A Lord for Miss Lily: A Wallflower’s Wish

by Dallen, Maggie

  The thought had barely formed before the air between them seemed to thicken with awareness and tension. But this wasn’t like the anger he’d grown accustomed to or even their old camaraderie.

  This was something else entirely. He was keenly aware of how her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, of how the stray curls fell against the soft skin of her neck…

  His gaze dropped to her lips. Slightly parted, they were temptation itself.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  He desperately wanted to pull her further into the shadows and into his arms and claim her lips with his. He wanted to kiss her until every misunderstanding dissolved and every betrayal was forgotten.

  “Lily,” he said softly.

  Her gaze dropped and her chest moved quickly with shallow breaths. “Merrick, I—”

  She cut herself off suddenly, her gaze fixed on something behind him.

  “What is it, Lily?”

  “Abigail,” she whispered.

  He frowned. Abigail again. It always came back to Abigail. He dropped his grip on her arm and shoved a hand through his hair. “I thought you understood, Lily. I never meant to choose—”

  “No.” She gave her head a little shake, her eyes moving up to meet his. “Abigail,” she said again, lifting her arm to point behind him. “She is here.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lily woke the next morning, the knot of sick dread still tight in her stomach.

  For a brief moment, she considered crying sick and staying in her room for the day.

  The idea had merit. First because Abigail was here. Not that she cared about the other girl’s snide comments or her holier-than-thou demeanor, but the thought of watching Abigail and Merrick together. That made her stomach twist again.

  Because Merrick had been so close to Lily last night. She’d felt his heat, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his breath caressing her cheek, the temptation of his lips so close to hers.

  And she’d wanted him to kiss her. That much was clear. Wanted it more then she’d wanted anything in all her life.

  And today, she’d have to watch Abigail strutting around on his arm as though she belonged there. As though Merrick were hers.

  But then again… She sat up in bed. Perhaps that wasn’t how today would go at all.

  Merrick had told Lily that he hadn’t spoken to Abigail in months. And the silly fool had chosen his brother over him. Surely that meant he’d given up on the idea of marrying that vapid chit.

  Pushing back the covers, she crossed the room and pulled the cord next to the door. She may as well dress and find out what this day would bring.

  An hour later she found herself tucked into a quiet corner of the rose garden with Marigold. They’d slipped down to the garden before breakfast to have a private conversation. It was the precise spot she’d run into Merrick two days prior.

  How things had changed in just a few days.

  “So he didn’t want to cut you out?” Marigold asked, her hands fluttering nervously at her side. “Oh, Lily. That is just…” She nibbled at her lip. “That’s just a terrible misunderstanding to have come between friends.”

  Lily dipped her head. Did she tell her friend about the near-kiss? Or what she thought might have been a near-kiss?

  Her brow creased. What if she was wrong and he’d never intended to kiss her?

  She’d have to admit she’d been a fool. Something she never did very well.

  And she’d have to face the fact that she’d really wanted him to.

  “I think we’ve made our amends. For the most part. I now know what happened between him and Abigail and—”

  “Lily,” Marigold stopped fidgeting, straightening up. “Did you tell him why you became a wallflower to begin with?”

  Lily dipped her head. The answer was no. Or at least, not entirely. She hadn’t really shared much about her illness or the time that followed. It wasn’t something she did particularly well. “Why does he need to know that?”

  Marigold let out an uncharacteristic huff of breath. “Because.” Then she moved closer. “He cares. It’s evident in every line in his face. And he’d be willing and able to help you when you need it.”

  “I don’t—” She’d been about to say she didn’t need help.

  “You do.” Marigold reached for her hand. “We all do, sometimes.”

  Lily shook her head. “I hate the weakness.”

  “I know.” Marigold gave her gloved fingers a squeeze. “You’re very strong. I love that about you. But sometimes even you need a bit of help.”

  Lily returned the squeeze. “And you know how much I appreciate that I can count on you and Daisy for support.”

  Marigold wrapped her arms about Lily’s back. “It makes me feel good to help you after everything you’ve done for me.”

  Lily blinked, pulling back to look at her friend. “Does it?”

  Marigold gave her a soft smile. “Don’t you know? People need to feel like they get to give back to you. It can’t be all you, Lily.”

  Lily winced.

  Was she making it all about her by being so strong all the time?

  She frowned. Even her mother had bowed to Lily’s wishes, not telling anyone outside of their immediate family the extent of her illness. Perhaps she was strong to a fault. Was Marigold right? Did she need to allow people to help her sometimes?

  “She’s right, you know.” Merrick’s deep voice rumbled from behind her. “And I would add that if you allowed them to help you, you too would benefit. Not just them.”

  She slowly let Marigold go, turning to face the man she’d been openly discussing. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His face was set in stern lines.

  “Why do you look so...irritated?” she asked as Marigold gasped behind her.

  He let out a long breath, his eyes narrowing. “It was this very sort of situation that drove a wedge between us two years ago.”

