My Fair Lily (5 page)

“I promise not to let it happen again. Truly.”

“You had better remain true to your word, Lily. I don’t hold to deception, particularly when it involves your parents. You know they love you dearly.” His frown faded into a grin. “Even though they can’t seem to tell you apart.”

“Too bad you still can,” Dillie muttered.

“It’s in the eyes. Gives you girls away immediately.”

Lily glanced up in surprise. “How odd. Mr. Cameron said the
same thing.”

“Did he?” Her uncle took her by the arm, his large hand taking gentle grasp of her elbow. “Tell me more about this Mr. Cameron.”

He led Lily and her sister into the more private summer salon. She and Dillie settled on an aquamarine silk ottoman, a hideous piece of furniture acquired by her mother on impulse—though what
could have
possessed her mother to purchase that tasseled monstrosity—well, it
wasn’t important at the moment.

“About Mr. Cameron.” Her uncle reached out and tucked a finger under her chin to turn her to face him. He must have thought
her mind had wandered, as it often did.

“There isn’t much to tell. His dog, Jasper, accidently knocked me down while I was on my way to Eloise’s to return a book I had borrowed. I lost my spectacles, ruined the book, and soiled my new gown. Mr. Cameron took it upon himself to replace all but the
gown.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t,” she responded, growing more concerned as she
pondered Mr. Cameron’s fate. “He doesn’t have a place to live yet
and now he’s spent all his money on me.”

“Obviously, he has settled in with the Duke of Lotheil.”

“He can’t possibly have.” She felt heat creep up her neck and cheeks. “Uncle George, I must speak to Eloise as soon as possible. I’ll need her help to pull Mr. Cameron out of this scrape.”

He slipped the letter out of her hands and into his pocket. “Lily, let me handle the matter. I think it best that I speak to Eloise and Mr. Cameron.”

“You won’t have him put in prison, will you?”

Her uncle shook his head and cast her a wry grin. “Neither he nor his dog will be clapped in irons. You have my word on it. Now, run along and enjoy your ride. It’s too beautiful a day to waste indoors.”

***

“A spectacular day,” Lily decided as she, Dillie, and their cousin, William Farthingale, rode out of the stable and turned onto Rotten Row. William was George’s son and all of twenty-two. He’d been assigned by the family elders to serve as their chaperon during the season, a foolish choice in Lily’s opinion. Her cousin fancied himself a rake and, in true rakehell fashion, had his eyes on every female in Hyde
Park but them.

Neither she nor Dillie protested when he rode ahead to greet
several
young gentlemen of his acquaintance. They purposely lagged
behind, neither one of them keen on his circle of friends.

“First blue sky we’ve seen in months, but we have many such days in Coniston,” Lily said with a sigh, thinking wistfully of their quiet country home, though no house was ever very quiet with
Farthingales about. “I wish we were there now.”

“So do I.”

“Truly? I thought you were enjoying London?” Lily closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun, enjoying the warm breeze and clean scent that tickled her nose. London air was rarely this
fresh, and she sought to take advantage while it lasted.

“There’s nothing so fine as a day spent fishing at Yewtree Tarn.”

Lily opened her eyes and turned to her sister, a gleam in her eye. “Or reading on the bank beneath the giant yew tree by the tarn.”

“Or picnicking in the valley or hiking up Coniston Old Man. But those days are gone, mere faded memories.”

“Why sound so gloomy, Dillie? The season will be over in a few months, and we’ll return home to enjoy the August heat and October chill.”

“And the Christmas snowfall.” Dillie cast her an odd look. “I’ll
miss it without you.”

“Something’s addled your brain. Where do you think I’ll be, if
not with our family?”

“Surely, it hasn’t escaped your notice.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Your encounter with E.C., in front of our townhouse… on Chipping Way.”

“No, no, no!” Lily burst into laughter. “The Chipping Way bachelor’s curse is all stuff and nonsense. Besides, Mr. Cameron
didn’t run into me.
His dog did. And I doubt Father would consent to my marrying his dog.”

“You’re purposely being obtuse.”

“Who taught you that fancy word? Obtuse? I’m not. Really,
Dillie. This is too much!”

“You can’t explain away what happened to Rose, Laurel, or Daisy.”

“More precisely, what happened to the unsuspecting bachelors who met their doom upon encountering them on our street. They were gentlemen.
Gentlemen
. Not clumsy heathens passing through
town.”

“Mr. Cameron is obviously not a heathen. He took the trouble to replace your spectacles and the MacLaurin book.”

“He probably stole the book.” She was uncertain what to do about that.

“He knows Eloise, and she doesn’t invite just anyone into her home.”

“You must put Mr. Cameron out of your mind. He isn’t at all the
sort of man I’d consider suitable husband material. No, indeed. Though I would be glad to have him along if I were off on an exotic
adventure. He seems quite capable. Strong.”

“Handsome.”

“Very, if one looks beyond his beard and shaggy hair,” Lily admitted, though it wasn’t as much of an admission as a fact. “He seems to be the no-nonsense sort. And he’s big and brutish, the sort
of man no ruffian would dare trifle with. But enough about him. As I said, put him out of your mind.”

Dillie glanced over her head and down the bridle path. “I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s walking toward us. He’s seen us.”

Lily’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Dillie chuckled.

Lily muffled an anguished groan as Mr. Cameron, with Jasper bounding at his side, approached. He had on the same clothes he’d worn yesterday and appeared just as unkempt. Well, not quite as ungroomed as yesterday. His beard was neatly trimmed and boots
polished to a shine. She noticed that his clothes had been washed and ironed, and even from this distance she could see that he’d bathed, for his hair gleamed only as clean hair would in sunlight, now appearing more red than brown. A rich shade of chestnut. Quite nice, really.

