by Lauren Royal
“Then don’t call me Nurse Etta.” She came close and took over tying the cravat. “My word, that makes me feel as though I’m still responsible for you three young hellions.” She smiled up at him, looking much like the younger woman he remembered, despite the smallpox scars. “I’ve been plain Etta for years.”
“How did that happen?”
“Why so disapproving?” Finished, she patted his chest and stepped back. “When Margery grew into a young lady, I faced the choice of finding another household with small children elsewhere, or taking a different position here. Your father was kind enough to let me stay on.”
He’d never expected to hear the words your father and kind in the same sentence, and his expression must have shown it.
“Circumstances change, Randal,” she added in that old Nurse Etta tone of voice. “It’s up to us to accept them and move on.”
He suspected those words were directed to him and his current situation, but he didn’t want to hear them right now. “I’m looking for Lady Lily.”
“A lovely young woman.” She took out a cloth and rubbed at a smudge on the mirror. “She’s outside playing with the dogs.”
“What dogs? You cannot mean…no…”
She plumped a pillow, then looked up. “Yes. The marquess’s dogs.”
That was worse than learning Lily was with his father. His heart pounding, Rand headed outside at a run.
But when he reached the enclosure, he told himself he should have known better. He stood for a moment just watching. Lily was fine, if covered in dog slobber. In fact, she seemed to be in her element.
She had a fawn-colored dog fetching a short stick and a brindle dog playing tug-of-war with a longer one. Two more dogs seemed, miraculously, to be waiting their turns for attention. Another few were simply ignoring her, but that in itself was a wonder.
Some of the hounds stood as tall as her shoulder, and they were all trained to fight, bred mainly for their fierceness. Except the marquess, everyone on the estate was terrified of the beasts, Rand included.
Thinking it might be more dangerous than running into a burning barn, he climbed into the enclosure and wove his way through the excited animals to Lily.
She glanced over at his approach, then focused on the brindle dog. “Let go,” she commanded. The canine dropped his end of the stick, ending the playful tug-of-war.
Rand was unsurprised. Animals always seemed to listen to Lily. “Thank you for your patience,” he said, drawing near.
She shrugged, clearly still unhappy that he’d run off. But she seemed unwilling to make trouble, either. She tossed the shorter stick and watched the fawn-colored dog chase after it. “I understand,” she said quietly.
Hurrying back with the wood, the mastiff sideswiped Rand and made him stagger. The mass of these beasts was amazing; not a one of them weighed less than he did. “This isn’t really safe,” he told her. “They’re very aggressive.”
“Balderdash. They were starving for attention.” With a swipe of its huge pink tongue, the hound licked her smack on the face. She tossed the stick again. “You should put some thick, knotted rope in here. They’d enjoy playing with it, chewing on it. And that tree is a hazard.” She waved toward one corner. “Those apples are exactly the right size to get lodged in their throats. I’m surprised none of them have choked.”
He shifted on his feet. “I’m sure my father knows what he’s about. He’s been breeding the monsters for years.”
“Monsters? I thought you said you were a dog person.”
He felt himself turning red. “These don’t count. I prefer the small, fluffy sort.”
Reclaiming the stick from between the dog’s big teeth, she appeared to be suppressing a laugh. “Have you ever had a small, fluffy dog?”
“No. But I used to look at these and wish for one.”
“They can be meaner than these. We shall have to try to locate a sweet one for you.” She dropped the wood to the ground and finally met his gaze. “Are you ready to tell me the rest?”
“Can we get out of here first?”
“I suppose.” She patted a couple of hounds on their heads before bunching her skirts in a hand. As she climbed the fence, the dogs began howling. When Rand went to follow, one beast whacked him with its tail, a stinging blow he half suspected was deliberate.
He probably he deserved it.
When they were safely beyond the fence, he took Lily’s face in both hands and kissed her, relieved when he felt her lips cling to his. “I’m sorry for running off,” he told her. “It’s a bad habit.”
