by Lauren Royal
“And Rebecca? Who is she named after?”
“No one. I just like it. And there’s never been a major female philosopher.”
“Yet,” Rand added, knowing Violet hoped to publish a philosophy book of her own someday.
“Yet,” she confirmed with a nod, clearly appreciating his support. She touched her husband’s arm, claiming his attention. “We’d best be heading home,” she said when he turned, “or our guests will arrive there before us.”
When Ford smiled at her, Violet’s return smile transformed her face. Perhaps she wasn’t as beautiful as her sisters, Lily and Rose, but she was attractive in her own, unique way, and it had nothing to do with the magnificent purple gown she’d donned for the baptism.
Moreover, it was obvious she made Ford happy. A sort of happiness that glowed from his eyes whenever he looked at her. A sort of happiness neither Rand nor Ford had dreamed of back in the days they attended university together.
It was frightening how much the man had changed.
Ford still held his new daughter, her tiny fist tangled in his long brown hair. Unable to resist this time, Rand skimmed his fingers over Rebecca’s dark curls. “So soft,” he murmured.
Violet nodded. “All babies are soft.”
“I haven’t touched a baby since I was a very small child myself.”
“Really?” She looked surprised to hear that. “Well, someday you’ll have children of your own.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “My favorite truism is ‘never say never.’ But God willing, should it happen, it won’t be too soon.”
Her laugh tinkled through the nearly empty chapel. “We really must be going.”
“Come along, Rand,” Ford said. “I want to show you the water closet I built. It’s much better than the ones imported from France.”
A smile curved Rand’s lips as he followed them out the door. It seemed his friend hadn’t changed that much, after all.
Two
“WHAT?” LILY laughed as her friend Judith Carrington pulled her toward a carriage. “What’s so important you couldn’t wait until we got to Violet’s house to tell me? So important you made me almost drop my niece, not to mention nearly dislocated my arm dragging me out of there?”
Before climbing inside, Lily waved at her parents and sister Rose, lest they think she’d abandoned them. Hers was a handsome family, she thought suddenly. Her father, Joseph, was tall and trim, his eyes a deep green, his real hair still as jet-black as the periwig he wore for his grandchildren’s baptism. Mum and Rose were both dark-haired and statuesque. They looked elegant in their best satin gowns, Chrystabel’s a gleaming gold and Rose’s a rich, shimmering blue.
Looking at them, one would never guess they were so eccentric.
Her mother waved back distractedly, holding her two-year-old grandson, Nicky, as she busily ushered guests out the door to their waiting transportation.
Feeling Judith’s hand on her back, Lily laughed again and lifted her peach silk skirts to duck inside the carriage. “What?” she repeated.
“Oh, just this.” Even though they weren’t ready to leave, Judith pulled the door shut. Then she settled herself with a flounce. “I’m betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Lily blinked at her friend. “As in you’re planning to wed?”
“Well, Mama is doing the planning. But it’s ever so exciting. Come October, I’m going to be a married woman. Can you believe it, Lily?”
“No, I cannot believe it.” The third of her friends to marry this year. Yesterday they’d been children; now suddenly they were supposed to be all grown-up. “Who will be your groom?” Lily asked.
“Lord Grenville. Didn’t your mother tell you she’d suggested he offer for my hand? Father says it’s a brilliant match.”
Grenville was wealthy, but thirty-five years old to Judith’s twenty. “Do you love him?” Lily wondered aloud. She hoped so. Judith was plump and pretty, but even more important, she was genuinely nice. A good friend who deserved happiness.
“I barely know him. But Mama assures me we’ll grow to love each other—or get along tolerably, at least.” The excitement faded from Judith’s blue eyes, replaced with a tinge of anxiety. Her fingers worried the embroidery on her aqua underskirt. “It will all work out fine, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure of it, too,” Lily soothed, reaching across to take her friend’s cold, pale hand. She squeezed, wishing she were as certain as she sounded. Lily’s parents had promised their daughters they could choose their own husbands, but she knew it didn’t work that way for most young women.