“Not bad,” Dillie murmured.

“For a heathen.” She hated to admit that he might be the handsomest man she’d ever encountered, even if he did resemble a rugged Highland rogue. “Not at all like Lord Mortimer’s son, Ashton.”

“Oh, him.” Dillie scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong with Ashton? He’s a nice young man.” And a good
match for her, if she were ready to settle down and marry. He was tall,
blond, and decent looking. More important, he was a thoughtful gentleman who enjoyed scholarly pursuits.

“Nice? Is that the best you can come up with? Does he make
your heart sing? Your legs buckle?”

“Love is not the same as animal attraction. Attraction is a physical response, a hot jolt as you just described, something necessary for procreation, which is why rams, stags, and stallions roam about during mating season with their male parts ever in
readiness and why females of the respective species emit a scent that—”

“Lily!”

“The point is, attraction fades as quickly as it appears. Love is something that lasts over decades. Love grows slowly, develops
deep roots over time.”

“Over a season?”

“Much longer.” Because it was taking her longer than expected to develop feelings for Ashton. She wasn’t certain why. He was a
perfect
match for her, and it didn’t matter that his hair lay a little flat and thin around his face, or that he wasn’t nearly so handsome as Mr. Cameron. He was thoughtful, intelligent, and the youngest man admitted to the Royal Society. That counted far more than good
looks.

“Good day, Lily,” Mr. Cameron called out to her.

She cringed at the appalling familiarity.

Dillie smirked. “Let’s have some fun with him.” She nudged her mount forward and held out her hand, expecting him to politely bow over it. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for replacing my spectacles and book.”

“Pleased to meet ye, Dillie.” He shook her hand brusquely, as though they were two farmers completing a sale of crops.

Lily couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s comeuppance. “How did you know it was Dillie and not me?”

“First, she’s no’ squinting. Second, Jasper’s panting and wagging his tail at you.” He let out a deep, gentle chuckle as he fixed his gaze on her. “He’s quite taken with you, lass.”

Lily dismounted to pet Jasper, who was looking at her as though he were in love. Just her luck to be adored by a dog. She glanced from hound to owner. While Jasper’s eyes were as sweet as pools of melted chocolate, Mr. Cameron’s were emerald-dark and decidedly dangerous.

Curiously, she felt an odd tingle in her bones.

He smiled.

The tingle spread throughout her body.

“I like Jasper, too,” she hastily admitted, kneeling to hug the
hairy beast before her legs turned to butter and gave way.

Jasper responded by nuzzling his head against her chest and shedding hair all over her new riding habit. She didn’t mind. He was
her anchor in a sea of turmoil. The hairs would easily brush out later.

Mr. Cameron knelt beside her and began to tickle Jasper under
his chin, something the dog obviously enjoyed because he emitted a low rumble of contentment. “Why are you no’ wearing your spectacles, Lily? Did they no’ fit right?”

“They’re fine,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “Just perfect… but I’ve asked my uncle to return them.”

He looked surprised and disappointed.

“Mr. Cameron.” She sighed at the unpleasant task before her,
made more unpleasant by the fact that she liked the man who was a hair’s breadth away from going to prison.

“Yes, lass.”

“About the MacLaurin book. I really can’t accept it either.”

He arched one dark eyebrow and frowned. “Why no’?”

“It must have cost you a tidy sum,” she whispered, heat
creeping
into her cheeks. She’d learned early on that true ladies did not
discuss
matters of wealth or one’s lack of it. But it couldn’t be helped. How
else was she to keep him out of trouble?

“Och, lass. Dinna worry about the bodles and bawbees.”

“The what?”

“My finances. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

“That’s the problem,” she said, sounding harsher than intended, a mark of her frustration. She rose abruptly, startling Jasper and his owner, both of whom jumped to their feet along with her. “My uncle George intends to speak to you, but he isn’t here now and you are. The problem is… what I mean to say… I just don’t know how to say
it politely.”

Mr. Cameron folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with obvious confusion. “It’s best if you just say it.”

She nodded. Goodness, he was big. Handsomely big. “I know you mean well. And I do appreciate the lengths to which you’ve gone in order to make amends for the damage. But imposing upon the Duke of Lotheil, no matter how wealthy he is… well, I don’t
wish to see you go to prison.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just because he may not be aware of what you’ve done… oh, dear. Let’s take this one step at a time. Mr. Cameron, did you pay for the book and spectacles with your own funds?”

“Aye, lass. How else would I acquire them?”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Very good. Now, about using
the duke’s stationery to write your letter.”

He frowned. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. In future, you must use your own paper. And for pity’s sake, how did you get the duke’s messenger to do your
bidding?”

“I asked him.”

“And he obliged? Just like that?”

He finally seemed to understand. “Of course, next time I’ll
deliver the package myself. I still owe you a new frock.”

Perhaps he didn’t understand at all. Goodness, the man was dense. “No… no… never mind. Just promise me you’ll not use the duke’s supplies, or messengers, or… his purse, any more.”

He let out a soft, rumbling laugh. “Och, Lily.”

“And you mustn’t call me Lily or lass. It implies an intimacy we do not share. How much of it do you have left?”

“The letter paper? Lots.”

She began to nibble her lower lip. “Oh, that’s not good. Indeed, that’s very bad. We must return it to him, somehow.”

“Him?”

“The Duke of Lotheil, of course. Well, not directly to him. I doubt he’d grant us an audience, but to his man of affairs. I think it best that I return it, let him think it was delivered to me by mistake.”

“He’ll know it was no’ so.”