by Lauren Royal
Lily’s heart went out to her…until the woman spotted Rand and her delicate face lit up. Then Lily’s heart plunged to her knees instead.
Rand helped Margery down the carriage steps, where she promptly burst into tears, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.
Lily stood by while the man she loved awkwardly patted the other woman’s back. “Margery. Ah, Margery.”
“Randy,” Margery choked out, gripping him harder.
He’d told Lily that Margery hadn’t loved Alban, but it was obvious she did love Rand. Watching them together was more than Lily could bear. She tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be playing with your father’s dogs.”
“Lily—”
“No. You need to talk. If I’m not with the dogs, look for me down by the river.”
Resolutely she walked away, hoping she wasn’t walking out of Rand’s life.
FORTY-TWO
“RANDY.”
Despite the worried look on Lily’s face, and Margery’s obvious distress, Rand smiled at her use of the childhood name. Life might have been miserable back when he was known as Randy, but it had also been simpler. And this woman had never been part of the misery.
“Margery.” He squeezed her shoulder, feeling responsible for her happiness, the same way he’d felt when she came to Hawkridge as an infant when he was seven. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll make it right.”
It seemed the old bonds were still strong, like with so many others on the estate. How could he have ignored them all these years? And if the worst came to transpire, could he walk away again, abandon them in their need?
He knew he couldn’t.
“Shall we go inside?” he asked her.
With an obvious effort, she controlled her tears. “Is your father at home?”
“He’s in his study.”
“Then no. I’m not ready to see him. Can we just walk?”
“Of course.” One arm around her shoulders, he drew her toward the gardens. As they rounded the corner of the house, his gaze drifted toward the dog enclosure, but he didn’t see Lily.
Heading toward the grassy paths where he’d walked with Lily last night, he sighed. He wouldn’t lose her. That was unthinkable. But for now, he had to concentrate on Margery. She needed him, too.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he began carefully.
“Alban?” To his shock, she practically snorted. “It was a relief to see him put into the ground.” She dashed the wetness from her eyes.
“Then…you’re not crying because of him?”
“Dear heavens, no.” She took a deep breath, looking better already. Some color was returning to her cheeks. “Alban was a cruel man. He was cruel even as a boy; surely you remember that.” She shuddered, perhaps remembering things that Rand would rather not know. “I never wanted to marry him.”
“Then why did you agree?”
“It was my father’s last wish. Not that that stopped me from begging to get out of it. But Uncle William would hear none of it.”
The marquess wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d called him that since babyhood. To Rand, it had always sounded too friendly a name for the man.
In a sheltered area between two rows of trees, she stopped. “Randy…”
When she hesitated, he turned to her and smiled. “No one calls me that anymore, you know.”
Her own smile was wan, but there. “Shall I call you Professor? Or, oh, how could I have forgotten? My lord earl.” She executed an absurd, formal curtsy.
“Rand will do,” he told her, glad to see the old Margery peeking through all the misery.
“Rand, then,” she repeated, growing serious again. “I shall try to remember, but you’ll have to remind me if I forget. Rand…I…are you aware that Uncle William expects me to marry you now?”
“He’s told me as much,” he answered, suddenly apprehensive.
She resumed walking, absently trailing one hand along a hedge as she went by. “Who was that woman with you?”
“Lady Lily Ashcroft, the Earl of Trentingham’s daughter.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“I think so.” He watched her elegant fingers skim the leaves. Margery was beautiful, too, but in a fragile sort of way. She was taller than Lily and not as fine boned, but Margery would never allow dogs to slobber all over her. She wouldn’t climb fences or laugh at ribald songs, either. Margery could be flirtatious and saucy, but beneath it all, she was a very proper young woman.
Well, she’d been raised in the Marquess of Hawkridge’s household, Rand reminded himself. It was a wonder she had any spunk left in her at all.
She stopped again. “Why is Lady Lily here?”
“She…ah…well, when I received the summons from the marquess, it said only that—”
“Are you in love with her?”
He met her gaze. There was no sense in lying—the truth would surely be obvious anyway. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”
“Thank God.”
He blinked, nonplussed. “Pardon?”
“I don’t want to marry you, Randy. I mean, Rand.” A small smile curved her lips, then faded. “I didn’t want to marry your brother, and I don’t want to marry you. I love you like a sister. Not a wife.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”
“Oh, I imagine you’re just as relieved as I am to hear it from you.” Turning to walk back toward the house, she slanted him a sidelong glance. “Did you truly believe I love you that way?”
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure, and many wed for alliance, not love, and the marquess wanted—and Lily worried—”
He stopped, humiliated to find himself babbling.
When a student babbled, he accused the ninnyhammer of being unprepared. Which Rand was, at the moment. Woefully unprepared to deal with this—love, pressure from his family, responsibilities he’d never wanted nor thought would be his…all of it.
They reentered the formal gardens, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes. “Well,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood for both of their sakes, “you cannot blame me for wondering if you might, after all, be besotted. I did, if you’ll remember, grace you with your first kiss.”
