Lily

by Lauren Royal

  “Well, then, if you loved her enough to blame me, whyever would you wish to deprive your son and foster daughter of that same sort of love?”

  The marquess blinked some more. Margery’s hands clenched in her lap. The clock kept ticking. Rand prayed silently, harder than he’d ever prayed in his life.

  “Marry whom you wish,” his father said at last with a sigh.

  Margery leapt up and rounded the desk to hug him. “Thank you, Uncle William, thank you! You’ve always been so kind to me, I knew in the end you’d choose for my happiness.”

  Rand’s father just grunted.

  Rand sat immobile, his entire body seemingly gone boneless.

  He’d done it.

  He was going to marry Lily.

  “I must go tell Bennett.”

  Rand had never seen Margery’s eyes look so green, her face look so flushed. He smiled, picturing Lily looking that happy.

  “I’ll take you to him,” he said, “on my way back to Trentingham. Lily will be anxious to hear this news, too.”

  “I’m going with you,” his father said.

  Halfway to rising, Rand dropped back onto his chair. “Pardon?”

  “What sort of a man do you take me for?” the marquess asked, then apparently decided he’d best not wait for an answer. “Not only has your Lily saved my dog’s life, she is also about to save Hawkridge from ruin. The least I can do is welcome her into our family.”

  Rand wasn’t sure he was ready to think of himself and his father as a family—he suspected they might never truly be friends. But he grudgingly admitted that it seemed the man’s heart might be in the right place.

  Or getting there, anyway.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  WHILE THE marquess rode around Armstrong House dismissing all the guards, Rand dismounted and walked Margery to the door. The butler answered and showed them both into a sitting room, then went to fetch Lord Armstrong.

  Rand sat on a red velvet chair watching Margery walk aimlessly around the chamber, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She’d be happy here, he thought. Though the house was centuries older and much smaller than Hawkridge, it was well kept and richly appointed. Besides, he knew Margery would be happy anywhere so long as she was with Bennett.

  It was the same for him and Lily. Home would be where Lily lived, even if that was Hawkridge.

  “Margery!” Bennett rushed into the room, then stopped short when he saw Rand.

  Rand rose from the chair. “She’s yours, Armstrong.”

  Long-lost hope leapt into the man’s eyes. “You mean…”

  “Yes. My father has agreed to your marriage.”

  “How—why—”

  “Margery will explain,” Rand said. “Later.”

  She’d stopped roaming. Now she seemed simply frozen in place, gazing at Bennett as though she couldn’t believe he would be hers. When he took a step toward her, she came to life and rushed into his arms.

  Their lips met, and Rand smiled. That would be he and Lily soon, and he was sure their reunion would be even better. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why he was standing here watching the two lovers kiss when he could be kissing his own love himself.

  “I’m leaving,” he announced.

  With a heartfelt sigh, Margery drew her mouth from Bennett’s. “Good-bye, Randy,” she said, gazing into the other man’s eyes.

  “I’m leaving you two alone.”

  “I know,” she murmured, her words directed to Bennett along with a wide smile.

  “Be good,” Rand said, knowing they wouldn’t.

  LILY’S FINGERS ran over the harpsichord keys in an unceasing pattern. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “About five minutes after the last time I told you.” Rose didn’t bother to look at a clock. “I thought you found music calming.”

  “Well, today it’s not.”

  “Perhaps it would help if you’d play something besides scales.” Rose set down her needlework and pulled a droopy bloom from the flower arrangement beside her. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry.” The music stopped abruptly as Lily folded her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be patient. “That it’s taking this long, it’s a good sign, it that not so?” She heard her sister rise and walk across the drawing room. “It must mean his father is listening.”

  “It must,” Rose said in a soothing way.

  But Lily heard laughter bubbling underneath. Her eyes popped open. “This isn’t easy, you know. My entire life is hanging in the balance.”