Apparently having forgiven him, she smiled. “I hope it’s your worst.”
“Oh, it is, I assure you. Other than this one oddity, I’m a perfect companion.”
“Those are perfect companions.” She gestured toward the dogs. But her tone was teasing.
Feeling better than he had since arriving, he slipped an arm around her waist and walked her into the gardens. “I’m glad you’ve made friends here already.”
She smiled. “I feel much more at home with them. Not that Hawkridge isn’t lovely,” she added quickly, turning to admire the mansion.
Rand couldn’t help thinking she’d probably rather live here than in Oxford. Surely most ladies would prefer a grand estate on the bucolic banks of the Thames to a smaller house smack in the middle of—
Who was that?
Rand peered at the facade, thinking he’d glimpsed a face in one of the windows…a window near the center. But it was gone so quickly he couldn’t identify the person, or even be sure of what he’d seen.
“Hawkridge shows no signs of damage,” Lily remarked. “Yet your family supported Charles in the war, did they not? How is it that the mansion escaped Cromwell’s wrath, and so close to London, no less?”
“We have my mother to thank for that. Publicly, she was great friends with Oliver Cromwell and went so far as to entertain him here. Privately, she was an important member of the Sealed Knot.”
“What was that?”
“A clandestine organization that aimed to restore Charles to the throne. The members had secret names; my mother was ‘Mrs. Gray.’ When I was very young, she traveled to the Continent several times as a courier. Many letters went back and forth, always written in code.”
“Ah, I see where you inherited that talent for deciphering codes.”
He grinned. “My mother even concocted an invisible ink that they used. In the Sealed Knot letters, Cromwell was ‘Mr. Wright.’ While on the surface she supported him, all along she was plotting his downfall.”
“She must have been quite a woman.”
“She was smart and principled and beautiful. And I suppose she made this home beautiful, too,” he added, knowing, in a detached way, that it was. “But I don’t want to live here.”
“I, too, would prefer to live in Oxford,” Lily assured him, sounding sincere. “Your house is much more modern, so simple and classic. And empty. I’m so looking forward to filling it over time, making it ours.” She frowned. “That is, if your father…well, I suppose if he has his way we won’t wed at all, so it hardly matters where he’d want us to live.”
“I don’t care what my father wants, Lily. I won’t give you up for anything. Anything.”
She nestled closer, and he didn’t even mind the dog slobber getting on his best coat. “Tell me the rest. Your father pledged to marry Margery to his heir, and now you are his heir. What else?”
He began walking her down a path. “Margery’s a commoner, but an heiress. She inherited a vast estate. Land that my father has been managing for twenty years.”
“And?”
“He claims that Hawkridge will bankrupt without the income from that land. He said he was close to losing everything when Margery came along. He mortgaged Hawkridge to the hilt to support Charles during the war.”
“Would he have?”
“What?”
“Risked his estate for the king?”
He blinked. “Of cour
se. Did your father not do the same?”
“It was my grandfather at the time. And no.” Her father’s daughter, she plucked dead leaves off the hedges as they walked. “Grandpapa sent money, but no more than he felt he could spare. And he never went off to fight, nor did he send his son. While we waited out the war and Protectorate at Tremayne, they were both right there along with us. Grandpapa always said he valued family above the monarchy.”
A different way of thinking, but Rand liked it. “I suspect the marquess would have called him a coward. But if he hadn’t gone off to war, he would never have been indebted to Margery’s father. And I wouldn’t be in this mess today.”
“We wouldn’t be in this mess,” she corrected gently. “We’ll find a way out together.”
In that moment, his affection for her increased tenfold. He couldn’t remember when anyone had stood by him so unconditionally. In order to persevere, he’d always needed to find the will within himself. But now he could depend on—lean on—Lily. Those narrow shoulders were deceptively strong.
