Lily

by Lauren Royal

  Panting, she looked down to the forest floor, littered with twigs and leaves. Her silk stockings were torn, which was no surprise, but she hadn’t noticed when it happened.

  “I—don’t—care,” she said between gasping attempts to catch her breath. She bent at the waist, hugging the pain in her side. “All I care for, Rand, is you.”

  If she’d hoped he’d melt at those words, she was disappointed. “Sometimes,” he said, “I need to be by myself. Can you not leave a body alone?”

  “I’ve tried that. It hasn’t worked.”

  “I need to think. I cannot think.”

  She straightened and met his gaze. She had something she needed to tell him, and she knew he needed to share something, too. A piece of the puzzle was missing—the piece she suspected had made him run. “We can think together. Maybe two heads are better than one.”

  His jaw tensed as though he were forcibly holding back words. He crossed his arms, shutting her out. His gaze drifted up to the canopy of leaves overhead.

  The solitude he wanted would solve nothing. “I’m staying here, Rand. I won’t leave you. Do you hear me?” She shouted it to the trees. “I won’t leave you, no matter what your father says!”

  Slowly he lowered his eyes. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I believe you’re my fate.”

  “Oh, Lily.” He shook his head, opening his arms. “Come here.”

  His arms felt so good around her, so solid and sure. He kissed her, kissed her until she was more breathless than she’d been from running, until she felt boneless and light-headed. He put one-hundred-percent of himself into the wordless promise of that kiss.

  And she knew, without a doubt, that whatever it was that made him run away, time after time, had nothing to do with a lack of love for her. Perhaps he simply didn’t know how to share. He’d spent so very much of his life on his own.

  Well, she’d show him how. Two heads were better than one, two hearts even stronger.

  When he finally drew back, she searched his intense gray eyes. “What happened? It’s something else, isn’t it? Besides Margery and your father’s ultimatum?” He tried to look away, but she moved to the side, keeping her gaze locked on his. “What happened?” she repeated. “What new complication has arisen to pile on top of the others?”

  He sighed, looking reluctant to confide in her.

  But at least he didn’t run.

  With both hands, she propelled him toward a stump and pushed down on his shoulders until he sat. “Tell me,” she said.

  He gathered her onto his lap. Leaves rustled overhead, and a sparrow fluttered from one branch to another. Lady, found her way back home. Jasper blinked his little squirrel eyes at them, then darted up a tree. Lily rubbed her scarred hand and stared at her stockinged toes, waiting.

  “The marquess,” Rand said at last, “has claimed he had an excuse for the way he’s treated me all of these years.”

  “You were a child. There was no excuse.”

  “He blamed me for the death of my mother.”

  “What?” She shifted to face him. “How did she die? You never told me.”

  “I never knew. It seems, as a child, I had a habit of running off.” He paused as though waiting for her to agree or to chide him. When she didn’t, he went on. “I was six when it happened. She couldn’t find me and went out looking.”

  “And died?”

  “A riding mishap. She broke her neck.”

  “Oh, Rand.” Sensing his pain, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’d disappeared.”

  “You were six. You weren’t responsible for her accident. It could have happened another day, another time—”

  “But it didn’t.” The guilt rolled off of him in waves. “It happened when I ran off. I killed her.”

  She lifted her head. “No. You’re not to blame.”

  “My father thinks I am. I left her, and she died. And look at me. I’m still running off and hurting the people I love.”

  She offered him a wan smile. “I believe I just put a stop to that. And Rand, you didn’t kill her. Your father saying so doesn’t make it true. You were six years old. Events happen. This one was tragic, but you cannot believe it’s your fault.”

  “My father believes I’m to blame.”

  “Not really,” she argued. “Or he’d have voiced that blame aloud long ago. And he never did, did he? Or you would have known how she died before now.”

  He appeared to consider that for a moment, and Lily felt a little of the tightness ease from his body. “You won’t convince me the man is good,” he finally said.

