Free The Lily Brand by Sandra Schwab Page A

in three-four time, transforming them into spun gold. His voice sank to a breathless whisper. “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…’”
    She recalled hot, moist breath touching her skin alongside hands, large hands, arranging her limbs…
    Lillian swayed against the arms currently around her. She seemed to float, weightless, and her ears filled with the roaring of her blood, which shut out the noise of the ballroom.
    “Lady Lillian? Lady Lillian? ”
    Lillian blinked.
    Round eyes hovered in front of her face like shiny blue marbles. A frown marred the line of his smooth forehead. “Are you all right, Lady Lillian?”
    She straightened her back and forced another smile onto her stiff lips. “I am fine, thank you. Just—”
    “How very inconsiderate of me.” Perrin led her to the side of the dance floor. “To force two of these exhausting waltzes on you. I am sorry, most sorry. Shall I get you some refreshments?” Without waiting for her answer, he led her on, hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow and pressing her arm against his side. Lillian had no choice but to follow, while the other couples swirled on with the music.
    “Have I already told you that my cousin has arrived in London?” Perrin made a slight bow to an acquaintance he had spotted among the ball guests, before he turned his attention back to Lillian. “Will you do me the honor of letting me introduce him to you? He promised that he would be here this evening. He runs late, I gather. You must not hold it against him, though.” Solicitously he saw to it that she would not stumble over the threshold of the refreshments room.
    Lillian’s gaze was caught by the black dragons that curled threateningly across the bright red wallpaper and chased each other on the Chinese lanterns on the lacquered side tables. The feet of these were formed like the paws of a lion, with sharp golden claws that might tear through a man’s flesh and bone.
    The past is over.
    From the bowls and cups and pots on the main table, the smell of coffee and beef soup rose to mingle sickeningly with the scent of the ball guests’ various sweetwaters.
    “He still tires easily, I believe,” Perrin continued, his voice full of importance. “And he has not yet regained his old strength. So you will not hold it against him, will you?”
    “Of course not,” Lillian murmured, without knowing whom he was talking about. She yearned for the cool, fresh night air, for a place of quiet and solitude.
    Perrin guided her to an empty chair of black wood. “Please sit down. I will get you something to drink and you will feel much better, soon.” With that, he hurried away.
    While she waited for him, Lillian watched the coming and going of the people around her, who sipped wine and talked and laughed, talked and laughed and—
    “Here you are.” Perrin held out a glass of sparkling red wine to her. “Try this. It will revive you.”
    The thin, elegant stem of the glass felt cool in Lillian’s ginger grip, a fragile thing, so easy to break, to destroy, to shatter into a million pieces…
    Lillian took a deep breath and let the coolness of the glass soothe her. She took a tentative sip of the chilled wine, the bubbles tickling her nose. She would have preferred lemonade made of sour limes without any trace of sweetness.
    “You might think it strange,” Perrin said, “that I would wish to introduce my cousin to you. I love him like a brother, you must know. He is one of my best friends.”
    Lillian took another sip, welcomed the coolness that washed down her throat. “I see,” she said softly. But how could she? She had never had any brothers or sisters or friends. Just Nanette. Nanette had always been there.
    Perrin’s eyes shone merrily. “We grew up together, my coz and I.” And how much effort he took to sound like a fashionable gentleman, a man of the world. “A fine pair of rascals we were! Rambling around the Ravenhurst estate, full of boyish mischief and