Well, kissing Merrick at that house party had nearly ruined her. She supposed waiting out here was only killing her flowers.
Daisy laughed. “Well. We talk for hours and we walk in the garden and…” A blush stained her friend’s cheeks. “And we spend the evenings reading by the fire.”
Lily frowned. That all sounded wonderful but she imagined that she and Merrick would have a great deal more wild rides on the back of his stallion and less demure walks in the garden.
But she was spared answering when her father finally opened the door and peeked his head through the crack in the door. “We’re nearly ready.”
Lily lifted her skirts, starting up the stairs. “Thank goodness. What took so long?”
Her father gave her a stern glance as he opened the door wider. “It’s not every day that a man decides to wed a woman of your...spirit.” He cleared his throat. “I simply gave him a bit of advice.”
“Papa,” she stopped on the steps, staring up at her father. “What did you say?” She couldn’t quite keep the disapproval from her words.
Her father scowled back. “You take after your mother, you know. So trust me when I say, I know a thing or two on the subject.”
Well. Lily had to agree with him there. She thought back to Merrick’s words about having a daughter exactly like Lily. A small smile touched her lips. Did he know what he actually requested?
He did. No one knew her better than the man she was about to marry. “I’m sure you do, Papa. I am just anxious to become Merrick’s wife. The wait has been…” She searched for the correct word.
“Interminable,” her father finished. “Trust me, we are all aware of your feelings on the matter.”
Daisy and Marigold laughed behind her.
A blush climbed into her cheeks. It was a good thing that Merrick loved her as she was. Though she was working on her temper, she sometimes forgot that fact. “I haven’t been that bad.”
Her father shook his head. “No, my sweet. You haven’t. And now the wait is over. Come.”
Reaching out his hand, her father opened the door wider, and pulled her to the top of the steps.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but when they did, she took a took a quick sweeping gaze of the chapel.
Merrick’s family was there, their gazes tight with disapproval but they’d attended. That’s what mattered.
And her brother had returned home too.
She smiled as their gazes met.
A throat cleared at the front of the church and glancing ahead, she met Merrick’s eyes and everyone else melted away.
Tall, broad, and handsome as ever, he stole her breath. The wait had been worth it.
She practically floated down the aisle and when her father placed her hand in Merrick’s, a sigh she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in, escaped from her lips.
The words of the vicar flowed over her as they each repeated their vows, his deep baritone settling down deep in her soul.
During his proposal, he’d claimed that he might have always loved her.
She understood.
She’d always loved him too. There would never be another for her in the entirety of the world.
When his lips claimed hers, sealing their bond, the words that she’d been longing to say, burst from her mouth. “I love you, Merrick Hampton.”
He grinned down at her, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “And I love you, Lily Upton Hampton.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, aware of their families as they shifted in their seats. She didn’t care. “Lily Hampton,” she repeated when their kiss finally broke. “I like the sound of it.”
He grinned. “I have a gift for you.”
Her eyes crinkled. “A gift?”
“It’s right outside. Shall we?” And he gestured down the aisle.
Joy and love practically burst from inside her as they made their way back out of the church, and into the morning light.
Before her, rather than a carriage, stood a giant black stallion, the color of the darkest night as he pawed the ground.
Her gasp filled the air as she turned to look at her new husband.
“I know you’ve only just started riding on your own but he’s large enough that we can ride together.”
“He’s perfect,” she murmured, letting go of Merrick’s hand to step up to the beast and trace a line with her gloved fingers down the animal’s side. “What’s his name?”
“That’s up to you,” he said as he stepped up next to her, his hand dropping to her waist.
She looked at the large stallion still pawing the ground as he let out an impatient huff. “Spirit,” she answered, rubbing his neck.
Merrick chuckled. “It’s perfect.” Then he put a second hand at her waist. “Are you ready?”
“Ready?” She turned to her new husband, confusion surely crinkling her eyes.
He leaned down to whisper softly in her ear. “I thought we’d go for a little ride on the way to our wedding breakfast.”
Excitement pounded in her veins as she gasped out her delight. “Nothing would make me happier.”
He lifted her into the saddle and then swung in behind her. “Then nothing would make me happier.”
And then he snapped the reins, Spirit springing into action.
Lily gave one quick glance back to see both their families staring at them with open mouths and wide eyes.
A laugh bubbled from her throat. This was exactly where she was meant to be.
* * *
Thank you for reading! If you missed Daisy’s story, it can be found in A Duke for Miss Daisy. Turn the page for a free sample of Marigold’s story, up next in A Marquess for Miss Marigold
A Marquess for Miss Marigold
A Wallflower’s Wish
To think, Lord Maximus Langston, the new Marquess of Arundel, had actually been looking forward to this homecoming. Seeing his mother and sister again, reveling in the comforts of home, resting his wounded leg with some much-needed peace and quiet...