That earned a good-natured smirk. “I don’t remember ‘grace’ being an applicable description. And if I recall correctly, it was your first kiss as well. You seemed to be concerned about going off into the world an inexperienced man.” Her green eyes perhaps a bit more lively than before, she glanced over at him. “Have you gained any experience, Randal Nesbitt?”
“Oh, in the past fourteen years I’ve kissed a woman or two. And you?”
“Besides your odious brother at his insistence?” She looked as though the memory made her gag. But then her features softened. “I’m in love with Bennett Armstrong.”
“Bennett Armstrong?” He frowned, trying to remember. “Is he not a scrawny boy of ten?”
In spite of her despondency, a little chuckle bubbled up. “He was when you left. He’s four-and-twenty now. And not scrawny, I can assure you.”
Her dreamy gaze told Rand she had the same feelings for Bennett that he had for Lily. Or a shred of them, anyway. He had a hard time believing most people lived with these strong emotions.
He attempted to picture a grown-up Bennett Armstrong. “His father is a baron, yes?”
“Bennett is the baron now. His father died when the smallpox raged through the county. Three years ago, that was.”
That explained Etta’s new scars, and the ones he’d seen on other old family retainers. “You never wrote me about the smallpox.”
Margery shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
He hadn’t cared, not then. Guilt ate at his insides.
“Bennett is a wealthy baron,” she continued. “His father left him gold and estates. I’m certain my own rich but untitled father would have been pleased to see me happily wed to such a man, no matter that Bennett isn’t an earl
like Alban. Like you,” she corrected herself. “Yet I argued with Uncle William until I was blue in the face, and he refused to let us marry.” As they drew closer to the house, Margery’s feet dragged. “And now there’s the complication…”
She seemed reticent to continue. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “The money? He told me about that. The way the marquess sees it, this is a matter of honor and finances. Love doesn’t figure into the equation.”
“Money doesn’t figure into it, either.” She frowned. “I told you, Bennett is a wealthy man. With land, and—”
“It’s not your wealth the marquess is concerned with, but his own.”
They’d reached the edge of the garden, and Margery plopped down on a bench. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t he discuss this with you?”
“No. I’m female. And that aside, the man tends to be dictatorial.”
With a sigh, he sat beside her. “You’re a master of understatement,” he said and explained about Hawkridge’s dependence on her property and the repercussions of losing that income.
“No wonder he didn’t want to admit it!” Margery burst out when he was finished. “He kept mumbling about honor and the promise to my father. And now, of course, since it happened, he has the perfect excuse to refuse Bennett—”
“Lily,” Rand interrupted her, “has a solution for Hawkridge’s finances.”
“Does she?” Margery blinked. “But it doesn’t solve—”
“She has an inheritance coming. Ten thousand pounds. Plus another three thousand from her marriage portion. That ought to be enough to set the marquess on the road to solvency, and then everyone can wed whomever they want.”
Margery toyed with her black skirts. “No, Randy,” she started.
“What the devil?” He’d heard a bark from the direction of the river.
There in the distance he saw Lily toss a stick, and a big, wet mastiff jump into the water to retrieve it. Beatrix sat nearby, placidly watching. Apparently the monsters didn’t eat cats, after all.
“What are you looking at?” Margery asked.
“Lily.” The hound scrambled up the bank and shook violently, spraying her with water that left big dark splotches on her light blue gown. He laughed aloud. “She’s playing fetch in the river with one of the marquess’s dogs!”
The sight of her, being so very Lily, lightened his heart. She caught him watching and waved. Waving back, he turned to Margery. “I must go tell her you want Bennett, not me. She’ll be so happy.”
“Rand—”
“Later, Margery.” She looked so distressed. “Stop worrying. We’ll make it right.” Sudden impulse made him lean and give her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. “For old times’ sake,” he said lightly, rising from the bench. “Was it better than last time?”
He was gratified to see the ghost of a smile return. “Perhaps. But not as good as Bennett’s.”
“No? I’m not sure whether I’m happy to hear that or gravely insulted.” He grinned. “I need to talk to Lily; then we’ll speak with the marquess.”
He started off.
“Wait, Rand, there’s more—”
But he was already walking away, and Lily had spotted him. Whatever else Margery wanted to talk about could wait.
FORTY-THREE
THE SMILE FROZE on Lily’s face.
He’d kissed Margery. On her mouth.
He’d walked with his arm around her, too. Lily knew that, because although she’d been playing with the dog, she’d kept half an eye on Rand and Margery the entire time.
Or at least while they were visible. For a while they’d disappeared into the hedge-and treelined gardens. Had he kissed Margery there, too? In the little round gazebo where she and Rand had kissed last night?
He was going to marry Margery.
As Lily watched him come closer, she decided she wouldn’t make a fuss. Because she was nice. Because his father wanted it this way, and if all the parties agreed, there was no point in fighting fate. Because Margery had known Rand for twenty-one years, while Lily had known him just a few weeks.