Her family was different. The Ashcroft motto—Interroga Conformationem, translated as Question Convention—said it all.
The Carringtons, on the other hand, were as conventional as roast goose on Christmas Day. Judith forced a smile and pushed back a lock of bright yellow hair that had escaped her careful coiffure. “Who was that handsome man who stood as godfather?”
Lily sat back. “One of Ford’s old friends. Lord Randal Nesbitt.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun to be newly wedded together, have babies together?” Some of the color returned to Judith’s cheeks. “You should marry him.”
“Wherever did you get that idea?” Lily crossed her arms over the long, stiff stomacher that covered the laces on the front of her gown. “I barely know Rand.”
“Rand,” Judith repeated significantly, making it clear she’d noticed Lily’s familiar use of the name. “What does that matter? I hardly know Lord Grenville, either. And believe me, he doesn’t look at me the way Rand was looking at you.”
“Looking at me?” Lily echoed weakly. She’d hardly looked at him at all. She’d been focused on the cooing baby in her arms, her sister’s first daughter. Her first niece. Nicky was great fun, of course, but now she’d have a little girl to play house with, to fix her hair, to—
“Lord, he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.” Judith’s lips curved in an impish grin. “Watching him was certainly more entertaining than the baptism.”
Lily felt her face heat and wondered if Judith could be right—if instead of watching the ceremony, everyone had been watching Rand watch her.
But surely that hadn’t been the case. Why would Rand be interested in her? The two of them had nothing in common. Her friend had seen something that wasn’t there. “You just have the wedding fever,” she said lightly, rubbing the faint scars on the back of her hand. “Besides, if he’s interested in anyone, I’m sure it’s Rose. They share a passion for languages.”
“Ah,” Judith said with a smug tilt of her pert nose. “You know more about the man than you’re willing to admit.”
Ignoring that, Lily leaned to look out the window. But there was a long queue of carriages. They were going nowhere.
“Who’s that?” her friend asked, following her line of sight. “The girl in pink, coming out of the barn with your brother?”
“That’s Jewel, Ford’s niece. Rowan and she have been friends forever.”
“What sort of friends? And what do you suppose they were doing alone together in a barn?”
“Goodness, Rowan is only eleven and Jewel ten. Your mind is too much on romance these days. Knowing the two, they were probably planning a prank.”
“In a barn?”
Lily laughed at the expression on her friend’s face. “Over the years, there’s hardly a building on either property they haven’t used to stage a prank.”
Judith looked likely to say more, but the door popped open and her mother poked her head in. “Were you leaving without me, dear?”
“Of course not, Mama.” Judith scooted over to make room. “We just came inside to talk.”
A large, jolly woman, Lady Carrington wedged herself beside her daughter and tucked in her voluminous coral skirts. Before her footman could shut the door, Lily’s striped cat nimbly leapt inside.
Lady Carrington sneezed. “Shoo!” she exclaimed, waving a manicured hand at the hapless feline.
“
Beatrix,” Lily said softly, “you cannot ride in this carriage.”
The cat gave her a hurt look but leapt out.
“Much better,” Judith’s mother said as the door shut. She turned to Lily. “This afternoon, I’m hoping your father will advise me about flowers for Judith’s wedding.”
The Earl of Trentingham was nothing if not an expert on flowers. “I’m certain Father will fancy being consulted,” Lily assured her.
The carriage began moving at last. “I’ve my heart set on yellow flowers,” Lady Carrington told Lily, “because Judith looks best in yellow. But she wants to be married in blue. What color will you wear for your wedding?”
“Blue is nice,” Lily said with a vague smile.
She wasn’t ready to think about weddings, and most certainly not her own.
Rose was a year older—her wedding should come first.
Three
WHEN LILY arrived at Violet’s house, Rose motioned her into the drawing room.
