by Lauren Royal
White carpeting covered much of the dark oak floor. Her bed was hung with white lace panels and piled with plump white pillows. More white lace draped the windows. Her dressing table and washstand boasted white marble tops.
“It’s very virginal,” he finally said.
She blushed, then grimaced, knowing her cheeks now matched her red nose and eyes. She watched him wander to the mirror above her dressing table. It was framed, of course, in white.
He stared at himself, skimming his fingers along the bottom of his hair, which now stopped short of his shoulders. “Do I look bad?”
“No. Only different. You…I suppose you could wear a periwig,” she added, hoping he wouldn’t, although most noblemen did.
He turned from the mirror. “I think not,” he said tersely.
She nodded, absurdly relieved. Even now, Rand’s hair was too pretty to cover up, all those shimmering colors mixed together. Long hair or short, he looked utterly handsome. So handsome her throat tightened just looking at him, and it was sore, so that made it hurt, and anyway, she couldn’t tell him how handsome he was, because that might give him the wrong idea.
He’d worried that she might have been in the barn. He’d saved her animals. She was afraid she might love him, for all of that and for so much more.
What on earth was she supposed to do now?
Nothing, she reminded herself. She’d made a promise. One that was getting increasingly harder to keep.
“I’m tired,” she said. “Could you possibly leave now?”
He didn’t. Instead, he walked over and leaned down and set his lips on hers, claiming her mouth in a gentle kiss.
Hot already, she melted into the heat of the caress. His lips tasted of Rand, but also of the smoke he’d encountered rescuing her strays.
When he drew back, he looked blurry, and she blinked her eyes to clear them. “How?” she asked in a daze.
Completely uninvited, and apparently forgetting his stained breeches, he shoved aside white lace and sat beside her on the bed. “How what, sweetheart?”
She blinked again at the endearment. “How can you kiss me when I’m so ill and ugly?”
“You’re not ugly.” He grazed his knuckles along her heated cheek. One finger trailed from the little indent in her chin to trace the ruffle edging her wrapper. Then it slipped beneath, and beneath her night rail, too, skimming the swell of a breast.
No man had ever touched her there, and it felt marvelously scandalous. Her skin prickled with excitement, and her head swam with more than fever. Despite being hot, she shivered.
“You’ll always be beautiful to me,” he said in a way that convinced her he meant it.
And he wanted her. She remembered that. She’d been thinking about that all week, at times even getting angry—her, Lily, angry!—with Rose for so stubbornly standing in her way.
But Rose would never, ever forgive her…
“I missed you,” she blurted out without thought. “This past week, I’ve missed you.”
Rand’s fingers stilled as he gazed at her, the deliberate seduction forgotten.
Had anyone else ever missed him? Really missed him? He seriously doubted it. He and his closest friends, Ford and Kit, could spend months apart—years, even—without truly missing one another.
For Lily to miss him seemed a great gift. An honor he could only hope to deserve. He wanted her more than he’d thought it possible to want another human being.
“I missed you, too,” he said simply, because he couldn’t think of a way to put it better. He leaned to kiss her again, hoping his lips would tell her what he couldn’t seem to put into words. Feeling the heat in her skin, he made it a chaste kiss, but no less heartfelt.
He pulled away before the need pulsing through him drove him to try something he might regret.
“Oh, Rand,” Lily said on a sigh…and then, “Oh, Rose,” in a pained whisper.
Refusing to register the rejection in her eyes, he gave her another gentle kiss. “I’ll come see you again tomorrow afternoon, Lily. I hope by then you’ll be feeling better.”
The plan was working; he was sure of it. Despite the fact that three sets of eyes watching from the tree outside the window made him more than a bit nervous, he walked away humming.
TWENTY-THREE
THE NEXT DAY, Lily was feeling somewhat better and refused to stay in bed. Having always believed that looking better made one feel better, she chose a pretty periwinkle gown. When her maid dressed her hair, she asked her to wind silver ribbons through the curls to match the trim on her dress.