  “Of course it’s not easy.” Rose plucked three browning leaves off some flowers on the wide windowsill. “But surely not your entire life. If it all ends badly, you’ll go on—”

  “You’ve never been in love,” Lily said.

  The leaves crunched in her sister’s fisted hand. “No,” she admitted, “I haven’t. And given what you’re going through, I believe that’s just as well.”

  “You’re wrong.” Lily’s voice came a whisper. “I wouldn’t trade love for tranquility.”

  “Some of us,” Rose said, “don’t seem to have a choice.”

  “Oh, Rose.” Lily’s eyes met her sister’s dark ones. “Someday…”

  You’ll find someone.

  The words hung between them, unsaid, until Rose looked away and out the window. “Someone’s riding up the road, Lily.”

  “Rand!” Lily jumped up and brushed at her sky blue skirts.

  Rose frowned. “No, two someones. I wonder who they could be?”

  “Two?” Lily pulled a few curls forward to frame her face. “How do I look?”

  “He’s not going to care,” said the sister that took the most care with her own appearance. “Go to him, Lily.”

  As she hurried to the entry hall, Lily wondered if one of the riders was indeed Rand. After all, there were two, and he’d set out for Hawkridge Hall alone. As Parkinson opened the door, she braced herself for disappointment.

  Rand stood on the other side, a wide smile on his face. Her heart leapt—until she looked beyond him.

  “Lord Hawkridge. How, um, how very nice to see you.”

  “Lady Lily.” Rand’s father bowed, for once looking at a loss for words.

  “Rand,” her mother said warmly, glossing over the awkward moment as she appeared from seemingly nowhere. “Come in, please. And you,” she said to Lord Hawkridge, “must be this young man’s father. The resemblance is unmistakable.”

  Rand didn’t look particularly pleased at that observation. Lily stared at him, caught in his compelling gray gaze, wondering…

  “And you must be Lady Trentingham. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the marquess told her mother. “I’ve come to welcome your daughter into my family.”

  It took a moment for Lily to register those words, and when she did, she was embarrassed to feel tears spring to her eyes.

  “Rand,” she whispered.

  His gaze flicked over to his father, then her mother, and finally Rose standing at the bottom of Trentingham’s wide staircase. He stepped forward to take Lily’s hand.

  “Come,” he said, “I feel a need to take a run.” He glanced at her fashionable heeled shoes. “I mean a walk.”

  That old, rude habit, but Lily didn’t care, so long as he wanted her with him this time. Her mother and the marquess would do fine—Rand’s father might be on the curmudgeonly side, but Chrystabel had never met a man she couldn’t wrap around her finger.

  Without saying a word, Rand hurried her through the house, out the back into the gardens, and along the paths to the summerhouse. He dropped her hand long enough to shut the door behind them, enclosing them in the cool dimness of the small, round brick building. Then he turned and gathered her into his arms.

  “Rand, how did you convince—”

  “Hush,” he said as his mouth crushed down on hers.

  She was hushed, very effectively, by a kiss so intense it rattled her to her toes. His lips slanted over hers again and ag
ain until she couldn’t tell where his mouth stopped and hers started, until her knees were so weak she needed his arms to hold her up.

  “When can we marry?” he asked, dropping little kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her chin. His mouth trailed down the side of her throat. “When? Today?”

  “No.” She laughed, arching her neck to allow him better access. He felt so very good—especially knowing that finally, miraculously, he was going to be hers.

  “Tomorrow?” he asked, his lips dancing over her skin.

  “Not tomorrow.”

  “The next day, then. Or the day after that. Saturday. A perfect day for a wedding.”

  “No.” She shivered, and not only from his sensual assault. “You and Margery were supposed to marry on Saturday.”

  “Her birthday. The day she’ll wed Bennett.” He worked his way back toward her mouth.

  “Oh,” she breathed, “they must be so happy.”

