“Bang!” Nicky sailed his ship closer to Rose’s. Beatrix’s small head whipped back and forth, following the battle. “Bang, bang!”
“Quieter,” Violet cautioned. “Your sister’s sleeping.”
Rebecca had nodded off in Lily’s arms. Violet gazed at her daughter fondly. “Of course I’ll come sleep at Trentingham. Someday soon. It will be great fun.” Though she sounded enthusiastic, her brown eyes were filled with concern. “Is there something in particular you’d like to talk about?”
“Nothing special. Just…life.”
Rose aimed a tiny Dutch cannon. “I want to talk about Lord Randal.”
The one thing Lily didn’t want to talk about. Though she dearly wished for Rose and Rand’s happiness together, she couldn’t help growing weary of her sister’s gushing. She might be the sweetest of the Ashcroft sisters, but it made her want to gag.
“How many times,” she said with uncharacteristic scorn, “do you suppose he’s asked you to call him Rand?”
“Oh, about a million,” Rose answered gaily. “But I like to think of him as a lord. My lord.”
Lily mentally rolled her eyes.
“Has he shown interest?” Violet asked Rose.
Their sister’s perfect nose went into the air. “He walked with me in the garden today. He’s been very kind.”
“Bang, bang!” Nicky yelled. “Auntie Rose, you’re not watching. You’re going to sink!”
“Quieter,” Violet repeated—rather patiently, Lily thought, considering she’d probably heard her sister utter that word a thousand times or more.
Lily lowered herself to a chair slowly, so as not to wake the baby she held. “Still, he’s hardly about to propose to you, Rose, and now that he’s moving to Lakefield, things will only get more difficult.”
Beatrix began hiccuping.
“That silly cat.” Rose stood, abandoning her ship to the mercy of the English. She narrowed her eyes at Lily. “You made a promise. Do you mean to break it?”
Violet gazed with curiosity at Lily. “What promise?”
“She promised,” Rose answered for her, “to help me win Lord Randal.”
Lily swallowed hard. Hadn’t she been helping? She looked to Violet for a reaction, but her sister’s face was impassive. Her gaze shifted back to Rose. ”Have you ever known me to break a promise?”
Rose appeared to give that some thought. “No,” she said at last. “You always do the right thing.” But she said it as though always doing the right thing were a character flaw.
And though it made no sense at all, Lily was beginning to think that might be true.
FOURTEEN
AFTER DINNER at Trentingham, Lily spent the afternoon tucked away in the drawing room, its thick oak doors shielding her from the chaos all around. Outside, the drive was crammed with carriages waiting to take friends and family home. Inside, uncles bellowed directions for packing and loading while children galloped about the corridors and nursemaids scurried after their charges.
But at the harpsichord in her family’s cream-and-gold drawing room, Lily felt at peace. The ivory keys were cool and smooth beneath her hands, the music rising and falling in perfect, predictable patterns. There was something satisfying in letting notes on a page direct her fingers through familiar motions—motions that produced the same sounds and silences every time, without fail.
Music always made sense.
Lily knew she should join the others and say good-bye. And she would, soon. Just one more song and she’d be ready to face the confusion of the household. Two songs at the most. Well, maybe three, but the third would be on the shorter side—
The door opened, and her mother glided gracefully into the chamber. Mum waited for her to finish. “Dear,” she began as the last note faded, “that was lovely, but you really should be—”
“I know, Mum.” Lily rose, forcing her lips to curve in a smile. “I’ll go make my farewells.”
“That’s my Lily.” Mum smiled in return. “Aunt Cecily could use some help bringing Lucy and Penelope downstairs.” Lucy and Penelope were Lily’s small cousins, aged two and three. “I’m afraid all our servants are engaged with the luggage.”
“Of course I’ll help.” With one last wistful look at the harpsichord, Lily quit the room and followed her mother upstairs, looking forward to hugging the two girls one more time.
But the nursery was empty. “Oh, well,” Mum said cheerfully. “Aunt Cecily must have managed to wrestle the little rapscallions downstairs by herself. Come along, then.” She turned back to the corridor.
Feeling like one of King Charles’s tennis balls being batted back and forth, Lily followed. Then nearly bumped into her mother when she stopped before a door—the door to the room that had been assigned to Rand.
If Lily hadn’t already known that, she would have figured it out by the singing that drifted from inside. Though the words were muffled, she recognized the same tune from the carriage this morning. Even muffled, his voice was gorgeous. It flowed through the gaps around the closed door, warm and rich like melted butter.
Mum knocked and called through the oak. “How do you fare, Rand?”
The door opened, and Rand stood there, a shirt dangling from one hand. “Very well, thank you,” he said, stepping back into the room to toss the garment into his trunk. He looked, Lily thought, like he was relieved to be departing Trentingham.
Well, she was relieved, too. The less she had to watch Rose fawning over him, the better.
A frown on her forehead, Mum pointedly scanned the room. “Where is the maid I arranged for? Did she never turn up?” She nodded to Lily. “Perhaps you can assist Rand with his packing for a few moments.”
“I—” Lily started.
“That’s my Lily.” Without waiting for her agreement, Mum turned to look down the stairwell. “Arabel!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare leave without a bottle of perfume!” And before Lily could say anything, she was gone.
Lily sighed and entered the room, suppressing a smile when she saw Rand’s sloppy
