“When that client is the king,” he agreed.
“Still, it’s unfortunate you’re forced to leave Oxford for the present.” Though fortunate for Rose, she added silently. “Are all Oxford professors allowed to come and go as they please?”
“It’s summer,” he explained. “A four-month break. I usually travel the Continent, looking for lost languages”—he flashed her a lopsided grin—“but I thought I’d stay home this year and settle into my house.”
She followed him into the garden, stepping gingerly since Beatrix had reappeared and was padding along with her, batting at her swishing skirts. “Yours sounds like an exciting life.”
“I’m not sure I’d describe it as exciting, but I enjoy my life, yes. It’s interesting and rewarding.”
They skirted around a sundial, old but lovingly repaired. A few tables of various sizes were scattered about the garden, surrounded by chairs for the guests. Sitting with Lady Carrington, Lily’s friend Judith waved in invitation, her golden curls gleaming in the sun. Lily waved back and started over, but Rand stopped at a tiny square table and pulled out one of the two chairs. “Will you do me the honor?”
“I…” There was no polite way to refuse. “Yes, of course.” She seated herself carefully, sending Judith an expressive shrug. Judith winked and waggled her brows, obviously misunderstanding why Lily was with Rand.
That was something Lily didn’t quite understand herself. It should be Rose here, she thought as Beatrix returned and leapt onto her lap.
“This striped cat is yours, if I’m not mistaken?” Rand took the chair opposite. “However did it find its way here from Trentingham?”
She found herself caught again in that astonishing gray gaze. “I’m guessing you don’t know much about cats.”
“My father raises dogs,” he told her, taking two pewter goblets of wine from a serving maid passing by with a tray. “Big, mean ones who would eat your cat for breakfast.”
Laughing, she pretended to cover Beatrix’s ears. “Shush, you’ll scare her!”
He laughed along with her, smiling another of his inscrutable smiles. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her choking on a bite of tart. Ford was coming out of the house, leading another little group around to see the pipes to the river.
Swallowing the cinnamony apples and custard, she turned back to Rand. “Thank you, but I believe being nice is much more important than being beautiful. Although Rose is very beautiful,” she added as an afterthought. “Don’t you think so, my lord?”
“Rand,” he reminded her. “And yes, Rose is indeed beautiful and being nice is much more important. But you are both beautiful and nice.”
What on earth was she supposed to say to that?
He was impossible.
Her fingers went to the back of her left hand before she realized what she was doing and hid it beneath the table. Rose would love this sort of attention. The two were quite definitely suited.
A sparrow landed on their table, providing a welcome distraction. “Hello, Lady,” she murmured and fed it some crumbs from her plate.
Watching her, Rand absently rubbed the ends of his magnificent golden mane between two fingers. “Are you still hoping to build a home for stray animals?”
After all this time, he remembered her dream. “I am,” she said, both startled and pleased, but also wondering if he thought her goal childish. She’d been a child when she’d chosen it, after all.
But he seemed to be taking her seriously. “Have you made plans?”
“Of sorts. I’ve come into my inheritance this year. I’m planning a simple building so as to have funds left to staff it for a number of years. I’m hoping to obtain donations as well. Eventually enough to keep running it once my money is depleted. And perhaps even build others.”
“A solid strategy. Have you thought of having the building donated?”
“I’d prefer it built specifically for my purpose. To convert a house or other building could cost as much as starting from scratch.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps an architect would donate his services.” His eyes twinkled, looking silver in the afternoon sun. “I happen to know one—”
“Uncle Ford!” Jewel came bounding out of the house, her pink skirts flying. “Uncle Ford! Something’s happened with…”
Her words faded as she disappeared around the corner.
Rowan flew through the door next and darted after her, pink-cheeked to match her skirts, his mouth hanging open in something akin to horror.
Lily jumped to her feet. “They’ve done something,” she exclaimed as Ford appeared at a run and dashed into the house, shouldering his way past all the guests hurrying out. “I knew it!”
FIVE
“I SWEAR, UNCLE Ford, we did nothing.” Jewel held her skirts up off the floor while she turned in a slow circle, assessing the destruction. “Oh,” she wailed, “look at my chamber!”
Rand gestured at his luggage sitting on the four-poster bed—as opposed to the floor, where it had been earlier. “I thought this was my chamber.”
“Uncle Ford had it painted green because that’s my favorite color. I sleep here when I visit. And now it’s all ruined.”
Ford poked his head out of the little room in the corner where he was examining his invention. “At least it’s clean water,” he pointed out defensively.
New water stains on Rand’s luggage were the least of the damage.
The oak floor was sopping. The wet went up the walls, the water having apparently been deeper before escaping the chamber and making its way down the corridor and stairs. Most of the ground floor had flooded as well, including all of the beautiful, expensive carpeting that Violet had had specially woven.
But this room, where the disaster had originated, was by far the worst. The pale green bedclothes dripped, the air held a chill, the carpet felt soggy beneath their feet, and Lily suspected that mildew was setting in already.
“We did nothing,” Rowan repeated. “We just came up to look, and when we opened the door—”
“Now, Rowan,” Lily began, knowing her brother
