such a high, pointed collar, he’d accidentally slit his father’s throat. But despite Wilmott’s passé attire, one could still consider him handsome, in a grandfatherly way. The look he gave Lissa now, however, was far from grandfatherly.
He smiled coyly at her. Wilmott’s teeth were a bit yellow from age, but at least, Lissa told herself, he had all of them. Just like an old wolf’s, she couldn’t stop herself from adding. Quickly chastising herself, she daintily smiled a refusal. Already she had a headache.
“Lizzy!”
Her azure gaze slid over to the loveseat where Wilmott sat. She despised that name: Lizzy. It made her sound like a barroom serving wench.
She closed her eyes and wondered how she was going to endure this courtship. Her honor wouldn’t allow her tobe anything less than a devoted wife to the man she married—no matter whether she loved him or not. Yet how was she going to give Wilmott her unwavering devotion when she could barely stand to be in the same room with him? Whatever made her think she could do this?
Ivan.
Unconsciously her hand swept her left cheek. Then as if she’d just realized what she had done, she angrily opened her eyes. She wasn’t going to allow that gypsy to disparage her. She might not be rich, but she wasn’t so poor that she had to stand by impotently taking all of his smug looks. And that . . . that . . .
pity
in his eyes! She silently moaned, remembering how Ivan had looked yesterday as his gaze had swept Violet Croft’s interior. He certainly wouldn’t pity her if she were mistress of Billingsworth Manor!
Her black thoughts turned to that very morning. She had readied herself with a vengeance to call upon the Billingsworths. Deaf to Evvie’s pleas, she had put on her old dark blue tartan dress printed with pink rosebuds. She chose the gown not so much because it was her best, but because it was of a modern design that hooked down the front—and she was able to dress without her sister’s unwilling assistance. Fastening the last hook at her throat, she had pulled on her white muslin undersleeves. When her
engangeants
were snugly tied around her elbow, she gathered her mother’s old sovereign purse and walked downstairs, all without hearing one word of Evvie’s pleading. She had been out the door before George had even left for school.
Her visit to the manor had been ostensibly to see Honoria and Adele, Wilmott’s daughters. But it was obvious from the moment she was shown into the ladies’ parlor that the two Billingsworth spinsters did not appreciate her coming to call. As Lissa already knew, Honoria and Adele were as tight with the family money as two wealthy penny pinchers could be. And from the time of theirmother’s death, the two spinsters had always made it clear that they had no desire to share the Billingsworth guineas with a usurper.
When Wilmott finally joined them, Lissa was already desperate to leave. Honoria had been kind enough to call for refreshments, yet Adele—like one vulture recognizing another—examined their guest as if measuring her for a coffin. Needless to say, Lissa barely touched her tea.
Honoria and Adele made their exit only after several meaningful looks from their father. With his daughters out of the room, Wilmott brazenly took a place right next to her on the tufted loveseat. She had tried to continue their conversation, but Wilmott was too busy sneaking an arm around her shoulders to respond. Now was the fourth time she’d felt compelled to stand at the mantel. Watching Wilmott rise to join her, she found she could take no more.
“Good heavens, look at the hour!” she exclaimed, nodding to the longcase clock out in the foyer. “I am sorry to be leaving so soon but I do have a previous engagement.” She scurried past Wilmott and retrieved her gloves and purse from a giltwood console near the doors. “Do tell your delightful daughters that I shall call upon them again soon.”
“Lizzy! I insist you let me
He smiled coyly at her. Wilmott’s teeth were a bit yellow from age, but at least, Lissa told herself, he had all of them. Just like an old wolf’s, she couldn’t stop herself from adding. Quickly chastising herself, she daintily smiled a refusal. Already she had a headache.
“Lizzy!”
Her azure gaze slid over to the loveseat where Wilmott sat. She despised that name: Lizzy. It made her sound like a barroom serving wench.
She closed her eyes and wondered how she was going to endure this courtship. Her honor wouldn’t allow her tobe anything less than a devoted wife to the man she married—no matter whether she loved him or not. Yet how was she going to give Wilmott her unwavering devotion when she could barely stand to be in the same room with him? Whatever made her think she could do this?
Ivan.
Unconsciously her hand swept her left cheek. Then as if she’d just realized what she had done, she angrily opened her eyes. She wasn’t going to allow that gypsy to disparage her. She might not be rich, but she wasn’t so poor that she had to stand by impotently taking all of his smug looks. And that . . . that . . .
pity
in his eyes! She silently moaned, remembering how Ivan had looked yesterday as his gaze had swept Violet Croft’s interior. He certainly wouldn’t pity her if she were mistress of Billingsworth Manor!
Her black thoughts turned to that very morning. She had readied herself with a vengeance to call upon the Billingsworths. Deaf to Evvie’s pleas, she had put on her old dark blue tartan dress printed with pink rosebuds. She chose the gown not so much because it was her best, but because it was of a modern design that hooked down the front—and she was able to dress without her sister’s unwilling assistance. Fastening the last hook at her throat, she had pulled on her white muslin undersleeves. When her
engangeants
were snugly tied around her elbow, she gathered her mother’s old sovereign purse and walked downstairs, all without hearing one word of Evvie’s pleading. She had been out the door before George had even left for school.
Her visit to the manor had been ostensibly to see Honoria and Adele, Wilmott’s daughters. But it was obvious from the moment she was shown into the ladies’ parlor that the two Billingsworth spinsters did not appreciate her coming to call. As Lissa already knew, Honoria and Adele were as tight with the family money as two wealthy penny pinchers could be. And from the time of theirmother’s death, the two spinsters had always made it clear that they had no desire to share the Billingsworth guineas with a usurper.
When Wilmott finally joined them, Lissa was already desperate to leave. Honoria had been kind enough to call for refreshments, yet Adele—like one vulture recognizing another—examined their guest as if measuring her for a coffin. Needless to say, Lissa barely touched her tea.
Honoria and Adele made their exit only after several meaningful looks from their father. With his daughters out of the room, Wilmott brazenly took a place right next to her on the tufted loveseat. She had tried to continue their conversation, but Wilmott was too busy sneaking an arm around her shoulders to respond. Now was the fourth time she’d felt compelled to stand at the mantel. Watching Wilmott rise to join her, she found she could take no more.
“Good heavens, look at the hour!” she exclaimed, nodding to the longcase clock out in the foyer. “I am sorry to be leaving so soon but I do have a previous engagement.” She scurried past Wilmott and retrieved her gloves and purse from a giltwood console near the doors. “Do tell your delightful daughters that I shall call upon them again soon.”
“Lizzy! I insist you let me
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