None of this, of course, had anything to do with the fact that Rand had said he’d be paying a call.
As her maid was finishing up, Rowan wandered in, looking much worse than she felt. His black hair stuck up in places, as though he’d been plowing his fingers through it, and his eyes appeared dark and haunted.
Lily nodded permission for the maid to take her leave, then turned to face her brother. “Rowan, what’s wrong?”
“I’m just…” He came closer and began playing with a perfume bottle on the dressing table where she was seated. “Did you tell Father and Mum about the fire-making things I took from Ford’s laboratory?”
“No, of course I didn’t.” She rubbed a hand over the back of his head, smoothing his hair where he’d mussed it. “That was between us.”
His narrow shoulders relaxed, then tensed again. “How about Rose? Did Rose tell them?”
“Not that I know of. Why are you so worried about this? It was a mistake, and you learned not to take things, didn’t you? Everyone makes mistakes.”
The bottle made a rhythmic noise as he ran it back and forth on the marble tabletop, its gold painted designs glinting in the sun from the window. “I thought…well, I thought maybe Father and Mum would think I started the fire with the fire-making things. But I didn’t have any of those things, I swear. I gave them all to Lord Randal, and I haven’t taken any more from Ford’s laboratory. Truly, Lily, I haven’t.” His hand stilled as he met her gaze in the mirror. “I…I just don’t want anyone to think the barn burned down because I was playing with Mr. Boyle’s fire-making things.”
“Nobody thinks that. Has anyone said that to you?”
He shook his head.
“Nobody is blaming anyone for starting the fire. These things happen, and we’re all happy that no one was hurt. It was an old barn that Father was planning to replace anyway.”
He looked relieved—almost—before he resumed playing with the bottle, making circles this time. “You know what you said about making mistakes? How everyone makes mistakes?”
“Yes, everyone does.” Goodness, did she know. She may have made the worst mistake of her life promising Rose.
“Well, I made one,” Rowan said. “A really bad one. I thought something would be funny, but it wasn’t. It went wrong, and it wasn’t funny at all.”
Her promise had gone wrong, too. Horribly wrong.
But knowing her brother, she was sure his mistake had been nothing like hers. Lucky for him, he wasn’t old enough to make such a monumental mistake. A mistake serious enough to ruin his whole life.
She put her hand over his, stopping the motion. “Was it a practical joke?”
Not looking at her, he nodded.
“Sometimes,” she said, “we don’t think things through before we do them.” She hadn’t thought at all before making that promise. Not for one moment. If she’d stopped to think, maybe she would have said no.
“But I feel terrible, Lily.”
She raised a hand to turn his face gently toward her, meeting his regretful green gaze. “If it was truly an honest mistake, you cannot let it make you feel so terrible. Just learn from it and act differently in the future. This mistake—did anyone get hurt?”
He shook his head violently.
“Then don’t be too hard on yourself. You shouldn’t suffer for the rest of your life because of one simple mistake.”
“Are you sure?”<
br />
“I’m sure.”
“Don’t you even want to know what happened?”
“No. It’s between you and your conscience,” she told him, glad to find he had one. Her brother was growing up. Besides, it had only been a misfired prank. “Do you want to tell me?”
“No.” He smiled, a true smile. “You’re right. I shouldn’t suffer for the rest of my life. I think I’ll ride over to Benjamin’s house and see if he wants to go fishing.”
“You do that,” she said. And with one more grin, he was off, knocking over the pretty bottle in his mad rush to leave.
She righted the blown-glass container, wishing she could right her own wrong so easily. Hers had been a simple mistake, too, an honest mistake. A promise she’d made impulsively, never dreaming it would come back to haunt her.
Rand would be here this afternoon, and she hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d say to him. But he wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. Feeling restless but not up to anything strenuous, she decided to closet herself in the drawing room and pass the time with some soothing music.
As the chiming of the gilt mantel clock struck noon, Parkinson ushered her friend Judith inside.