She gestured toward where Rand stood in conversation. “He keeps looking over here, Lily. He’s spotted me.” Tall and willowy, Rose made a pretty picture against the drawing room’s soft turquoise walls—and well she knew it. She straightened one of her glistening chestnut curls and smoothed her deep-blue satin skirts. “He remembers me,” she added confidently.
“Of course he remembers you.” Lily glanced in Rand’s direction—or at least she intended to glance. Instead, she found herself staring. “You worked together translating that old alchemy book, didn’t you?” she added slowly.
How had she managed to ignore him in the chapel? Rand wasn’t a man to whom women would be indifferent. His physique was lean and athletic, and his hair, a million mixed colors of blond and brown, was longer than hers and gorgeous enough to make her jealous.
As though sensing Lily studying him, he turned his head while still talking. For a split second, his intense gray eyes blazed into hers.
Or she thought they had. She blinked, clearing her vision. Now Judith had her imagining things.
“I’ve been dreaming about this day for weeks,” Rose said, reclaiming her attention.
“The baptism?”
“No, you goose. Seeing Lord Randal again. Ever since I danced with him at Violet’s wedding, I’ve known he’s the man for me.”
Suddenly Lily remembered that Rand had danced with her, too, at their sister’s wedding. Not to mention, of course, that Rose lusted after every handsome, eligible man who crossed her path.
But Lily had to admit that Rand could be the one for Rose. Good looks aside, he was more suited to her sister than most men were. The two of them were both academically minded and shared mutual interests. “I had no idea you’d been thinking about him all these years.”
“Dreaming,” Rose repeated on a sigh.
“Four years is a long time to dream.” Lily cast him another quick glance, then smiled at her older sister. “I suppose he is the memorable sort.”
Rose looked at her sharply. “You’re not interested in him yourself, are you?”
“Of course not!” First Judith, now Rose? Was something in the air today? “Whatever would make you think that?”
“You said he’s the memorable sort.”
“That doesn’t mean I want him. A man like Rand would never be interested in someone like me. He’d want someone like you, Rose. You’re both fascinated with languages. Rand and I have nothing in common. And he’s too tall.” Lily drew herself up to her full height of five-foot-two and figured she stood to about his shoulders.
Looking down at her, Rose snorted. “There’s no such thing as a man who’s too tall. Will you promise?”
“Promise what?”
“Promise me you won’t pursue him. Promise me you won’t get in my way.”
The entire idea was so absurd, Lily laughed. “I promise. In fact, I’ll do better than that. I’ll help you land him.”
“Would you?” Rose breathed.
“Of course. You’re my sister. I love you, and I want to see you happy.”
Rose’s dark eyes actually misted. “You’re so good, Lily. You want everyone to be happy.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“Of course not,” Rose said, and then in the next breath, “What will you do to help?”
Rose would be Rose, Lily thought with an inward smile. “Whatever I can. But you must do your part, too. And that means, for once, not pretending that your head is filled with pudding. I wish I could speak half the languages you do. You’re bright and intelligent, and hiding that makes no sense.”
“For Lord Randal, perhaps it doesn’t, because we have similar interests. But for other men—”
“For any man. Why would you want a man who doesn’t value your strengths?”
“You don’t understand men, sister dear. Most of them thrive on feeling superior.” When Lily opened her mouth, Rose held up a hand. “But we were talking about Lord Randal, who isn’t most men—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Gemini, here he comes!”
As Rand approached, their mother seemed to appear out of nowhere—a habit Lily and her sisters found vexing. Chrystabel gave him a brilliant smile. “Lord Randal. How very nice to see you again.” Her brown eyes shone with genuine warmth. “We missed you at my first grandson’s christening.”
“She means Nicky, my godchild,” Rose put in. “I shared the honor with Ford’s two brothers.”
Rand shrugged a shoulder, a half smile curving his lips. “I was sorry to miss the occasion, but I’m afraid I was in Greece.”
