Page 36 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
She rose and followed him into the corridor, where Gerald, a young footman, already held out Alastair’s garments. Eavesdropping, was he? She’d have a word with Emily when she returned.
“It’s been a pleasure renewing our acquaintance, Lily.” Alastair paused. “May I call you that? As close as we were, it seems silly to use surnames when not in company. Please call me Alastair, but not Pokey, that ridiculous nickname you had for me.”
“It’s because you always lagged behind when we were riding.”
“Perhaps I enjoyed watching your backside.”
“You are a devil, Alastair.”
“Am I?”
Were they flirting? Oh yes, they were.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. They’d been so young and carefree. The world had been theirs for the taking. Until he, an earl’s second son, left for the war, and Lily’s father perceived a way to repair the family finances by selling her to a wealthy cit.
Alastair stopped at the door. “Would you be willing to accompany me to the theatre tomorrow evening? I believe they’re doingThe Merchant of Veniceat the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane.”
“Do you and your wife have room in your box?”
“My wife died years ago. I’m a widower,” he said, without emotion, merely stating a fact.
“How heartbreaking for you and your daughter.” She searched his face for sadness, but there was none.
“Do you still like the theatre? I’d be honored to use the opportunity to become reacquainted with an old friend.”
Theatres were dark, and if they were late, no one would see them. Most gentlemen of thetonhad a box, and she could sit back in the shadows. She adored theatrical performances, and he remembered. What would be the harm? She was a widow nearing her fortieth year. She could do as she pleased. Emily was always scolding her for being such a recluse.
Plus, it was Alastair.
“I’d like that.”
“Wonderful.” He took her hand in his warm one and raised it to his lips. A tingle of heat traveled all the way to her core. Oh my, where did that come from? She’d forgotten how a simple touch could make her hyper-aware of her own body.
Lily remained at the window as Alastair climbed into a phaeton and left.
“Did Lord Selwick leave?” Emily asked from behind her.
“Yes.”
“Quite dashing, isn’t he?” Emily sat back down to her tea, rang for the footman, and asked for a fresh pot.
“Did he tell you we knew each other years ago?”
“He did, and was quite surprised that you are once again living in your ancestral home. He said he’d lost track of you.”
Lily stared at the carpet of snow outside. Tiny crystals hung from tree branches in the square across the street, making it look like a fairy’s forest. “I must paint this scene before the snow melts.”
“Come, sit. I want to hear about your visit with our guest.”
“He’s a widower.”
“Yes. I’ve met his daughter. Lovely girl, about to become betrothed.”
Lily sat and accepted a fresh cup from the teapot brought by the footman. Emily frowned as she chewed her third biscuit. “I hope you’re not upset with me, Aunt. I’m sad I can’t attend the assembly and wanted to contribute. I loved that painting of the lake and the mated swans. But I was sure I could persuade you to give me one of your other pieces for my sitting room.”
“Of course I’m not angry. Charitable giving is good for one’s soul. I hope the painting doesn’t languish without a single bid.”
“You’re too modest. If it makes you feel any better, Papa will recognize the setting and bid on it if no one else does, but I suspect a certain gentleman will be the winner.” Emily’s sparkle was back. “Shall we invite him to dinner? Cardmore will be returning in a few days.”
