“Do you think so?”
“Goodness, I’m sure of it.” She slanted a glance to Rose before looking back to her friend. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Absolutely. But I’ve seen Lord Grenville, and—”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Lily rushed to clarify. “I just wondered if you believed. In the abstract.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Judith had always been a romantic. “That’s why I—”
“I believe in love at first sight,” Rose interrupted. “I fell in love with Lord Randal the very first time I saw him.”
Despite her worries, Judith grinned. “You fall in love with every gentleman you see.”
“I do not,” Rose protested. “Only the handsome ones. Like Rand.”
Rand, Rand, Rand. Lily rose and paced back to the doll, staring at its pale blue magnificence. She would never feel right wearing a wedding dress before Rose was Lady Somebody.
“There are cakes downstairs,” Judith said into the sudden silence.
Lily was all too happy to escape the discussion, but no sooner had they reentered the drawing room than Rose revived it. “Mum,” she asked, “do you believe in love at first sight?”
“What nonsense,” Lady Carrington said, her chins trembling with indignation. “Love grows between two suited individuals. It was that way for me, and it will be the same for my Judith and Lord Grenville.” She brushed crumbs from her mouth and motioned her daughter closer. “Come here, dear. Have a cake.”
Judith took two. Evidently her illness wasn’t affecting her appetite.
“Mum?” Rose pressed.
Their mother set down her teacup. “I do believe in love at first sight,” she said firmly. “I experienced it with your father.”
Lady Carrington harrumphed.
“Of course,” Mum continued undaunted, “dear Joseph took some convincing. I’ve yet to meet a man who believes in love at first sight.”
Lily knew one. One who was trying to convince her.
“Nonsense,” Lady Carrington repeated as she reached for another cake.
Mum smiled charmingly and changed the subject. “Have you heard the latest?” she asked, lifting her cup. “Two more of my introductions are culminating in marriages. Lady Eleanor Randolph is betrothed to Lord Ducksworth. And you’re not going to believe this.” She paused to sip for effect. “I’ve managed to match the eternal bachelor.”
Lady Carrington’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”
“Yes.” Mum nodded proudly. “Lord Percival Newcombe.”
“No!” her friend gasped, a cake halfway to her lips. “To whom?”
EIGHTEEN
“JOSEPH,” Chrystabel said as she slid into bed beside him that night, “do you believe in love at first sight?”
Eyeing her warily, he set down his book. “Is this a trick question?”
“No.”
“Then no. I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
“No?”
“Yes? Is yes the right answer? I’ve never thought about it, my love.”
She laughed. He was such a man.
Chrystabel loved the nights, the precious hours spent alone with her husband in their thick-walled bedchamber. Here, where the sound of her voice competed with nothing but an occasional crackle from the fireplace, her Joseph could hear her perfectly.
He leaned to place a kiss on her forehead, then propped his book back up. “Does this have something to do with Lily and Rand? Are your plans not working out?”
She sighed. “I’m certain he’s interested in her.”
“Love at first sight?”
“Maybe. Do you remember how he looked at her, even four years ago?”
“No. I don’t remember.” He turned a page. “I’m not sure I noticed.”
Of course he hadn’t. He was a man. “Well, it was quite obvious he was drawn to her then, and it’s even more obvious now. Surely you’ve noticed it now?”
“Not really.”
“Even since I pointed it out?” she asked incredulously
He set his book aside and rolled to face her. ”I have eyes only for you, Chrysanthemum,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only you.”
Half charmed, half exasperated, she snorted. “Well, Lily feels something for him, too—of that I’m sure. But despite all my efforts, the poor boy isn’t making much progress. After I noticed Rand runs every day by the river, I told Lily that Snowflake needed some exercise, but—”
“Poor boy must not have my talents,” her husband interrupted, then pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. “Are you sure he’s good enough for Lily?”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said. But she didn’t move away. “I told you, didn’t I, that Violet said Lily promised Rose she’d stay away from Rand? Besides feeling bound to that ridiculous pledge, Lily is genuinely concerned for Rose. I can see it in her eyes, in her attitude. She’s afraid to put her own happiness before her sister’s.”
“Give it some time, love. She’ll come to her senses.”
“But Rand’s house will be ready soon,” she fretted. “He’ll be leaving.”
“Give it some time,” he repeated with another kiss. “If they’re right for each other, he’ll be back. You didn’t win me in a day.”
Oh yes, she had, she thought with a secret smile as she moved to blow out the candle, then tucked herself back in his arms. It just proved her finesse with men that he hadn’t noticed.
NINETEEN
ONCE IN A great while, Rand Nesbitt found himself truly drunk. And though the deplorable condition invariably gave rise to next-morning regrets, it was also a jolly good bit of fun.
Sitting in Ford’s laboratory, Rand stared at a nearly blank piece of paper. He blinked hard to make out the symbols, but they were just meaningless shapes. Unless… “That one on the end seems familiar.” A shape sort of like an hourglass, except not really. Why, it almost looked like—
“It’s a woman’s figure!” Ford smacked the table. “A rather curvy woman, at that.”
“I quite agree,” Rand cried, and then proceeded to laugh himself silly. When he finished, he took another swig of brandy. ”We’ve been here all night and translated only a single sentence,” he said, finding himself fascinated, in an odd, detached sort of way, at hearing the slur in
