chicken sounds lovely. And the salad.”
“Oh, thank you for saying so!” Mrs. Lundy patted her sweating cheek with a handkerchief. “I
so
want everything to be perfect, for Eddie’s sake. He works so hard, you know.”
He was working now and could not be disturbed, closeted away in his study in another region of the sprawling house.
Lily didn’t mind. She would just as soon not see her suitor until she had succeeded in erasing Derek Knight from her head.
Mrs. Clearwell passed the proposed menu to Lily to review, while Mrs. Lundy pulled out a little diagram of how the tables were to be arranged beneath the big striped tent that would be erected on the lawn for the day of the grand picnic.
While the two matrons continued discussing every detail of the garden party, Lily stared down at the scrawled sheet of paper in her hand, but her mind wandered.
Forget him.
She had known from the first second she had seen him that Derek Knight was dangerous. Nothing but trouble. The only thing their stolen kiss had accomplished was to further dampen her enthusiasm about marrying Edward.
Her duty.
Derek Knight was not for her. She had been betrayed by her heart once before, so this silly reaction to him signified nothing. Besides, even if she was somehow to snare him, Mother would kill her if she came home with a handsome half-pay officer. Rich and stupid. Those were her marching orders. Why should she torment herself with what was not to be? If she did not marry Edward or someone equally rich, then she’d have to sell Balfour Manor, and that would break her heart. It would be like admitting defeat, admitting ruin. Failing her family. The final nail in the coffin of the Balfour family’s honor.
Everything rested on her success.
If only she could stop thinking about Derek Knight’s hands. Those big, sun-tanned hands, raking through her hair. Tough and strong and capable—and yet those hands were gentle, too. She could still feel the magic of his touch when he had cupped her face, caressed her neck, her arms. It seemed her fantasies around the garden folly had taken on a very different theme, no longer a child’s daydreams, but the needs and longings of a woman.
God.
She shifted in her chair and passed the tip of her tongue across her lips. This would not do! She really wished she were better than this.
“What is your opinion on the matter, my dear Miss Balfour?”
Lily snapped back to attention, clearing her throat guiltily. “Pardon?”
“Ah, what’s this?” Mrs. Lundy teased. “Was our young lady lost in some romantic fancy, hm?”
“Oh—I am sorry.”
“Mrs. Lundy asked if you prefer the fife and drums or the brass band for the midday entertainment.”
“Whatever you decide will be best, I am sure, ma’am.” Lily forced a hapless smile. “Perhaps we should ask Edward which he’d rather.”
“So, that’s what you were daydreaming about, or should I say whom!” Mrs. Lundy beamed at having discovered Lily’s presumed distraction over her big, strapping son. “Where is that boy, anyway? He should come and see you! It really is too rude!”
“Oh, I don’t wish to interrupt him—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Lundy rang the silver servant bell beside her. “He is probably caught up in his ledgers. Perhaps he needs reminding that you’re here.”
In short order, a burly footman trudged into the great hall in answer to the summons. Lily could not figure out why all of Edward’s servants looked like pugilists, but Mrs. Lundy did not shrink from ordering the formidable fellow around.
“Would you please tell my son to come and pay his respects to the ladies? They cannot be expected to wait around for his lazy bottom all day!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the footman grunted while Mrs. Clearwell turned discreetly to Lily with a wide-eyed look over the woman’s choice of words. Lily stifled a polite cough into her white-gloved fist.
“Well! We shall see him soon, I’m very sure,” Mrs. Lundy said
“Oh, thank you for saying so!” Mrs. Lundy patted her sweating cheek with a handkerchief. “I
so
want everything to be perfect, for Eddie’s sake. He works so hard, you know.”
He was working now and could not be disturbed, closeted away in his study in another region of the sprawling house.
Lily didn’t mind. She would just as soon not see her suitor until she had succeeded in erasing Derek Knight from her head.
Mrs. Clearwell passed the proposed menu to Lily to review, while Mrs. Lundy pulled out a little diagram of how the tables were to be arranged beneath the big striped tent that would be erected on the lawn for the day of the grand picnic.
While the two matrons continued discussing every detail of the garden party, Lily stared down at the scrawled sheet of paper in her hand, but her mind wandered.
Forget him.
She had known from the first second she had seen him that Derek Knight was dangerous. Nothing but trouble. The only thing their stolen kiss had accomplished was to further dampen her enthusiasm about marrying Edward.
Her duty.
Derek Knight was not for her. She had been betrayed by her heart once before, so this silly reaction to him signified nothing. Besides, even if she was somehow to snare him, Mother would kill her if she came home with a handsome half-pay officer. Rich and stupid. Those were her marching orders. Why should she torment herself with what was not to be? If she did not marry Edward or someone equally rich, then she’d have to sell Balfour Manor, and that would break her heart. It would be like admitting defeat, admitting ruin. Failing her family. The final nail in the coffin of the Balfour family’s honor.
Everything rested on her success.
If only she could stop thinking about Derek Knight’s hands. Those big, sun-tanned hands, raking through her hair. Tough and strong and capable—and yet those hands were gentle, too. She could still feel the magic of his touch when he had cupped her face, caressed her neck, her arms. It seemed her fantasies around the garden folly had taken on a very different theme, no longer a child’s daydreams, but the needs and longings of a woman.
God.
She shifted in her chair and passed the tip of her tongue across her lips. This would not do! She really wished she were better than this.
“What is your opinion on the matter, my dear Miss Balfour?”
Lily snapped back to attention, clearing her throat guiltily. “Pardon?”
“Ah, what’s this?” Mrs. Lundy teased. “Was our young lady lost in some romantic fancy, hm?”
“Oh—I am sorry.”
“Mrs. Lundy asked if you prefer the fife and drums or the brass band for the midday entertainment.”
“Whatever you decide will be best, I am sure, ma’am.” Lily forced a hapless smile. “Perhaps we should ask Edward which he’d rather.”
“So, that’s what you were daydreaming about, or should I say whom!” Mrs. Lundy beamed at having discovered Lily’s presumed distraction over her big, strapping son. “Where is that boy, anyway? He should come and see you! It really is too rude!”
“Oh, I don’t wish to interrupt him—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Lundy rang the silver servant bell beside her. “He is probably caught up in his ledgers. Perhaps he needs reminding that you’re here.”
In short order, a burly footman trudged into the great hall in answer to the summons. Lily could not figure out why all of Edward’s servants looked like pugilists, but Mrs. Lundy did not shrink from ordering the formidable fellow around.
“Would you please tell my son to come and pay his respects to the ladies? They cannot be expected to wait around for his lazy bottom all day!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the footman grunted while Mrs. Clearwell turned discreetly to Lily with a wide-eyed look over the woman’s choice of words. Lily stifled a polite cough into her white-gloved fist.
“Well! We shall see him soon, I’m very sure,” Mrs. Lundy said
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