by Lauren Royal
Nearly bumping heads, everyone leaned over the alabaster bowl to watch the water flow down the pipe.
“Goodness,” Lily said. “It’s wonderful. There’s nothing to take out, nothing to clean.”
“As though you’ve ever scrubbed a chamber pot,” Rose teased.
“Oh, hush.” Lily playfully shoved her sister’s shoulder. While it was true they had no lack of servants at Trentingham Manor, that was beside the point.
Used to their squabbling, Ford simply pushed back up on the lever. “When it’s clean, you stop the water.”
“That’s it?” Mum asked.
“That’s it,” Ford said with a smile. “To deal with the, um, unpleasant odors in the pipes, I’ve curved the one below the bowl into an S shape. Clean water fills it and forms a seal.”
Mum beamed. “Brilliant, as usual.”
“Very convenient,” Rand allowed.
The demonstration over, they all squeezed through the narrow doorway into the pale green bedchamber. Luggage—Rand’s, Lily assumed—sat in a corner. “Why did you build the first one in here?” she asked Ford.
“I wished to make certain everything worked right before I started punching holes in the walls of rooms we regularly use.” He waved them back toward the corridor. “Come along, now. I want to show you the pipes outside, and others are waiting for a demonstration.”
“Everyone will want to see it, I’d wager.” Rose maneuvered to descend beside Rand. “I wish they’d all leave. I cannot wait to use it.”
Rand appeared to be smothering laughter.
Mum sighed but let the improper comment pass. “Me, too,” she whispered to Lily as they followed the others downstairs.
“Me three,” Lily whispered back.
Once outdoors, Ford hurried them through the garden and around the side of the house. Bright new copper pipe shone in the sun, making its way down the white wall before disappearing into the ground. A tidy trail of newly turned earth traced the pipe’s path to the nearby Thames.
Amusement glittering in her eyes, Rose raised one perfect brow. “I see you’ve become handier with a shovel.”
“Harry did the digging,” Ford said, referring to his ancient man-of-all-work—and apparently either taking Rose’s observation as a jest or failing to recognize her subtle sarcasm.
Probably the latter, Lily decided. Violet’s husband was rather oblivious.
An orange kitten came up and wound around her legs, ducking beneath her skirts to tickle her ankles. With a giggle, she bent to fish it out. “This is all so very clever,” she told her brother-in-law, smiling as she stroked the tiny creature’s fur and felt it begin to purr. “Can you put some water closets in Trentingham, too?”
“And have pipes running down the outside of the house?” Now Rose’s perfect brows drew together. “That wouldn’t look well at all.”
Mum shrugged. “I could accept the unsightliness for the convenience.”
“Father would never allow it,” Rose said.
To the contrary, Lily doubted their father would even notice—he rarely took note of much beyond his beloved flowers. If a thing didn’t grow, he wasn’t apt to pay it much attention.
“What’s your kitten’s name?” Rand asked.
Lily gazed down at the ball of fluff vibrating against her middle. “This isn’t my kitten. I’ve never seen it before in my life.” Still stroking the soft apricot fur, she looked up at Ford. “Is it yours?”
He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware.”
Of course, Ford wasn’t apt to pay much attention to anything that did grow, unless it was some sort of muck in a beaker in his laboratory.
“Cats just come to Lily,” Rose told Rand.
He smiled. “They must be able to tell she’s the nurturing sort.”
Lily’s cheeks heated. “I’m fond of animals,” she said. “That’s all.”
“She’s the mothering sort.” Rose sidled closer to Rand.
“Rose,” Mum said softly.
But that didn’t deter Lily’s sister. “A fellow doesn’t care to be mothered,” she murmured, laying a hand on Rand’s arm. “Does he, Lord Randal?”
“I cannot speak for other fellows,” he said, and left it at that. In keeping with the tactful wording, he gently extricated himself from her grip by crossing to his friend. “Ford, I do believe your other guests are getting impatient.”
