Chapter Three

T he moment they had entered Harcourt Manor, her family’s estate which sat regally in Ellesmere Park, close enough to Manchester that her father could oversee his business interests but far enough away that they were not victim to the factory waste, Lily and Emmaline had evaded Lily’s mother as quickly as they could and were hiding in the house's bowels – in the kitchens, to be exact.

“My dear, you must put some ice on that bump,” the cook, Mrs. O’Connor, said as she gathered chunks of ice into a towel and held it out to Lily, who pressed it to her face.

“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. “That does feel good.”

“Now,” Mrs. O’Connor said, leaning over the counter, forgetting her dinner preparations for a moment as she looked at them with interest in her eyes. “Tell me about those young football players.”

Lily and Emmaline laughed in surprise, for Mrs. O’Conner must be thirty years senior to most of the men. Such an opportunity to provide for ever so, but that didn’t stop them from sharing.

“Most of them are quite handsome,” Emmaline said, “although we already knew that from watching the games. Only, this was different somehow. We were able to get closer, and they were not moving quite so fast. They were also talking to one another, making them more human altogether.”

“What would you call them during the games, then?” Lily asked in astonishment.

“They are more like gods,” Emmaline said, her eyes round, and Lily laughed at her friend.

“Oh, Emmaline, you cannot truly believe that.”

“No,” Emmaline said with a sigh. “The truth is, it is not so much that I want them but that I am jealous of them.”

“Why would you be jealous of those men?” Lily asked, blinking.

“Because of the very fact that they have the chance to play football!” she exclaimed. “You know how much I love the game, Lily.”

“I used to,” she said in all sincerity. Emmaline knew everything about the game. Every rule, every position, every play, every strategy.

“What I wouldn’t give to play.”

“You play with your brothers.”

“I do,” she said morosely, before straightening her spine. “And I am quite good, if I say so myself.”

It had been a few years since Lily had watched Emmaline play against any opponents.

Still, from what she could remember, most of the games comprised Emmaline and her brothers yelling at one another as her brothers had always purposefully kicked the ball into Emmaline’s skirts.

She would then curse the layers of fabric and tuck them up into the waistband of her drawers – at least until her mother caught sight of her.

That was too much, even for Lady Daughtry.

Lily didn’t want to confess it to Emmaline, but when she sat in the sun-kissed grass beside where Emmaline played, she gave more attention to her books than watching Emmaline.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy football. It was just that she had other pastimes that she preferred.

Out of loyalty, however, she would support her friend in any manner she spent her time.

“Emmaline, I have read about women’s leagues in the papers,” she said, picking up a piece of cake that Mrs. O’Conner set in front of them.

Lily’s mother had always been so caught up in the who’s who of the world and trying to please her husband, that Lily had come to Mrs. O’Connor for the mothering she longed for.

The cook was always quick to sneak a freshly baked cookie or scone into Lily’s hand when her mother wasn’t looking. Her mother had forbidden her from eating them for fear that the bite of one cookie might increase her waist size.

“My parents would never allow me to play in a women’s league,” Emmaline said with a sigh.

“Or any league, for that matter. You should hear my mother. ‘Of all the pastimes in all of England, you decide yours is football.’ She can’t understand why I am not more interested in taking up one of her causes. ”

Lily and Mrs. O’Connor both laughed at Emmaline’s impression of her mother, who was, in Lily’s opinion, quite lovely.

“Speaking of my mother,” she continued, “Lily, are you attending the event at Lord and Lady Montgomery’s this evening?”

Lily’s shoulders drooped even further. Of everything she hated in her position in life, it was the balls and the parties the most. She did not enjoy the petty conversations, the gossip, the judgment, or concern about whether or not her dance card was full.

That last part came from her mother, who seemed to think she had not accomplished her aim if Lily was not participating in every set.

Lily would rather spend the entire night conversing with Emmaline than stepping on the toes of gentlemen while trying to create conversation.

She supposed now she could talk to them about the football team, for it was a topic that most young men seemed to enjoy.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh, Lily, it will not be so bad.”

“Perhaps for you. You love people and you are the loveliest dancer as you are made for any athletic pursuit, whereas I can barely move without tripping over someone.”

“It is not nearly that bad.”

“Oh, but it is,” Lily said glumly. “Perhaps I should marry, if only so I would never have to dance again.”

“Then you will be doing a dance of another kind.”

“Emmaline!” Lily exclaimed, her mouth dropping open in shock. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do not allow my mother to hear you speak like that.”

“Or what? She would tell my mother? I hope she would.”

Emmaline grinned widely. The only thing she possibly loved more than football was teasing her mother and brothers.

“You are going to get yourself into trouble with that mouth of yours,” Mrs. O’Connor said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t hide the small smile that curled her lips.

“I do hope so,” she said with a sigh. “If only I had your beauty, Lily. You know you are wasting it, not using it to your advantage.”

“You have just as much beauty as I do, Emmaline.”

“We both know that is not true, but I will let you think that,” Emmaline said, tugging on a piece of her dark hair. She turned to Mrs. O’Connor. “You should have seen how the footballer looked at her today. Like she was an angel sent down from heaven.”

