Page 43 of Inconvenient Honor
“My life isn’t yours to fix, my lord,” she said at last over the lump in her throat.
“‘My lord’ is it? Very well, ‘Miss Thornton.’ I will continue to see to your welfare whether you wish it or not.” He leaned a bit closer, eyes moving toward her mouth. “I worry for you, Lily,” he whispered. “Don’t frighten me again.”
Lily’s mouth fell open. She thought for a moment he meant to kiss her. She thought for a moment she wanted him to. She pulled herself upright and looked away.
“I apologize for causing distress,” she said. “That was not my intent. I’m used to seeing to my own welfare. Your concern, while sweet, is not necessary.”
He snapped upright. “My concern is damned well not ‘sweet,’ madam. My concern is for England’s welfare, and you find yourself embroiled with dangerous forces.”
“Life has risks,” she said, desperate to change the subject. “I will risk a walk to Chadbourn house tomorrow night.”
“Too far. Ride. Take Heaton,” he retorted.
“Will you attend?” she asked.
“I’m engaged to attend the theatre,” he responded.
“With Lady Sarah Wharton.” It wasn’t a question.
“Who I choose to escort isn’t your concern.”
“You will suit each other,” she said. She meant it.
He bristled at that, but said, “I believe so. She is of good family.”
Lily nodded. “Lands, polish, and breeding that is well beyond adequate—all that is needed in a marchioness,” she said, throwing his assessment of her breeding back at him.
The marquess looked momentarily puzzled as if he couldn’t be sure whether or not she had insulted him. Lady Sarah could have him. Lily had her own life to live.
“I wish you well, my lord,” she said.
“And I wish you safe,” he responded, rising to leave. “Stay with Heaton when you are out.”
“I already promised, didn’t I?” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Roger Heaton may escort me about the city.”
But no farther.
Chapter Sixteen
The maneuvers—small but effective—that Lady Sarah carried out in order to time her entrance to his parents’ box at the Royal Theater, Covent Garden, exasperated Richard. They arrived late but still early enough to be seen by all.
Generals launch campaigns with less planning.
Her erect posture, serene countenance, and gown, carefully chosen to reflect light from the newly installed oil lamps, showed to perfection in the flickering lights of the theater. Tiny diamonds discreetly nested in her suitably demure pearl necklace glowed in that light just as she must have known they would.
Every eye in the pit followed her graceful descent into the Duke of Sudbury’s box on Richard’s arm.
She sees me as nothing more than an ornament to perfect the image she wishes to project—Lady Sarah Wharton on the arm of a duke’s heir. Any heir would do.Richard winced. He thought he ought to give the girl more credit, but the thought persisted. She can’t help it. She’s caught up in my mother’s schemes.
Avid glances from the other boxes took in the powerful and highly titled companions around them: the Duke and Duchess of Sudbury, the Duke and Duchess of Lisle, and Castlereagh—the Marquess of Londonderry, foreign secretary, Richard’s superior, and one of the most powerful men in Europe.
Tactical error, Richard. Not one but two dukes—both parents and the foreign secretary? May as well send notice to the papers.
He attempted to ignore prying eyes. Taking notice of the masses,he had been taught, gave one an air of vulgarity. He handed his companion to a seat next to Lord Castlereagh and sat on her other side.
At least Her Grace is content to take a back seat for once.
His mother held court behind him, dripping with the Sudbury sapphires. She appeared content to let her protégé bask in the light while she entertained the girl’s ducal parents.
