Free The Apothecary's Daughter by Julie Klassen Page A

you, Mr. Alban.”
    “Miss Has-s-well’s progress with the romance languages has
s-s-surpassed every expectation, although Miss Price-Winters can
proudly claim the s-s-superior accent.”
    “That is Christina,” Mr. Price-Winters interjected. “Our little
myna bird.”
    “But Miss Has-s-well has memorized French and Italian vocabulary more quickly than any s-s-student I have ever had the pleasure
of teaching.”
    William leaned near Lilly and teased quietly, “Bluestocking.”
    “I s-s-suppose her background and her familiarity with
Latin-“
    Aunt Elliott interrupted abruptly. “Mr. Alban, why do you not
dance with my niece? I am sure she would benefit from instruction
there as well.”
    “Ah … well … I do not claim to be a dancing master. But, of
course, I s-s-should be pleased to dance with Miss Has-s-well.” He
turned toward her. “If she would oblige me.”
    Lilly forced a smile. “Of course.”
    As he escorted her to the dance floor, he asked quietly, “What
was it I s-s-said to offend?”
    “Please forgive my aunt, Mr. Alban. It is only that she prefers as
little as possible said of my background. Not everyone sees knowledge
of Latin and physic as a credit to accomplished young ladies.”
    “I s-s-see.”
    “I ought not to have mentioned my past to you. It was just … you struggled so to account for my progress, and I didn’t want you
to think “
     
    “That I am a more gifted teacher than I truly am?” he wryly
supplied.
    “No! I did not mean-“
    “There, there Miss Has-s-well. I understand. Do not fret -I shall
take all the credit for your amazing progress from here on.”
    When the dance ended, Lilly excused herself from Mr. Alban
and rejoined Christina and her brother.
    “And where is Mr. Bromley this evening? ” Christina asked.
    “I have yet to see him,” Lilly said. She still held out hope for this
suitor. Roger Bromley did not seem put off by her lack of title or sizeable income. But then again neither he nor his parents likely knew her
father was in trade, nor were they aware of her mother’s disgrace. Lilly
wondered how long his interest would last once they knew.
    “I see the swell,” Will said, “there by the door.”
    Lilly followed Will’s gaze and saw Mr. Bromley, stylishly dressed
in black tailcoat and white waistcoat. He stood before a willowy blonde
in blue satin with an overdress of white netting. “Who is that he is
talking to?”
    “Susan Whittier …” Will breathed, staring.
    Lilly stared as well and felt a stirring of dread. “I have never seen
her before.”
    “She was away much of last season,” Christina explained. “Touring Italy, I believe.”
    “She is very beautiful,” Lilly acknowledged, and swallowed a
lump of envy.
    “Is she?” Will said innocently. “I had not noticed.”
    Lilly was unsuccessful in restraining her sarcasm. “And neither,
I see, has Mr. Bromley.”
    With a dismissive wave, Christina said, “Oh, he tried to engage her
affections two years ago but was soundly rebuffed. You have nothing
to fear from her, Lillian.”
     
    Had she not? Lilly saw Mr. Bromley’s awestruck expression and
did not feel reassured.
    As they watched, Roger Bromley offered Miss Whittier his arm.
She patted it as though it were the head of a child, laughed, and twirled
away in a flutter of blue satin. Even from across the room, Lilly could
not miss the man’s crestfallen countenance.
    He glanced their way.
    To pretend they had not witnessed his rejection, the three quickly
feigned engrossed conversation. By the time Bromley had crossed
the room and stood before them, a bright smile had transformed his
handsome face.
    “Price-Winters, you old hound,” he began. “Monopolizing the two
handsomest ladies in the room, I see. The missus would not approve.”
He bowed to Christina. “Miss Price-Winters.”
    “Bromley.”
    He turned toward Lilly. “And Miss Haswell. What a delight. I
do hope you have saved