Of course, now that three of the four had been identified, Lily knew who the fourth was. Her gaze slid to the exceedingly tall woman, beautiful and buxom in her form-fitting red gown, one that would have been utterly scandalous on anyone else if not on Lady Sesily Talbot. On her, it simply looked gorgeous. Beautiful enough to remind Lily that she paled horribly in comparison to the woman.
The woman who had been, only a year prior, linked to Derek Hawkins.
Suddenly, Lily was not so comforted by the appearance and the tacit acceptance of this group of women.
“You know us,” Lady Sesily said, “and the rest of the room seems to know you, so who are you?”
“Sesily,” Lady Eversley cautioned. “Don’t be so rude.”
She didn’t want to tell them. She didn’t want them to dislike her for her past with Derek. She’d heard about what women did to those with whom they felt they competed. And she rather liked this group.
Not that she knew them, really. But she liked them from the scandal sheets. And from the fact that they were speaking to her instead of whispering about her behind their fans.
They didn’t even have fans.
Lady Eversley turned to her. “Though, I will say, you are in my home, so it would be very nice to meet you,” she said with an amused smile.
“You’re right, Sophie. That was far more demure than I was.”
Seleste laughed. “As though any one of us has ever been demure.”
Sesily clasped Lily’s hands. “She is wearing a dress made of dogs. She doesn’t care about demureness, obviously. And she has no choice but to tell us who she is so we can protect her from the wolves beyond, who obviously lie in wait.” She leaned in close. “Wolves go after dogs.”
“As though you’d know a thing about wildlife. When was the last time you left London?” Seline snorted at her sister.
Lily did like them. So, it was time to end it. “I’m Lillian Hargrove.”
There was a beat of silence as they all heard her, and Lily waited for Sesily to release her hands and push her away. She did not expect the other woman to clasp them tighter and say, “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, Lovely Lily.”
Confusion flared, followed by a cacophonous mix of suspicion and nerves and disappointment and, at its heart, a kernel of hope.
Lillian blushed. “You wish to know me.”
Sesily tilted her head to one side. “Of course I wish to know of you. All of London wishes to know you.” She leaned in. “Some more biblically than others, I imagine.”
Lily blushed at the words.
“Sesily!”
“Well, really. Look at her. She as beautiful as they say.”
“She means you wish to know her in spite of Hawkins,” Seline pointed out, her husband’s notorious bluntness clearly a quality Mrs. Landry boasted as well. She turned to Lily. “Sesily doesn’t care about Hawkins.”
“Only inasmuch as I care that he lives out his life in deserved misery, the toad,” Sesily said before turning to Lily. “Now I understand the dog dress, though. Inspired, really. Though you should know that dress does nothing to mar your beauty.”
Before Lily could speak, the Marchioness of Eversley spoke. “Don’t mind Sesily, Miss Hargrove; she is unable to keep herself from saying whatever pops into her head.”
“Posh. No one has time for circumspection.” Sesily waved a hand in the air before adding, “Derek Hawkins bears the two character traits unacceptable in a man: insufferability and a desperation to be admired by all. I might be willing to overlook one of them, but both—” She finished the sentence with an entirely unladylike sound.
“And he’s terrible with money,” Seleste said.
“The richest poor man in Britain,” Sesily agreed. “As though he’s a hole in his pocket. The coin spills to the ground as fast as it goes in.” She looked to Lily. “It is too bad he is so damn talented, isn’t it? We’re all blinded by his skill.”
Lily was so taken aback by Sesily Talbot’s forthrightness that it took her a moment to find words, until Lady Eversley—widely known as the quietest and kindest of the sisters—found them for her. “Sesily, you’ve shocked her,” the marchioness admonished before looking to Lily. “You needn’t answer her. She’s utterly inappropriate when she wishes to be.”
“I didn’t wish to be inappropriate!”
“To be fair, Sesily is inappropriate when she doesn’t wish to be as well,” Seline pointed out.
The marchioness laughed and took Lily’s hands. “I am very happy you’ve chosen to join us tonight. When King told me that the duke wanted to launch your season here, I confess, I was more than a little intrigued.” Her gaze flickered to the hound and hare in Lily’s coif. “Now, even more, because of your particular . . . flair.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Lily said, still rather overwhelmed by the sisters. “But it is not a season. Not really.”
The marchioness shook her head. “Call me Sophie. After all, my husband and your duke are too close for my lady.”
Lily’s gaze flew over Sophie’s shoulder to the entrance to the ballroom, where Alec and the marquess had materialized, as though summoned by the words. She took in the massive Scot in his ill-fitting coat and trousers, and somehow still more commanding than the rest of the room. Lily’s heart pounded—in fury, no doubt, at his utterly inexcusable behavior. “He’s not my duke.”
“Ding dong,” Sesily said softly at her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Alec. “Can he be mine, then? He’s in need of a tailor, but I can overlook it for the evening.”
No.
Lily had no idea where the instant dislike for the idea of this beautiful, bold woman and Alec together came from, but she didn’t like it. Why would she care whom Alec chose to be his duchess?
She didn’t.
Not at all.
“He’d be lucky to have you as queen of his drafty Scottish castle,” she said, pushing the dislike away.
Sesily’s nose wrinkled. “I like the sound of a dukedom and a castle, but who wants to live in Scotland? It is deadly dull.”
“That’s probably for the best, Ses,” Seline teased. “I imagine King would heartily warn his friend away from the likes of you.”