by Lauren Royal
“Wrong? You were wrong?” His mouth dropped open.
Before he had a chance to close it and elaborate on her innocent miscalculation, she rushed to cover it with a kiss.
To her vast relief—and delight—nothing more was said that night.
Fifty-Six
HALFWAY TO Oxford, rain had begun falling, turning the roads to mush and Rand’s journey to a snail-paced nightmare. He’d arrived home and trudged through the empty house to the one furnished room, his bedchamber, where he’d promptly fallen into bed and passed a restless night.
Morning found him in a foul mood. Another day gone and no closer to finding a solution. He scrubbed up and pulled on some clothes, then opened his door, intending to inspect the house.
A measuring tape in one hand, Kit stopped and turned. “Rand. When did you get home?”
“Last night. Late.” Rand rubbed his aching head. “How is the job progressing?”
“Haven’t you noticed? It’s all but done.”
“Is it?” He followed Kit along the corridor, peeking into beautifully finished rooms. “My apologies. You’ve worked wonders.”
“I’ve been here since you left. Amazing how a few days onsite will motivate craftsmen to work.” He grinned, then suddenly frowned. “Hey, Rand, you’re going to break your teeth.”
Rand consciously relaxed his jaw, which had been clenched to the point of pain.
“What’s got your dander up?” Kit asked.
“The mental image of my father at Hawkridge, planning a wedding for five days hence.”
“I thought you wanted to get married.”
“To Lily, not Margery Maybanks.”
“Margery?” Kit’s green-brown eyes widened. “Margery! Why the hell would he want you to marry Margery?”
Rand sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Best told over a tankard of ale, I’d guess. Come along. It’s a bit early yet, but the King’s Arms is always open.”
“CHIN UP, DEAR,” Lily’s father bellowed across the table.
“You cannot give up hope,” Chrystabel added more gently, pointedly handing Lily a spoon. “There must be something that can be done.”
“Rand. Rand will have to come up with something.” Unable to eat, Lily pushed her dinner around on her plate and sighed.
Rand was her only hope.
The lighthearted camaraderie of last night was gone. In the wee hours of the morning, the young women had all giggled their way upstairs to share Lily’s big bed. It had been a tight fit with four instead of three, but worth it for the comfort she’d felt, surrounded by people who cared.
Today she could find no comfort. They’d awakened too late for breakfast and spent most of dinner revisiting all their useless suggestions, reviewing them with Father and Mum. No one had any new ideas to contribute, and Lily’s predicament seemed more hopeless than ever.
“Violet? Are you ready to come home?” They all looked over to see Ford had appeared in the doorway. “Did you have a fine time?”
Violet gave him a wan smile. “We did last night.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “While I go get my things, Lily will fill you in on what’s happened. Perhaps you’ll see a solution we haven’t.”
But brilliant as Ford was, he had no solution to offer, either. No new plan to change Lord Hawkridge’s mind.
They would have to prove Bennett’s innocence.
“Maybe one of the other hunters witnessed it,” he suggested. “Or someone else. Just because no one’s come forward—”
“Rand is planning to interview everyone in the vicinity.” Lily bit her lip. “But I’m afraid if anyone knew anything, they’d have come forward long before now.”
Ford looked thoughtful. “Not if they were afraid of facing the marquess’s wrath. He clearly doesn’t want to hear his son was at fault.”
“That’s true,” she said, reluctant to succumb to the thread of hope that suddenly tugged at her heart. “A different way to look at this. He did, after all, offer an enormous reward for information that would prove Lord Armstrong guilty. Perhaps people are reluctant to approach him with anything that would prove the opposite.”
Her father nodded sagely. “It’s wise to keep on top of it.”
Judith reached for more bread. “She said ‘the opposite,’ Lord Trentingham. Someone could be frightened to bring Lord Hawkridge evidence that proves the opposite.”
“Eh?”
