Moreover, it was obvious she made Ford happy. A sort of happiness that glowed from his eyes whenever he looked at her. A sort of happiness neither Rand nor Ford had dreamed of back in the days they attended university together.
It was frightening how much the man had changed.
Ford still held his new daughter, her tiny fist tangled in his long brown hair. Unable to resist this time, Rand skimmed his fingers over Rebecca’s dark curls. “So soft,” he murmured.
Violet nodded. “All babies are soft.”
“I haven’t touched a baby since I was a very small child myself.”
“Really?” She looked surprised to hear that. “Well, someday you’ll have children of your own.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “My favorite truism is ‘never say never.’ But God willing, should it happen, it won’t be too soon.”
Her laugh tinkled through the nearly empty chapel. “We really must be going.”
“Come along, Rand,” Ford said. “I want to show you the water closet I built. It’s much better than the ones imported from France.”
A smile curved Rand’s lips as he followed them out the door. It seemed his friend hadn’t changed that much, after all.
TWO
“WHAT?” LILY laughed as her friend Judith Carrington pulled her toward a carriage. “What’s so important you couldn’t wait until we got to Violet’s house to tell me? So important you made me almost drop my niece, not to mention nearly dislocated my arm dragging me out of there?”
Before climbing inside, Lily waved at her parents and sister Rose, lest they think she’d abandoned them. Hers was a handsome family, she thought suddenly. Her father, Joseph, was tall and trim, his eyes a deep green, his real hair still as jet-black as the periwig he wore for his grandchildren’s baptism. Mum and Rose were both dark-haired and statuesque. They looked elegant in their best satin gowns, Chrystabel’s a gleaming gold and Rose’s a rich, shimmering blue.
Looking at them, one would never guess they were so eccentric.
Her mother waved back distractedly, holding her two-year-old grandson, Nicky, as she busily ushered guests out the door to their waiting transportation.
Feeling Judith’s hand on her back, Lily laughed again and lifted her peach silk skirts to duck inside the carriage. “What?” she repeated.
“Oh, just this.” Even though they weren’t ready to leave, Judith pulled the door shut. Then she settled herself with a flounce. “I’m betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Lily blinked at her friend. “As in you’re planning to wed?”
“Well, Mama is doing the planning. But it’s ever so exciting. Come October, I’m going to be a married woman. Can you believe it, Lily?”
“No, I cannot believe it.” The third of her friends to marry this year. Yesterday they’d been children; now suddenly they were supposed to be all grown-up. “Who will be your groom?” Lily asked.
“Lord Grenville. Didn’t your mother tell you she’d suggested he offer for my hand? Father says it’s a brilliant match.”
Grenville was wealthy, but thirty-five years old to Judith’s twenty. “Do you love him?” Lily wondered aloud. She hoped so. Judith was plump and pretty, but even more important, she was genuinely nice. A good friend who deserved happiness.
“I barely know him. But Mama assures me we’ll grow to love each other—or get along tolerably, at least.” The excitement faded from Judith’s blue eyes, replaced with a tinge of anxiety. Her fingers worried the embroidery on her aqua underskirt. “It will all work out fine, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure of it, too,” Lily soothed, reaching across to take her friend’s cold, pale hand. She squeezed, wishing she were as certain as she sounded. Lily’s parents had promised their daughters they could choose their own husbands, but she knew it didn’t work that way for most young women.
Her family was different. The Ashcroft motto—Interroga Conformationem, translated as Question Convention—said it all.
The Carringtons, on the other hand, were as conventional as roast goose on Christmas Day. Judith forced a smile and pushed back a lock of bright yellow hair that had escaped her careful coiffure. “Who was that handsome man who stood as godfather?”
Lily sat back. “One of Ford’s old friends. Lord Randal Nesbitt.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun to be newly wedded together, have babies together?” Some of the color returned to Judith’s cheeks. “You should marry him.”
“Wherever did you get that idea?” Lily crossed her arms over the long, stiff stomacher that covered the laces on the front of her gown. “I barely know Rand.”
“Rand,” Judith repeated significantly, making it clear she’d noticed Lily’s familiar use of the name. “What does that matter? I hardly know Lord Grenville, either. And believe me, he doesn’t look at me the way Rand was looking at you.”
“Looking at me?” Lily echoed weakly. She’d hardly looked at him at all. She’d been focused on the cooing baby in her arms, her sister’s first daughter. Her first niece. Nicky was great fun, of course, but now she’d have a little girl to play house with, to fix her hair, to—
“Lord, he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.” Judith’s lips curved in an impish grin. “Watching him was certainly more entertaining than the baptism.”
Lily felt her face heat and wondered if Judith could be right—if instead of watching the ceremony, everyone had been watching Rand watch her.
But surely that hadn’t been the case. Why would Rand be interested in her? The two of them had nothing in common. Her friend had seen something that wasn’t there. “You just have the wedding fever,” she said lightly, rubbing the faint scars on the back of her hand. “Besides, if he’s interested in anyone, I’m sure it’s Rose. They share a passion for languages.”
“Ah,” Judith said with a smug tilt of her pert nose. “You know more about the man than you’re willing to admit.”
Ignoring that, Lily leaned to look out the window. But there was a long queue of carriages. They were going nowhere.
“Who’s that?” her friend asked, following her
