Page 7 of The Lady and the Footballer
Lily and Mrs. O’Connor both laughed at Emmaline’s impression of her mother, who was, in Lily’s opinion, quite lovely.
“Speaking of my mother,” she continued, “Lily, are you attending the event at Lord and Lady Montgomery’s this evening?”
Lily’s shoulders drooped even further. Of everything she hated in her position in life, it was the balls and the parties the most. She did not enjoy the petty conversations, the gossip, the judgment, or concern about whether or not her dance card was full.
That last part came from her mother, who seemed to think she had not accomplished her aim if Lily was not participating in every set.
Lily would rather spend the entire night conversing with Emmaline than stepping on the toes of gentlemen while trying to create conversation.
She supposed now she could talk to them about the football team, for it was a topic that most young men seemed to enjoy.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Oh, Lily, it will not be so bad.”
“Perhaps for you. You love people and you are the loveliest dancer as you are made for any athletic pursuit, whereas I can barely move without tripping over someone.”
“It is not nearly that bad.”
“Oh, but it is,” Lily said glumly. “Perhaps I should marry, if only so I would never have to dance again.”
“Then you will be doing a dance of another kind.”
“Emmaline!” Lily exclaimed, her mouth dropping open in shock. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do not allow my mother to hear you speak like that.”
“Or what? She would tell my mother? I hope she would.”
Emmaline grinned widely. The only thing she possibly loved more than football was teasing her mother and brothers.
“You are going to get yourself into trouble with that mouth of yours,” Mrs. O’Connor said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t hide the small smile that curled her lips.
“I do hope so,” she said with a sigh. “If only I had your beauty, Lily. You know you are wasting it, not using it to your advantage.”
“You have just as much beauty as I do, Emmaline.”
“We both know that is not true, but I will let you think that,” Emmaline said, tugging on a piece of her dark hair. She turned to Mrs. O’Connor. “You should have seen how the footballerlooked at her today. Like she was an angel sent down from heaven.”
“He did not!”
“The lady doth protest too much,” Emmaline quipped.
“Even if he did enjoy looking at me, nothing could come of it. My father would never allow it.”
“If only you would do something your parents didn’t allow,” Emmaline said, crinkling her nose, dotted in a smattering of freckles. “How fun would that be?”
Lily couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to drift to the man. His chest had been peeking out from beneath his shirt, tanned, muscled, and glistening, his biceps and forearms sinewy with strength. Then there were those eyes that had captured her, a deep, warm brown that she could get lost in.
But no. She couldn’t entertain such thoughts. She blinked to return to the present, catching Emmaline’s smug grin.
“You were thinking of him.”
“I was not,” she said, hopping down from her stool. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. I shall see you out, Emmaline.”
Emmaline’s laughter trailed her all the way upstairs before she walked out the door.
Lily wondered whether anyone could still request her presence for a dance if she hid her card.
She hoped not, from the way her mother was eyeing her.