Evidently giving up, Judith slathered butter on the bread. “You must trust Rand, then,” she told Lily, taking a big bite. The solemn atmosphere had failed to curb her appetite. “You love him, and you have to believe he’ll find proof.”
Yes, Rand had promised they would find a way. After giving Judith a shaky smile, Lily turned to Ford. “Thank you. You’ve given me hope.”
“It was nothing. Just another way to look at a solution that had already been offered—nothing has changed.”
While that was true, Lily was holding as tight as she could to that thin thread of hope. For the first time since she’d awakened this morning, she felt able to breathe.
Violet returned, her satchel in one hand and An Antidote Against Melancholy in the other. “I’m ready.”
“Why did you want that book?” Ford asked.
As her gaze flicked to their parents, Violet flushed a delicate pink. “Oh, I just thought it might help Lily.” She took his arm. “Come along. I cannot wait to see Nicky and the twins.”
“What’s the book called?” Chrystabel asked.
Having failed to escape, Violet forced a smile. “An Antidote Against Melancholy. Lily was feeling a bit melancholy last night, you see, and—”
“Oh, then would you mind leaving it here? I expect she may feel a bit melancholy again the next few days.”
“We already read the whole thing,” Violet said, clutching the book possessively.
“Well, then.” Mum was nothing if not persistent. “Leave it here for me. I adore helping people, as you know, and it seems to me I could learn a lot from a book called An Antidote Against Melancholy.”
Lily suspected Mum would learn more than she anticipated. In specific, she’d learn her daughters weren’t quite the innocents she imagined. And if she could judge by her sister’s face, Violet was thinking much the same.
Looking amused, Ford pried the book from his wife’s hands and set it on the table. “Here,” he told his mother-in-law with a grin that would do the devil proud. “I hope you and Lord Trentingham will enjoy it.”
As Chrystabel smiled and reached for it, he hustled Violet from the room, laughingly ignoring her protests.
“Come upstairs, Joseph,” Chrystabel purred in her husband’s ear. “We can read this educational book together.”
Fifty-Seven
BY THE TIME Rand told the whole story, he and Kit had long since finished dinner and were nursing tankards of ale.
Last night’s rain had ceased, but the day had dawned depressingly gray. The dark paneling inside the King’s Arms made it dreary, and the crackling fire near their table did little to warm the room or lighten Rand’s mood.
“Of all the rotten things your father has ever done to you, this wins the prize.” Kit shook his head. “Margery. Is she all grown-up, then?”
“Very much so at twenty-one, and she’s a beautiful woman, too. But I cannot imagine myself married to her.”
“For all intents and purposes, she’s your little sister.” Looking thoughtful, Kit signaled for another round. “Margery was always very sweet.”
“I’d say you’re welcome to her, but I’m afraid Bennett Armstrong would have something to say about that. Especially considering she’s carrying his child.”
Kit blinked. “On top of everything else, she’s with child?”
“Yes, and she’s asked me to raise the babe as my own.”
“You will, of course, should it come to that.” Kit knew Rand inside out. “But we must find a way to fix this.” He paused, musing as he drained his tankard.
“Skinny old Bennett, huh?”
Despite the gravity of his situation, a ghost of a grin materialized on Rand’s face. Bennett had been rather scrawny when they were all lads. “He’s not skinny anymore. I wouldn’t challenge him were I you. Remember, he’s killed once already, even if it was in self-defense.”
“True, but the man he killed was Alban. He did the world a favor.” A serving maid set down two fresh tankards, and Kit flipped her a coin. “Some of my most amusing childhood memories are of Alban’s fury whenever you deciphered his diary.”
“It was never amusing when my father found out.” Rand took a deep swallow; then his mouth dropped open as his tankard hit the table. “That’s it!”
“Pardon?”
“The evidence I’ve been looking for to prove Bennett Armstrong’s innocence. Alban’s diary.”
Kit frowned. “I must’ve had one ale too many. What evidence?”
