Sesily was nothing if not dramatic.
“I did not die, thankfully,” Lily said. “I was very fortunate that the duke appeared in the nick of time.” She turned to meet Alec’s gaze, secretly wanting to reassure herself of his presence.
Except he wasn’t there.
She looked up and down the Row, searching for his familiar red plaid. His comforting height. His strong hands and firm Scots jaw.
He was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only evidence that he’d ever been there to begin with was Angus and Hardy, sitting sentry just behind her, as though they had been left there by their master.
Left, along with her.
I have better things to do than follow you.
Her chest constricted at the memory, and she struggled to catch her breath again.
“He’s gone,” she said, softly.
“He rushed off like a bat from hell,” Sesily said, and a titter came from the crowd. She turned to face them. “Oh, please. We are not even able to speak the word hell? It’s a location, is it not? I’m allowed to say Hyde Park or Knightsbridge or . . .”
“Cockington,” Seline interjected, sending a ripple of affronted gasps over the assembly.
Lily coughed to cover her laugh.
Lord Stanhope crouched to help her to stand, and when he spoke, she heard the amusement in his tone. “Well. That will disperse the crowd more quickly than anything else.”
She smiled. “Is there even such a place?”
His lips twitched. “It’s in Devonshire.”
“Well, then,” she said matter-of-factly, “she has a point.”
“It seems that having the Talbot sisters in one’s corner is quite helpful in redirecting attention.”
“You’d best remember that, Lord Stanhope,” Sesily said, “as you would not like us if we were not in your corner.”
“Bubble bubble, boil and trouble,” Seleste said.
Lily and Stanhope looked to each other.
“It’s double double, toil and trouble,” Seline corrected.
“It is?” She turned to Lily.
Lily nodded.
Seleste looked to Stanhope. “Well, that doesn’t make sense. It’s a cauldron, isn’t it? With witches?”
Stanhope nodded. “It is.”
“Shouldn’t it bubble?”
“It bubbles in the next line,” Lily offered.
Seline rolled her eyes. “This isn’t really relevant.”
“I’m just asking,” Seleste said.
Stanhope’s eyes filled with laughter. “Either way, my lady, I wouldn’t dream of crossing you.”
“There, then. Goal achieved.”
Lily laughed, the sound quickly becoming a cough.
“For heaven’s sake, Seleste. Lily nearly died,” Sesily said. “Stop making her laugh.”
Stanhope offered her an arm. “My carriage is not far, Miss Hargrove. I’ll happily escort you home.” He looked to the other women. “Perhaps the ladies will join us?”
The trio did not hesitate to agree.
“Excellent,” he said, turning back to Lily. “Allow me to see you settled on the green, and I shall fetch it.”
Lily let him escort her away from the dirt path, Hardy and Angus following silently, watching her carefully, seeming to sense her myriad feelings about the afternoon. Once she reached the grass, she stroked the dogs’ wide, handsome heads and spoke, raising her voice for the benefit of all assembled. “My lord, I am feeling better by the moment—”
At least, the parts of her that were not wondering where Alec went were feeling better by the moment.
She had trouble believing that he’d left her alone. Yes, it had happened after they’d argued and agreed—for the best, was it not?—that they were better off separated than together when it came to her possible courtship.
But she’d nearly been run down. She could have been seriously hurt.
He’d been there to save her.
And then he’d left her alone. With Stanhope. Who hadn’t left. Stanhope had stayed, as a decent man should. And so Lily would, as well.
She pointed to a rise in the green nearby, where a large tree stump beckoned. “Perhaps we might sit for a bit.” She turned to look at her companions. “And talk?”
In moments, she was seated on the stump, the warm May sun beating down upon her as her companions encircled her, as though protecting her. Hardy came forward and set his head in her lap, and Angus arranged himself at her feet.
Realizing the strangeness of the situation, Lily felt more than a little guilty about forcing the earl to join them, and offered him a release. “My lord, you really have been more than kind. But I am loath to prey upon that kindness. I’m certain my friends will be willing to see me home.”
He smiled down at her. “Nonsense. This is certainly the most exciting day I’ve had in months, and might well continue to be. You have no idea how deadly dull parliamentary sessions can be.”
“Wait,” Seleste said.
“Are you—” Seline added.
“Courting?” Sesily finished the thought.
Lily blushed, as Stanhope smiled. “As a matter of fact, Miss Hargrove and I met not an hour ago. We were just taking a turn up the Row.”
“Oh!” the sisters said in unison, before sharing a look that indicated their collective understanding that a walk in the park was a precursor to something much more important.
“Well, we wouldn’t like to interrupt,” Seleste said.
Her sisters were already moving. “No!” Seline said. “That sounds very important.”
It was amazing how the presence of these three was somehow able to make one feel both exceedingly pleased and harrowingly embarrassed.
And then Sesily spoke, her blue gaze on Lily, seeming to see far more than Lily would like. “What was Warnick doing here, then?”
Being a hero.
Lily ignored the thought. “He thought he would play the chaperone.”
“He’s done a terrible job of that,” Seline blurted. “He left you in a ditch!”
He’d left her.
“It wasn’t a ditch, precisely,” the earl pointed out, his serious gaze on Lily.
“It might as well have been,” she said.
“No matter,” Sesily said. “We shall play the chaperone.”
Oh, dear. “That’s very kind, but—”
“It’s an excellent idea, don’t you think?”
She looked to Stanhope, who appeared to be taking the entire event in stride, but it occurred to Lily that if she had been asked to imagine a more disastrous first meeting with an eligible lord, she would be unable to do so.
The only way it would be more of a disaster was if she were interested in marrying him. Which she wasn’t. Not that he wasn’t a fine man. In every way. Indeed, he made her feel perfectly pleasant.
Shouldn’t pleasantness be the goal? Shouldn’t a marriage be based on kindness and good humor, and if one’s husband was handsome, all the better, no? Except it seemed that one should find one’s husband’s handsomeness tempting. Desirable. One should have trouble ignoring his square jaw and unruly hair and his fine knees.
Not knees, specifically.
Knees, for example.
She didn’t care about any particular pair of knees.
Particularly not about the pair that had just left her to the aristocratic wolves on Rotten Row. Alone.
Solitude was not unfamiliar to Lily, however. And she was more comfortable with it than most. Comfortable enough to speak the truth in a situation that had no need to be drawn out longer than necessary. One hand stroking Hardy’s ears, she returned her attention to the earl, and decided to speak what they both no doubt felt. “My lord, you needn’t pretend this was a successful afternoon. I appreciate your gentlemanliness, but I do not wish to keep you when I am certain you have an infinite number of other activities that might better entertain.”