As they stepped onto the cobbles, a footman swung the carriage door wide, and an oval face appeared in the opening.
Dressed in black mourning, Margery looked dazed. She was a pale young woman, ethereal almost, and Lily imagined that her recent ordeal had made her even more so. It wasn’t every day a woman lost her betrothed to violence.
Lily could hardly conceive of how she’d feel should such a thing happen to Rand. To be planning a life and have it snatched from her so suddenly…well, she was certain she’d look pale, too. Margery currently stood in the way of Lily and Rand’s happiness, and Lily had been half expecting to resent her on sight. But now she could feel only sympathy.
Even in her grief, Margery was beautiful. Her hair, so light it was nearly white, framed her face in perfect curls. Her flawless skin looked translucent, and her eyes were a startling deep green. Set off by her pale loveliness, they looked huge. And very, very disturbed.
Lily’s heart went out to her…until the woman spotted Rand and her delicate face lit up. Then Lily’s heart plunged to her knees instead.
Rand helped Margery down the carriage steps, where she promptly burst into tears, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.
Lily stood by while the love of her life awkwardly patted her rival’s back. “Margery. Ah, Margery.”
“Randy,” Margery choked out, gripping him harder.
He’d told Lily that Margery hadn’t loved Alban, but it was obvious she did love Rand. Watching them together was more than Lily could bear. She tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be playing with your father’s dogs.”
“Lily—”
“No. You need to talk. If I’m not with the dogs, look for me down by the river.”
Resolutely she walked away, hoping she wasn’t walking out of Rand’s life.
FORTY-FOUR
“RANDY.”
Despite the worried look on Lily’s face, and Margery’s obvious distress, Rand smiled at her use of the childhood name. Life might have been miserable back when he was known as Randy, but it had also been simpler. And this girl had never been part of the misery.
“Margery.” He squeezed her shoulder, feeling responsible for her happiness, the same way he’d felt when she came to Hawkridge as a small girl. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll make it right.”
It seemed the old bonds were still there, like with so many others on the estate. How could he have ignored them all these years? And if the worst came to transpire, could he walk away again, abandon them in their need?
He wasn’t sure he could.
“Shall we go inside?” he asked her.
With an obvious effort, she controlled her tears. “Is your father at home?”
“He’s in his study.”
“Then no. I’m not ready to see him. Can we just walk?”
“Of course.” One arm around her shoulders, he drew her toward the gardens. As they rounded the corner of the house, his gaze drifted toward the dog enclosure, but he didn’t see Lily.
Heading toward the grassy paths where he’d walked with Lily last night, he sighed. He wouldn’t lose her. That was unthinkable. But for now, he had to concentrate on Margery. She needed him, too.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he began carefully.
“Alban?” To his shock, she all but snorted. “I’d never wish death on a man, but I cannot pretend to miss him.” She dashed the wetness from her eyes.
“Then…you’re not crying because of him?”
“Heavens, no.” She took a deep breath, looking better already. Some color was returning to her cheeks. “Alban was cruel. Surely you remember how he was as a boy.” She shuddered, perhaps remembering things that Rand would rather not know. “I never wanted to marry him.”
“Then why did you agree?”
“It was my father’s last wish. Not that that stopped me from begging to get out of it. But Uncle William would hear none of it.”
The marquess wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d called him that since her girlhood. To Rand, it had always sounded too friendly a name for the old goat.
In a sheltered area between two rows of trees, she stopped. “Randy…”
When she hesitated, he turned to her and smiled. “No one calls me that anymore, you know.”
Her own smile was wan, but there. “Shall I call you Professor? Or, oh, how could I have forgotten? My lord baron.” She executed an absurd, formal curtsy.
“Rand will do,” he told her, glad to see the old Margery peeking through all the misery.
“Rand, then,” she repeated, growing serious again. “I shall try to remember, but you’ll have to remind me if I forget. Rand…I…are you aware that Uncle William expects me to marry you now?”
“He’s told me as much,” he answered, suddenly apprehensive.
She resumed walking, absently trailing one hand along a hedge as she went by. “Who was that girl with you?”
“Lady Lily Ashcroft, the Earl of Trentingham’s daughter.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“I think so.” He watched her elegant fingers skim the leaves. Margery was beautiful, too, but in a fragile sort of way. She was taller than Lily and not as fine-boned, but Margery would never allow dogs to slobber all over her. She wouldn’t climb fences or laugh at bawdy songs, either. Margery could be a saucebox, but beneath it all, she was a very proper young woman.
Well, she’d been stuck at the Marquess of Hawkridge’s household all this time, Rand reminded himself. It was a wonder she had any spunk left in her at all.
She stopped again. “Why is Lady Lily here?”
“She…ah…well, when I received the summons from the marquess, it said only that—”
“Are you in love with her?”
He met her gaze. There was no sense in lying—the truth would surely be obvious anyway. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”
“Thank goodness.”
He blinked, nonplussed. “Pardon?”
“I don’t want to marry you, Randy. I mean, Rand.” A small smile curved her lips, then faded. “I didn’t want to marry your brother, and I don’t want to marry you. I love
