A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances

by Maggie Dallen

  “You would make me laugh,” he interrupted, his tone stern, broaching no arguments. “And yes, you would likely make me shout with frustration, it's true, but you would also make me feel, Lily. You would make me—” Love you. You would make me fall in love.

  You already have.

  He cut the words off before they could escape. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off for good with talk of love. He was moving too quickly. This whole relationship was progressing far too fast.

  He reached for her hands. “No matter what happened, I would always be proud of you, no matter how rash your actions or how impulsive. I would be proud because I know that everything you do, you do for all the right reasons. You do them because you care deeply.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise.

  “Lily, I do think we could be happy together. It might take time but I believe we could build on our friendship and create a true partnership. Together.”

  She squeezed his hands, tears hovering on her lids. He tugged her closer, his heart thundering in his chest.

  “Merrick, that is what I came here to tell you. I…” She drew in a deep breath and he watched her steel herself.

  She was going to reject him.

  Again.

  Tugging her closer still, he kissed her, hard and fierce. He did not want to hear it. He could not. “Don’t say anything yet,” he said when he pulled back and looked down at her beautifully dazed eyes. “Truthfully, I did not intend to have another conversation about our differences today. I meant to…” He shook his head in frustration. “I want to show you the way it could be.”

  Her brows drew together. “How?”

  His lips tugged up at the corners. “By reminding you of how it was between us.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you—”

  “Do you still ride?” he asked, nodding toward the horse beside him. He’d never learned this horse’s name but he decided then and there to call him Lucky. If he succeeded in convincing Lily to give him a chance today, then he would indeed be good luck.

  “I—” She stopped with a little laugh. “I haven’t in ages. To manage the horse takes a strength I’ve not yet rebuilt.”

  His hopes fell. Of course she hadn’t. She’d been ill. Close to death. Of course she shouldn’t be traipsing around the countryside with—

  “But I cannot wait to ride again.” With that she took the reins from his hand and went to hoist herself up without so much as a helping hand.

  When she was seated atop the stallion, she grinned down at him, her eyes sparkling with life and laughter.

  Breathtaking.

  She was nothing short of breathtaking.

  “Well…” she said in a familiar teasing tone. “What are you waiting for?”

  They rode fast and hard, heedless of the people who watched them ride off together, her body pressed to his on the back to the same stallion, or of the fact that she hadn’t even bothered to change into a riding habit.

  He didn’t care.

  For the first time in a long time, he stopped worrying about what people might say, what his parents might think when word spread, which it surely would.

  For the first time in a long time, he raced his friend across the meadow and he felt...free.

  When they stopped in a shady glade to rest their horses and take a breath from the heart-poundingly fast gallop, she said almost exactly what he’d been feeling.

  “Oh, Merrick, thank you.” Her head was tipped back and sunshine glinted off her hair, highlighting her pinkened cheeks and her creamy white skin. “That is the most alive I’ve felt in years.”

  “It is I who should be thanking you,” he said. “I’ve needed a reminder.”

  “A reminder?”

  He moved toward her with a sigh. “I’m afraid at some point along the way, I’ve forgotten who I am.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I feel the same. Merrick, I’ve been thinking…”

  He moved closer and did his best to be patient. “What have you been thinking?”

  “That maybe you were right as well,” she said. “Maybe I have been trying so hard not to change, that I haven’t really been living. I haven’t been growing or evolving. And what is life if you remain stagnant? If you never take a leap forward.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t mean that—”

  “No, it is the truth,” she said. “I’ve been so bitter about Abigail...” She tilted her head down and peeked up at him. “About you. I started to cling to my wild ways as some sort of retribution.” She frowned, her gaze fixed on his chest. “But I’m starting to realize that I’ve only been hurting myself. I’ve continued to sit on the sidelines, to forgo dancing, to avoid flirtation, as if by not doing what every other lady was doing I was somehow rebelling. But the only person who was hurt by that stubbornness was me.”

  He reached for her. “Lily…”

  “No, it’s the truth, but I needed help to see it.” She tilted her head back and gave him a sheepish smile. “Do you know, I truly miss dancing. I miss…” Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips and he had to bite back a groan. “I miss dancing with you.”

  His heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Then marry me.”

  He hadn’t meant to say it. He had a plan, and this was not it. She deserved more. She deserved a grand gesture, actions that showed her that he was willing to meet her halfway. That he would cause a scandal and anger his family and be brave...for her.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes wide, her gaze soft. “Merrick, I need to tell you—”

  “No, don’t,” he cut in abruptly. “I did not bring you out here to propose to you again.”

  Her brows hitched up. “You didn’t?”

  “No.” He reached out and cupped her face in the palm of his hands. “I plan to ask you again tonight. After you’ve had a chance to think. To remember how we used to be and what we could become.”

  “Tonight,” she repeated, her voice breathless and her eyes glazed.

  She felt it too, this physical connection. The way the air between them thickened and the world seemed to melt away until it was only them.