In the shade of a spreading tree he stopped, gathering her close and touching his lips to hers. “I love you, Lily Ashcroft,” he murmured against her mouth.
“And I, you.” Her hands slipped under his coat, and she leaned back to look up at him. “What else? There’s more, I can tell.”
“You’re a dangerous girl.” He chuckled and kissed her on the nose before sobering. “The maid the marquess assigned to you, Etta…”
She frowned and took his arm to resume walking. “She’s a kind sort.”
“She used to be my nurse, and yes, she’s very kind.” He hadn’t expected to find anything he cared for here at Hawkridge. Or anyone. “She—and others—made my childhood here bearable.”
A bee buzzed over their heads, then flew off. “You worry for them,” she said with the sort of compassion that made her Lily. “Not for your father, not for Hawkridge the estate, but for Hawkridge’s people.”
“The old family retainers.”
“And the tenants and villagers, too, I imagine. There must be dozens of people who depend on Hawkridge for their livelihoods.”
“Hundreds.” Stopping again to pull her close, he buried his face in her fragrant hair. “Oh heavens, Lily. As much as I don’t want to jump to the marquess’s command, as much as I cannot imagine giving up my hard-won professorship, as much as I cannot stand to think of losing you—absolutely won’t consider losing you—”
His voice broke.
“You also cannot imagine letting all these people down,” Lily finished for him, drawing back.
Holding his gaze, she caught his hands in both of hers. His eyes were murky with devastation, but she knew he hadn’t given up on her yet—though he might not know it himself.
“There must be another way,” she said. He was so solid. Immovable. He’d always be there for her. “Besides meek acceptance of your father’s dictates, there must be another way.”
Clearly wanting to believe her, he nodded—but not with anything like confidence. “I meant what I said. I won’t give you up for anything. But I ran, and then I walked, and yet I couldn’t think—”
“There’s my marriage portion.” She drew him to sit beside her on a wooden bench.
“I told him about that,” Rand admitted, looking guilty.
“As you should have. It will be yours as soon as we wed.”
With a gentle hand, he pushed her hair off her face. “I don’t feel as though it necessarily should be. I didn’t earn it. Everything else I have, I’ve earned.”
“It’s the way the world works, Rand. I vow, you’re one of the few gentlemen I’ve met who wouldn’t run to the altar for that sort of money.” Yet more proof he was special. “What did he say?”
“He said, and I quote, it ‘wouldn’t make a dent in Hawkridge’s needs.’”
She nodded, unsurprised. Three thousand pounds was a respectable sum for a dowry, but a man of the marquess’s stature wouldn’t face bankruptcy for a lack of that amount. “Do you expect an additional ten thousand would make a difference?”
He blinked. “Ten thousand?”
“My inheritance. I’ve told you about it, remember? Grandpapa left me ten thousand pounds—”
“Ten thousand pounds?” The look on his face made her realize she’d never mentioned the amount, only discussed what she planned to do with it. “I never thought about…I remember now that Violet was left that much money, but she’s the eldest…it never occurred to me…”
Sudden understanding stole over his expression.
“Is that what Rose was talking about that day in the summerhouse?” he said, looking incredulous. “Her inheritance? I assumed she was counting on her dowry and planning to wheedle the rest out of your father. I never for a minute believed she’d actually deliver on such a sum.”
“Not even Rose makes promises she cannot keep,” Lily said, feeling a fresh stab of guilt when she remembered her own broken promise. But it was a little stab, because she knew she and Rand belonged together, and because she also knew that whatever sorrow her sister had suffered was inconsequential compared to what was now at stake. “Yes, we were each left ten thousand pounds. We can give it to your father, to save Hawkridge, and then we’ll be able to marry.”
Rand looked stunned. “You had plans for that money. You were going to build a home for stray animals. And use the rest of your funds to run it for many years.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. “So I’ll find another way,” she whispered. “I love animals, but I love you more.”