“Keep playing,” Judith said with a wave of one plump hand. She walked closer and brushed her fingers over a bright new flower arrangement that Rose had set on a small table beside the harpsichord. “What’s this song?”
“I’m not sure.” Her fingers flying over the keys, Lily smiled. “Rand hums this sometimes.”
“It’s cheerful.”
“I thought if I could work out the notes, he might enjoy hearing it, whatever it is. He told me he would visit this afternoon, so—”
“Visit you in specific?” Judith looked delighted. “I knew there was something between you. Has he asked your father for your hand?”
“No!” Lily’s fingers stilled, the abrupt silence a statement all its own. “You know I’ve been told I can make my own decision,” she said quietly. “And Rose wants him.”
She couldn’t tell Judith about the promise, because suddenly she was embarrassed she’d even made it. But how could Rose have asked it of her? Like earlier in the week, anger burst forth, and she tried her best to push it back down inside.
Judith sat beside her on the bench. “You look sad,” she observed. “What do you want, Lily?”
“Does it matter? Rose is older.” Lily coughed. “She should wed first, don’t you think?”
“Nonsense. Not if you’re in love.” Judith paused while Lily coughed some more. Her tone turned melancholy. “I would give anything to be in love with Lord Grenville.”
Maybe Judith was right. If Lily truly loved Rand, should she suffer all her life because she’d made a simple mistake? What had she told Rowan?
But unlike Rowan’s mistake where no one had been hurt, breaking her promise would hurt someone. Someone she loved dearly, even though she was angry with her now.
Lily gazed at her friend, tears welling in her eyes for them both. Then she gave an enormous sneeze—a sneeze that made the flowers beside the harpsichord quiver.
They both laughed as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and noisily blew her nose.
“Lily,” Judith said. “I’m so sorry I made you ill.”
“It was worth it to see your wedding gown.” Wiping her eyes, Lily smiled. “You’re better now?”
“Much. I was really very ill for only a single day. The next day I was a little better, and the day following that, I was almost good as new.”
“Well, I was very ill yesterday, and I feel better today, so tomorrow I shall be good as new, too.”
“You’re so nice.” Judith’s golden curls swished as she shook her head, her voice laced with admiration. “How do you do it?”
Lily shrugged. “I’m not all that nice.” She didn’t feel all that nice, not inside, not when she was so angry with Rose.
“Yes, you are. Most folks wouldn’t be so charitable if a friend made them ill. But you’re always ever so nice.”
“It’s the only talent I have, being nice,” Lily said. “Violet is intellectual, and Rose is a brilliant linguist and has an artistic touch with flowers. I’m just nice.” When her friend stared at her disbelievingly, she bristled. “It’s what I am, Judith. If I wasn’t nice to everyone, I’d be nothing.”
“You’re not nice to everyone,” Judith argued.
“I’m not?” The two words came out faint and forlorn. Lily swallowed hard, ignoring her sore throat. “I try to be nice.”
“You’re not nice to you,” Judith told her impatiently. “You put everyone else first.”
“But that’s the nice thing to do.”
“You’re so worried about everyone else’s happiness, I think you forget about seeing to your own. Stop being so nice, and I think you’ll be happier.” Frowning, Judith glanced out the window. Her eyes widened. “There he is now.”
“Who?”
“Rand.” Judith blushed. “Lord Randal, I mean. Lord, he’s handsome. What happened to his hair?”
“Did you not hear our barn burned? While he was rescuing my animals, his hair caught fire, and he had to cut it.” Lily rose and went to the window, just in time to see Rand slide off his horse—and be greeted by her sister.
“He saved your animals? Oh, Lily, that’s so romantic.”
“It was very kind.” She watched Rose laugh and take Rand by the hand, leading him toward the small redbrick summerhouse. Though he looked confused, he shrugged and went along.
Lily froze for a moment, feeling betrayed. By Rose? By Rand? Then she told herself not to be silly—Rose probably just wanted to show him something. Perhaps she was working on some flower arrangements in the summerhouse. And Rand certainly had no obligation to avoid Rose—not after Lily had repeatedly refused his suit.