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb and lowered his voice. “I will ask you again. Tonight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lily brought her hands to her temple, rubbing small circles. She’d returned from her ride with Merrick feeling both more alive and more confused than before. Because for the first time in a long time, she’d had to face some unpleasant truths about herself.

  In the harsh light of day, she could see how she pushed people away with her stubborn nature and selfish ways. “You have to admit, it would be better if I changed. Perhaps softened myself a touch. Perhaps compromised a little here and there.”

  Lily sat in a private sitting room with Daisy and Marigold as the afternoon sun shone in through the windows. In her fingers, she held a small scrap of linen, soft and laundered to a fresh white.

  “Perhaps,” Daisy smirked, tipping her head down to look in Lily’s eyes. “But possibly you need to listen with your heart rather than just your temper.”

  Lily let out a sigh. The idea had merit.

  Marigold cleared her throat. “Besides, the Lily I know does not give up when she meets with a bit of adversity. She pushes her way through no matter the circumstances.”

  Lily blinked, straightening back up. That was an interesting point. “But you can’t push through love, can you? It doesn’t work like that.”

  Daisy shook her head. “It doesn’t. But you can stiffen your spine and talk to him again. Find out how he really feels.”

  “I can do even better than that.” She rubbed the fabric again, looking down the monogrammed pocket square. On it were Merrick’s initials. MJH. “I can do something for him that he understands is a grand gesture of compromise on my part. Something to show him that I am ready and willing to compromise just as he surprised me today by inviting me out for a ride.”

  She bit her lip. Not many would
understand how much that act of rebellion had meant to her. What it had signified.

  “What is it?” Marigold asked, her brow scrunching. “What could you do that would be grand enough?”

  Lily swallowed the lump of dread that had risen in her throat. “I am going to crochet.”

  Daisy let out a nervous giggle. “But you hate to crochet.”

  Marigold nodded. “You say that it is the most boring and dreadful of all the boring and dreadful activities assigned to women.”

  “And you call it pointless,” Daisy lifted a finger. “Bad for the back and for the eyes and—”

  She huffed. “I know how I feel about crocheting. It’s just the Merrick likes a far more traditional woman and I—”

  “Stop.” Marigold held out her hand. “You’re not thinking of changing yourself?”

  Lily shrugged. “No. Just compromising. A bit. He thinks that I snub my nose at society too often and I suppose I want him to know that I’ve heard him. That I will attempt to heed society publicly more often for his benefit.”

  “I still think that you only need listen to the man but a grand gesture couldn’t hurt.” Daisy stroked her chin. “The question, however, is do you know how to crochet?”

  She twisted her hands together, wrinkling the linen. Drawing in a deep breath, she smoothed the fabric again. “That is where I’ll need your help.”

  “Teaching you how to crochet? Today?” Marigold gave her a skeptical glance. “If your tutors have failed after all this time, I doubt we’ll be able to successfully teach you in a day.”

  Lily laughed at that. “You’re right there. But I don’t need you to teach me stitches. I know a few. Sort of. I do, however, need you to make certain I don’t completely muck it up. I’ve taken his pocket square and I intend to embellish it as a good wife would do.” She held up the bit of fabric to her friends as evidence of her plan. .”

  Daisy lifted an eyebrow. “You’re going to show him that you're willing to compromise, and fit better into society, by stealing one of his personal items?”

  Lily lifted a shoulder. “I am still me.” Then a grin spread across her face. “And technically, I am not stealing so much as borrowing without his permission..”

  But this plan made her hopeful. She wanted him to know that while she would always be her, she was willing to listen, willing to change, and able to compromise for him. Because he was worth it.

  And only he would understand what torture a day spent crocheting would be. Which made this plan perfect.

  Marigold delicately cleared her throat. “But your stitching...” She cleared it again. “Will it improve his pocket square or ruin…” She didn’t finish, looking over at the wall to her left instead.”

  Lily gave a rueful grin. “Oh, it will be dreadful. But he’ll understand the symbolism of the gesture.”

  “Very well, then,” Daisy stood and crossed the room to pat her shoulder. “Let’s get started, shall we? This could take a while and I might suggest a very simple stitch.”

  Marigold held up her hand. “A raised ripple stitch?”

  Lily wrinkled her nose.

  “Too hard,” Daisy shook her head.

  “Waffle stitch?” Marigold suggested, her mouth twisting into a frown.

  “I don’t think so,” Daisy tapped her chin.

  Lily huffed out a breath. “I know a few stitches, for Pete’s sake.”

  But two hours later, she’d wondered if this had been a mistake after all. Her very simple stitch looked more like a bumpy country road than a cobblestoned London street. Though embellishments were entirely unnecessary, Lily had to confess, there was an art to them that she didn’t possess.

  Still, she’d made her way around the edge of the pocket square and the gift was ready for Merrick.

  Rising, she worked out the kink in her back with a good stretch. How did women ever find this relaxing? Their ride together had been far more soothing than crocheting could ever be.

  “Done?” Daisy asked, smiling as she looked at the piece in Lily’s hand. Her smile slipped, wobbling on her face before she gave Lily a forced grin.