Or not. Laughter from the hallway made him cringe.
Instead of the quiet homecoming of his dreams, he’d come home to find himself in the midst of his worst nightmare.
A house party.
At his house.
“A second engagement, can you imagine?” His mother flitted about the room, talking so quickly it was impossible to keep pace.
Or perhaps that was just exhaustion at work. It had been a long, grueling journey back from the military base he’d called home these last few years.
Max shot his younger sister a questioning look, but Sarah just smirked and raised her teacup in a signal that seemed to say, “let her say her piece. It will end soon enough.”
He sank back into his seat with a sigh.
“One engagement was enough to make this party the talk of the season.” She whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. “It was the Duke of Dolan, did I tell you that?”
Max’s response was a grunting sound. It was the most he could offer. Had she mentioned that the Duke of Dolan had found his bride at this wretched party?
Yes. At least six times.
“And with Miss Merriweather, of all people,” she continued, shaking her head. “I must admit, I did not see that match coming. But Lord Merrick...” She clapped her hands together and Max reached for a teacup of his own. It seemed they had a long way to go before his mother tired of this particular topic. Strong tea was the only antidote within reach. “No one could have anticipated that scene he caused last night over Miss Upton. It’s all anyone could talk about.”
“Mmm.” He presumed a murmur of acknowledgement would suffice. All morning it had been like this. He’d arrived just after dawn to find a house filled with people who were blessedly asleep.
One of the servants had woken his mother, then his sister, and after a tear-filled reunion and far more questions than he ever wished to answer...this had begun.
A recounting of the last few days in e
xquisite detail.
Trivial nonsense that his life had been blessedly devoid of these past several years. One might think, with such a long break, he’d have more patience for such discussions, but he’d lost all tolerance.
His mother turned to face him once more and this time she seemed to see him.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. When she cocked her head to the side the oddest hmmm buzzed from her lips.
He stiffened with alarm as she moved toward him. She did not merely see him, she was focused on him in a way that was alarming considering her current topic of conversation.
Marriage.
Sure enough, her smile widened to something far too hopeful for his liking. “Perhaps your timing is perfect, after all.” She clasped her hands together and arched her brows. “Maybe you too will find a bride amongst this crowd.”
He leapt on that last word as he came to stand. “Aha! So you admit it then. This is a crowd.”
His mother rolled her eyes as Sarah hid a snicker in her teacup.
This had been a point of contention from the moment he’d first arrived and had asked why on earth she’d thrown a party at the very time he was set to arrive home after years of being away.
“I told you, I did not expect you until next week,” his mother said now.
He narrowed his eyes. Was that guilt he saw there?
His mother patted her silver-haired coif as she sank gracefully onto the settee. She seemed to pointedly ignore the sound of loud voices passing the sitting room as more guests came down for breakfast.
“I merely invited some close friends and family,” his mother continued.
“Close friends, hmm? There are dozens of people staying here, Mother. Dozens.” He’d wager a hundred at least.
His mother sniffed, avoiding his gaze. “I have many friends.”
Sarah was outright laughing now as Max groaned and fell back into his seat. His leg was aching again. The long journey had done nothing to help the now-familiar pain. But at least he’d returned from war with his leg, which was more than many could say.
“Think about it, Max,” his mother was saying. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to reacquaint yourself with the eligible ladies of the ton.”
He closed his eyes with a groan. “Mother, I have only just returned home. There are mountains of correspondence and legal documents waiting for my perusal. There are solicitors, and caretakers, and servants, and workers to meet with; there are estates to assess, and finances to review…” He sighed as the mounting weight of his new responsibilities slammed into him. “A bride can wait.”
“Yes, but heirs cannot,” his mother shot back.
Max let his head roll to the side so he could face his grinning sister head-on. “How do you put up with this?”
Sarah laughed as their mother gave an irritated sigh at his rudeness. His sister leaned forward as if to let him in on a secret. “I’ve developed something I like to call selective hearing.”
Max let out a sharp laugh as they both ignored his mother’s protests. “Selective hearing, you say? How does this work?”
Sarah’s dark eyes, so like his own, widened in innocence. “At the sound of the words husband, wedding, marriage, and match, I merely…” She snapped her fingers. “Drift away.”
He was laughing outright now, and the feel of it was at once novel and familiar. How long had it been since he’d laughed like this?
Too long.
It was definitely the first time he’d felt any urge to laugh since he’d received word about his father’s unexpected passing.
He reached for Sarah’s hand and she clasped it with a small smile of understanding. “We’re so happy to have you home, Max.”