  “Oh,” Marigold cried behind her. “Did you see that stunning butterfly? I think I shall try and catch it. I’ll be back in five to ten minutes.” Then she spun and disappeared around a corner.

  Lily watched her go, her hands smoothing her skirts. Part of her wished Marigold had stayed. Without her, Lily had to face Merrick’s annoyance all alone. “Traitor,” she muttered.

  Merrick stepped closer. “I quite like her.”

  Lily nodded. “Yes, most do if given the chance to get to know her. She’s everything I am not. Demure, kind, conservative.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him this morning. She was beginning to realize just how at fault she’d been for the two-year gap in their friendship.

  His silence unnerved her. “Why did you come over here if you are so put out with me?”

  Merrick touched her cheek, causing her to shiver when his fingers gently slid down her skin as he turned her face toward him. “Like ivory,” he murmured.

  Heat filled her cheeks, sliding down her neck as she turned to look into the chocolate brown of his eyes. “Merrick?”

  “We did not finish our conversation last night. Tell me what happened to you.”

  She shook her head. “I already told you. Abigail and I had a falling out—”

  “Who cares about her? Tell me what happened to you. Why do you cough?”

  He was so close and she thought about Marigold’s words. Should she allow people to see her weaker side? Her lip trembled as she pressed her lips together. “I was sick.”

  “How sick?” He slid his fingers down her arms, taking both of her hands in his.

  “Very.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “I nearly…” She couldn’t say the last word, but his grimace told her that he understood.

  “You nearly died.”

  She nodded. “I was in bed for months. The doctors, they didn’t expect me to live. I didn’t expect to make it, either. Days would go by where I was barely…” A shudder ran down her spine and he squeezed her fingers tighter, pulling her
hands to tuck them against his chest.

  “As you’ve noticed, my mother is no longer able to deny me anything. I suppose the thought of losing me shifted her perspective. She’s so grateful to have me alive she’s forgotten what a disappointment I can be as a daughter.” Lily shook her head, blinking her eyes to control her emotions. “When I finally began to recover, I begged her to allow me to participate in my first season as planned. I wanted my life back.” She shook her head. “I should have known it was never going to be the same.”

  He was silent for a moment and then quite without warning, he leaned down and planted a large kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad you told me. Thank you for trusting me.”

  She tilted her head to look up at him then. “What does it change?”

  His eyes crinkled. “It changes everything.”

  “Really? I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He laughed, just a small chuckle that reverberated through her hands and down her arms. “Because. I now understand that I was wrong. You should have been sitting on the sidelines that season. Though, to be fair, your mother might have been right. You likely should have stayed at home.”

  She huffed a breath, trying to pull away, he didn’t let her. “See. This is why I don’t tell people things.”

  He cocked a brow. “Because they might give you sensible advice that would make your life better?”

  Well...that was just...did he actually think...the nerve. Her shoulders wilted with a sigh. “I should have listened to my mother. You’re right.”

  Amusement glinted in his eyes. “See? Because you told me about your past, you are experiencing personal growth.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Growth is overrated.”

  He laughed again. Then slowly, he dipped his head down, softly rubbing his nose against hers. She ceased breathing as he tipped his chin until his lips just touched hers. The touch was so light, she wondered if she’d imagined it. But then he pressed a bit closer, his mouth against hers as sparks of longing coursed through her body. It was heady and intoxicating and...magic.

  Then he lifted his head again. “Overrated? And what of my growth? You seem to think I could use some improving.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t remember what they discussed. What did it matter compared with that kiss? But then reason slowly returned and her shoulders straightened. They needed to understand one another now more than ever. “Good point.”

  “Let me see if I have this correct.” His fingers laced through hers. “Rather than doing what my family thinks is right, I should do what I think is best.”

  She nodded. “Exactly so. You know better than anyone what will make you happy.” Did she make him happy? Her heart fluttered in her chest. Was that even possible?

  He cocked his head to the side. “It’s an interesting idea. I always thought it was true in my youth. But let me give you a counter example. What if murder made me happy? Should I indulge in that?”

  She huffed a breath. They were getting very off topic. “Now you’re being dramatic.”

  He shook his head. “Perhaps. But I only wished to prove a point. Some rules are in place for a reason.”

  “Fair enough. But let me ask you this. If you choose your own bride, for example, your family will not die from disappointment. And in my opinion, you will be immeasurably happier.” She notched her chin to prove her point. She was right about this.

  He gave her a soft smile. “What if making others happy is what makes me happy?”

  She shook her head, irritation flaring. Did that mean he still wished to marry Abigail? Or perhaps someone else just like her? Did that kiss mean nothing to him?

  “It’s been ten minutes,” Marigold loudly called from the other side of the hedge. “I’ve lost the butterfly and now must return to the house so that I might break my fast.”

  Merrick chuckled. “Your new friend is an absolute delight.”

  A touch of jealousy made her chest tight. Marigold was a delight in all the ways that Lily was not. “She’d make an excellent wife.”

  He squeezed her hands, pulling her the tiniest bit closer. “I’m sure she will. She’s an excellent friend to you.”

