My Fair Lily(10)
“Good. Are you certain you’re not Dillie?”
“I ought to know myself.” She breezed past her relatives, scooped up the boxes, and made for the stairs.
Dillie blocked her path. “We do not keep secrets in this family.”
More precisely, one tried to keep secrets but never succeeded in this household.
She heard the word “duke” whispered several times. Finally, her uncle George folded his arms across his chest and said, “You’re not going to win this battle, Lily.”
“Even you, Uncle George?” All was lost if her most reliable ally had deserted to the enemy. Not that her family was that…no, she loved them all dearly…most days.
Sighing, Lily opened the smallest box. “My spectacles! Wherever did he find them? You see, I lost them yesterday,” she started to explain, but quickly saw that no one cared.
A collective rumble of disappointment resounded through the entry hall. Had they expected diamonds?
“Open the other box,” her mother urged.
Lily smothered a smile. Having established three daughters in brilliant matches, the matriarch of the Farthingale family obviously believed a fourth was at hand. “I’ve never met the duke, and he’s only aware of my existence because he wishes to keep me out of the Royal Society,” Lily said while unwrapping the second, a slightly bigger and heavier box. “The MacLaurin book!”
“A book!” Her mother turned away in disgust. The other relatives soon lost interest, too, leaving only Dillie and her uncle George at her side.
“Open the letter,” Dillie urged. “Is it from the duke?”
“No, it’s from Mr. Cameron. Ewan Cameron.”
“Of course! I saw you with him… the man with the overly friendly dog.” Dillie grinned wickedly. “Large fellow. Nice looking. How did he get hold of the duke’s stationery?”
“Or the duke’s messenger.” Lily nibbled her lip with concern. The letter contained little more than another apology and no indication of where he had settled. “He knows Eloise. I’ll show her this note and ask her to speak to Mr. Cameron. He’s a Scot, a Highlander judging from his dress and demeanor, and may not understand about… er, borrowing writing paper from a duke.”
Her uncle began to stroke his chin. “When did you happen to meet this Mr. Cameron?”
“Yesterday when I—” She stopped in mid-sentence, realizing no one but Dillie knew she had missed Lady Turbott’s function. “Just before we all left for the tea.”
He pinned her with a stern glare. “Which you obviously missed, though you would have your family believe otherwise. Dillie pretended to be you.”
She nodded. “Let me explain about—”
“No need. Your little secret is safe with me for now.”
Lily threw her arms about his neck and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Uncle George.”
Her uncle, sharp as a tack and dogged as a bull terrier, shook his head soberly. “Girls, your parents have gone to great expense to introduce the two of you into society. They believe you’re both attending the many functions held, meeting eligible gentleman, the finest London has to offer.”
Lily glanced down at her feet, feeling a little ashamed, for her parents had indeed expended great effort on her behalf. “I know. I never meant to trick them.”
“You’ve been spending too much time in Eloise’s library, poring over musty science chronicles while Dillie, your partner in crime, has been covering for you.”
“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.