A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances

by Maggie Dallen

  “Why?”

  She pursed her lips and he could all but see her searching for a good answer.

  She had none. They both knew it. His activities had ceased being her concern two years ago when he’d returned from his tour of the continent to find that she was embracing her life as a wallflower with the same zeal she’d previously only exhibited toward riding.

  He went to turn away again but her hand on his arm stopped him.

  He froze.

  Or rather...he burned.

  It had been years since she’d willingly touched him, and the feel of that physical contact was more startling than anything she could have said.

  And seeing that she’d made a hobby out of attempting to shock him with her words at every turn….that was saying something.

  “Please, Merrick,” she said. “Tell me what happened. Did you end things or…did she?”

  He did not have to see the sneer to know it was there. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened between Abigail and Lily during their first season because neither had thought fit to tell him.

  All he did know was that Lily had even less love for Abigail than she did for him—again, this was saying something considering she’d been treating him like some traitorous villain for the past two years.

  He sighed loudly in lieu of an answer. He could admit that a little part of him was tempted to confide in Lily. He’d been in a bad state ever since Abigail threw him over when his older brother, the heir to the marquesate—showed an interest in her.

  Merrick could have told her that his brother’s intentions were not in earnest. His brother Simon was a notorious flirt—it was a family trait, his father liked to joke. Merrick liked to charm the ladies as well, but he knew better than to string along a lady of virtue and good standing like Abigail.

  Simon did not.

  He’d allowed her to believe that she might have a chance right up until their father confirmed the arrangement between Simon and the Duke of Gorem’s eldest daughter. The daughter wasn’t as beautiful as Abigail but she had the sort of pedigree that made her the perfect Marchioness material.

  Merrick looked down at Lily and for one moment he actually considered telling her the whole humiliating tale. If anyone could make him laugh about such a thing, it would be her.

  But then she dropped her hand from his arm and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I suppose it doesn’t matter who ended it, just that it’s done. Thankfully.” She rolled her eyes slightly. “Finally.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched at her callous tone. Clearly she would not be the comfort he’d been hoping for. He turned away with another exasperated sigh, this one aimed at himself for believing for even one second that they could turn back time and he could have his friend back again.

  His ally.

  That’s what she’d been. Slightly younger than he and her brother, she’d been their compatriot, their lookout, and his confidante.

  Until she wasn’t.

  “What, you’re just going to walk away without a word?” she called after him.

  Her persistence had him shaking his head. “You really haven’t changed at all, do you know that?”

  “Thank you.”

  He glanced back to see her beaming in triumph. His lips twitched with an absurd desire to laugh at her antics, but his irritation won out. “I did not mean that as a compliment.”

  “And yet, I took it as one.”

  He nodded toward a passing baron of his acquaintance, not speaking until the other man was out of earshot. “I merely meant you were an exasperating child and you are still just as headstrong today.”

  “You say headstrong, I say persistent,” she replied mildly.

  Lily had always been tall for a woman, but even so she only came to his shoulder. One would think she’d have an issue matching his stride.

  One would be wrong.

  As he’d set out to walk away from her and end their conversation, she’d not taken the hint. He wasn’t surprised. Merrick found himself picking up his pace. If she did not cease pestering him, he’d be outright running soon. “You were a pest then and you remain one today,” he said.

  “Manners, manners,” she chided, but he could hear the amusement in her voice. “Is that any way to speak to a lady?”

  “Perhaps if you ever acted like a lady, I would treat you like one,” he shot back.

  He was not proud of himself. He really wasn’t. This right here was why he did his best to steer clear of Miss Laura Upton, now known as Lily. Of all the silly, ridiculous nicknames.

  “And if you would ever stand still and speak to me directly for once, I would not have to chase you for answers.”

  He groaned, coming to a stop as his pride smarted from the blow. She was right. He was running away from her and her blasted questions. “Why do you not just give up?” he asked, weariness stealing into his voice.

  Her smile fell. “Where would be the fun in that?”

  He ran a hand over his eyes with a groan. She would be the death of him.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You said it yourself. I have not changed. I am curious about you and Abigail, and you know I never give up when I am curious.”

  He ignored that. One thing he did remember about dealing with Lily when she was acting like a dog with a bone—it was best not to play her games. She would outlast him in perseverance and eventually he would either give in or shout at her like a madman. “Laura—” He exhaled loudly at her arched brows. “Lily. I have no idea why you are so proud of the fact that you have refused to change.” He turned to face her head-on. “Change is normal. It’s called growing up.”

  She arched one brow, clearly unimpressed. “Mmm, and is that what you did while touring the continent? You grew up?”

  There was a challenge there in her tone that he refused to acknowledge. He was tired of her throwing the past in his face, of making him out to be some villain when all he did was court her best friend.

  She ought to have been happy for him. For Abigail. If she were even remotely normal, she could have been happy herself.

  But no. She’d chosen to be the outcast wallflower instead.