Ales notwithstanding, quite suddenly Rand’s head felt crystal clear. “You know that Alban always kept a diary—he was obsessed with putting his thoughts on paper. If he’d planned to kill Armstrong, there’s an excellent chance he’d have recorded that fact. The marquess cannot refute proof written in Alban’s own hand. All I have to do is find it.”
“All you have to do is find it? That could turn out to be a tall order, my friend.”
“It’s my only hope.” He drained his ale and stood, a new energy singing through his veins. “I must collect some things, talk to some people. I’ll leave for Hawkridge at dawn.”
Kit rose, too. “I’m coming with you. Your house can wait.”
Fifty-Eight
“I’M WORRIED.” Chrystabel sighed as she shut the bedchamber door. “After all I did to push Lily and Rand together, it’s frustrating to find them in this predicament with seemingly nothing we can do to help.”
Joseph sat in a chair and set An Antidote Against Melancholy on his lap. “You cannot fix everything wrong with the world, my Chrysanthemum. If they’re meant to be together, Rand will find a solution.”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.” She started toward him. “But as a mother, it’s hard to stand by and watch our Lily suffer.”
“I hurt for our daughter, too, but the boy will come through.” Looking down, he opened the book. “You picked a bright one in Rand.”
“I intend for all of our girls to wed highly intelligent men.”
“Our girls…” His head jerked up. “Our girls were reading this?”
“Certainly not,” she fibbed, closing the distance between them to distract him with a kiss. “They barely glanced at it. Didn’t you hear Violet say they misunderstood what An Antidote Against Melancholy was about? They took the title to mean it was a treatise on how to cheer a poor girl like Lily. When they found otherwise, they shut the book immediately.”
He looked puzzled. “I didn’t hear this.”
“So sad that you cannot hear better.” She sighed prettily and sat herself on his lap, turning to run her fingernails down his shirtfront. “Will you sing me one of these songs? I do imagine it could put me in the mood.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?” He laughed, reaching around her to flip the pages. “I shall sing, then, yes indeed.”
Watching his eyes widen as he read some lyrics to himself, she smiled. “I’ve been thinking, darling.”
“Hmm?” He turned another page, humming a tune under his breath.
“I’m thinking we must keep Rand and Lily apart. They shouldn’t be allowed alone together, not until after they’re wed. You were right to be relieved she’s not with child, and we must take steps to see that doesn’t happen.” Her sigh this time was heartfelt. “I was so certain they would end up together, but heaven only knows how all of this will work out. Joseph, are you listening?”
He looked up, his lips curving as his gaze trailed toward the bed. “Of course, my love, whatever you say.”
Raising the book, he cleared his throat and began to sing.
Fifty-Nine
RAND SHOWED UP in Trentingham’s entry hall days before Lily thought he would, and the moment she saw his face, she knew he had a new plan. Even from the top of the stairs, she could see hope shining in his eyes.
Her heart leapt in response. Without a thought for her sister standing beside her, she lifted her skirts and ran down and into his arms. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”
“I have, yes.” He kissed her exuberantly before continuing. “There’s no guarantee, of course, that it will work out, or that even if it does, the evidence will convince the marquess, but—”
“Bloody hell,” Kit Martyn interrupted from the doorway. “Tell her your idea already.”
“Yes,” Rose yelled down the stairs. “Go on, tell us.” She began walking down to meet them. “I’m likely to die of curiosity. We’ve all been wracking our brains for a solution—Lily and I, Violet and our friend Judith—and I want to hear what you’ve come up with that our superior female minds missed.”
Rand laughed. “It’s Alban’s diary.”
“Pardon?” Lily and Rose said together.
“As long as I knew him, Alban always kept a journal detailing all his nefarious doings. If he continued the habit, all I have to do is find it, and I’d wager his plans to kill Bennett Armstrong will be written there in his own hand. No matter how much the marquess wants to believe in his innocence, it will be impossible to refute that.”