“And Violet asked if you’d freshen some of her floral arrangements,” Mum reminded Rose.
Although Rose had a knack for turning flowers into towering works of art—and enjoyed her hobby—she seemed reluctant to leave Rand’s side. “Violet can wait awhile.”
“Now, dear, that’s not very sisterly.” Mum smiled at the gentlemen. “Please excuse us,” she said as she took Rose by the arm and led her off.
“I must give others the tour,” Ford said and followed them.
And just like that, Lily found herself alone with Rand, wondering what she should say.
FOUR
IT WASN’T THAT Lily didn’t know how to talk to gentlemen. No matter what Londoners might say, there was plenty of society to be had out here in the countryside. Lily could hardly remember a time when boys hadn’t buzzed around her and Rose like flies. None of them had ever made her nervous.
But for some reason butterflies seemed to be battling one another in her stomach.
And Rand’s piercing eyes seemed to see it.
With a nice smile, he gestured toward three oak trees hung with swings. Two children sat on a broad one built for a couple. “Is that your brother, grown so tall? He was an imp of six last I saw him.”
“Rowan is still an imp, I assure you.” Lily smiled back. Casting about for something else to say, she added, “The girl with him is Ford’s niece, Jewel.”
“They make a handsome pair.” A frown appeared between Rand’s eyes. “Do you think they’re sitting rather close on that swing?”
Their raven heads were rather close together. But Lily wasn’t worried. “They’re longtime friends. Rowan thinks of her as a sister—or a brother, more like.”
The two children slipped off the swing and headed toward the house. When Jewel reached for Rowan’s hand, he hid it behind his back. Watching, Rand laughed. “Apparently Jewel doesn’t feel quite so sisterly towards the lad. And I reckon Rowan will wake up someday and notice she’s a girl.”
“And a pretty one at that.”
“Almost as pretty as you.”
Lily had received compliments before. But most young men were glib, flattery tripping off their tongues with little thought and many flowery phrases. Rand’s words were simple and soft-spoken.
And he should be saying them to Rose.
Taken aback, Lily clutched the kitten tighter. The animal squeaked and leapt from her arms, landing by Rand’s feet. It looked up at her with an injured expression before scampering away.
Lily stared down at Rand’s black shoes, long-tongued with stiff ribbon bows. The heels were black, too, not red as was the fashion. Her gaze drifted up muscled legs to his trim waistcoat, noting his slate blue velvet suit was well-tailored but free of ribbons and baubles. Smart but not foppish.
Perfect.
When her gaze reached his face, he wore a grin full of meaning she couldn’t decipher. Did he think she’d been ogling him?
Hang it, she had been ogling him. Why, she was acting like Rose!
To her great relief, he chose not to comment, instead motioning to where Jewel and Rowan made their way toward the house—by way of a stroll atop an eight-foot-high stone wall. “Is that wise?”
“Not to worry,” she replied. “My brother is a monkey. Forgive me, but I’m after a turn in the garden…”
Though she’d meant to excuse herself, Rand turned with her toward the formal garden, a charming area divided by low hedges cut in geometric patterns, the flower beds dotted with cheerful reds, yellows, and purples. “Do you suppose Jewel is taking him to see the water closet?”
“Probably
. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re plotting a way to use it for a prank.”
“I would hope not,” he said. “I imagine they could make quite a mess.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Chamber pots were hardly appropriate conversational subject matter, no matter how new and fancy. “So you’re staying with Violet and Ford until the translation is finished?”
“I’ll be here for just a week or two, until my house is ready. Although I do hope to make good progress on the translation in that time.” At the edge of the garden, he stopped beside a long table laden with food. “Would you care for some refreshments?”
Though Lily was famished after this morning’s lengthy ceremonies, she hesitated, looking about. But Rose was nowhere in sight. “Yes, thank you.”
He handed her an empty plate and took another for himself. “The house was supposed to be completed long before now, but the builder is an old friend, and you know how that goes—when something else comes up, it’s always easier to put off a friend’s job than a contracted client’s.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” she observed.