  She leaned in closer and for a moment his lungs stalled in his chest as she drew so close he could feel her breath on his chin. She was leaning in as if to tell him a secret, as if to whisper something private.

  “Please tell me what happened with Abigail.”

  He pulled back with a wave of irrational anger. “You are incorrigible, Lily.”

  That was it. He was done holding out hope that she might forgive him for whatever grievance she held against him. And he was definitely finished letting her toy with him or nag him into sharing his confidence. He started to walk away once again, and this time he determinedly ignored her at his side. “You are unbelievable,” he muttered. “This is why I’ve been avoiding you since this house party started.”

  She stopped so suddenly he found himself pausing to face her as well.

  “You’ve been avoiding me?” Her expression was filled with self-righteous outrage. “That’s a laugh. I have been avoiding you.”

  He opened his mouth and clamped it shut, sealing off the childish words that itched to slip out. Given half a chance this interaction could easily devolve into a battle of ‘have nots’ and ‘have to’s.’

  He was not a child anymore. She might behave like one, but he was above that.

  He straightened his shoulders. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  Her expression fell and her brows drew down in a glower at his admittedly condescending tone.

  “Either way, I propose we go back to avoiding one another,” he said as he straightened his cravat.

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  “Fine.” He turned away first, not looking back to see if she followed.

  Thanks to that interaction, he never did get that peace of mind he’d been seeking. Merrick did not even get to rest.

  Who could relax when the voice of the world’s most
irritating shrew was in one’s head?

  But at least he’d gotten it out the way. He hadn’t truly believed he could make it through an entire house party without some sort of run-in with his best friend’s sister. Like it or not they still participated in the same circles.

  Unlike Sebastian who was happily married and settled in the countryside, he was still frequenting the tedious events and neverending balls that made up the marriage market.

  One had to when one still needed to find a wife. And that was what he was here to do.

  His parent’s had not so subtly informed him, with Sebastian soon to wed, it was time for him to do his duty to his family and find a woman of good standing. He was trying to be the son they wanted him to be, though he never quite seemed to measure up to Sebastian. Still, they’d expect him to make the best match a second son could make.

  He’d do his best, just as soon as he got his friend Griff settled. It wasn’t like he was avoiding his own marital affairs, just… Well, he was merely putting the decision off for a bit. After Abigail’s betrayal, was it any wonder that he’d be a little more wary this time around? He now knew that finding the right lady to be his wife would not be as easy as he’d once thought.

  But he had time. Griff...did not.

  Whether his friend realized it or not, Daisy’s family was keen to see her matched and he’d overheard more than one eligible young gentleman asking about her. If the duke wished to make her his wife he’d need to stop acting like such a blind buffoon and court the girl already.

  So no, Merrick would not rush his own suit this very evening, but he would thoroughly enjoy watching his uptight friend make a fool of himself in the name of love.

  Which was exactly why, as the evening’s dancing had begun, he’d requested a set with Daisy.

  On the dance floor with Daisy in his arms, he eyed the grim duke on the sidelines with a laugh. Griff was so clearly beside himself with jealousy, as Merrick had known he would be.

  Really, his friend might have been powerful and he was no doubt intelligent, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was remarkably dull. Anyone could see that he only had eyes for Daisy, and yet he seemed intent on ruining his chances with the best woman who’d come into his life.

  When their dance drew to a close, Daisy asked to be escorted to her friends on the veranda rather than back to the duke. The reason became clear when he noted her pretty blush and the duke’s dark gaze as he followed her every move.

  They wished a moment alone, and of that he wholeheartedly approved.

  He saw Lily in the shadows when they moved through the French doors leading to the garden. She waved at Daisy with that wide welcoming grin he hadn’t seen in far too long. Though it was for Daisy, not for him.

  The sight of it now made his ribcage feel too tight and his jaw clenched painfully.

  It was nostalgia, that was all. A wave of memories and the urge to turn back time.

  He cleared his throat, glancing inside toward the duke’s current companion and Daisy’s family meaningfully. “I cannot promise that your presence will not be missed.”

  Daisy laughed off his concern. “Do not concern yourself, Lord Merrick. I am certain my friends will assist me there.”

  He bowed before leaving her to her private rendezvous. When he caught sight of the duke heading for the veranda he grinned.

  His job there was done, it seemed. He scanned the crowd of young ladies with their fluttering fans. Perhaps now it was time to set his sights on a match of his own. His parents would be pleased at least. Perhaps for the first time in his life.

  He made no move to approach anyone. Weariness stole over him at the thought of all that was to come. The small talk, the dancing, the subtle art of feeling out interest and trying to gauge just how well it was returned.

  He moved toward the refreshments. Perhaps he’d just have a drink first.

  He was still hovering by the refreshments, eyeing his options, when a ball of fire rushed toward him.

  “What do you think you are doing with Miss Daisy Merriweather?” Lily demanded.

