Lily

by Lauren Royal

  Amusement glittering in her eyes, Rose raised one perfect brow. “I see you’ve become handier with a shovel.”

  “Harry did the digging,” Ford said, referring to his ancient man-of-all-work—and apparently either taking Rose’s observation as a jest or failing to recognize her subtle sarcasm.

  Probably the latter, Lily decided. The man was known to be rather oblivious.

  An orange kitten came up and wound around her, ducking beneath her skirts to tickle her ankles. With a giggle, she bent to fish it out. “This is all so very clever,” she told her brother-in-law, smiling as she stroked the kitty’s fur and felt it begin to purr. “Can you put some water closets in Trentingham, too?”

  “And have pipes running down the outside of the house?” Now Rose’s perfect brows drew together. “That wouldn’t look well at all.”

  Mum shrugged. “I could accept the unsightliness for the convenience.”

  “Father would never allow it,” Rose said.

  To the contrary, Lily doubted their father would even notice—he rarely took note of much beyond his beloved flowers. If a thing didn’t grow, he wasn’t apt to pay it much attention.

  “What’s your cat’s name?” Rand asked.

  Lily gazed down at the ball of fluff vibrating against her middle. “This isn’t my cat. I’ve never seen it before in my life.” Still stroking the soft apricot fur, she looked up at Ford. “Is it yours?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware.”

  Of course, he wasn’t apt to pay much attention to anything that did grow, unless it was some sort of muck in a beaker in his laboratory.

  “Cats just come to Lily,” Rose told Rand.

  He grinned. “They must be able to tell she’s the nurturing sort.”

  Lily’s cheeks heated. “I adore animals,” she said. “All animals.”

  “She’s the mothering sort.” Rose sidled closer to Rand.

  “Rose,” Mum said softly.

  But that didn’t deter Lily’s sister. “Men don’t care to be mothered,” she purred, laying a hand on Rand’s arm and narrowing her eyes until she looked rather catlike herself. “Do they, Lord Randal?”

  “I cannot speak for other men,” he said tactfully, leaving it at that. In keeping with the careful wording, he gently extricated himself from her grip by crossing to his friend. “Ford, I do believe your other guests are getting impatient.”

  “And Violet asked if you’d freshen some of her floral arrangements,” Chrystabel reminded Rose.

  Although Rose enjoyed turning flowers into towering works of art, she looked reluctant to leave Rand’s side. “Violet can wait awhile.”

  “Now, dear, that’s not very sisterly.” Mum smiled at the men. “Please excuse us,” she said as she took Rose by the arm and led her off.

  “I must give others the tour,” Ford said and followed them.

  And just like that, Lily found herself alone with Rand, wondering what she should say.

  FOUR

  IT WASN’T THAT Lily had no experience talking to men. She could hardly remember a time when men—or boys, when she was younger—hadn’t pestered her and Rose for precious time in their company. None of them had ever made her nervous. But for some reason butterflies seemed to be battling one another in her stomach.

  And Rand’s piercing eyes seemed to see it.

  He smiled in a way surely intended to set her at ease, gesturing toward three oak trees hung with swings. Two children sat on a broad one built for a couple. “Is that your brother, all grown-up? He was an imp of seven last time I saw him.”

  Lily smiled. “Yes, that’s Rowan. And he may be growing tall, dark, and handsome, but there’s still a bit of the imp left in him, I assure you.”

  “And is that Ford’s niece with him? Jewel? She’s showing every sign of developing into a beauty.” A frown appeared between Rand’s eyes. “Do you think they’re sitting rather close on that swing?”

  Their raven heads were rather close together. But Lily wasn’t worried. “They’re longtime friends, and Rowan thinks of her as a sister. Or a brother, more like.”

  The two children slipped off the swing and headed toward the house. When Jewel reached for Rowan’s hand, he hid it behind his back. Watching, Rand laughed. “Apparently Jewel doesn’t feel quite so sisterly towards your brother. And I reckon Rowan will wake up someday and notice she’s a girl.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “Not nearly as pretty as you.”

