She put her hand over his, stopping the motion. “Was it a practical joke?”
Not looking at her, he nodded.
“Sometimes,” she said, “we don’t think things through before we do them.” She hadn’t thought at all before making that promise. Not for one moment. If she’d stopped to think, maybe she would have said no.
“But I feel terrible, Lily.”
She raised a hand to turn his chin toward her, meeting his regretful green gaze. “If it was truly an honest mistake, you cannot let it make you feel so terrible. Just learn from it and act differently in the future. This mistake—did anyone get hurt?”
He shook his head violently.
“Then don’t be too hard on yourself. You shouldn’t suffer for the rest of your life because of one simple mistake.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Don’t you even want to know what happened?”
“No. It’s between you and your conscience,” she told him, glad to find he had one. Her brother was growing up. Besides, it had only been a misfired prank. “Do you want to tell me?”
“No.” He smiled, a true smile. “You’re right. I shouldn’t suffer for the rest of my life. I think I’ll ride over to Benjamin’s house and see if he wants to go fishing.”
“You do that,” she said. And with one more grin, he was off, knocking over the pretty bottle in his mad rush to leave.
She righted the blown-glass container, wishing she could right her own wrong so easily. Hers had been a simple mistake, too, an honest mistake. A promise she’d made impulsively, never guessing she’d come to regret it. How could she have known? What were the odds that the one gentleman Rose had ever seriously wanted would turn out to be Lily’s perfect match?
The gentleman in question would be here this afternoon, and she hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d say to him. But he wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. Feeling restless but not up to anything strenuous, she decided to closet herself in the drawing room and soothe her nerves with some music.
When the gilt mantel clock chimed noon, Parkinson ushered her friend Judith inside.
“Keep playing,” Judith said with a wave of one plump hand. She walked closer and brushed her fingers over a striking new flower arrangement that Rose had set on a small table beside the harpsichord. “What’s this song?”
“I’m not sure.” Her fingers flying over the keys, Lily smiled. “Rand hums the tune sometimes.”
“It’s cheerful.”
“I thought if I could work out the notes, he might enjoy hearing it, whatever it is. He told me he would visit this afternoon, so—”
“Visit you in specific?” Judith looked delighted. “I knew there was something between you. Has he asked your father for your hand?”
“No!” Lily’s fingers stilled, the abrupt silence a statement all its own. “You know I’ve been told I can make my own decision,” she said quietly. “And besides, Rose claimed him first.”
Judith sat beside her on the bench. “You look sad,” she observed. “Do you wish you’d claimed him first, Lily?”
“Does it matter? Rose is older.” Lily coughed. “I cannot wed before her.”
“Nonsense. You can if you’re in love.” Judith pulled at a thread on her apple-green bodice while Lily coughed some more. “I would give anything to be in love with Lord Grenville.”
Maybe Judith was right. If Lily truly loved Rand, should she suffer all her life because she’d made a simple mistake? What had she told Rowan?
But unlike Rowan’s mistake where no one had been hurt, breaking her promise would hurt someone. Someone she loved dearly, even though she was cross with her now.
Lily gazed at her friend, tears welling in her eyes for them both. Then she gave an enormous sneeze—a sneeze that made the flowers beside the harpsichord quiver.
They both laughed as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and noisily blew her nose.
“Lily,” Judith said. “I’m so sorry I made you ill.”
“It was worth it to see your wedding gown.” Wiping her eyes, Lily smiled. “You’re better now?”
“Much. I was really very ill for only a single day. The next day I was a little better, and the day following that, I was almost good as new.”
“Well, I was very ill yesterday, and I feel better today, so tomorrow I shall be good as new, too.”
“You’re so nice.” Judith’s golden curls swished as she shook her head, her voice laced with admiration. “How do you do it?”
Lily shrugged. “I’m not all that nice.” She didn’t feel all that nice, not inside, not when she was deceiving Rose.
“Yes, you are. Most folks wouldn’t be so charitable if a friend made them ill. But you’re always ever so nice.”
“It’s the only talent I have, being nice,” Lily said. “Violet is intellectual and ambitious, and Rose can speak half a dozen languages and create beautiful flower arrangements. I’m just nice.” When her friend stared at her disbelievingly, she bristled. “It’s what I am, Judith. If I wasn’t nice to everyone, I’d be nothing.”
“You’re not nice to everyone,” Judith argued.
“I’m not?” The two words came out faint and forlorn. Lily swallowed hard, ignoring her sore throat. “I try to be nice.”
“You’re not nice to you,” Judith told her impatiently. “You put everyone else first.”
“But that’s the nice thing to do.”
“You’re so worried about everyone else’s happiness, I think you forget about seeing to your own. Stop being so nice, and I think you’ll be happier.” Frowning, Judith glanced out the window. Her eyes widened. “There he is now.”
“Who?”
“Rand.” Judith blushed. “Lord Randal, I mean. Upon my word, he’s handsome. What happened to his hair?”
“Did you not hear our barn burned? While he was rescuing my animals, his hair caught fire, and he had to cut it.” Lily rose and went to the window, just in time to see Rand slide off his horse—and be greeted by her sister.
“He saved your animals? Oh, Lily, that’s so romantic.”
“It was very kind.” She watched Rose laugh and take Rand by the arm, leading him toward the small redbrick summerhouse. Though he looked confused,
