Page 93 of The Lady and the Footballer
Lily met Emmaline’s twinkling eyes before her grin spread.
“Let’s go.”
Emmaline was right – they managed to leave unnoticed, but they were certainly met with a cheer when they walked through the door of The King’s Head, the atmosphere thick with laughter and pints.
Lily paused for a moment to take in Colin sitting in the middle of it all, the camaraderie easy and infectious.
He had done this. This man that was strong yet vulnerable, passionate and easygoing at the same time. Who drew people to him with an ease that she didn’t quite understand.
She didn’t feel deserving of him – and yet, she accepted that somehow she was lucky enough to have him anyway. His eyes lit up as he opened his arms to her, and she slipped onto his lap, tingling down her spine at his nearness as he held her, claiming her as his.
"To the hero of the day!" the captain called, lifting his glass high. "And to his ribs!"
Colin laughed, the sound more relaxed and genuine than he’d known in years. "You're all mad," he says, but the warmth in his voice told them what it meant to him. "But the true hero has now joined us. We might have been playing a game on the field, lads, but she was the one who stood up to those who truly tried to take us down.”
Lily’s cheeks warmed to what she was sure was a furious shade of red as Emmaline nodded and joined Colin in sharing what she had done. She appreciated their praise but wanted nothing more than to hide under the table from all the scrutiny – as admiring as it might be – of Colin’s teammates.
"And Montgomery?" Joey asked, curious and eager. He was making progress every day and hoped that he could return to the field one day, although he was probably still months away. At least he could now work again.
Rhys leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial rumble. "Finished," he says, savoring the word. "Heard the league won't let him have anything to do with the Athletics or any other club.”
Lily looked over at Mickey, his head hanging low.
“What about him?” she whispered to Colin.
“Rhys had a word with him,” he said, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. “He knows what he did and is ashamed for it. But I understand his reasons. His wife is sick; he lost his job. He wasonly trying to do what I did, even if it was in a less respectable way. We’ve promised to help him, told him he just needs to let us know what is happening and we’ll be there for him, as they all were for me. He never did much wrong, just threw the odd pass.”
“You’re very forgiving.”
“Understanding,” he corrected her.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now, I will have to speak to your father,” he said, some hesitancy in his eyes, but determination in how his lips were pressed against each other.
Lily nodded. They had one more hurdle to cross.
And then they could truly celebrate.
Colin hesitated on the doorstep of Lily's home, each second a year of uncertainty and resolve before he lifted his hand and knocked with determination. It didn’t matter what her father said. She had made her intentions clear.
When the door swung open, it was not a butler or a housekeeper standing there to welcome him, but Lord Harcourt himself, as tall and forbidding as a monument. They stared each other down, history and possibility suspended between them.
Then the older man stepped back, waving Colin inside.
“We best do this,” he said, his words heavy with reluctance but, somewhere within them, respect. Colin took that as a lifeline, hoping that perhaps there was a chance they could get all they desired – a life together, with the support of all those who loved them.
They passed a front drawing room, and while there was no sign of Lily, Colin did catch a glimpse of Lady Harcourt. She was still a beautiful woman, but the glare she sent his way ashe walked past the drawing room would have sent a lesser man running right out of the house.
Lord Harcourt’s study was a somber, shadowed place, much like the man himself. Books lined the walls, volumes of stern leather spines that watched Colin's every move. He almost felt like an intruder and had to remind himself of just what he was doing there.
“First,” the viscount began, settling into a high-backed chair, “I appreciate the lengths that you went to in order to protect the football club. As you know, Lord Montgomery has taken his punishment through societal annexation, while Mr. Pritchard has been relieved of his duties.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Colin said. “From what I could tell, however, Pritchard intended to care for his family with the bribes. I wouldn’t want to see him completely destitute.”
“Even though he helped place the blame on you?”
“Yes,” Colin said lowly, understanding the lengths a man could go for those he cared for.
