The entire group grew silent in the wake of her honesty, until Lord Stanhope nodded and said, “You think we are not suited.”
“I think you require a woman far less troublesome than me.”
He smiled. “I think troublesome might be precisely what I require.”
She shook her head. “Not my kind of troublesome.”
He watched her for a long moment and said, “I don’t think you’re as troublesome as you think.”
She laughed, humorlessly. “On the contrary, my lord. I am exactly as troublesome as I think.”
The words were freeing, somehow, perhaps because the painting would be revealed soon enough—the scandalous truth would ruin her eventually. There was something powerful and relieving about taking ownership of it. If she was to be revealed, why not speak of it? It was her truth, was it not? Hers to share.
She looked into his handsome face and clarified. “The painting.”
Her companions went still as stone, and the only sound that followed her confession was the low din of chatter from the Row, two dozen yards away. It occurred to her that the silence might be worse than the whispers. Silence was so lonely.
She did not wish to be lonely any longer. Tears threatened, and she forced herself to take deep breaths, refusing to allow them access.
She would not cry.
Not ever in front of people. No one would ever see how much she ached with loneliness. With fear of it.
Just as she was about to stand, the earl crouched, making a show of petting Angus, but Lily had the sudden impression that he had assumed the position to be able to look directly into her eyes. “It’s none of their business, you know. Society’s.”
She laughed at the words, so honest and so thoroughly irrelevant. “I don’t think Society would agree with you, my lord. Indeed, I think they would say it’s very much their business. Very much yours as well, considering this afternoon.”
One side of his mouth rose in a small, knowing smile. “I am nearly forty years old, Miss Hargrove, and I am on the hunt for a wife with a fortune. I know about mistakes.”
She believed him, but still. “It’s easier for you to live with yours, Lord Stanhope.” She gently emphasized his title to prove her point.
He tilted his head. “Perhaps for Society. But I must look at myself in the mirror just as you do.”
She watched him for a long moment, then said, “You should not court me, my lord.”
One of the Talbot sisters gasped her surprise as Stanhope raised a brow. “And if I wish to?”
Lily shook her head. “London practically brims with pristine, good-natured heiresses. You’re too kind to settle for such an utter scandal.”
He waited a long moment and said, “Too kind? Or too English?”
“I told you!” Sesily blurted out, turning to her sisters with a triumphant smile before looking to the earl. “You saw it, too!”
Lord Stanhope stood, offering Sesily a wide smile. “One would have to be blind not to see it.”
A thread of unease coursed through her, her hand stilling mid-stroke on Hardy’s large, grey head as she looked from one to the other. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“And did you see the look on his face when he saved her?” Seleste interjected with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone so obviously out of his mind with emotion.”
Seline smirked. “I was so distracted by it that I entirely forgot to see what he was wearing beneath his skirts.”
Sesily pointed to her sister. “Oh, bollocks. I did, as well.” Lord Stanhope coughed. “Apologies, my lord. But, curiosity and all that.”
Stanhope’s brows rose. “Naturally.”
Lily was stuck on the tale of Alec’s concern. Her brow furrowed. “What nonsense. He left me. With you lot.” She paused. “No offense.”
“None taken,” the quartet said in unison.
Breathe, mo chridhe. She didn’t understand the words, but she’d heard the concern in them, even the promise in them. That he was with her. That he would take care of her. That she was not alone.
And then he’d left her.
“Not that I care he left me,” Lily said, feeling as though she needed to underscore the point.
“Of course not,” Stanhope said, and she had the distinct impression that, though he’d said the gentlemanly thing, he did not believe her.
Sesily was decidedly less gentlemanly, instead cutting Lily a disbelieving look. “Please. When Warnick disappeared, you looked as crestfallen as a babe without her sweets.”
Lily stood at that, irrationally irritated. “Nonsense,” she repeated again. “He doesn’t give a whit about me. He only wants me married so he can return to his life in Scotland. He doesn’t even care to whom.” She turned to the earl. “No offense, my lord.”
Stanhope smirked. “None taken.”
Lily nodded. “I only agreed to the ruddy plan because of the ruddy painting. It’s going to be revealed, and my ruin will be final, and Alec won’t give me the funds to leave because he’s convinced I must be married. That I wish to be married.”
“Do you?” Sesily asked. “Wish to be married?”
Yes. But to another.
“No. Not like this.” She looked to the earl. “Again, no offense, my lord.”
Stanhope grinned, seeming to be enjoying himself immensely. “Again, none taken.”
The afternoon had apparently unlocked Lily, and she could not stop speaking her thoughts aloud. “The point is, I don’t wish to saddle some nice man with a betrothal that will end in disgrace, or to . . .” She paused. “Or to . . .”
She stopped, mind whirling.
“Or to?” Sesily prodded.
The solution crystallized.
She looked to Sesily, then to Stanhope. “I must go.”
That evening, Lily did not attend supper at Dog House.
Alec arrived on time and took his place at the head of the table, waiting for minutes that stretched into half an hour. As the time passed, he prepared himself for the confrontation that was sure to come—the explanation of his deserting her in the center of Hyde Park in the wake of her peril, all of London looking on. Of what he’d been thinking.
The truth was, he’d been thinking of nothing but chasing down the imbecile who’d entered Hyde Park on a horse he could not control. The moment Alec had made certain that Lily was alive, breathing, and would be well, he’d headed for the nearest horse, pulled some pompous aristocrat down, and, with barely a word, headed off in the direction of the runaway steed, leaving the baron he’d upended sputtering in anger.
It hadn’t made him feel any better about the situation, which had sent his heart straight to his throat as he’d watched the horse bear down upon her, running at full tilt, desperate to get to her and terrified that he might not reach her in time. And then he’d had her in his arms and it hadn’t mattered where they were or who was watching; all he’d cared was that she was safe.
He’d loathed the panic in her eyes when she’d struggled to regain her breath, he’d wanted to chase it away, and then do serious damage to the man who’d been responsible for it.
He’d caught up with the rider—a young man barely out of school who was as frightened as he was unskilled, even before Alec arrived to frighten him more. When he’d returned to find Lily, she’d been gone, returned home by the ladies Talbot, he’d been told when he burst through the front door of the Dog House. Returned, along with both hounds.