Then suddenly she was in his arms, and she wondered how she could have thought any of that. His mouth was on hers, hot and needy, and the whole of her responded. She slipped her hands inside his open surcoat and pressed herself close. Her heart raced; the blood rushed through her veins. And it was the same for him, she was certain.
Nothing had changed between them.
By the time he pulled away, her senses were spinning, her knees wobbly and weak. And although he was smiling, he looked as shaky as she felt. His heart was in his compelling gray eyes, there for her to see.
Perhaps fate would tear them apart, but it was clear as the cloudless sky that it wouldn’t be because Rand’s feelings for her had changed. And although she wanted an explanation for why he’d kissed Margery, she wouldn’t ask, because she didn’t want him to know she’d doubted him.
Still smiling, he brushed at his damp coat and plucked his wet shirt away from his body.
The sight of that shirt molded to his body made her swallow hard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid Rex has soaked me through.” The dog was panting at her feet. She bent to grab the stick and tossed it arcing over the water, watching the mastiff gleefully splash in to fetch it.
Looking every bit as gleeful, Rand swung her back to face him. “It’s all right. I’ll happily risk more wet to claim another kiss.” Involuntarily she swayed toward him, but this kiss was short and light. “Margery doesn’t want to marry me,” he said with an even wider grin.
“Are you sure?”
“She’s in love with another man. A local baron named Bennett Armstrong. My brother’s death was a relief to her, since it freed her from their betrothal.”
“Then why was she weeping?”
“The marquess has refused Bennett’s suit. Because he wants her land and income, of course. But now, with your inheritance…”
“It should work out for all concerned.”
“Thanks to your generosity, yes.” The dog emerged and shook, soaking them both, and Rand laughed and lifted Lily by the waist, swinging her in a wide circle.
When he finally set her on her feet, he kissed her again soundly and then gripped both her hands. “Tonight,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning, “after all this is settled, I’ll come to you.”
And they no longer needed to worry about conceiving a child. As her entire body responded to that thought, her fingers tightened on his.
Then she noticed Margery walking toward them.
“You must be Lily,” Margery said. “It warms my heart to see how happy you’ve made Randy.”
Lily blushed to the roots of her hair. Margery must have been sitting on that bench, watching, the entire time. And if she hadn’t approached now, Lily might well have begun stripping Rand out of his damp clothes.
Well, not really, but she’d wanted to. What a creature of lust she was becoming!
Margery looked wistful.
“I hear you’ve found a love of your own,” Lily told her.
“Yes, I have.” Margery’s expression softened, but just for a moment. “Randy—I mean, Rand—we must talk. There’s something—”
“What the hell are you doing with my dog?”
They all turned to see the marquess storming down the path to the river. Beatrix scampered up a nearby tree to join Lady and Jasper where they sat on a branch, chattering nervously. Lily’s heart pounded.
“Don’t worry,” Margery whispered. “He might bellow like a bear and insist on his own way, but he’s not a man to do physical violence.”
“I beg to differ,” Rand said tightly, making Lily wonder anew what his childhood had been like.
As his father drew near, he looped an arm over her shoulders, a clear message of possession. The tall, formidable marquess stood before them and glared down into Lily’s face. “Well?”
Although Lily had always been nice, she’d never been shy. “I w
as only playing with Rex, my lord. He seems to enjoy it.”
“Rex?”
She shrugged. “He needed a name. I assure you, I’ve done him no harm.”
He whistled to the dog, which obediently ran over. “His name is Attila,” he said, grabbing the chain around the animal’s neck. “And like the rest of my mastiffs, he’s a valuable fighter. He’ll sell for a top price once he’s fully trained—that is, if he doesn’t die of a chill first.” His fist was white-knuckled on the links. “My dogs do not play.”
Lily drew herself up to her full height of five-foot-two. “Perhaps they should. As they don’t seem to get a lot of human attention, some toys would be a welcome addition to their enclosure. Knotted rope, as I told Rand.” Rand’s hand tightened on her shoulder in warning, but she ignored it. She refused to be intimidated by the man she hoped would be her father-in-law. “And you’d do well to uproot the apple tree in there—the fruit is of a size to be a choking hazard.”
Surprisingly, the man looked thoughtful if still fierce. “These dogs are meant to accompany soldiers at war. They get plenty of human attention when I train them—to kill. But perhaps some toys might not be amiss. Knotted rope could well promote fighting amongst themselves, which would help keep them in shape.”
It wasn’t exactly what Lily had in mind, but it was something. And he was no longer ignoring her.
He turned his attention to Margery. “When did you arrive?”
She exchanged a look with Rand. “Mere moments ago, Uncle William.”
“Good. We’ll talk over dinner. It’s long past time we settled your betrothal and marriage. In the meantime, come along. You need to make yourself presentable. The meal will be served in one hour.”
He swung on a heel, taking Margery’s arm to pull her along with him, the dog trotting on his other side. Lily stared at the man’s stiff, retreating back. Margery needed to make herself presentable? Lily had rarely seen a woman so pristine. She glanced down at her own water-and-mud-stained skirts with dismay.
Rand came around to face her and lifted her chin with a hand. “You did well,” he said admiringly.