His eyes grew suspiciously glossy. She’d never seen a man cry. She wanted to reach him, but the difference in their heights was more pronounced sitting. Feeling daring, she moved onto his lap and took his face in her hands, kissing his eyes, his nose, his cheeks. His arms came around her and clasped her to his chest.
After enjoying his warmth for a while, she asked, ”How much is Margery’s fortune?”
“I don’t know. Maybe more. But if the marquess cannot save Hawkridge with thirteen thousand pounds, he’s not the man he pretends to be.” When he kissed the top of her head, she felt his lips curve into a smile. “It should certainly keep Hawkridge from ruin and set it on the road to recovery, and then I’ll be able to persuade him to bless our marriage.”
“What if Margery wants to marry you?”
“Beg pardon?” A strangled laugh escaped him. “Believe me, what my father wants and what Margery wants are two very different things. We grew up together, like brother and sister. Besides, with her fortune, she can find herself a much better husband. Someone important.”
“You’re a baron,” she reminded him. “And someday you’ll be a marquess.”
“But at heart, I’m a professor.” His finger found the dent in her chin. “That you would give up your inheritance to be with me…” His voice grew rough again. “It’s overwhelming. I don’t deserve you, but—”
That being utter nonsense, Lily raised her head to silence him with another kiss. Their lips moved together in a slow, shivery dance that drew all her awareness to this one moment in time, this one speck in all of existence. She would never get enough of this, enough of him. If he was wrenched from her…
Her brain refused to finish the thought.
FORTY
“YOU OFFERED YOUR inheritance?” Seated at the elaborate gilt dressing table in the Queen’s Bedchamber, Rose was incredulous. “But what about your animal home?”
Lily shrugged. “It’s not as important as Rand.” At Etta’s command, she held her arms away from her body so the maid could arrange her sleeves into artful puffs.
Rose made a disapproving noise. “And what of this Margery? Aren’t you worried about her?” Dipping her finger into a little cosmetic pot, she leaned close to the mirror and reddened her lips.
“Rand thinks she will be our ally in this matter. She has no wish to marry him.”
“What makes him think so? He’s handsome, rich, and now titled. An
d weren’t they childhood playmates? She could have been loving him from afar all this time.”
Lily was surprised to hear a little snort of laughter escape Etta, who had seemed a very reserved sort of woman. When Rose glared at the maid, she quickly refocused on her task.
“Well, Rand seems to think it unlikely that Margery harbors any feelings for him.” And Etta seems to agree, Lily added silently. “In any case, we’ll know for certain tomorrow morning, when she’s due back from London.”
Rose looked skeptical but said no more. Finished dressing, the two girls made their way down to the dining room in silence.
Like the rest of the house, the chamber was beautiful. Lily had glimpsed an enormous, lavish banqueting hall upstairs, but this room was much more intimate.
Rand escorted them in, an Ashcroft sister on each arm. The ladies’ heels clicked on the two-toned parquet floor. Lily stopped to run a hand over the patterned design on the walls, surprised to find it was gold stamped on brown leather. “It looks like gilded wood!” she exclaimed.
“The leather is supposed to absorb the smells of food.”
She’d never heard of such a thing. “It’s lovely.”
“All of Hawkridge Hall is lovely,” Rose said, but not as though she were happy about it.
“It’s a lovely prison,” Rand muttered darkly.
In opposition to the prison that was Hawkridge Hall—a prison designed and paid for by his father—the Oxford house was one-hundred-percent Rand’s. A symbol, Lily suspected, of his hard-won independence. Kit had told her that he and Rand had spent months designing it before the cornerstone was laid, because Rand had wanted every square foot to be perfect. And it was.
When Lily saw Rand’s eyes widen in alarm, she swung around to see his father. “Oh! Good evening, my lord.”
“My lady,” he grunted. “Shall we be seated?”
Lily wondered how much the marquess had heard as they all took their places at the oval cedarwood table, the marquess seating himself at the opposite end from his son.