“Quite the contrary. We’ve known each other since we were knee-high lads in dresses. It’s just that Kit has recently taken on a demanding new client. Very powerful fellow.”
“Oh? Anyone I’ve heard of?”
“You may have.” Piling fruit on his plate, Rand cast her a glance. “Charles Stuart.”
“Oh!” Lily giggled as she selected a wedge of apple tart. “I suppose, then, I can understand how another client might take precedence.”
“When that client is the king,” he agreed.
“Still, it’s unfortunate you’re forced to leave Oxford for the present.” Though fortunate for Rose, she added silently. “Are all Oxford professors allowed to come and go as they please?”
“It’s summer,” he explained. “A four-month break. I usually travel the Continent, looking for lost languages”—he flashed her a lopsided grin—“but I thought I’d stay home this year and settle into my house.”
She followed him into the garden, stepping gingerly since Beatrix had reappeared and was padding along with her, batting at her swishing skirts. “Yours sounds like an exciting life.”
“I’m not sure I’d describe it as exciting, but I enjoy my life, yes. It’s interesting and rewarding.”
They skirted around a sundial, old but lovingly repaired. A few tables of various sizes were scattered about the garden, surrounded by chairs for the guests. Sitting with Lady Carrington, Lily’s friend Judith waved in invitation, her golden curls gleaming in the sun. Lily waved back and started over, but Rand stopped at a tiny square table and pulled out one of the two chairs. “Will you do me the honor?”
“I…” There was no polite way to refuse. “Yes, of course.” She seated herself carefully, sending Judith an expressive shrug. Judith winked and waggled her brows, obviously misunderstanding why Lily was with Rand.
That was something Lily didn’t quite understand herself. It should be Rose here, she thought as Beatrix returned and leapt onto her lap.
“This striped cat is yours, if I’m not mistaken?” Rand took the chair opposite. “However did it find its way here from Trentingham?”
She found herself caught again in that astonishing gray gaze. “I’m guessing you don’t know much about cats.”
“My father raises dogs,” he told her, taking two pewter goblets of wine from a serving maid passing by with a tray. “Big, mean ones who would eat your cat for breakfast.”
Laughing, she pretended to cover Beatrix’s ears. “Shush, you’ll scare her!”
He laughed along with her, smiling another of his inscrutable smiles. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her choking on a bite of tart. Ford was coming out of the house, leading another little group around to see the pipes to the river.
Swallowing the cinnamony apples and custard, she turned back to Rand. “Thank you, but I believe being nice is much more important than being beautiful. Although Rose is very beautiful,” she added as an afterthought. “Don’t you think so, my lord?”
“Rand,” he reminded her. “And yes, Rose is indeed beautiful and being nice is much more important. But you are both beautiful and nice.”
What on earth was she supposed to say to that?
He was impossible.
Her fingers went to the back of her left hand before she realized what she was doing and hid it beneath the table. Rose would love this sort of attention. The two were quite definitely suited.
A sparrow landed on their table, providing a welcome distraction. “Hello, Lady,” she murmured and fed it some crumbs from her plate.
Watching her, Rand absently rubbed the ends of his magnificent golden mane between two fingers. “Are you still hoping to build a home for stray animals?”
After all this time, he remembered her dream. “I am,” she said, both startled and pleased, but also wondering if he thought her goal childish. She’d been a child when she’d chosen it, after all.
But he seemed to be taking her seriously. “Have you made plans?”
“Of sorts. I’ve come into my inheritance this year. I’m planning a simple building so as to have funds left to staff it for a number of years. I’m hoping to obtain donations as well. Eventually enough to keep running it once my money is depleted. And perhaps even build others.”
“A solid strategy. Have you thought of having the building donated?”
