My Fair Lily(97)
Ewan frowned. “No.”
“I demanded her help in making us a family again. I couldn’t just ask her, couldn’t imagine the girl would do it as a favor to me, for I’d never done a blasted thing to help her out. So I offered to make her the first female member of the Royal Society as reward if she succeeded. She looked at me as though I’d grown two heads. Never responded to my offer.”
Despite his turmoil, Ewan grinned. This was so like Lily, the good-hearted girl who didn’t understand about the underbelly of life and its base, human temptations. Her natural instinct was to nurture and encourage. She must have been so confused by the illogic of the offer that she’d simply ignored it.
“The worst part about it is that I lied. I had no intention of ever making her a member. In truth, I can’t do it. Neither my rank nor my influence on the board will ever break the fear and animosity in the hearts of our members. They’ll never accept a woman as their equal.” His shoulders sagged and he buried his face in his hands. “Ewan, I’m sorry.”
He never thought to hear those words from his grandfather. Not ever in this lifetime. In return, he did something he never thought he’d do in this lifetime. He reached over and hugged his grandfather.
***
Lily’s heart was in her throat as she and Dillie entered Lady Finchley’s salon and directed the butlers to set her harp (that horrid instrument of torture she’d tried to break at least a dozen times without success) beside the piano. Dillie placed her sheets of music on the piano, so obviously eager to play that Lily felt deeply sorry for her. They hadn’t rehearsed nearly as much as they ought to have this afternoon after she’d awoken from her nap. Not that Dillie needed to work on the pieces. She knew them by memory, didn’t need a sheet of notes to guide her nimble fingers over the ivory keys.
“The guests are strolling in,” Dillie said with annoying glee. “I don’t see Ewan yet.”
Lily pursed her lips to hide her dismay. “I doubt he’ll come.” After all, he’d offered to marry her and she’d kicked him to the curb. He was a proud man and her words must have bruised him.
“And I’m sure he will.” She nudged her toward the harp. “Do your best.”
“I’ll try.” It wasn’t only that she had no musicality in her bones—which she didn’t—but her hands were sore, and if it weren’t for the gloves she wore, everyone would have noticed the little cuts on her palms. She’d have to take the gloves off when she played, but her injuries would be sufficiently hidden from everyone’s view while she ran her fingers across the harp strings. In any event, most guests would be turned away and wincing as she played.
“Uh-oh. There’s Corky MacCorkstopper,” Dillie whispered. “Bet she’s surprised to find you here.”
Lily tried to tamp down her alarm. Goodness, she’d managed to hold her own against some nasty-looking blackguards. But none of them was the woman Ewan had almost married. “Crumpets, what shall I do? She’s coming straight toward us.”
“Straight toward you, to be precise, with Lady Finchley on her heels. Now everyone’s gawking. They’ve all heard the rumors, of course.” Dillie grinned. “When she stops in front of you, punch her in the nose. Draw blood. If you won’t do it, I will.”
“No wonder you’re the evil twin. You’re not helping.” Though the idea had merit. She had a better one, an idea that would take care of two problems. She would smash the harp over Caledonia’s head, hopefully breaking it—the harp, that is, not Caledonia’s head. She wasn’t that bloodthirsty.
“You leave that harp alone.” Dillie put a hand on her elbow. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can put it from your mind immediately. We’re going through with this recital.”
“What trick is this?” Caledonia said with a hiss, or so it sounded to Lily. The girl was a viper, after all. A wicked Scottish viper.
Lily drew in a breath, trying to remain as calm as possible in this awkward situation. “Good evening, Lady Finchley. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what trick your friend is referring to.”
“Of course you don’t, you sweet girl. The rumors of your ruination at the hands of Lord Mortimer’s son are a bit of malicious gossip obviously started by a callow, calculating individual who’s simply jealous of you.” She stared pointedly at Caledonia as she spoke. “I was assured you would not appear. Yet here you are, looking quite lovely.”
“Why, thank you.” Lily tossed her an innocent smile, relieved that Callie had made such a monumental mistake, a novice debater’s mistake. It was one thing to claim she’d been ruined—that juicy tidbit was readily devoured by the elite of society. But to also predict she would miss this evening, clearly proved false by her presence here, undermined all of Callie’s previous assertions.