My Fair Lily(23)
“Now, Lily. It isn’t polite to speak of finances.”
“I was merely making an observation about the economics of the transaction. The greater the demand for a particular good—”
“Yes, yes, but I would appreciate your help in solving this particular problem. Ewan refuses to attend any society functions. Not a one. I can’t convince him otherwise.”
“These affairs can be dreadfully dull.” She often thought so herself. “He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man to put up with idle chatter. As for Meggie, even though almost a year has passed since their father’s death, she still appears to be in mourning.”
Eloise nodded. “Meggie’s miserable here and afraid of her grandfather. She needs companionship and more than a little distraction.”
“Of course, I’ll help. I’ll enlist all the Farthingales. What would you like us to do?”
“Include her in some of your activities,” Eloise said as they settled down to further discussion over a hearty lunch of sausage cobbler and assorted meat pies.
***
Lily thought they made great progress in their plans during the course of the meal. She hoped Ewan and Meggie would be as pleased with the results. “Have we overlooked anything? You know them far better than I do. Anything special we can do for Meggie?”
“I’ll give it some thought. She does need a good bit of cheering. As for the rest of it, I think we’ve been quite thorough. Just some minor details left to discuss.”
“Such as?” Lily set down her fork and drew the napkin to her lips to dab at a crumb or two that clung to her lips after devouring the tastiest chicken and leek pie she’d ever had. Eloise’s cook had mastered the art of making pastry dough, exceeding even the impressive talents of Mrs. Mayhew, who was practically perfect as far as Lily was concerned. Indeed, Mrs. Mayhew was a saint to put up with the thoroughly disorganized Farthingale clan, who had a habit of showing up unannounced at all hours. Her father and uncle George were the only sensible Farthingales, and if not for their good business sense and generosity, most of the family would likely be out begging on the streets.
She was brought back to attention as Eloise responded to her question by counting on her fingers. “Well, Meggie will need a French lady’s maid to style her hair, tame those wild Highlands curls.”
Lily nodded, sympathetic to the struggles since she (and Dillie, of course) had similar thick hair that seemed to have a life of its own, always ready to break free of its pins and spill over her shoulders, though hers was much darker than Meggie’s.
“Meggie will have to learn some of the more popular dances. Ewan as well, though I expect he’s more polished than he’ll let on.”
“Are you certain?” He was so obviously rough around the edges and had made no secret of his determination to remain that way.
Eloise nodded. “Not about the dances, for he isn’t one for genteel entertainments. You won’t find him fitting a dance instructor into his busy day. But he has a natural, manly grace about him, don’t you think? And he’s a fast learner. He’s always been that way. Even as a child he was wise beyond his years.” She paused a moment and pursed her lips. “He’s never worn a beard before. He’s usually clean shaven and keeps himself well clothed and groomed.”
Lily felt her heart take a little leap.
“I’m sure he’s kept his beard and rustic clothes simply to irk his grandfather. Well, he’s had his bit of fun, and it’s time he made himself presentable. He’ll never dress like these young London dandies, but he knows how to carry off a stylish look. He’s a handsome man, or would be if he ever decided to fit in with the London crowd.”
Lily imagined he would look magnificent even if he were dressed in a burlap sack. The thought of running her hand along Ewan’s clean-shaven cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm, and the light roughness of his stubble after a morning’s shave... oh, dear! The room had suddenly grown unbearably hot.
Eloise arched an eyebrow as Lily poured herself another glass of lemonade and gulped it down. “The pie was very salty,” she mumbled, pouring herself a second glass of the tart liquid and finishing that one off as well, though it did little to keep the heat from crawling up her cheeks. “Delicious pie... but salty.” Ewan would taste that good, she simply knew it, and could prove it if she ever got to lick his skin. Not that she would. Ever.
Eloise rang for more lemonade and then turned to Lily and smirked. “You look like you could use another pitcher full.”
“As I said, the salt.” She silently apologized to Eloise’s cook for the lie and drank some more. Good thing it was only lemonade and not wine or that insipid ratafia that proper young ladies were permitted to drink at Almack’s. Otherwise she’d be passed out on the floor, drooling and making a general spectacle of herself. “So, Meggie will have to learn to dance. What else?”