“He did not!”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Emmaline quipped.

“Even if he did enjoy looking at me, nothing could come of it. My father would never allow it.”

“If only you would do something your parents didn’t allow,” Emmaline said, crinkling her nose, dotted in a smattering of freckles. “How fun would that be?”

Lily couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to drift to the man. His chest had been peeking out from beneath his shirt, tanned, muscled, and glistening, his biceps and forearms sinewy with strength. Then there were those eyes that had captured her, a deep, warm brown that she could get lost in.

But no. She couldn’t entertain such thoughts. She blinked to return to the present, catching Emmaline’s smug grin.

“You were thinking of him.”

“I was not,” she said, hopping down from her stool. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. I shall see you out, Emmaline.”

Emmaline’s laughter trailed her all the way upstairs before she walked out the door.

Lily wondered whether anyone could still request her presence for a dance if she hid her card.

She hoped not, from the way her mother was eyeing her.

“Lily!” her mother trilled as she found her in the corner where she was attempting to hide. If only she could have fit a book in her reticule, perhaps she could have hidden in an empty room to read until the night was over.

“Yes, Mother?” she said, running her long, white-satin gloved hands over her floor-length, deep emerald-green silk gown.

She knew the color flattered her, although she wished the bodice with its delicate lace and beadwork wasn’t quite so tight.

It didn’t leave much room for her meal. She brushed back the loose curls framing her face and ran the beads of her pearl choker between her fingers.

“It has been some time since you have seen Lord Nathaniel, has it not?”

She could have groaned aloud but held it inside. She would be a happy woman if she never saw Lord Nathaniel again.

“I have seen him frequently enough.”

“He would like to dance with you.”

“My dance card is full.”

For once, she was grateful for that. Her mother and Lady Montgomery were friends despite the rivalry between their husbands, and Lily was well aware they thought they could solve the entirety of the rift between the families through an alliance. A marriage alliance.

“As it happens, Mr. Collins has agreed to dance the next set with Emmaline so Lord Nathaniel can have this one.”

“Is that even appropriate?” she asked, but her mother had no time to answer, for she was pushing Lily right into the man’s arms.

As soon as his arms slipped around her, her skin began to prickle in an awareness that something was off. She wanted to step away from this man, but instead, she was held captive in his arms.

He smiled down at her, and she knew that she should be enjoying this. He was, after all, a good-looking man with all of the connections that a young woman would hope for.

But there was something about him, as though he hid sinister thoughts behind that agreeable smile.

“Miss Evans, always a pleasure.”

She murmured something unintelligible so she didn’t have to lie to him.

“Your father has recently sponsored a football team.”

“He has,” she said, relieved that, at least, they could speak of something she had a little interest in.

“You do know that my father sponsors Manchester’s opposing team?”

“I believe I did know that. Your sister has discussed it, for she helps him with the bookkeeping, does she not?”

“She does, although why Father allows it, I have no idea. I suppose he was tired of her brooding about the manor all day in boredom.”

An interesting idea, actually, Lily pondered as Lord Nathaniel continued to speak.

“The Manchester Athletics. Our main opponents are Manchester Central.”

“I see,” she said politely. “So our fathers will be rivals in business and sport, then.”

“Perhaps,” he said, leaning in so close that she could feel his breath on her neck. She shuddered, hoping he wouldn’t take it as encouragement. “Or perhaps, there could be the opportunity for something more.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Our fathers have been discussing the potential of a partnership. They could merge their business interests as well as their sporting interests.”

“How could two teams from opposing cities be merged?”

“They could be partner clubs. Or one could draw players from the other. Something of that nature. As for business, a partnership of two mills would have many advantages.”

“My father has not mentioned anything to me.”

“Perhaps he was waiting for the right time.”

“Well, I’m sure it will not involve me, so he likely did not bother informing me.”

She furrowed her brow as she looked down, trying to follow his feet, for it seemed she had gotten out of step.

“On the contrary. It has everything to do with you.”

“Hmm?” She looked up, her concentration breaking, and she stepped on his toe, although he didn’t seem to notice, for she was wearing only kid slippers. “How so?”

“In history, Miss Evans, what has been the best way for two families to merge their interests?”

Dread began to crawl up her sternum as she quickly realized what he was referring.

“You do not mean?—”

“Marriage? But of course. And why not? You and I are both of marriageable age, have no other romantic interests, and are equally attractive.”

What that last part had to do with anything, Lily wasn’t quite sure.

“I would leave you to your interests while I pursued my own,” he continued. “It would be the ideal arrangement.”

“And just what are your… interests?”

“Football and pursuits that are not for a woman to concern herself with. But nothing that will overly affect you. You will mind the home, bear children, and meet my needs.”

The knot in her stomach that had slowly been growing soon threatened to overwhelm her entirely.

“If you will excuse me, Lord Nathaniel,” she said, wrenching herself out of his tight hold and taking a step backward. “I believe I am going to be ill.”