Page 89 of The Lady and the Footballer
He should be – she was looking out for his club, his mill, after all – but she also knew what it meant for a proud man like her father to admit that he was wrong.
She only hoped that his acceptance also meant acceptance of her and Colin, but that remained to be seen.
“That was foul,” Emmaline cursed. “Do you think it’s the last of it?”
“We can only hope,” Lily said, her lips pursed together as she rocked slightly back and forth, unsure if she could take this any longer.
"The game's ruined!" a man shouts near her. "Call it off!"
"No!" Lily stood abruptly, her heart pounding. Montgomery could not have his way, not when Colin and the team were so close to proving themselves.
The murmur, however, started to move through the crowd, and she realized, then, what Montgomery’s intention was. If he hadn’t been able to hurt any of the team – and it looked like they were all still standing upright, at least – he would halt the game and wait for another day, one that would come after he had ensured Colin’s arrest.
She would not let that happen.
Before her father even realized what she was doing, Lily stood and pushed through the spectators, urgency driving her. She had to stop this before it ruined everything.
Lily reached the man who started it all, the pockmarked-faced man laughing as his mischief spread like poison through the crowd. He hadn’t spotted her yet, too busy creating havoc to notice a determined young woman slipping through the fray, even as she heard her name being called from above.
The man, along with those with him, began shoving a few of the fans, and she knew what he was doing. If they couldn’t rile the players, they would rile the crowd. The constables, sensing a disturbance, began to return to their former places, and Lilyknew she had to act before Lord Montgomery’s brutes had achieved his aim.
Through all of this, one tool had saved Lily more than any other – her hair pins.
She slipped them out, testing the weight of her formal hat in her hand, before flinging it like a gauntlet into the midst of the men, satisfied when it caught the ringleader in the face, and he started, stunned as he looked around for his attacker.
“He’s the troublemaker!” she called out, pointing him out to the constables. “Stop him!”
Her command carried the tone of someone used to being obeyed, and as the man eyed her with suspicion before attempting to flee, Lily couldn’t help but smile. The constables closed in, halting any escape route, and after what seemed like forever, the unrest subsided.
It was only then that Lily caught Montgomery staring at her with undisguised resentment in his eyes, and a shiver ran through her.
She stepped back carefully, seeing her father running down toward her.
“Father,” she said, stopping him before he could say anything, “do you still have the book?”
“Montgomery’s?”
“Yes. Did you bring it as I suggested?”
“I did.”
“Good,” she said. “I thought we should wait until after the game, but I have a feeling Montgomery might be gone before then.”
“Wait for what?”
“Where is the FA President?”
“At the top of the stands, two rows above where we were sitting.”
“Will you introduce me to him?”
“Lily, I hardly think?—”
“Please, Father?” she said, meeting his eye imploringly. When he sighed, elation rose through her as she felt his resistance crumbling. “Thank you,” she said softly, before he placed his hand on her back and led her up as word rang out that the game would resume in five minutes.
“Lord Cartwright, might we have a word?” Lily’s father said to a tall, lean gentleman who had likely played a fair bit of football in his own day. Long white sideburns added a distinguished air to his face, his clear blue eyes seemingly piercing through her. “This is my daughter, Miss Lily Evans.”
“Miss Evans, a pleasure,” he said. “I have a moment, but only that. I am rather invested in this game.”
