He blinked, more amused than menaced by the melodramatic threat. Misinterpreting his expression, she gave a brisk, satisfied nod.
What a family of women. Such ladylike ferocity in defense of their sister. He found it rather charming, if a little insulting.
It was excellent that Lily had such a protective family, but really, did they expect him to beat Lily, or starve her? When he was in this position because he’d gone out of his way to protect her? They certainly had the lowest expectations of him. But perhaps his reputation bothered them.
His own fault, he supposed. Since selling out of the army after Waterloo and returning to civilian life, he’d taken pains to cultivate a rakish reputation and to avoid fashionable society. He had had no desire to be hunted by matchmaking mamas, and being in line for a title, a fortune and a handsome estate, he had had no doubt he would be hunted.
A movement at the door caught his eye. It was the biggest dog he’d ever seen, tall and gray and shaggy. He slunk in—if a dog that size could be said to slink—edged up behind Lady Georgiana and eyed Ned with an enigmatic expression. Lady Georgiana’s dog, he presumed. Would she set it on him?
Ned liked dogs. He snapped his fingers and the dog padded forward. He sniffed Ned’s outstretched fingers, then sat down with an expression that was a clear invitation to pat.
“Finn,” Lady Georgiana said crossly. The dog thumped a lazy tail but didn’t move. Ned had found the perfect spot needing scratching—just behind the ears.
Lady Georgiana gave Ned a narrow look, but it seemed to him that her glower had lightened somewhat.
“Ah, Mr. Galbraith!” A thin, immaculately dressed elderly lady stood in the doorway. Lady Salter, Lily’s aunt. Ned braced himself for another ladylike death threat.
She raised her lorgnette, made a comprehensive sweep of the room with it, then said, “Well, is it to be a wedding—or from the faces you’re all wearing, a funeral?” She turned to Cal. “The gel has done the sensible thing, I hope?”
Cal said, “Lily and Mr. Galbraith are betrothed.”
“Excellent.” She swept toward Ned like an angular, full-rigged galleon. “Mr. Galbraith, let me be the first to welcome you into the family. I am delighted, simply delighted that you have agreed to rescue my foolish niece from the consequences of her imprudence. I hope the gel will strive to be worthy of the honor you do her.”
The atmosphere in the room bristled with silent indignation.
“It is Lady Lily who does me the honor,” Ned responded coolly. “And I’ve already been given a most memorable welcome by the other members of her family. And if you will forgive me for correcting you on one or two points—”
Lady Salter raised her lorgnette with ominous significance.
Ned continued, “Lady Lily was not in the least imprudent; she is totally without blame and has shown nothing but grace and courage in dealing with a scandal not of her making.”
Lady Salter boot-button eyes snapped with irritation. “Nonsense, she—”
“In fact, if there is any blame to be assigned, it must go to your old friend, Lady Ampleforth, who has been most assiduous—”
Her bosom swelled. “Henrietta Ampleforth is no friend of mine—”
“Yet you must accept your fair share of blame for Lily’s predicament. It was to punish you that Lady Ampleforth attempted to blacken Lily’s good name.” He took Lily’s hand and kissed it lightly. “But I hold no grudge against the two of you—”
“Against me?” Lady Salter drew herself up, a praying mantis in high dudgeon. “It has nothing to do with—”
“It is Lady Lily’s forgiveness you must ask.”
“What? Ask Lily’s forgiveness?” She spat out the words like chips of glass.
“She is a generous-hearted girl. I’m sure you need not fear her disapproval,” Ned finished smoothly. Leaving Lady Salter sputtering with indignation, he turned to Lily. “Now, my dear, do you favor a long engagement or a short one?”
“Long,” said Lily’s relatives in a chorus.
“Short,” Lily said with a smile. Her eyes were shining. “The shorter, the better. How long does a special license take?”
“No special license!” Lady Salter rallied. “A quick marriage is what’s required, but not a hasty one. Ashendon, you will arrange for the banns to be called at St. George’s, Hanover Square. And send a notice of the betrothal to the Morning Post and the Chronicle. That should stop the gossip, or at least turn it into more acceptable channels. Lady Ampleforth”—she directed a waspish glare at Ned—“you may leave to me.”
Ned took his leave a short time later, feeling quite as though he’d escaped from the lion’s den. What a formidable pack of women. Thank God he’d ended up with Lily. She was the pick of the bunch.
Three and a half weeks and she’d be his wife. A married man; he couldn’t quite imagine it.
He’d been more or less alone since his first weeks in the army. Since that first battle. Surrounded by men, but essentially alone. A few friends, but not the kind of friends he’d had before.
And since he’d returned to civilian life, he hadn’t been close to any women, either. A few liaisons here and there, but again, no one close. An escort to the theater or to parties, a dance partner, a bedmate, but no intimacy other than physical. It was an arrangement that had suited him well.
The question was, could he achieve the same kind of balance in his marriage?
• • •
“I must say, Lily, Mr. Galbraith was quite impressive in there.” Rose linked arms with Lily as they climbed the stairs together.
“He was wonderful, wasn’t he?” Lily could hardly stop smiling. She was betrothed to Mr. Galbraith. To Edward.
“Anyone who can stand up to Aunt Agatha so coolly can’t be all bad.”
“He’s not bad at all. I keep telling you, Rose—”
“Finn liked him,” George commented from behind. “But then Finn likes anyone who knows exactly where to scratch.”
“Just because he’s not intimidated by Aunt
