My Dearest Enemy (13 page)

She snapped her fingers under his chin. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.

Avery simply looked down in telling silence upon the slender fingers beneath his chin and with even more telling silence up again into Lily's eyes.

Lily arched one black brow
. "I
consider it far more important that Bernard learn mathematics, economics, and history. Someday he will have the responsibility of an enormous inheritance. That word, in case you aren't familiar with it, is spelled r-e—"

"I seem to recall having heard it once or twice," Avery broke in.

"Good. Then perhaps you'll understand that Bernard has better ways to occupy his time than committing to memory an antiquated list of gentlemanly do's and don'ts."

"If you really believe that academic gymnastics are more important than one's conduct," Avery said clearly, "it's fortunate Bernard's education shall soon be in my hands, isn't it?"

"Of all the—"

"Excuse me for interrupting," Bernard's voice cut across Lily's sputtering, "but may I ask how you knew about the Latin, sir?"

His eyes never leaving Lily's face, Avery answered. "Oh, I haven't taken my
responsibilities
quite as lightly as Miss Bede assumes. I've had an ongoing correspondence with your deans for the last five years."

"You mean you told Bernard's tutors where to write you and you never told me?" Lily asked, her voice rising.

"I thought you rather enjoyed the challenge of finding me," Avery replied.

Evelyn could practically see the sparks leaping between their locked gazes.

"Something is definitely up between them," Polly Makepeace whispered as Lily struggled for her composure. "My old mum's corset laces had less strain on them than there is between those two. And she weighed near thirty stone."

Evelyn caught back a burst of laughter, her anxiety fleeing before the absurd image. She had never spent more time than necessary in Polly's company simply because the woman not only had the bad manners to think Lily unfit to lead her precious Coalition but worse, said so at every opportunity. She'd no idea Polly had a sense of humor.

"Why does she purposely antagonize him?" Evelyn asked in a low voice. "Doesn't she realize he's getting angry?"

"Mrs. Thorne," Polly said, "whatever I think about Miss Bede's qualifications to lead the Coalition, I have never doubted her courage. She and that fellow have been at it since he arrived and she's not yet come out of one of these verbal scrimmages the loser—though honesty compels me to admit she's not been the winner, either."

Fascinated by the notion that Lily had continually held her own against this huge male, Evelyn grew pensive.

"Why the long face, Mrs. Thorne?" Polly asked as Lily launched into another diatribe, still standing toe to toe with the tall, muscular young man in the ill-fitting coat.

"Lily," she murmured. "She is so much better suited to dealing with men. Avery Thorne doesn't intimidate her in the least. I envy that."

"Oh come," Polly said, but not unkindly, "Mr. Thorne doesn't appear to be an unreasonable fellow. Loud and a bit brusque, barely any manners. But a good heart. An honorable sort. In short not unlike Miss Bede herself. Personally, I rather appreciate such straightforwardness in a man."

For the life of her Evelyn could not have said what made her confide in Polly Makepeace. Perhaps her unexpected sympathy, perhaps the suddenness with which the situation had been thrust upon her made it hard to keep her anxiety contained. Whatever the reason, she found the words coming from her lips.

"I would appreciate never having to deal with such a man again," she said. "I cannot imagine what it will be like living under his aegis without Lily to act as our voice."

"Why would you need another woman to speak for you, Mrs. Thorne?" Polly cocked her head inquiringly.

"Come, Miss Makepeace," Evelyn said without rancor, "surely you do not assume that the lower classes have monopoly on matrimonial… discord. My own experience has rendered me quite unwilling, perhaps even incapable, of dealing adequately with 'brusque, loud men.' "

"I see."

Evelyn smiled wanly. "Do you?"

"And you think Miss Bede better suited to dealing with Mr. Thorne and his ilk?"

"How can you doubt it?" Evelyn asked. "Look at her. Even if she doesn't win these confrontations, she's fully in the fray. She's magnificent."

"Yes," Polly said thoughtfully. "She certainly seems to be enjoying herself. And he is nearly as exhilarated. Look at how he devours her with his gaze. Look how she glares back."

Evelyn nodded her head miserably. "Yes. I would never be able to stand up to him like that."

Images of a bleak, anxious future wrung tears from her eyes. She groped in her pocket, glad Bernard's at-tention was still centered on Lily and Avery Thorne. Amazingly, it was Polly's small, rough hand that tucked a handkerchief into hers, patting her fist awkwardly. The kindness was nearly her undoing. She sniffed softly. "Dear God, how am I going to—how can I ever hope—"

"Hush, now," Polly advised softly. "If you would do me the favor of wheeling me into the hall, Mrs. Thorne, I think I may have a solution to all our problems."