  “Mmm.” His agreement was muffled by his lips claiming hers, his tongue meeting hers in a heady swirl of sensation. He tasted divine. “Margery will want us at her wedding,” he murmured against her mouth. “So ours will have to be the day after that.”

  “No.” Pulling back, she laughed again. “Two weeks. When Violet and Ford wished to marry in a rush, Mum insisted on two weeks to plan the wedding.”

  “Two weeks?” he said on a groan. “After all we’ve gone through, two more weeks seems a lifetime.”

  She smiled softly, basking in those heartfelt words. “Two weeks is entirely survivable.”

  “As long as we don’t have to wait for the wedding night,” he said, his fingers moving to the tabs on her stomacher.

  His eyes smoldered, and something inside her responded to that heat. But something else held her back. She reached to still his hands. “Rand.”

  “Hmm?” He kissed her again, nearly melting her resolve.

  But she’d thought about this. “I want to wait. Until we’re married. Until you’re mine, heart, body, and soul, and no one can threaten otherwise.”

  The heat in his eyes transformed to disbelief. “Nothing can threaten us, Lily. Nothing. We’ve been to hell and back again, and there is nothing I will allow to come between us.”

  Under the force of his gaze, she was weakening. She’d already given herself to this man, and she hadn’t been sorry, and more than anything, she burned to share that again.

  But it was hard to believe that all would be well. There had been too many hours and days when she’d thought he was lost to her.

  “Nothing,” he repeated, and the earnestness in his voice went a long way toward breaking her will. “Fate may send us dragons, but I’ll slay them for you, fair Lily. Nothing will steal you from my side.”

  Watching her closely, he pulled something from his pocket.

  His mother’s pendant, on a delicate white gold chain.

  “I’ve learned that my father gave this to my mother on their wedding day. I was planning to save it for our own wedding day, but I want you to have it now.”

  “Oh, Rand.”

  If this wasn’t proof that he was certain they’d stay together, she didn’t know what was. Her heart seemed to melt as he clasped the chain around her neck. Looking down, she lifted the necklace, admiring all the diamonds and the beautiful enameled filigree design.

  Her throat closed with emotion. “I’ll cherish it always,” she whispered.

  It was all she could manage.

  Still…when he reached for her stomacher tabs again, she pushed at his hands. “Not here,” she said, not an outright rejection nor an unreasonable one, either. The summerhouse had a brick floor and only the narrowest of wooden benches. “This is all so sudden and unbelievable to me, Rand. I want to hear how you convinced your father.”

  He drew a deep breath, clearly struggling for control, glancing around as though he felt trapped. “All right, then. But let’s walk.”

  They strolled across the wide lawn and over the bridge and along the Thames. As his story poured out, Lily felt his hand in hers slowly relax.

  “You were brilliant,” she said when he’d told her everything.

  “I was desperate.” He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  “And how has your father taken it?”

  “We spent over an hour riding here—maybe the longest time alone together ever. He expressed regret that he’d never seen Alban for the evil man he was. He seems…repentant.”

  “You like him more than you thought.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say like. We’ve a long history between us. But the idea of living with him isn’t nearly as repugnant as I would have thought last month.”

  “Will we have to? Live with him, I mean?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “Do you imagine we have a choice? He’s certainly assuming we will. Hawkridge will someday be mine, and I’ve a lot to learn about handling it.”

  “Oh, Rand, you can handle anything you put your mind to. Your father has years left to live. Why should you give up the life you love now?”

  He looked as though he wanted to believe her—but couldn’t. “It’s a matter of responsibility. Once I would have agreed with you, but now that I’ve been home…well, there’s Margery—”

  “Margery will be with Bennett.”

  “There’s Etta and all the others. They’re depending on me, and I cannot let them down. Oxford…” His voice turned wistful for a moment before he straightened his shoulders, his hand gripping hers tighter. “This is the way it must be.”

  “But your professorship, your house.”