  Lily had certainly received compliments before. But most men were glib, flattery tripping off their tongues with little thought and many flowery phrases. Rand’s words were simple and soft-spoken.

  And he should be saying them to Rose.

  Taken aback, Lily clutched the kitten tighter. The feline squeaked and leapt from her arms, landing by Rand’s feet. It looked up at her with a comically hurt expression before scampering away.

  Lily stared down at Rand’s black shoes, long-tongued with stiff ribbon bows. The heels were black, too, not red as was the fashion. Her gaze meandered up his lean, muscled form, noting that his slate blue velvet suit wasn’t dripping with ribbons and baubles. Though well dressed, he wasn’t a fop.

  Perfect. No wonder Rose was so taken with the man.

  When her gaze reached his face, he grinned in a fashion that made her wonder if he’d read her mind. But thankfully he chose not to comment, instead gesturing toward where Jewel was following Rowan to the house—by way of walking atop an eight-foot-high stone wall. “Is that wise?”

  “My brother is a monkey,” she told him, relieved to be on another subject. She couldn’t remember ever eyeing a man before—that was one of Rose’s seductive tricks.

  Rand began walking toward the formal garden, a charming area divided by low hedges cut in geometric patterns, the flower beds dotted with cheerful reds, yellows, and purples. “Do you suppose Jewel is taking him to see the water closet?”

  “Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re plotting a way to use it for a prank.”

  “I would hope not,” he said. “I imagine they could make quite a mess.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Chamber pots weren’t appropriate conversational subject matter, no matter how new and fancy. “So you’re staying with Violet and Ford until the translation is finished?”

  “I’ll be here for just a week or two, until my house is ready. Although I do hope to make good progress on the translation in that time.” At the edge of the garden, he stopped beside a long table. “Would you care for some refreshments?”

  The selection looked delicious. “Yes, thank you.”

  He handed her an empty plate and took another for himself. “The house was supposed to be completed long before now, but a friend is building it, and you know how that goes—when something else comes up, it’s always easier to put off a friend’s job than a contracted client’s.”

  “He doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” she observed.

  “Oh, but he is. We’ve known each other since we were knee-high lads in dresses. It’s just that Kit is very busy, very much in demand. You may have heard of him, in fact. Christopher Martyn.”

  “The architect? Isn’t he working for King Charles?”

  “So you have heard of him.” Piling fruit on his plate, Rand cast her a glance. “I suppose, then, you can understand how another client can take precedence.”

  “When that client is the Crown, I suppose I can.” She selected a wedge of apple tart as they worked their way down the table. “But you’re a professor, yes? I’m surprised you can leave Oxford for weeks.”

  “It’s summer,” he said blithely. “A four-month break. I usually travel the Continent, looking for lost languages”—he flashed her a lopsided grin—“but I thought I’d stay home this year and settle into my new house.”

  She followed him into the garden, stepping gingerly since Beatrix had reappeared and was padding along with her, batting at her swishing skirts. “Yours sounds like an e
xciting life.”

  “I’m not sure I’d describe it as exciting, but I enjoy my life, yes. It’s interesting, and I’m content.”

  They skirted around a sundial, old but lovingly repaired. Tables were scattered around the garden, surrounded by chairs for the guests. Sitting with Lady Carrington, Lily’s friend Judith waved in invitation, her golden curls gleaming in the sun. Lily waved back and started over, but Rand stopped at a tiny square table and pulled out one of the two chairs. “Will you do me the honor?”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She seated herself carefully, sending Judith an expressive shrug. Judith winked and waggled her brows, obviously misunderstanding why Lily was with Rand.

  That was something Lily didn’t quite understand herself. It should be Rose here, she thought as Beatrix returned and leapt onto her lap.

  “This striped cat is yours, if I’m not mistaken?” Rand took the chair opposite. “However did it find its way here from Trentingham?”