"I enjoyed your letters, Cousin Avery," the boy said.

"Good," Avery replied, eyes fixed on the straight figure of Lily Bede eating up the ground in long graceful strides fifty yards ahead. In spite of her speed, her hips swayed gently, her arms, relaxed at her sides, moved in fluid rhythm matching her pace. She moved with an elemental sort of comeliness, like a dancer in a dream, unself-conscious and stirringly natural.

The sun beat down upon them with unseasonable virulence. Dragonflies with slender, iridescent blue bodies rose from the edges of the path in silent battalions as they passed. The field grasses hissed sotto voce with a dry, warm wind.

Lily had decided they would eat alfresco.

One minute she'd been locked in battle with him, her whole body shivering with contention, the next she'd announced they would eat outside to celebrate Bernard's homecoming.

"The other lads did, too."

"Come again?" Avery said, pushing the sleeves of his coat up. Too hot for wool. Too hot for a jacket, for that matter. He yanked it off.

"The lads at school. They enjoyed your stories, too."

"Oh. Good."
She
didn't look overheated.

"Particularly the ones about Africa." The lad sounded a bit winded.

"Africa is an interesting place," he said falling back and slowing his pace to accommodate Bernard's. Lily opened the distance between them, her bloomers cutting a swathe through the grass as she led Francesca and Evelyn across the back lawn toward a magnificent beech tree. A short distance behind plodded Hob, loaded down like a pack mule.

Francesca, her expertly painted face suffering under a combination of heat and sweat, struggled along in her lacey skirts to keep up. Evelyn, looking bewildered, was actually trotting.

Not that Lily noticed. To notice she would have needed to turn around and risk seeing him, something she suddenly seemed loathe to do. Exasperating woman.

"—Miss Bede's future."

"What?"

Avery stopped. Bernard stopped.

"I was saying how sometime soon, at your convenience, I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss Miss Bede's future."

"What about Miss Bede's future?" Avery demanded.

Bernard's dark blond hair clung damply to his temples and his pallor was waxen. His wrists, sticking out from the ends of his snug tweed jacket, were chaffed and his collar points wilted.

"Take the blasted thing off, Bernard. You'll pass out. Now what about Miss Bede's future?"

"Sir,"—the boy shrugged off his jacket—"do you really think this is the place? I mean, as gentlemen ought we to be discussing Miss Bede so publicly?"

"Bernard," Avery said with exasperated patience, "I am entirely conversant with gentlemanly behavior. This is as good a place as any for a discussion."

"Yes, sir." Bernard didn't sound convinced.

"Out with it."

"Well, sir, I was wondering what you proposed to do about it. Her future, that is."

"I wasn't aware I needed to do anything about it," Avery answered. "In fact I have learned only this morning that I may be entirely—and I do not hesitate to add happily—excluded from any involvement in Miss Bede's future whatsoever."

"Sir?"

"I've had contact with Horatio's bank and, er, glanced over the household records," Avery explained. "It is not too far beyond the realms of possibility that Lily Bede might actually end her five years as manager here with a small profit to show. If she does, she'll inherit Mill House."

The boy met his gaze directly. "And then what?"

"What do you mean, then what?" Avery said irritably. Lily inheriting Mill House wasn't the best possible situation but the end result would be the same. "She'll sell the place—to me—and go off and do whatever it is she wants to do. Buy herself a closet full of menswear, I should imagine." His gaze flickered toward the enticing swell filling out the backside of Lily's bloomers.

"I doubt she'll sell Mill House to you."

"Whyever not?" Avery asked in amazement. He'd designed solutions to meet every possible contingency that might interfere with his acquisition of Mill House, even the unlikely one where Lily inherited it. In that case, he'd planned on paying Lily a generous price for the estate, which she would then gratefully accept and go away. The boy's doubts disrupted that neat little bit of scripting.

"Who else would she sell it to?" he asked. "I think it likely she'd sell it to Mr. Camfield."

"And who the bloody hell is Mr. Camfield?"

"Please, lower your voice, Cousin Avery. Mr. Cam-field is our neighbor. He bought Parkwood last spring. He's ever so rich, at least mother says he is, and he wants to expand his holdings. Miss Bede says he's a progressive thinker, very supportive of women."

"I'll bet he is. And I'll bet he joined the progressive thinker ranks the day he met Lil—Miss Bede," Avery muttered darkly.

"Well, she did say as how she had aided at least one male in seeing reason."

Avery made a disparaging sound. "Mr. Camfield is doomed to disappointment if he is counting on acquiring Mill House. It's mine. If by some miracle Miss Bede inherits it, she'll deal with
me
and none other."