  “There’s nothing for it. I’ll have to sell the house.”

  “After you worked months designing it with Kit? The two of you put your hearts and souls into that house.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “Kit liked some of my ideas so much, he’s planning changes to his own home in Windsor.”

  “You cannot just sell it, Rand.”

  “Well, it makes no sense to keep it if I’ll never be using it, does it? I can put the money into Hawkridge, help it recover from the loss of Margery’s land that much sooner. Or…wait…”

  A light had entered his intense gray eyes. “What?” Lily asked.

  “The money can be yours,” he said softly, looking pleased with himself. “For your animal home.”

  It would mean she’d have the best of both worlds—Rand and her dream—but she said, “No.”

  “Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “It’s my house, after all, built with income that had nothing to do with Hawkridge. My father and the estate have no claim on it whatsoever.”

  “No, Rand.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him give up his house in Oxford—and the life he’d made for himself there—for an old childhood dream. “I won’t hear of it.”

  It was a silly dream, anyway, a childish dream for a child. Her strays had no need of a fancy, custom-built home and a staff of trained caretakers. She’d done just fine by them so far, all by herself with makeshift pens in a corner of a barn, and surely the marquess would have no objection to her doing the same at Hawkridge.

  True, she dreamed of helping more animals—hundreds more, possibly even in several homes spread across the country—but who knew if she’d ever find such a large number of needful creatures? Her strays had always found her.

  They’d reached the woods, and Rand apparently decided not to argue, instead pulling her into his arms. “Are you really going to make me wait two weeks for you?” he asked. “I’m burning for you, Lily. All these days and hours…”

  She was burning for him, too. He felt so warm and solid against her body, she could almost believe they really would stay together forever.

  She sighed against his mouth. “Let’s go back,” she said. “There’s much to settle. Our wedding date, for one.”

  “And then?”

  “And then maybe I’ll believe it.”

  “If you don’t,” he warned playfully, “I’ll wear you down anyway.”

  Since t
hat wasn’t an altogether unpleasing idea, she let it slide by without a retort.

  SIXTY-NINE

  THE NEGOTIATIONS took place over a dinner that had gone cold while waiting for their return.

  “Two weeks,” Lily told her mother.

  “Two weeks! I cannot plan a wedding in two weeks.”

  “You did for Violet and Ford,” Lily reminded her, and that was that.

  Looking victorious, Lily turned to Rand’s father. “Now I would like to discuss our living arrangements.”

  His gaze landed on the diamond pendant she wore. Though he’d granted Rand permission to give it to her, Rand still held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

  At last the marquess nodded his approval, a small smile curving his lips. “I realize Randal’s chamber is small,” he told her. “Perhaps we can refurbish—”

  “That would be nice, but I meant where we will live and when.”

  The man picked up his fork, his smile becoming a slight frown. “You’ll live at Hawkridge, of course. Where did you think you would live?”

  “Oxford, at least part of the year. Rand’s position there is important to him. The research—”

  “Lily,” Rand started.

  “He can research at home,” his father cut in. “He’ll be the marquess someday, which means he has responsibilities.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Certainly he does—”

  “Lily,” Rand interrupted.

  “—but that doesn’t mean he must be at Hawkridge all the time. Many men own more than one estate, and a man cannot be two or three places at once. Why, Father visits Tremayne but once a year, and it thrives quite well without his constant presence.”

  “Lily,” Rand tried to put in.

  But she wasn’t finished. “Oxford has three terms a year of eight weeks each. Twenty-four weeks out of fifty-two. There are long breaks between those terms and the whole summer free…if Rand agrees to spend the remaining twenty-eight weeks at Hawkridge learning his responsibilities, surely you can survive without him during term times.”

  “Lily—”

  “Just until he’s needed at Hawkridge year-round,” she said by way of conclusion. “But given your excellent state of health, we’re both hoping that won’t be for a long, long time.”