Then Rose turned to say something to Rand, and Lily saw her face. Animated. Too animated for languid Rose.
“Something’s up,” Judith said beside her.
Exactly what Lily had been thinking.
“Come along.” Judith took her by the arm. Firmly. “We’re going to investigate.”
“Investigate?” Lily stared at her friend. “You mean spy on my sister?”
“She would spy on you in a heartbeat.” When Lily didn’t budge, Judith turned her to face the window. “Look. They’re both gone. She’s taken him into the summerhouse.” She pulled on Lily’s arm. “Come along. You cannot tell me you don’t want to hear what’s happening.”
Since Lily couldn’t honestly tell her that, she went. She felt like a sorry excuse for a sister, spying on Rose, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
By the time they made it outside, they were both running. When they stopped before one of the round summerhouse’s four doors and Lily reached for the latch, Judith closed a hand over her fingers. “Wait,” she whispered. “Listen.”
“Judith!” Lily protested, her voice hushed but fierce. “There’s spying, and then there is spying. I refuse to—”
And then she was spying, after all—riveted in place by the conversation that drifted from inside.
TWENTY-FOUR
“I’M FLATTERED, my lady,” Rand’s wry voice came through the door. “But as it happens, I’ve set my sights elsewhere.” He sneezed. “Pardon me. I seem to be coming down with something. Where are those flowers you wanted to show me?”
“Gemini! They seem to have disappeared.” Lily heard Rose’s practiced laugh, a tinkling, feminine sound. “Perhaps a kiss might compensate for the loss?”
On the other side of the door, Lily was so aghast she could find no words to express her feelings. “Poor Rand has caught my illness,” she whispered irrelevantly.
“How is that?” Judith whispered back. As Lily blushed, her friend’s pale blue eyes widened. “Oh, my Lord. He kissed you, didn’t he?”
“It’s not a crime. Besides, what makes you think he kissed me? I caught your illness without kissing you.”
“I can see it in your
face,” Judith declared. “You—”
“Hush. I cannot hear.” Lily wondered if Rand and Rose were kissing.
No. Rose was talking. “I wonder,” she mused in a speculative tone, “if the lady you’ve set your sights on has ten thousand pounds to bring to a marriage. It seems to me a mere professor could use that sort of money. A windfall like that would allow you to live the gentlemanly life you were born to.”
Judith’s mouth dropped open. “Lord, she must be desperate,” she said over whatever Rand replied. “I cannot imagine—”
“Hush!”
“And I wonder…” When Rose paused, Lily imagined her running a seductive hand down Rand’s arm. Or worse. She was relieved when her sister continued talking. “I wonder what my father, who is out in his gardens as always, would do if he found us alone in here together, hmm?”
Lily gasped. “That’s so unfair to Rand, threatening to trap him like that! She’s the one who lured him in there!”
“Unfair to him?” Judith’s whisper came through gritted teeth. “How about you, Lily? Is Rose not being unfair to you?”
“Goodness, Rose would never hurt me on purpose! We love each other. But she’s so focused on herself I doubt she’s even considered I might be seriously interested in Rand.”
“Well, then, it’s about time she found out,” Judith said, and with that, she flung open the door.
Since Rand was opening it at the same time, Judith fell into his arms, landing with a thud against his chest. He took the time to steady her before stepping away. “Pardon me, my lady. I was just leaving.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Judith said dreamily.
And a little inanely, Lily thought. She stepped into the summerhouse to join them. “This is my best friend,” she told Rand, “Lady Judith Carrington.” She turned to Judith, not at all sure she liked the dazed look in her friend’s eyes. “And this is Lord Randal Nesbitt.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Rand told Judith pleasantly. “But I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
“No.” Judith seemed to regain her senses, casting a glance to where Rose stood in the shadows. “It’s Rose who’s leaving.” She marched over and took Rose by the arm. “Come along, Rose.”
