Her Secret Fantasy Read Free

“Oh, Zeus, I’m late! Lily, dearest, how perfectly awful of me! Have I missed the entire service? Get in, get in, my girl! You silly goose, what are you doing, walking in the rain?”
    “I find the rain enjoyable, ma’am, and yes, I’m afraid you missed the service. But no matter.” She could not suppress a wry grin. “You’re just in time for tea and cakes up at the house.”
    “Well, thank goodness for that!” Mrs. Clearwell hopped out of the carriage and ducked under Lily’s umbrella.
    The short, plump, bejeweled lady held Lily by her shoulders for a moment, searching her face with a gaze that poured out the most heartfelt sympathy, and then, in a spontaneous rush of emotion, she captured her in an effusive hug. “My dear, dear girl. Poor creature! You bore the brunt of his illness, didn’t you? Of course you did,” she said with a sniffle. “You were there when he went?”
    “Yes.” Tears filled Lily’s eyes at her warm-hearted godmother’s kindness. “He would not take his medicine. He said he would meet death with his wits intact.”
    “Oh…a hero to the end.”
    Lily nodded. “He was in so much pain.”
    “Well, he’s in Heaven now with your papa. There, there, sweet child. Are you all right?”
    Lily managed a nod and wiped away a tear.
    “Brave girl.” Mrs. Clearwell patted her cheek.
    She was Mother’s cousin and was the only person that Lily had ever seen who truly knew how to manage Lady Clarissa. Their friendship had always rather puzzled Lily. The two women could not have been more different.
    Her mother, for instance, would never have worn the star-shaped pins that twinkled in Mrs. Clearwell’s hair. Especially not to a funeral.
    “Oh!” the portly widow exclaimed with sudden vehemence. “Lily, child, you must let me get you away from this gloomy place! I know you are a thoroughgoing homebody, but come to London with me. I insist!”
    She offered a wan smile. “I believe I have six months of mourning to fulfill, according to the dictates of propriety.”
    “Propriety, my foot!” her godmother protested with flashing eyes. “You’ve been in mourning since you were nine years old! No more, I tell you! Lord Balfour would not have wanted you to be unhappy, nor do I.”
    “Ah, you’ve always been so kind to me.”
    “That’s because I see great things in you, Lily.”
    Lily shook her head at her godmother’s nonsense, wiping a trace of moisture off her cheek and telling herself it was only a raindrop.
    “Good, then,” Mrs. Clearwell concluded out of the blue. “It’s all settled. You will come to Town with me and we’ll have a grand time! There are concerts and dinners and balls and soirees—”
    “Honestly, I have nothing to wear,” Lily interrupted wearily, a bit scandalized at her godmother’s talk of her going into Society so soon after a death in the family.
    “Pish-posh, Miss, life is for the living! As for your clothes, do not trouble your head a bit, we’ll fetch a few dresses for you in a trice. Not a word about expense—I promise you, it is a trifling matter. I am your godmother and I can spoil you if I want! And you know my Norbert died extremely rich.”
    Lily gazed at her uncertainly. “It is hard to take your charity.”
    “La, girl! Chaperoning a young beauty in London, why, it would be the most excitement I’ve had in years! Now, don’t be proud like your mama, or stiff-necked like His Lordship always was. Come, Lily,
I
know you are a practical young woman—and you know that I have always been on your side.”
    Lily’s eyes filled with tears, but she turned away, making an effort to blink them back. “Very well…I will consider it. Just promise me one thing.” She slid her wily godmother a sideways look.
    “What’s that?”
    “You wouldn’t be planning on playing matchmaker, would you?”
    Mrs. Clearwell beamed. “Well, actually…now that you mention it, dear, there may be two or three
agreeable
young gentlemen I’ve happened