He still hadn’t fully forgiven himself, nor could he quite believe that the parents of the friends who’d fallen in battle didn’t hold him personally responsible. But he did accept that they cared for him and drew comfort from his visits, where they talked about their sons.
Such wounds as he’d carried, buried deep within him, didn’t heal overnight. But Lily had confidence that they would in time.
He’d gone to visit Merrick Hird one evening and ended up staying very late, drinking and talking. He crawled into bed with her in the wee small hours, reeking of beer and cigar smoke, and just held her. Not making love, just holding her as if she were something precious and necessary.
She’d slept in his arms all night.
He never told her what he and Merrick had talked about that night, and she didn’t ask. She could see that something had eased within him, and that was enough.
How glad she was that he’d come to Shields. And that she’d made him stay. If she’d realized what was to come, she might not have had the courage. Trust your own instincts, Aunt Dottie had told her. Listen only to your heart.
If Aunt Dottie’s maidservants hadn’t come down with the chickenpox, Lily might never have gone to Shields. And if Edward hadn’t . . .
“Edward, why did you go looking for me in Bath?”
He looked up from his book, half closing it with a finger in his place. “Because that’s where you said you were going.”
“Yes, but why go to Bath? You were going, I forget where, on business.”
“Southampton, but he wasn’t there, and then I got a message to say he’d been seen in Bath. So I went to Bath. Are you interested in this book or not?”
“Not. Who wasn’t there?”
“Nixon.”
She sat up and looked at him. “You were hunting Nixon? In Bath? What was he doing in Bath?”
Edward shrugged. “Sniffing around for an heiress, I presume, but by the time I got there, Nixon had already left. I gather he had no luck, for I didn’t hear of any girl going missing.” He set the book aside.
“No, keep reading it,” she said.
“I thought you weren’t interested in it.”
“I’m not, but I love listening to your voice. You have a beautiful voice.” And while he was reading she could watch him all she liked without either of them being self-conscious.
He snorted, but the tips of his ears turned red. He resumed reading to her.
Lily snuggled down again and pulled the rug around her. Life was good.
• • •
Lily called in at Ashendon House early the next morning. On learning that Lady Rose and Lady Georgiana were still abed, she’d hurried straight upstairs, eager to see them.
Rose sat up in bed, frowning. “You look different. What has that man done to you?”
“Everything possible,” Lily said with a giggle. “Oh, Rose, he loves me! You knew, of course, that I’ve been achingly in love with him for ages, and now—he loves me!” She twirled in a little pirouette and then plumped down on the bed.
“So you’re happy, then, little sister?” Rose asked.
“You need to ask?” George said scornfully. “Just look at her. She’s glowing. So come on, Lily, tell all. Marriage isn’t horrible, I take it.”
“It’s blisssssful.” Lily gave a big, happy sigh. “Now, hurry up, the builders say the house will be ready at two, and there’s something I want to do before that. And I want you two to come with me.”
“Galbraith too busy to escort you?”
“He doesn’t know I’m doing it.” Lily blushed. “You might think it’s silly too, but it’s important to me, and I want you with me. So hurry up and get dressed.”
• • •
“Why Westminster Cathedral?” Rose asked. It was a fine morning, so they’d decided to walk. “St. George’s is a lot closer.”
“I don’t think they do it there,” Lily said.
“Do what? You still haven’t explained what this is about.”
“I want to light candles—like the Catholics do—for the boys who joined the army with Edward and were killed. Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know why I want to do it; it just seems like a comforting sort of thing to do.”
“Comforting for whom?”
“For them, those poor dead boys—to show that they’re not forgotten—and for Edward, and perhaps, for me in a way too.”
“But Galbraith won’t know. Nor will the dead. The dead are dead.”
“I told you you’d think it was silly. But I don’t care, I want to do it. I don’t know why we don’t do it in our church—”
“Popish practice, can’t be doing with it!” George said in a gruff, disapproving voice exactly like the vicar’s, and they laughed.
“Here’s Westminster Bridge. Nearly there now.”
“Lily.” Rose stopped abruptly. “Over there, isn’t that Lavinia Fortescue-Brown?”
“Of the Surrey Fortescue-Browns?” Lily said laughingly. “In London? That girl! Has she run away from school again?”
“I think she might have.” Rose was serious. She pointed to where a young girl stood with an older man, arguing.
“That’s Nixon!” Lily hissed. “He’s trying to abduct her.” She ran toward them. George and Rose followed.
A traveling chaise rumbled over the cobbles and stopped next to Nixon and Lavinia. A door swung open, pushed from within. Nixon grabbed Lavinia and tried to shove her inside.
“Nixon! Don’t you dare!” Lily screamed. “Stop! Abductor! Stop!”
Lavinia fought and kicked, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lily screamed too as she raced toward them.
Nixon kept trying to shove Lavinia into the carriage. Lily got there and whacked him over the head with her reticule. It was too light to do him much damage, but it distracted him enough to make him turn. “You!” he snarled.
“Release that girl!” She grabbed Lavinia’s skirt.
“You interfering bitch!” Nixon swung her a backhander, but Lily saw it coming and ducked,