  She found herself caught again in that astonishing gray gaze. “Given you asked that question, I surmise you don’t know much about cats.”

  “My father raises dogs,” he told her, grabbing two pewter goblets of wine from a maid passing by with a tray. “Big, mean ones who would eat your cat for breakfast.”

  She laughed. “Surely not.”

  He smiled at both her and the purring cat. “He adores you.”

  “Beatrix is female, actually.” The feline began hiccuping in a decidedly unladylike fashion. “What made you think she was male?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman…all males would adore you,” he said and bit into a strawberry.

  She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her choking on a bite of tart. Ford was coming out of the house, leading another little group around to see the pipes to the river.

  Swallowing the cinnamony apples and custard, she turned back to Rand. “Thank you, but being nice is much more important than being attractive. Although Rose is very attractive,” she added as an afterthought. “Don’t you think so, my lord?”

  “Rand,” he reminded her. “And yes, Rose is quite attractive and being nice is much more important. But you’re both attractive and nice.”

  What on earth was she supposed to say to that?

  He was impossible.

  Her fingers went to trace the scars on the back of her left hand before she realized what she was doing and hid it beneath the table. Rose would love this sort of attention. The two were quite definitely suited.

  A sparrow landed on their table, providing a welcome distraction. “Hello, Lady,” she murmured and fed it some crumbs from her plate.

  Watching her, Rand absently rubbed the ends of his magnificent mane between two fingers. “Are you still hoping to build a home for stray animals?”

  After all this time, he remembered her dream. “Very much so,” she said, both startled and pleased, but also wondering if he thought her goal childish. She’d been a child when she’d chosen it, after all.

  But he seemed to be taking her seriously. “Have you made plans?”

  “Of sorts. I’ll come into my inheritance next year. I’m planning a simple building so as to have funds left to staff it for a number of years. I’m hoping to obtain donations as well. Eventually enough to keep running it once my money is depleted. And perhaps even build others.”

  “A solid strategy. Have you thought of having the building donated?”

  “I’d prefer it built specifically for my purpose. To convert a house or other building could cost as much as starting from scratch.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps an architect would donate his services.” His eyes twinkled, looking silver in the afternoon sun. “I happen to know one—”

  “Uncle Ford!” Jewel came bounding out of the house, her pink skirts flying. “Uncle Ford! Something’s happened with…”

  Her words faded as she disappeared around the corner.

  Rowan flew through the door next and darted after her, pink-cheeked to match her skirts, his mouth hanging open in something akin to horror.

  Lily jumped to her feet. “They’ve done something,” she exclaimed as Ford appeared at a run and dashed into the house, shouldering his way past all the guests hurrying out. “I knew it!”

  FIVE

  “I SWEAR, UNCLE Ford, we did nothing.” Jewel held her skirts up off the floor while she turned in a slow circle, assessing the destruction. “Oh,” she wailed, “look at my chamber!”

  Rand gestured at his luggage sitting on the four-poster bed—as opposed to the floor, where it had been earlier. “I thought this was my chamber.”

  “Uncle Ford had it painted green because that’s my favorite color. I sleep here when I visit. And now it’s all ruined.”

  Ford poked his head out of the little room in the corner where he was examining his invention. “At least it’s clean water,” he pointed out defensively.

  New water stains on Rand’s luggage were the least of the damage.

  The oak floor was sopping. The wet went up the walls, the water having apparently been deeper before escaping the chamber and making its way down the corridor and stairs. Most of the ground floor had flooded as well, including all of the beautiful, expensive carpeting that Violet had had specially woven.

  But this room, where the disaster had originated, was by far the worst. The pale green bedclothes dripped, the air held a chill, the carpet felt soggy beneath their feet, and Lily suspected that mildew was setting in already.