  “No, and I wouldn’t try. His treatment of you was unpardonable, but perhaps natural, for all that. He was hurting—”

  “Hurting?” Rand interrupted in a tone of patent disbelief.

  She nodded. “He must have loved her very much to react in such a strong manner, even if it was wrong.”

  “Love? I cannot picture that man in love. I doubt he even believes in such a fine emotion.”

  She decided to drop that for now. “Regardless, he was wrong to treat you that way. Not only because you were—are—his child, but also because—”

  “I was only six,” he finished softly, as though really hearing that for the first time.

  “Yes, you were only six.”

  An invisible burden seemed to roll off his shoulders, and he sat there a long while, silent, rubbing her back.

  “I need time to think,” he said at last.

  “About your mother?”

  He shook his head, a slow, mournful motion. “About Margery. I cannot marry her, loving you. I cannot. And yet…can I condemn another man to die?”

  Of course he couldn’t; he wouldn’t be the man she loved if he could. Lily swallowed hard. “Would it make it any easier if I told you I’m not with child?”

  His hand stilled on her back. “What do you mean?”

  “I…I awakened this morning, and…” She felt her cheeks flood with color. She’d never discussed anything like this with a man, but she’d known since this morning that she had to. She’d run all the way out here to tell him. “My courses are upon me,” she said quietly. “I’m not with child.”

  “Oh,” he said; then his arms wrapped around her and held her close. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you? Truly?” Her first feelings this morning had been of sorrow, although she knew she should have been relieved. And truthfully, a large part of her was relieved. “Your father, you know—it would have made no difference. We had no hope of using it to our favor.”

  “I know. But…well, I was picturing her already. She looked like you. I’d be the first to admit that mere days ago I’d have quailed at the thought of fatherhood, but now that I’ve had time to get used to the idea, damn if I wasn’t looking forward to it.”

  “I was picturing a boy. A gray-eyed boy with long, dark gold hair.”

  His lips curved in a half smile. “Twins. They run in your family, don’t they?”

  Despite everything, she had to laugh. “If you’d seen my sister heavy with twins, you wouldn’t wish that on me. Besides, it’s Ford’s family that runs to twins. Surely you know he’s a twin himself.”

  “Ah, yes. Kendra.” For a moment, Rand looked far away, lost in the past. Then the faint smile faded from his face and he hugged her even tighter. “One child, twins, triplets—I don’t care, so long as they’re ours. More than anything, Lily, I want you to have my children.”

  “Oh, Rand, I want your baby, too.” She laid a hand over her empty womb, thinking about what might have been, what might never be. “There must be another way,” she said, using his words. “You’re right—we both need to think.”

  He put his bigger hand over hers. “Not now. I’m sorry, but I must go to Oxford. I need more clothes, and other—”

  “I didn’t mean you’re never allowed to go off alone. You’ll think in Oxford, and I’ll think her
e.”

  By unspoken agreement, they rose and began walking in the direction of Trentingham. Rand took her hand. “After Oxford, I must go back to Hawkridge. It’s my only hope of finding any evidence to free Bennett. He said he was hunting with a party; one of the other men might have seen something. Or someone else. If need be, I will interview every soul in a ten-mile radius.”

  Leaves crunched beneath Lily’s stockinged feet, and when a twig snapped with a loud crack, Rand swept her up into his arms. She linked her hands behind his neck. “I shall come and help you.”

  She saw the telltale hesitation, felt the slight tightening of his arms before he decided to come out with it. “Let me talk to my father first. You’ll be but two hours away, and I’ll come for you, I promise, once I ascertain you’ll be accepted.”

  His gray eyes pleaded for her to understand, and she did, but it was frustrating to feel so helpless.

  “Trust me on this, sweetheart,” he said softly.

  “If I think of anything that could help, anything at all, I’ll come to you,” she warned him as they emerged from the woods.

  In the soft grass that lined the banks of the river, he set her on her feet and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he murmured, the words a damp promise against her skin. “We’re in this together. Never doubt that, my love.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  DINNER WAS A subdued affair.

