“What’s your kitten’s name?” Rand asked.
Lily gazed down at the ball of fluff vibrating against her middle. “This isn’t my kitten. I’ve never seen it before in my life.” Still stroking the soft apricot fur, she looked up at Ford. “Is it yours?”
He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware.”
Of course, Ford wasn’t apt to pay much attention to anything that did grow, unless it was some sort of muck in a beaker in his laboratory.
“Cats just come to Lily,” Rose told Rand.
He smiled. “They must be able to tell she’s the nurturing sort.”
Lily’s cheeks heated. “I’m fond of animals,” she said. “That’s all.”
“She’s the mothering sort.” Rose sidled closer to Rand.
“Rose,” Mum said softly.
But that didn’t deter Lily’s sister. “A fellow doesn’t care to be mothered,” she murmured, laying a hand on Rand’s arm. “Does he, Lord Randal?”
“I cannot speak for other fellows,” he said, and left it at that. In keeping with the tactful wording, he gently extricated himself from her grip by crossing to his friend. “Ford, I do believe your other guests are getting impatient.”
“And Violet asked if you’d freshen some of her floral arrangements,” Mum reminded Rose.
Although Rose had a knack for turning flowers into towering works of art—and enjoyed her hobby—she seemed reluctant to leave Rand’s side. “Violet can wait awhile.”
“Now, dear, that’s not very sisterly.” Mum smiled at the gentlemen. “Please excuse us,” she said as she took Rose by the arm and led her off.
“I must give others the tour,” Ford said and followed them.
And just like that, Lily found herself alone with Rand, wondering what she should say.
FOUR
IT WASN’T THAT Lily didn’t know how to talk to gentlemen. No matter what Londoners might say, there was plenty of society to be had out here in the countryside. Lily could hardly remember a time when boys hadn’t buzzed around her and Rose like flies. None of them had ever made her nervous.
But for some reason butterflies seemed to be battling one another in her stomach.
And Rand’s piercing eyes seemed to see it.
With a nice smile, he gestured toward three oak trees hung with swings. Two children sat on a broad one built for a couple. “Is that your brother, grown so tall? He was an imp of six last I saw him.”
“Rowan is still an imp, I assure you.” Lily smiled back. Casting about for something else to say, she added, “The girl with him is Ford’s niece, Jewel.”
“They make a handsome pair.” A frown appeared between Rand’s eyes. “Do you think they’re sitting rather close on that swing?”
Their raven heads were rather close together. But Lily wasn’t worried. “They’re longtime friends. Rowan thinks of her as a sister—or a brother, more like.”
The two children slipped off the swing and headed toward the house. When Jewel reached for Rowan’s hand, he hid it behind his back. Watching, Rand laughed. “Apparently Jewel doesn’t feel quite so sisterly towards the lad. And I reckon Rowan will wake up someday and notice she’s a girl.”
“And a pretty one at that.”
“Almost as pretty as you.”
Lily had received compliments before. But most young men were glib, flattery tripping off their tongues with little thought and many flowery phrases. Rand’s words were simple and soft-spoken.
And he should be saying them to Rose.
Taken aback, Lily clutched the kitten tighter. The animal squeaked and leapt from her arms, landing by Rand’s feet. It looked up at her with an injured expression before scampering away.
Lily stared down at Rand’s black shoes, long-tongued with stiff ribbon bows. The heels were black, too, not red as was the fashion. Her gaze drifted up muscled legs to his trim waistcoat, noting his slate blue velvet suit was well-tailored but free of ribbons and baubles. Smart but not foppish.
Perfect.
When her gaze reached his face, he wore a grin full of meaning she couldn’t decipher. Did he think she’d been ogling him?
Hang it, she had been ogling him. Why, she was acting like Rose!
To her great relief, he chose not to comment, instead motioning to where Jewel and Rowan made their way toward the house—by way of a stroll atop an eight-foot-high stone wall. “Is that wise?”
“Not to worry,” she replied. “My brother is a monkey. Forgive me, but I’m after a turn in the garden…”
Though she’d meant to excuse herself, Rand turned with her toward the formal garden, a charming area divided by low hedges cut in geometric patterns, the flower beds dotted with cheerful reds, yellows, and purples. “Do you suppose Jewel is taking him to see the water closet?”
“Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re plotting a way to use it for a prank.”
“I would hope not,” he said. “I imagine they could make quite a mess.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Chamber pots were hardly appropriate conversational subject matter, no matter how new and fancy. “So you’re staying with Violet and Ford until the translation is finished?”
“I’ll be here for just a week or two, until my house is ready. Although I do hope to make good progress on the translation in that time.” At the edge of the garden, he stopped beside a long table laden with food. “Would you care for some refreshments?”
Though Lily was famished after this morning’s lengthy ceremonies, she hesitated, looking about. But Rose was nowhere in sight. “Yes, thank you.”
He handed her an empty plate and took another for himself. “The house was supposed to be completed long before now, but the builder is an old friend, and you know how that goes—when something else comes up, it’s always easier to put off a friend’s job than a contracted client’s.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” she observed.
“Quite the contrary. We’ve known each other since we were knee-high lads in dresses. It’s just that Kit has recently taken on a demanding new client. Very powerful fellow.”
“Oh? Anyone I’ve heard of?”
“You may have.” Piling fruit on his plate, Rand cast her a glance. “Charles Stuart.”
“Oh!” Lily giggled as