“I’d prefer it built specifically for my purpose. To convert a house or other building could cost as much as starting from scratch.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps an architect would donate his services.” His eyes twinkled, looking silver in the afternoon sun. “I happen to know one—”
“Uncle Ford!” Jewel came bounding out of the house, her pink skirts flying. “Uncle Ford! Something’s happened with…”
Her words faded as she disappeared around the corner.
Rowan flew through the door next and darted after her, pink-cheeked to match her skirts, his mouth hanging open in something akin to horror.
Lily jumped to her feet. “They’ve done something,” she exclaimed as Ford appeared at a run and dashed into the house, shouldering his way past all the guests hurrying out. “I knew it!”
FIVE
“I SWEAR, UNCLE Ford, we did nothing.” Jewel held her skirts up off the floor while she turned in a slow circle, assessing the destruction. “Oh,” she wailed, “look at my chamber!”
Rand gestured at his luggage sitting on the four-poster bed—as opposed to the floor, where it had been earlier. “I thought this was my chamber.”
“Uncle Ford had it painted green because that’s my favorite color. I sleep here when I visit. And now it’s all ruined.”
Ford poked his head out of the little room in the corner where he was examining his invention. “At least it’s clean water,” he pointed out defensively.
New water stains on Rand’s luggage were the least of the damage.
The oak floor was sopping. The wet went up the walls, the water having apparently been deeper before escaping the chamber and making its way down the corridor and stairs. Most of the ground floor had flooded as well, including all of the beautiful, expensive carpeting that Violet had had specially woven.
But this room, where the disaster had originated, was by far the worst. The pale green bedclothes dripped, the air held a chill, the carpet felt soggy beneath their feet, and Lily suspected that mildew was setting in already.
“We did nothing,” Rowan repeated. “We just came up to look, and when we opened the door—”
“Now, Rowan,” Lily began, knowing her brother all too well. Especially when he was with Jewel. The daughter of an unapologetic prankster, Jewel had taught Rowan every trick she’d learned from her father. “Do you expect us to believe—”
“Hs’s right,” Ford broke in, apparently having finished
his investigation. “It was the fault of my design—a problem with the tank mechanism.” Looking rather pained to admit that, he ran a hand back through his long brown hair. “I expect it began flooding the moment I turned my back. I never considered…it never occurred to me…”
“Never say never,” Rand interjected dryly.
Jewel went to the window. “Everyone else has gone outside.”
“Of course, you goose.” Rowan snorted. “The floor is wet all over the house.”
“The women wouldn’t want to ruin their fashionable satin slippers,” Rand added, glancing down at the water-stained shoes on Lily’s feet, visible since she was holding up her skirts.
“There are more important things than shoes,” she pointed out. “Like Violet’s carpeting. She’s going to be furious.”
“No, I’m not,” Violet said, walking in with a squish-squash sound. She went on her toes to grace her husband with a light kiss. “I’m used to catastrophes,” she declared with an exaggerated sigh. “Part and parcel of my marriage. Besides, we must only remove the carpets and spread them outside to dry. A few rain-free days and they’ll be good as new.”
“Are you sure?” Jewel asked dubiously.
“About it not raining? No,” Violet said in her practical way. “But they will eventually dry. I’m afraid, though, that this room will be uninhabitable for a day or two, at the least.” She cast Rand a regretful look.
“I can ride home,” he assured her. “Oxford is but a few hours.”
“Wait.” Ford held up a hand. “What about the translation? There’s no need for you to leave. We’ll move someone. The nursemaids—”
“I won’t have you upsetting your whole household,” Rand interrupted. Unlike the sprawling mansion Lily lived in, Lakefield was a typical L-shaped manor house. Enough rooms to sleep the family, a few servants, and a guest, but that was all.
Ford crossed his arms. “Well, I won’t have you leaving. Your house is a wreck at the moment.”
A smile twitched on Rand’s lips as he pointedly scanned the chamber. Lily bit back a laugh.
“Rowan!” Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs. “Rowan, have you and Jewel—” A gasp chopped off her sentence as she stepped into the room. “Heavens, this is—”