“If Bennett is telling the truth,” Rose put in.
Yes, if, Lily thought. But he’d seemed so sincere. And she had to believe him, because proving his innocence was the only chance she and Rand had.
“Finding the diary could work against you instead of helping,” Rose pointed out. “If it’s found and there’s no mention of ill will towards the man, the marquess will consider that to be proof Alban was innocent. Even should witnesses come forward, he’ll disbelieve them and insist on hanging Bennett—and Rand will have to marry Margery to save her love’s life.”
It was an intelligent observation. Annoyingly intelligent. And depressingly true, but Lily couldn’t think about that now.
Hope had taken flight and refused to be grounded.
She clutched Rand’s arm. “Do you really think you can find Alban’s journal?”
“For all we know, it could be sitting in plain view in his bedchamber.” Rand crossed his fingers. “If not, I’ll turn the house upside down if need be.”
“And inside out,” Kit added. “I’m going along to help.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, impulsively giving him a hug. “I’m going, too.”
“Lily.” Rand stared at the oak-planked floor for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet hers. “I came to tell you my plans as I had promised, not to take you with me. Before I left, the marquess specifically instructed me not to bring you back.”
Although she wasn’t really surprised, Lily felt crushed. Had the man hated her that much?
“Nonsense,” said Rose. “The Ashcroft motto is Question Convention, and Lily will do as she likes. You cannot leave her here languishing while you men have all the fun. Besides, she could very well notice something you miss. Women’s minds work in different ways than men’s.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Kit put in dryly, but Lily noticed that he looked toward Rose with approval. “She’s right, Rand. Lily should come along. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“But I never—” Rand started.
“Never say never.” Kit raised a dark, meaningful brow. “Didn’t you declare your father was done dictating your life? Fourteen years ago.”
Rand’s shoulders went back. “My concern is Lily, not myself. She’s going to receive a rather chilly welcome.”
“Then I’d best bring my cloak,” she said, smiling when Rose laughed.
“Wait!” Chrystabel appeared out of nowhere as usual. “Where do you suppose you’re off to?”
“Hawkridge Hall. Rand has a plan, and—”
“N
ot overnight. I want you back here to sleep, Lily.”
Lily frowned. Mum had never cared about such things before.
“I know Lord Hawkridge will be less than welcoming,” Chrystabel explained rather unconvincingly. “I’d as soon not have to worry about you all the night long.”
“I’ll bring her home,” Rand promised, and Rose began telling Mum about Rand’s idea, and the awkward moment passed.
Regardless of her mother’s odd change of heart, Lily couldn’t wait to leave. Even knowing the marquess would be furious to see her. It felt good to do what was right instead of what was nice.
And it felt even better to be doing something to remedy her situation instead of sitting here feeling frustrated while the hour moved ever closer to Rand and Margery’s wedding.
Sixty
THE THREE OF them decided that, rather than take a carriage, they’d ride horseback to save time. Lily quickly changed her gown for her blue riding habit, and an hour and a half later, they arrived at Hawkridge Hall.
As they rode up the path from the river, Lily stared at the massive mansion. “It doesn’t look evil,” she said thoughtfully.
Rand leaned from the saddle to smooth her hair. “It won’t be,” he promised, “just as soon as we’ve exposed Alban for what he was.”
“Goodness, I hope we can find that diary.”
“We will. We have to.”
The stables were around the back. As they headed in that direction, past the dog enclosure, Lily gasped.
“Oh, my God!” She slid from the saddle and hit the grass running. “Rex!”
Gaping, Rand watched her scale the fence. By the time he dismounted and caught up with her, she was kneeling in the dirt, her hands on either side of one very agitated mastiff’s head.
“Hold him like this,” she ordered without looking up. Rand leaned down to comply, not a simple task since the animal was violently pawing at its face. It gasped and gulped, its stomach pumping as though it was trying to vomit.