  He jerked back in surprise. “Pardon me?”

  “Miss Daisy Merriweather,” she bit out. “What are you—”

  “Lily,” he interrupted, leaning down until his face was close to hers. “Is this your idea of snubbing me? If so, you are remarkably inept at it.”

  Rage flashed in her pretty green eyes and he felt his own lips curve up in triumph.

  Until she continued. “I only came over here to tell you to stay away from her.”

  He had a feeling his scowl matched hers perfectly as he growled, “Keep your voice down, I beg you.”

  She drew in a breath, about to start in on him again, but he caught her by her elbow, forced a smile, and led her toward the dance floor. “Not here,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

  Did she not see the viscountess to their left who was listening with open curiosity or did she just not care?

  Either way...he cared. There was no way he’d let his loudmouthed former friend drag him into some scandal.

  And that was how he found himself holding the little hellion in his arms.

  Her scowl had faded into a frown of confusion, as though she too was wondering how exactly she’d ended up here. On the dance floor….with him.

  “Now,” he said slowly as they moved in time to the music. “What were you saying?”

  She blinked a few times. “Uh…” She gave her head a little shake and he watched her eyes come into focus. “What are your intentions toward Daisy?”

  He opened his mouth.

  She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Whatever they are, you need to drop them at once.”

  He arched his brows. “Pardon me?”

  Her hand moved on his shoulder, her grip tight and her expression filled with meaning. “She is not yours to woo, Merrick. I happen to know that she and the Duke of Dolan are meant for one another and if you even think of standing in their way—”

  “I have no intention,” he finally interrupted.

  She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t? But...I saw you dancing and laughing and—”

  “I was trying to make my friend jealous,” he said.

  He watched as understanding dawned and, if he wasn’t mistaken, perhaps a bit of disappointment that he was not the villain she’d thought him to be.

  So sorry to disappoint.

  Her eyes were trained on his chin as she stewed over what he’d just said. When she glanced up, they were filled with wariness and his heart lurched at the sight of it.

  What had he ever done to make her look at him like that?

  “So then you agree that Daisy and the duke…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

  “Indeed, I would love nothing more than to see them happily paired.” He let out a huff of laughter at the rare sight of her looking uncertain about anything, least of all him. “It seems that for once you and I are in agreement, Lily.”

  Her face fell. “So we are...on the same side, then?”

  He gave an exasperated laugh as he spun her around the dance floor. “Don’t worry. I’m not happy about it, either.”

  Chapter Three

  The cad.

  What he failed to understand, what he’d always misunderstood, was that she wasn’t being cross with him as some personal vendetta.

  Alright, perhaps it was a tiny bit personal.

  But mostly she didn’t like everything he’d come to stand for since returning from his tour. She still missed him. Nearly every day.

  Once upon a time, Merrick had been exactly like her. A flaunter of rules and an unrepentant believer of life outside their circle.

  The circle where the Abigails of the world reigned queen. As did his parents and, at one point in time, her mother.

  The believers in perfection, rules, and the unrelenting pursuit of best rather than of happiness or self fulfillment.

  She had always—and would always—refuse to live such a
life. Even more so after everything she’d been through. One never knew when their time would come to an end. She’d enjoy every moment she had without worrying what others thought about her actions or behavior.

  But Merrick...he cared tremendously. The change had been evident the moment he’d returned from his tour of the continent and immediately began courting Abigail.

  She gave her head a little shake to forget the past. Right here and now, Merrick was not courting Abigail. He was holding her in his arms instead.

  His movements were graceful and effortless. Hesitantly she followed. Despite having attended dozens of balls over the past few years, she rarely engaged in the activity.

  Lily supposed there were certain pursuits in which perfection was preferable. Riding was always a pursuit of excellence. Becoming one with the horse until rider and animal practically flew over the earth, barely touching the surface.

  Then there was dancing.

  Merrick moved with a grace that stole her breath. And for once, since her illness, she exuded that same grace as they spun about the floor, her slippers barely touching the ground.

  While she’d never wished for more social status, she did miss the physical grace of being completely healthy.

  In her youth, she’d been a fierce, unafraid rider, an excellent tree climber, and a nimble dancer. Those lessons were what she’d enjoyed most about her social education. Her body had always been lithe and athletic, and dancing had come to her as naturally as breathing.

  And now?

  Well, now she was getting there. Slowly.

  Just before her first season, she’d been ravaged by an infection of the lungs. A sudden rainstorm in the fall had interrupted her ride, and rather than return home, she reveled in the storm. The breathless excitement that had come with a breakneck ride through the rain.

  The next day, she’d woken feeling sluggish and worn thin. Three days later the fever had come, robbing her of every ounce of energy. Then the cough had started. For three months she’d hung onto life by the thinnest of threads.

  Barely able to eat, or even breathe, she’d lay in bed sure she’d never rise from it again.

  Her mother swore that it was her sheer determination that had saved her life.