He nodded, taking in the sight of the girl who’d grown into a young lady while he was gone. She still had the same thick black hair and dark gray eyes—the coloring they’d both inherited from their father. But now her hair was pulled up like his mother’s rather than hanging down her back in braids and those eyes held a hint of sadness and grief that he’d never seen there before.
His voice was gruff. “And I am glad to be here with you and Mother.”
He shot his mother a sidelong, teasing smile to break the tension. “I just wish there weren’t so many guests around, that is all.”
His mother rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as well, her eyes soft with emotion. “We have missed you, dear. Your father would have been so proud to see the man you’ve become.”
His smile faded to a grimace at her well-intentioned words. Would he have been proud?
He had no idea.
All he knew was this nagging guilt that had been plaguing him from the moment he’d read the missive about his father’s death.
Their last parting had been tense. They’d both been recovering from the harsh words they’d slung at one another in anger. As he’d left his father to enlist for a second tour, which his father was adamantly opposed to, he’d thought little of it. He’d been so sure that they’d see one another again, that there would be time to make up, to make things right.
He’d been wrong.
He scrubbed at his eyes now, weariness and exhaustion making the thought of any more talk of marriage and heirs too tedious to bear.
Luckily his mother seemed to understand. “Why don’t you get some rest, dear? I’ll keep the guests busy today. You won’t have to worry about entertaining until you are ready.”
He went to protest. After so long away, he wanted nothing more than to spend time with his mother and sister, but he knew she was right. He was tired and no doubt covered in dirt and grime from his time on the road. What he needed was a bath and some sleep.
However, after he took his leave, he reached the bottom of the staircase leading to his room and had a change of heart.
Or rather, his feet had other ideas when he heard the sound of strange female voices heading in his direction.
It wasn’t that he was scared of ladies. On the contrary, he liked women very much.
And perhaps just as importantly...they liked him.
But right at this particular moment, the idea of making small talk and answering the inevitable questions about his travel, his time with the military, his plans for the future…
The thought was unbearable.
And so he did what no good soldier should do.
He ran.
Well, he walked as quickly as his injured leg could carry him. Once outside, the glaring sun beat down on him and there were voices everywhere he turned. He heard male voices talking and laughing near the stables. The sound of high-pitched voices drifted from the gardens.
He picked up his pace as he headed away from the great house.
People were everywhere. Guests were swarming his property. What he wouldn’t give for a moment alone. Some time to take in all that had happened these past few months.
When he reached a fork in the path, he had to make a decision. To head to the right toward the chapel or to the meadows to his left. The chapel was likely deserted but if he went there, he would feel compelled to visit his father’s grave in the neighboring graveyard.
His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought of facing his father—or rather, his father’s headstone.
He ran a hand through his too-long, disheveled hair.
He wasn’t ready.
He glanced down at his travel-worn clothes, scrubbed a hand over the stubble he had yet to shave. No, his father would not have appreciated a visit from the new Marquess in such a condition.
The thought brought with it a hint of a smile. He and his father had always butted heads when it came to tradition and what was expected of him. They’d fought fiercely from the time he was old enough to speak.
But they’d loved just as fiercely, and that was what had him moving to the left, avoiding the inevitable.
He’d had some time to deal with the fact that his father was gone. Yet it was one thing to understand his father had died, and another to see h
is grave.
Just being back here and not hearing his father’s booming voice the moment he’d arrive…
He sighed as he kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, his pace slowing now that he wasn’t running away from the party guests.
He couldn’t imagine any of those guests would venture this far from the main house, not unless they were one their way to a hunting party or out for a ride. But it was too early in the day, and from what he could tell, most everyone who was awake was in no hurry to wander the grounds.
He tipped his head back to revel in the sunshine, the fresh air, the breeze that kept this day from being unbearably hot. He spotted a rarely used shed in the distance. It was a bare-bones structure the farmhands used to keep out of the sun when it was hot or to shelter from the wind when it was cold.
Right now it looked like the ideal place to catch up on some sleep.
After all, his mother wouldn’t let him escape this party forever. No doubt she was already planning some sort of grand celebration for the return of the prodigal son.
He gave a snort of amusement at the thought as he pushed aside the rickety door to the shed, walked into the dark shadows of the interior and—
Fell.
“Oof!” He tripped over something and went sprawling. His hand hit the wall and he managed to just catch himself before he fell flat on his face, his leg wrenching painfully.
“Ow!” The something he’d tripped over squeaked in surprise. Soft weight pressed into him. Warm and sweet, the smell of summer flowers wrapped about him.
A girl.
For a moment, all was a dark sea of awkward limbs and fumbling hands until he was seated upright, and the girl he’d tripped over was...in his lap.
To continue reading, check out A Marquess for Miss Marigold
A Lord for Miss Lily: A Wallflower’s Wish Page 12