned. ‘And I don’t suppose any of the other ladies at Lady Langley’s ball will have baked their own bread ready for tomorrow’s breakfast.’
‘That they won’t.’ Jo beamed back.
But the smile had already faded from her mistress’s face as Lily turned her mind once more to the daunting task ahead of her. She must prepare herself, from today, for the action she had hoped never to take, reserved only for the direst circumstances.
Would that her brother were here to give her courage.
But then, Lily mused, if he was here she would be free to enjoy the Season like any other young woman, instead of living with the threat of bankruptcy and homelessness in her future. She pursed her lips. There was no use in wishing for what could not be—she had learned that lesson well, this last year in particular.
‘You’re thinking about Mr Robbie again, aren’t you?’ Jo said gently.
Thus prodded gently back into the present, Lily smiled at her. ‘Is it so easy to tell?’
‘He’d be proud to see how you’ve carried on, miss,’ said the younger woman softly. ‘How you’re makin’ a life for yourself.’
With a sigh, Lily looked at her glamorous reflection. ‘Is that what I am doing? I thought I was going out to catch myself a husband.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘God knows I never thought I would find myself here, forced to seek a marriage for money.’
Since her parents had died in the fire that had destroyed their ancestral home six years ago, Robbie and Lily had been alone. Eight years her senior, he had seen her educated and provided for, whilst carving out a career for himself in the British Army, a career he loved second only to his younger sister. He had given her the freedom she craved, and, after his death, she had only been more determined to make her own decisions and remain self-sufficient.
All of which now made the thought of marriage to a stranger—especially marriage for financial reasons—repugnant to her. Lily had always hoped she would be able to marry for love, that she would be a wife to a man who respected her need to enjoy the independence her brother had always given her. But what choice was there, now that they no longer had a home to live in?
Jo echoed her thoughts. ‘We must survive any way we have to, Miss Lily.’
‘You did not have to stay with me, yet you have,’ Lily corrected her.
‘Who would do your hair, else?’ Jo looked fondly at her mistress. ‘You’ll not find a husband to support you without a little help, my lady.’
Lily nodded. ‘I will make it up to you, once my situation improves.’
She was determined that her life would be under her control again as soon as possible. Which was why this dress was so important—along with the charming, carefree persona she adopted for such occasions. She had been that girl once—without a care in the world—and she could play her again, for the sake of survival.
It was time to face up to the fact that she could not live on thin air.
It was time to find a husband.
Chapter Two
After four dances with four equally dull gentlemen, Lily was cursing her vow.
She was doing her best to be what they seemed to like best, effervescent and charming, simpering prettily at them between turns and promenades on the floor—but it was exhausting. She did not know how the other girls around her seemed to achieve such an effect so effortlessly—from the old hands to the veriest débutante.
Nevertheless, it seemed one man was particularly interested in her performance.
Looking up by chance at the end of an energetic country dance, flushed and smiling, she happened to glance across the room—and found a pair of smoky grey-blue eyes watching her.
He did not look away as their eyes met.
Tall, hair so dark as to almost be black, he stood upright at one end of the dance floor—despite his civilian dress an unmistakably military stance. He was immaculately turned out—dark navy jacket and matching waistcoat exquisitely embroidered about the sleeves and hem, close-fitting fawn breeches disappearing into boots, rather than the more fashionable buckled shoes that other men wore this evening. His shoulder-length hair, that unusually dark colour, was tied securely at the nape of his neck, and did not look like it would dare to attempt escape.
All