Read Online Once an Heiress by Elizabeth Boyce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Boyce
Ads: Link
Lily jerked her hand down. It didn’t do to dwell on such things.
She made her way back to the house. As she approached the ballroom, the music seemed garish, the lights too bright. It was all overwhelming. The ball had taken on the not-quite-real quality one feels upon being woken out of a dream.
Lily stepped back into that illuminated cave teeming with bodies. She squinted against the light.
“Miss Bachman!” One of her suitors bounded to her side. “There you are. Are you all right?”
Lily stared at him. Was she all right?
Was
she?
“Yes,” she finally murmured. “Quite all right, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Would you care for some punch?”
She nodded. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
The man looked at her with a hint of disbelief on his face. Then he grinned and nodded. When he returned with her punch, Lily allowed him to escort her to a seat, where several of her most devoted suitors soon flocked.
Their conversation washed over her unnoticed. She docilely answered a few direct questions. Her mind was too distracted to summon her usual disdain for all the men who wanted her fortune.
She looked around the ballroom for the one man who suddenly mattered very much, the one who had turned her ordered world topsy-turvy with a waltz and a kiss.
He was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Six
Lily poked half-heartedly at a bit of egg. She lifted her fork to her mouth and went through the motions of chewing and swallowing, only to discover the egg was still on her plate.
“Such a crush last night,” Mrs. Bachman said. “Lady Northington-Jones must be thrilled, but I fear the air was not good for my lungs. So much going and coming, the air never settled.”
“I found it stifling,” Lily said. “Fresh air is better, anyway, Mama.”
Mrs. Bachman pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I disagree. After all, you don’t leave the windows of a sick room flung open, do you? Of course not. Warm, still air is more recuperative.”
Lily took a sip of tea and replaced her cup in its saucer. Around the rim, fanciful peacocks in the Oriental style flew against a wide blue band. The service altogether clashed with the breakfast room’s traditional décor, but Mrs. Bachman insisted the set was the crack of fashion. Lily hadn’t the heart to tell her mother that chinoiserie was already passé.
“What is that you’re wearing?” Mrs. Bachman asked, her cheeks drooped in a frown.
Lily glanced down at her dress. “What, this? It’s new. This is the first I’ve worn it.”
Her mother lifted a lorgnette and squinted. “Is it muslin?”
“Chintz.” Lily broke a morsel off her bread.
“I don’t recognize the fabric,” Mrs. Bachman said.
Lily dipped the bread in her tea and popped it into her mouth. “You were present when I selected it.”
“Was I?” Mrs. Bachman dropped the lorgnette. It fell against her ample chest, dangling from a chain around her neck. “I must say I don’t recall. I certainly don’t think I’d have approved the color. The blue of those flowers does nothing for you. And there it is again in that ribbon ’round your … ” She gestured below her own bosom. She clucked her tongue. “Not a thing for you, my dear.”
Lily closed her eyes and counted to twenty, so as to not lose her temper at her mother this early in the day.
She’d only gotten as far as twelve when there was a rap at the front door.
Lily startled. Her eyes rested on the breakfast room door. Quite a few callers had come in the week since she’d danced with Lord Thorburn, but not him. She’d convinced herself he would come, outing himself for a Leech like all the rest.
But he hadn’t.
Lily didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed that he never came. If he had, she’d have been happy to see him, but sorry he was only interested in her money. But since he hadn’t, she was deprived of laying her eyes on his handsome face again, even if she was still put out at
She made her way back to the house. As she approached the ballroom, the music seemed garish, the lights too bright. It was all overwhelming. The ball had taken on the not-quite-real quality one feels upon being woken out of a dream.
Lily stepped back into that illuminated cave teeming with bodies. She squinted against the light.
“Miss Bachman!” One of her suitors bounded to her side. “There you are. Are you all right?”
Lily stared at him. Was she all right?
Was
she?
“Yes,” she finally murmured. “Quite all right, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Would you care for some punch?”
She nodded. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
The man looked at her with a hint of disbelief on his face. Then he grinned and nodded. When he returned with her punch, Lily allowed him to escort her to a seat, where several of her most devoted suitors soon flocked.
Their conversation washed over her unnoticed. She docilely answered a few direct questions. Her mind was too distracted to summon her usual disdain for all the men who wanted her fortune.
She looked around the ballroom for the one man who suddenly mattered very much, the one who had turned her ordered world topsy-turvy with a waltz and a kiss.
He was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Six
Lily poked half-heartedly at a bit of egg. She lifted her fork to her mouth and went through the motions of chewing and swallowing, only to discover the egg was still on her plate.
“Such a crush last night,” Mrs. Bachman said. “Lady Northington-Jones must be thrilled, but I fear the air was not good for my lungs. So much going and coming, the air never settled.”
“I found it stifling,” Lily said. “Fresh air is better, anyway, Mama.”
Mrs. Bachman pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I disagree. After all, you don’t leave the windows of a sick room flung open, do you? Of course not. Warm, still air is more recuperative.”
Lily took a sip of tea and replaced her cup in its saucer. Around the rim, fanciful peacocks in the Oriental style flew against a wide blue band. The service altogether clashed with the breakfast room’s traditional décor, but Mrs. Bachman insisted the set was the crack of fashion. Lily hadn’t the heart to tell her mother that chinoiserie was already passé.
“What is that you’re wearing?” Mrs. Bachman asked, her cheeks drooped in a frown.
Lily glanced down at her dress. “What, this? It’s new. This is the first I’ve worn it.”
Her mother lifted a lorgnette and squinted. “Is it muslin?”
“Chintz.” Lily broke a morsel off her bread.
“I don’t recognize the fabric,” Mrs. Bachman said.
Lily dipped the bread in her tea and popped it into her mouth. “You were present when I selected it.”
“Was I?” Mrs. Bachman dropped the lorgnette. It fell against her ample chest, dangling from a chain around her neck. “I must say I don’t recall. I certainly don’t think I’d have approved the color. The blue of those flowers does nothing for you. And there it is again in that ribbon ’round your … ” She gestured below her own bosom. She clucked her tongue. “Not a thing for you, my dear.”
Lily closed her eyes and counted to twenty, so as to not lose her temper at her mother this early in the day.
She’d only gotten as far as twelve when there was a rap at the front door.
Lily startled. Her eyes rested on the breakfast room door. Quite a few callers had come in the week since she’d danced with Lord Thorburn, but not him. She’d convinced herself he would come, outing himself for a Leech like all the rest.
But he hadn’t.
Lily didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed that he never came. If he had, she’d have been happy to see him, but sorry he was only interested in her money. But since he hadn’t, she was deprived of laying her eyes on his handsome face again, even if she was still put out at
Similar Books