  Bacon tart was usually one of Lily’s favorites, its flaky crust and sweet almonds contrasting with the salty meat, but today she only picked at it while she listened to Rose grill Rand about the latest developments. For once, Rose didn’t seem jealous about Lily’s betrothal—in fact, Lily would wager her sister was glad she wasn’t the one in this predicament.

  Mum looked very sorry that she’d insisted Lily go along to Hawkridge, although as Lily pointed out, her absence wouldn’t have changed anything.

  “It would have spared you some discomfort, dear,” Mum said.

  But that didn’t matter to Lily. The reward for that discomfort had been more time with Rand—precious time that could turn out to be their last.

  Afterward, Lily saw him out to his carriage. “If you think of anything,” she told him, “anything at all—I want to know. And if I think of anything, I’ll send word to you at Oxford.”

  “I may not be there long enough for word to reach me. Fewer than six days remain until the wedding. I need to get back to Hawkridge well before that if I’m to find evidence enough to prevent it.”

  “Then stop here on the way. Please. It won’t cost you but half an hour, and I may have an idea—”

  She broke off when his lips descended on hers.

  The kiss was wild, desperate. It made her mouth burn with fire and her senses reel dangerously. She knew, without a doubt, that she would never find this with another man—and the truth cracked her heart.

  When he finally broke the kiss, he crushed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. “God, Lily, this cannot be the end for us. It just cannot.”

  “It won’t be.” She kissed him again, softly, before drawing back. “You’ll stop by on your way to Hawkridge?”

  He opened his eyes and nodded.

  “Then I’ll see you in a few days,” she said, suspecting those days would be the longest of her life.

  Rose, however, wasn’t going to let her mope around.

  “I think tonight we should have our sleeping party,” she said when Lily reentered the house.

  Lily rubbed her face. “Whatever are you talking about?” She wasn’t interested in any sort of party, especially tonight. Tonight she just wanted to crawl into her bed, curl up, and think hard about how Bennett’s innocence could possibly be proved.

  If he even was innocent…but she had to believe he was. It was the only chance she and Rand had.

  “The sleeping party, remember?” Rose put a hand on Lily’s arm, her eyes dark with concern. “You said Violet should come over to sleep. And I think we should invite Judith, too. She’s your best friend—she’ll want to hear what’s happening. I’m going to write notes to both of them and ask Parkinson to see they’re delivered.”

  Before Lily could protest, Rose was off.

  For a while Lily stood in a daze, then she went upstairs and changed into a more comfortable gown. She didn’t need to impress anyone here at Trentingham.

  By the time she caught up with her sister, messages had been sent to both Violet and Judith, and Rose was in the kitchen talking to Mrs. Crump, their cook. “Fruit, nuts, bread, and cheese. And some nun’s biscuits,” she said, “since those are Lily’s favorites. We need it all ready to take to her room at nine o’clock.” Spotting Lily, she turned and smiled. “We don’t want to starve during our sleeping party.”

  Lily hadn’t realized her sister could be so efficient. Or kind—especially considering the broken promise. “Why are you doing all this, Rose?”

  A flush touched Rose’s cheeks. “You told Rand that two heads are better than one. Well, four would be even better, don’t you think? Perhaps tonight we can hit upon a solution.”

  Lily wasn’t sure she felt up to what Rose had planned, but she sincerely appreciated the sentiment. “Thank you,” she said, “for caring.”

  “Don’t be a goose,” Rose said with a wave of a hand. “You’re my sister. Now, we’ll need some nice flower arrangements for the supper table and your chamber. I’d best get busy.”

  As Rose hurried away, Lily looked after her in wonder. It seemed her sister was back to normal, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  A soft drizzle began to fall outside, turning the world gray and dismal to match Lily’s mood. Violet and Judith both arrived in time for supper, and the whole story was told again. By the time they all made it up to Lily’s room for their sleeping party, laden with a decanter of wine and the refreshments that Mrs. Crump had prepared, Lily was exhausted to the point of numbness.