“Greece!” Rose laid a graceful hand on her embroidered stomacher. “That sounds like a dream. I would so adore traveling the world. I could make use of all my languages.”
Lily did a little mental dance, so happy to see that her sister was doing as she’d suggested—as the entire family had been suggesting for years. For once in her life, Rose wasn’t going to hide her brains and pretend to be empty-headed.
It would work, Lily was sure. Rose’s bad luck with men would finally come to an end. And then, she couldn’t help thinking, with her sister safely wed, she’d feel free to find love for herself.
Chrystabel cleared her throat. “You’ll remember my daughter Rose?” she asked Rand. “And Lily, her younger sister?”
“And Lily,” Rand repeated, his eyes meeting hers. Capturing hers, like they had four years ago and again just a few minutes earlier.
In all of her twenty years, she’d never seen another gaze as compelling as Rand’s. It felt as though he could see right into her, yet not in an uncomfortable way…in a way that warmed her and held her captive.
She’d forgotten about that. It seemed she’d forgotten a lot in those four years.
Rose—bold Rose—reached to touch him on the arm. “Did you ever succeed in translating that alchemy book?”
“Secrets of the Emerald Tablet?” He smiled at Lily before shifting his attention to her sister. “Not yet. A fine puzzle it is, very time-consuming, and Ford said that with the sale of his watch patent there was no longer any rush.”
At that, Ford broke into their little group. “You certainly took that to heart,” he said accusingly. “Four years is a bit longer than I had in mind.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Rand countered, sounding defensive. “And ready to finish it.”
Ford grinned, revealing the heated exchange to have been nothing more than jesting between friends. “Only because you have nowhere to live.”
“That’s not true. I have a beautiful new home.”
“Half built.”
Rand ruefully rubbed his forehead. “The hammering and sawing were driving me insane.”
“Rand has commissioned a new house,” Ford explained to the girls and their mother. “It was supposed to have been ready by now, so he’d already sold his old one.”
“And as a consequence,” Rand added, “I’ve been sleeping in a construction site.”
Rose nodded, her face a study in understa
nding. “Where’s your new home, my lord?”
“Rand,” he corrected her, having asked them four years ago to call him that. “And it’s in Oxford.”
“Rand is a professor of linguistics,” Ford reminded Rose, although Lily was sure her sister needed no reminding.
But apparently Rose decided to pretend she’d forgotten. “Oooh, my lord, that’s so impressive,” she cooed, favoring Rand with a wide smile—one Lily had seen her practice countless times in her dressing table mirror.
“A matter of determination and persistence,” Rand told her, looking oddly immune to that smile.
He wasn’t responding to the old, coquettish Rose. Lily would have to point that out to her sister. Flirtation didn’t mesh well with her new, more intelligent image.
“How long will you be staying?” Chrystabel asked him.
“My house should be finished within a week or so—”
“As long as it takes,” Ford broke in, “to figure out whether the book indeed holds the secret to making gold. Now, would you all like to see the new water closet?”
“It seems to me,” Rand said in the sort of needling tone only a fast friend would put up with, “it’s taken you longer to build that water closet than I’ve spent on the translation.” He turned to Lily’s family. “I remember when his brother had water closets installed—”
“Colin,” Ford clarified.
“My friend here was so envious. Said he’d design one for Lakefield in no time. That was what, ten years ago?”
“Eleven. Come see.” As he talked, Ford led them out of the drawing room, threading his way through the many guests. “I’ve finished but one so far, and you’re a fortunate man since it’s in the room where you’ll be staying.”
Rand went with Ford up the square oak staircase, Rose hurrying to follow. Lily watched her sister’s swishing skirts as she and her mother trailed everyone else up the stairs, her striped cat, Beatrix, scampering behind.
Ford reached the landing and headed down the corridor. “Colin’s water closets were imported from France.”
“They must have been expensive,” Rose said.