  “We did nothing,” Rowan repeated. “We just came up to look, and when we opened the door—”

  “Now, Rowan,” Lily began, knowing her brother all too well. Especially when he was with Jewel. The girl’s father was infamous for playing practical jokes, and she’d taught Rowan every trick the man had taught her. “Do you expect us to believe—”

  “He’s right,” Ford broke in, apparently having finished his investigation. “It was the fault of my design—a problem with the tank mechanism.” Looking rather pained to admit that, he ran a hand back through his long brown hair. “I expect it began flooding the moment I turned my back. I never considered…it never occurred to me…”

  “Never say never,” Rand interjected dryly.

  Jewel went to the window. “Everyone else has gone outside.”

  “Of course, you goose.” Rowan snorted. “The floor is wet all over the house.”

  “The women wouldn’t want to ruin their fashionable satin slippers,” Rand added, glancing down at the water-stained shoes on Lily’s feet, visible since she was holding up her skirts.

  “There are more important things than shoes,” she pointed out. “Like Violet’s carpeting. She’s going to be furious.”

  “No, I’m not,” Violet said, walking in with a squish-squash sound. She went on her toes to grace her husband with a light kiss. “I’m used to catastrophes,” she declared with an exaggerated sigh. “Part and parcel of my marriage. Besides, we must only remove the carpets and spread them outside to dry. A few rain-free days and they’ll be good as new.”

  “Are you sure?” Jewel asked dubiously.

  “About it not raining? No,” Violet said in her practical way. “But they will eventually dry. I’m afraid, though, that this room will be uninhabitable for a day or two, at the least.” She looked toward Rand apologetically.

  “I can ride home,” he assured her. “Oxford is but a few hours.”

  “Wait.” Ford held up a hand. “What about the translation? There’s no need for you to leave. We’ll move someone. The nursemaids—”

  “I won’t have you upsetting your whole household,” Rand interrupted. Unlike the sprawling mansion Lily lived in, Lakefield was a typical L-shaped manor house. Enough rooms to sleep the family, a few servants, and a guest, but that was all.

  Ford crossed his arms. “I won’t have you leaving. Your house is a wreck at the moment.”

  A smile twitched on Rand’s lips as he pointedly scanned the chamber. Lily choked back a laugh.
>
  “Rowan!” Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs. “Rowan, have you and Jewel—” A gasp chopped off her sentence as she stepped into the room. “Heavens, this is—”

  “A bloody mess,” Ford finished for her. “And my fault, not your son’s.”

  “See?” Rowan said with a grin of vindication. “It’s not my fault Lord Randal cannot stay here.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault.” Rand strode to the bed, his shoes making a sucking sound as he went. “I should probably be home badgering Kit anyway, if the house is to be finished this decade.” He reached for his luggage.

  “Don’t you want to finish the translation?” Ford looked frantic. “We’ll find a place—”

  “Lord Randal is welcome to stay with us,” Chrystabel interrupted with a smile. “We’ve more guest rooms than we know what to do with.”

  Lily’s mouth hung open. Why, they hardly knew Lord Randal Nesbitt.

  But apparently that made no difference to Mum. “You’ll be close to Lakefield,” she added. They were naught but a quarter-hour’s ride down the road. “By tomorrow, perhaps this room will once again be habitable.”

  Violet glanced around mournfully. “I doubt it.”

  Looking a mite dubious, Rand set down the luggage. “If I overnight at Trentingham,” he said slowly, “I can return tomorrow and help put the place to rights.”

  “A generous offer,” Ford said.

  Violet pushed up on her spectacles. “There’s no need for Rand to wrestle with soggy carpeting.”

  “The boards underneath must be dried, lest they warp.”

  “We have servants to do that sort of thing.”

  “But if we had extra help—” Ford pressed.

  Violet cut him off with a laugh. “Rand can ‘help’ you in the bone-dry laboratory upstairs, huddled over that ancient alchemy text.”

  Her husband’s expression made clear that sounded good to him.

  And so it was settled. Rand would sleep at Trentingham and return in the morning.