CHAPTER 3
One benefit to being a widow, Lily reflected with bitter gratitude, was the liberty of movement. As Miss Pierce she had been carefully chaperoned, but as Mrs. Adler she was her own mistress. As long as she did nothing too scandalous, society would allow her to pursue her own course.
At that moment, all she wanted was a few minutes to be quiet and alone.
The doors from the ballroom opened onto a wide terrace. There were other guests outside, but they were far enough away that Lily could relax against the balustrade and stare into the gardens, her mind wandering.
It took her several minutes to realize what she was seeing.
Two people were standing at the edge of the garden. One was a man, the other a woman in a pale dress, but their faces were in shadow. Lily was too far away to hear voices—or perhaps they were speaking too quietly—but she could guess from the tense lines of their bodies that they were having a heated argument.
She leaned forward, unable to help herself. Judging by the well-placed slap that the woman below suddenly delivered to the man’s face, the scene below was worth observing.
The man stumbled back a step. Immediately the woman stepped forward, the tension gone from her petite form as she reached for his face, urging him to turn toward her so she could inspect where she had struck him. The man shook his head and said something that made her drop her hands and step back, her fists clenching at her sides as she turned away. The movement took her into the dim light cast by the ballroom windows, and Lily held back a surprised gasp. The woman below was Miss Oswald.
“My dear Mrs. Adler.”
The sudden voice behind Lily made her jump. The last thing she wanted was to be caught spying. Hoping that she didn’t look too flustered, she turned to find Reggie Harper watching her.
Mr. Harper was tall, even compared to her own above-average height, and dressed to the height of fashion, with a brightly striped waistcoat, skintight pantaloons that showed off every muscle in his legs, and shirt points starched so high he looked as if he could scarcely turn his neck. As he saw her taking in his appearance, he bowed. “I apologize for startling you. You must think me a dreadful boor.” There was an unpleasant edge to his smile.
“Pray think nothing of it, Mr. Harper.” Lily hoped he would realize her interest in conversation was as vague as her tone. When he showed no sign of leaving, she added, “I am afraid I—”
“You must excuse my ill manners in approaching you like this,” he interrupted. Lily, who disliked few things more than being interrupted, frowned, but he was too busy moving closer to her to notice. “But given my friendship with your late husband, I am sure you will forgive me.”
Lily took a deliberate step away. “I did not know you and Freddy were acquainted.”
“We were at Eton together, ma’am, and then Cambridge. Old friends, though we had fallen out of touch in recent years.” His expression became a little rueful, the look so artificial that Lily felt her annoyance quickly turning into anger. “I had been seeing to family affairs and did not hear of his death until very recently.” He sighed, one hand on his heart, the other rising to stroke the exposed line of her shoulder. “Such a terrible loss. You must feel it cruelly.”
Lily forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly. It would not do to create a scene at Serena’s ball. “It was very hard—” she began coldly.
“But life goes on.” Mr. Harper interrupted her once more. “How wise of you, my dear.” Suddenly, he was standing very close and clasping her hand. “For a woman such as yourself, life can become very interesting indeed.” His free hand rose to her cheek.
“Release my hand, sir.” Lily stepped back as far as she could, but he followed her swiftly, his fingers tight around hers.
“I should very much like, Mrs. Adler, to be granted the privilege of showing you exactly how interesting,” he murmured.
Lily took a deep breath. “Tell me, sir, do you practice your half of these exchanges in front of a mirror?”
The question caught him off guard. “What?”
While he was at a loss for words, Lily took the opportunity to slip from his grasp and put several feet of distance between them. “I do not care to speak with you anymore, Mr. Harper. Kindly do not approach me again.”
She turned to walk away, hoping he had the wits not to push his advances any further. He did not.
“My beauty, you cannot mean what you say!” Mr. Harper grabbed Lily’s arm, pulling her to a halt.
Lily reacted without thinking, and he grunted in pain as her elbow struck the point just below his breastbone. Once she realized what she had done, she did it a second time.
Mr. Harper dropped her arm as he doubled over, gasping for air. Lily, her expression cold, considered boxing his ears for good measure. Instead she said, “Freddy went to Oxford.”
He stared up at her with watery eyes, hands braced on his knees as he wheezed. “What?”
“My husband studied at Oxford, not Cambridge.” Her voice was icy. “I suggest you depart for the evening and never approach me in such a manner again. Do I make myself clear?”
He winced as he used the balustrade to pull himself upright. “You are a damned harpy.”
Lily began to regret her decision not to box his ears. “Just so, sir. And now would be an excellent time to leave, unless you wish to spend the next month explaining your broken nose.”
For a moment he looked as if he was going to advance on her once more. But Lily lifted her chin and met his eyes, and something in her unruffled expression seemed to unnerve him. He settled for sneering at her before he strode away down the terrace.
Lily watched just long enough to see him out of sight, then let out a relieved breath and sagged back against the balustrade. She didn’t actually know how to break a man’s nose, but some further threat had been necessary. The thought made her laugh, a hysterical edge to the sound. There were always rumors that this widow or that was engaged in a dalliance once free from the restrictions of maidenhood and marriage, and they had always sounded rather scandalously delightful. But an unwelcome proposition was not at all pleasant.
She was shaking, she realized, her skin prickling and sweaty all over despite the cool air. Returning to the ballroom in such a state was out of the question, but a sudden flurry of laughter as a crowd of guests came out onto the terrace made her unwilling to stay there either. Needing a moment alone to gather her thoughts, Lily turned to the garden below.
The Walters, to Serena’s chagrin, lived just north of Mayfair. The previous Lord Walter had wanted more property than generally came with a town house and had purchased space near Marylebone Park, which the architect John Nash was currently turning into a retreat for the Prince Regent. The Walters made up for their less-than-fashionable address with a London rarity: gardens that stretched behind their house, a delight of carefully pruned shrubbery and climbing flowers, hidden from the house by a tall boxwood hedge. It stretched nearly twice the length of the house beyond the terrace, and just as Lily had hoped, the heat and noise of the ballroom soon dropped away. Only moonlight illuminated the path, and she wandered through the shrubbery until the smell of horses and dung told her that she had arrived at the mews.
Lily shivered, the filmy sleeves of her gown no protection against the breeze, and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. She was not surprised to discover tears there as well. Freddy’s mother had meant well when she suggested Lily move to town, but returning to London was not proving to be the immediate cure for grief she had predicted. “You need something to do, dear, something to distract you,” Lady Adler had said kindly. “Perhaps some charity work?”