  “I know. It’s dreadful.” Lily carefully folded the fabric. “Trust me when I say, Merrick understands what a sacrifice this was.”

  Marigold rose too. “You’re lucky.”

  Lily paused, looking at her friend. Lucky? She faced possible rejection of the worst kind as she bared her soul to a man that she loved. She’d not shy away any longer but it was a scary proposition. “How do you figure that?”

  Marigold looked down at her hands. “You’ve had an offer of marriage. From a man who has taken the time to get to know you. I don’t know that I’ll ever be so…”

  Lily stepped toward her friend, but Daisy reached her first. “Don’t be silly. Of course you will.”

  Marigold shook her head. “I’m too shy. Too plain. I…”

  Lily straightened her spine, looking at her friend. “You’re beautiful, kind, smart and funny. A man will see all of that. I am certain.”

  Daisy nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Marigold gave a halfhearted nod. “You’re both wonderful friends.” Then she lifted her chin. “Enough about me. You should go get ready for tonight.”

  Lily nodded, watching her friend. After tonight, she vowed to help Marigold make her own match. If anyone deserved a happily ever after, it was her sweet friend.

  They all started from the sitting room, silence settling between them. “There is other party news which you might find interesting.”

  “Really?” Lily looked over at Daisy, one of her eyebrows cocking. “People are talking of something other than me?”

  Both Daisy and Marigold laughed. Then Daisy continued. “Our hostess, the Marchioness of Arundel has just announced that her son, the Marquess of Arundel is returning home after years spent in military service. He’ll be in attendance for the second half of this party. He’s been given an early leave since his father has passed.”

  Lily nodded. Though it had been a year since the former marquess had died, it had likely taken that long for his son to receive word, for change of papers to be issued ,and for the new marquess to travel home.

  “Do you know anything about him?” Marigold asked.

  Daisy shook her head. “Not much. He hasn’t been in society since I’ve come out.”

  “Arriving home in the middle of a house party,” she frowned. He likely hadn’t had nearly as long to grieve as his mother and sister. “How dreadful.”

  Daisy nudged her. “You would say that, you don’t like society.”

  Lily shrugged. She was learning to bear it.

  An hour later, she was dressed and ready for the evening’s festivities, wearing one of her favorite ball gowns of ivory silk and lace. Her hair had been artfully twisted into a complicated coif at her nape and her face appeared the picture of calm tranquility.

  Looks were often deceiving. Inside, her stomach rolled and pitched as she carefully tucked Merrick’s square into her sleeve. How was he going to take her confession?

  Her hands trembled as she made her way down to the ballroom.

  Several guests stopped to stare at her, their fans snapping open as whispers trailed behind her.

  Her chin notched higher. Let them talk. She cared not.

  But there was one man’s opinion she did care about and as she looked around the room, she found Merrick standing against the wall, next to a potted plant.

  If he weren’t a head taller than nearly every other guest, he might look exactly like a wallflower. Was her perfect Merrick hiding in the shadows? How could it be true?

  Suppressing a grin, she fought her way through the crowd and finally reached his side. “That’s a lovely fern you’ve stationed yourself next to.”

  He smiled back, reaching out a hand to her. “I thought it the best spot to be found by a wallflower.”

  She squeezed his fingers, placing a pretend pout on her lips. “How dare you, sir? I am by the wall in silent protest, not be
cause I need to hide.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve always known that to be true.”

  Her shoulders sagged just a bit. “I know that you do understand that better than anyone.” Drawing in a deep breath. “Which is why I want you to know that I understand it is time for me to change. A little, at least. Become more—”

  “We’ve been over this.” He bent his head down. “I like you just the way you are. You don’t need to—”

  She held up a finger just in front of his lips. “Wait.” Then she reached into her the sleeve of her dress, pulling the pocket square from inside the folds. “I have a gift for you.”

  She handed him the square, pressing it into his palm. He looked down at it for a moment, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “Is this mine?”

  “Yes,” she answered, shifting closer.

  “You’re giving me my own pocket square as a gift?”

  She let out a short irritated breath. “Unfold it. I’ve embellished it for you.”

  He carefully undid the neat folds, revealing her absolutely dreadful stitching. “Did you…” He paused, turning the fabric in his hand. “Did you stitch this?”

  “I did,” she answered, her breath coming out in short gasps. She pressed her hands to her stomach, summoning up the courage to say the words that had been lingering at the back of her tongue all day.

  “It’s awful,” he said, as one of the stitches came apart in his hand.

  Her heart flopped over painfully in her chest. For a moment she forgot her confidence that he’d understand, her resolve to share her feelings. She wanted to hide herself behind the fern. “It is.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  Her eyes cast to the ground. “All afternoon, I’m afraid.”

  “You did this for me?” He reached for her hand, taking her fingers into his own. “I absolutely love it.”

  “You do?” Hope eased the crush of her chest and her gaze moved up to his. His warm gaze met hers and suddenly all the words she’d been holding back flooded out of her mouth. “That’s good, Merrick, because I’m ready to change. Ready to be the woman you need. I crocheted this so you would understand that...that…” She swallowed. “That I love you.”