My Fair Lily(22)

Meggie broke into a smile for the first time since they’d met. “Oh, Lily! Please do.”

Lily glanced at Ewan, but he had his gaze fixed on the duke, eyeing him warily. Lily was wary, too. “Very kind of you,” she answered cautiously, wondering at his sudden generosity and how she fit into his schemes.

The old man was plotting something beyond a mere request to provide companionship for Meggie. Lily knew he detested her, though after their first encounter had alarmed Meggie, he’d strained to be more civil to her. Hadn’t actually spoken to her, for that was too much to ask. But he hadn’t shot daggers at her either.

They returned to the conservatory. The remnants of the tea had been cleared from the table, which was set anew with a tablecloth of embroidered linen, delicate china, and brilliant sterling silver. “A fortnight ago, I was roasting rabbit over a campfire,” Ewan muttered. “Right now, I feel like the rabbit roasting on a spit.”

Lily nodded sympathetically.

Ewan had reason not to trust his grandfather.

He was a mean old man.

Had anyone else given her an open invitation to use a magnificent library, she would have considered the gesture quite charitable.

But to use Lotheil Court’s library?

The duke was a cold, proud man.

He did nothing out of charity.

“Will you be holding a ball in honor of your grandchildren?” Eloise asked.

Ewan regarded her with horror. “I’d sooner invite wolves to chew off m’leg! I told ye, Eloise. I’m not one for society. His Grace may do as he pleases, just leave me and Meggie out of it.”

Lily glanced at Meggie.

“Margaret,” the duke said, jolting the poor girl to attention. “Do you feel as your brother does about a party?”

She clutched Lily’s arm and nodded.

“Well, that answers your question,” he said to Eloise. “My grandchildren want nothing to do with me.”

The tea, about as pleasant as the Spanish Inquisition, ended a few minutes later.

Ewan and Meggie assisted Eloise into the carriage, but the duke held Lily back, mentioning something about a book he thought might interest her. “Come with me,” he commanded, leading her briskly into the library and offering her a seat beside his desk, which she declined. “I’ll come straight to the point. My grandchildren like you. They obviously detest me,” he said, and Lily noted a surprising tinge of sadness in his voice.

“Can you blame them?” She ought to have kept her mouth shut, but couldn’t help it. “You weren’t very kind to their parents, cut off all relations for the past thirty years.”

He looked her sternly up and down. “That is none of your concern.”

“Your Grace, is there a reason you wished to speak to me alone?”

He looked her up and down again. “You want admission into the Royal Society, don’t you?”

She glowered at him.

“I’ll get you in... on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Restore my relations with Ewan and Margaret. They’ll be leaving London in three months’ time. I’ll never see them again, unless the improbable happens and we reconcile. Miss Farthingale,” he said, taking her hand in a firm grip, “if you make us a family again, I’ll make you the Royal Society’s first female member. What do you say? Do we have a bargain?”

“How can I restore affections that never existed?”

“Do we have a bargain? Will you deliver my family back to me?”

“I’ll think about it.” She slipped her hand out of his cold fingers, not sure why she felt so unsettled about doing a good deed. Families ought to be together, but to accept such a bribe for something she would have gladly taken on simply for the asking?

He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew you had larceny in you, gel! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She walked away.

Had she just made a deal with the devil?

***

The next afternoon, Lily was summoned to Eloise’s home. “I’ve invited you here today for Meggie’s sake,” her friend explained. “She needs more help than I imagined. Though she won’t be formally introduced into society this year, I’d still like to take her out, show her a bit of London, and introduce her to my friends. The clothes she’s brought with her simply won’t do. She’ll need an entirely new wardrobe. Her brother will undertake the costs, of course.”

Lily grinned. “Of course. And since at least three or four gowns must be ready within the week, Madame de Bressard will likely triple her fees. She’ll be dancing a jig by the time she’s finished draining Mr. Cameron of his hard-earned blunt.”