  She nodded, staring up into the warmth of his gaze. “She’s the best.”

  “I am glad we talked, Lily,” he said. “I am glad you trusted me with the truth.”

  Her throat grew tight at the sincerity in his eyes.

  He squeezed her hands. “I’d like to think that you’ve come to regard me as a friend again.”

  She nodded. Friends. Yes, that was what they were. But...were they not more? His kiss still lingered on her lips, and her whole body was still warm from his touch.

  Did he not feel it too?

  She took a small step back, not sure how to say everything she still wished to express.

  She wished to tell him that a woman like Abigail would never make him happy. Not even a Marigold would suit him. He needed a woman who would help him to challenge his family and carve out his own place in this world.

  Merrick needed a woman like her.

  “I think we’ve more to discuss,” he rumbled low. “But Marigold is right. You should be seen at breakfast.”

  “I agree.” She slid her hands from his pressing them against her stomach. “I’ll find you later.”

  “Later,” he said. And then he was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Merrick resisted the urge to crane his neck to eye the grandfather clock on the far side of the drawing room, which had been converted into a small theater for a musicale.

  No matter what time the clock read it would still be “later” and Lily would still not be here.

  Where she was? That was anyone’s guess. He’d seen her signature red hair in passing twice during the afternoon but there had been no sign of her yet this evening.

  He frowned over at the door. She had not taken ill, had she?

  His foot tapped incessantly as he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about.

  When Griff turned back from his seat in the row in front of him beside Daisy, he forced himself to still. He likely had nothing to worry about.

  Lily had said herself that she was well on the way to recovery. And he’d seen her mother smiling and laughing with some friends just before this dreadfully boring musicale began.

  Surely her mother would not be laughing if her daughter was upstairs ill in bed.

  Still, was she not as eager as he to finish their earlier conversation?

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave in to the urge to check the clock once more. Nerves and excitement were warring in his chest, and combined they left him on edge with impatience.

  He’d kissed her.

  At last, he’d kissed her.

  And the kiss had been more amazing than his wildest dreams. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he finally allowed himself to acknowledge a truth he’d long sought to avoid.

  He had imagined kissing Lily. Often. But he’d never let himself dwell on it. He’d never let himself imagine his attraction had returned. She’d never treated him as anything more than a friend. Her brother’s friend and her compatriot.

  He’d treasured that friendship so thoroughly that he’d never acknowledged that he thought of her the way a man thinks of a woman.

  Until this house party. Perhaps it was the time away from her that had him seeing her anew. Or maybe it was seeing this other side of her—getting glimpses of the young, lively, free spirit he’d always known but also the lovely, fierce, kind woman she’d become over the past few years.

  All he knew was, there was no denying it now. Not to himself, and not to her. He wanted her. And now that he’d kissed her, he knew for certain what he had to do.

  He glanced up at the clock. Tonight he would propose.

  He glanced over at the door. If she ever arrived.

  By the time the musicale ended and the crowd moved to the drawing room for refreshments, he was ready to tear the manor apart to find h
er. Thoughts of her sick in bed tormented him. The thought that she could have died all those years ago...that he’d come so close to losing her and never knew it…

  “Miss Mary,” he called out when he spotted Marigold.

  She flinched at the sound of her name and her shoulders hunched as if she could hide in plain sight. “Pardon me,” he said in a far softer tone when he approached her. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  Her cheeks turned pink as some of the partygoers turned to eye them curiously, but her smile was wry. “It cannot be helped, I’m afraid.”

  He laughed at her rueful tone. “I was merely curious to know if you’ve seen Lily this evening.”

  Marigold’s smile turned knowing. “I have not, but I suspect that she’s fallen ill—”

  Whatever it was she saw in his expression, she stopped short. “Oh no, my lord, not like that. I merely meant…” She glanced left and then right to ensure they were not overheard. “She has a headache, you see. The kind that always seems to come about when an amateur musicale is about to begin.”

  He stared at her for a full second as that surge of panic subsided. When it did, he burst out in a laugh, his head falling back. Yes, of course Lily would feign illness to avoid the tedium he’d just experienced.

  Marigold was grinning when he met her gaze once more. “I understand completely. Thank you, Miss Mary.”

  She nodded and started to follow her mother across the room. “She will be here, though. I am certain of it.”

  The relief he felt at that reassurance was more than a little embarrassing. At what point had his happiness hinged on whether Lily was at his side? He gave his head a little shake as he studied the crowd, keeping watch for the sight of her. It was surely insanity to have lost one’s head so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.

  His gaze caught on Griff and Daisy, smiling adoringly at one another in the far corner of the room, seemingly unaware that the rest of the world even existed. A pang of jealousy shot through him.

  That was what he wished to be doing this evening. Spending time with the one person who made him feel alive. Who looked at him and saw more than the charming smile. The one person who did not wish for him to be a perfect copy of his brother or care about his title and his connections. The one person who made him happy and furious, who made him laugh, who listened to him speak, who challenged him and made him feel like…