  She collapsed crosswise on top of her white coverlet. “I’m afraid you’re going to have your party without me.”

  Violet set down a bowl of fruit and reached a hand to help her sit. “I’m sure you’re tired,” she said sympathetically, settling beside her on the bed. “But we have a mission to accomplish.”

  Even in her state, Lily couldn’t help but notice the faint circles under her oldest sister’s eyes. “You look rather tired yourself.”

  “Two babies will do that to you,” Violet said with a tender smile. But it faded as she watched Lily lay a hand on her abdomen. “You’ll have children, too, Lily.”

  “We just have to put our heads together and come up with a brilliant idea,” Rose said as she sat herself on Lily’s other side.

  The three of them against all the injustice in the world.

  “Why?” Lily couldn’t help asking Rose. “Why all of a sudden are you willing to help me wed Rand Nesbitt?”

  “The Earl of Newcliffe,” Rose corrected her, but not unkindly. “And as to why…well…” Her cheeks reddened. “This afternoon, when I saw how miserable you were, and Rand, too—well, it made me realize I’d never loved him like that. I only wanted him because he’s so handsome.”

  “And titled,” Violet reminded her, leaning across Lily to send their sister an arch look.

  “Well, that, too. I do want someone of consequence, you know. But Lily and Rand—they belong together.”

  “Thank you,” Lily whispered. How bittersweet it was to have her sister finally approve at the same time her betrothal was falling apart.

  Seated at Lily’s dressing table with a platter of bread and cheese, Judith stopped eating long enough to release a languid sigh. “You and Rand are so romantic.”

  Lily eyed her friend thoughtfully. “You look happy.”

  “I am.” Judith’s pale blue eyes shone. “I’ve spent some time alone with Edmund—I mean, Lord Grenville—”

  “You’d never been alone with him?” Rose interrupted.

  Buttering bread, Judith blushed. “
Well, it’s not exactly proper, I know, but Papa managed to talk Mama into allowing it. I was so very unhappy, not really knowing Edmund and thinking I might never come to love him.”

  Lily began filling four goblets with wine. “So what happened?”

  Judith looked up, her cheeks flushed with wonder. “He’s ever so marvelous. The sweetest man. I cannot imagine why I expected to fall in love at first sight. It takes getting to know someone, don’t you think? What a man looks like doesn’t matter as much as what he’s like inside.”

  Rand, Lily thought, was wonderful both inside and out. She would never find another man so perfect.

  She handed Judith a cup. “So what is Lord Grenville like inside?”

  “Thoughtful. Kind. He answered all my questions and listened when I answered his. He loved his first wife dearly, but he was ever so sad that she couldn’t give him any children. More than anything, he wants children. And I…I want to give them to him.”

  “Have you considered,” Rose asked, “that the failure to have children might be due to some lack on his part?” It was just like Rose to say out loud what other women would only wonder silently. “After all,” she added, “he’s thirty-five.” She said thirty-five as though the man were likely to topple over and die of old age at any moment.

  “That’s not so ancient!” Judith burst out defensively. Lily’s sister blinked, clearly taken aback, but Judith went on. “Do you know, Rose, that someday you will be five-and-thirty, too? And for your sake, I hope by then—”

  She broke off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. But they all knew what she’d been about to say.

  I hope by then you’ll have found a husband.

  “Well,” Rose said stiffly. “I hope for your sake that Lord Grenville’s childlessness wasn’t due to his own shortcomings. I expect you may gain some enlightenment when you discover whether he’s skilled in the bedchamber.”

  “I can assure you,” Judith said just as stiffly, “that his childlessness had nothing to do with his skills. He’s a very good kisser.” A hunk of cheese halfway to her mouth, she paused and glanced around as though waiting for them all to express shock. “Are you not scandalized,” she finally asked no one in particular, “that I allowed him to kiss me?”