“The marquess?”
“My father. But like I said, I do well enough.” When his gaze swept her gown, she felt as though he were disrobing her with his eyes. “I expect I can afford to dress you in the lovely manner to which you’re accustomed,” he added with a grin.
She smoothed her periwinkle skirts. “I’d wear sackcloth to be with you,” she said quietly. “You just sang of love and laughter. Money cannot buy that. Besides, I do have a marriage portion. Three thousand pounds.”
Three thousand pounds was a more than respectable dowry, considering the average shopkeeper earned less than fifty pounds a year. But Rand didn’t look as though he cared, as though the money mattered at all.
At their feet, Beatrix started hiccuping, and he leaned to pick her up. “What of your animals?”
It was startling to realize she hadn’t considered them, even more startling to see Rand—an avowed dog person—with her cat on his lap.
He absently stroked Beatrix’s striped fur. “I do have a garden,” he started; but then a corner of his mouth curved up in a rueful half smile. “Well, I don’t expect your father would consider it a garden, but I’ve a patch of land behind my house. I can ask Kit to toss up a shelter of sorts…but it won’t be the grand animal home you’ve been envisioning.”
The fact that he cared about her dreams made tears prick in her eyes. “It sounds perfect, Rand, enough for the strays I have now. And once I come into my inheritance…well, I always envisioned building here at Trentingham, anyway. I can hire local people to care for the animals.” It was what she did for the weeks when she and her family went to London, and the employment, however temporary, had always been appreciated. “Perhaps I’ll be able to visit—”
“Of course you will. Oxford isn’t far, and I expect you’ll want to see your family often.”
“A positive statement,” she observed, risking a tiny smile. “Does that mean you’re finished trying to talk me out of…”
She couldn’t say the rest of it. He hadn’t, after all, formally asked her to marry him. And the possibility was so shockingly new to her, she hadn’t yet thought it over. So she let the words hang there, waiting.
It seemed like forever.
“Yes,” he said at last. He squeezed her hands again and leaned near, until his mouth nearly touched hers. His eyes were so close she could see flecks of black and steel blue in the gray. His breath teased her lips, making them tingle. “Since I’ve apparently failed to talk you out of it, what do you say, sweetheart? Can we play and sing together for the rest of our lives?”
His words were calm and measured, as though he were proposing a business arrangement.
But his heart was in those amazing eyes.
Unlike Rose, Lily admired Rand’s success in the face of his family’s disapproval. That strength was one of the things she loved about him—through good times and bad, a woman could depend on a man like Rand. But she knew him better than Rose did. She knew that beneath the self-sufficiency lurked a hurt little boy who needed someone to hold him.
Did she want to be that someone? Was she willing to do it at the expense of her sister? Could she, for the first time in her life, be selfish enough to put herself first?
She remembered Rose’s behavior in the summerhouse and knew the answer was yes.
And she didn’t even have to say it. He read her response in her eyes, and both joy and relief leapt into his.
Then their lips met, and her heart took flight. She’d never thought she could feel such happiness. He was everything she’d wanted, and she hadn’t even known it. He kissed her over and over, and she wished he would never stop.
A part of her wondered if this was really happening, because it felt like a magical dream. A fantasy come true.
When he finally pulled away, he uneasily eyed the assorted creatures who’d been watching. Appearing startled to find Beatrix on his lap, he set her atop the harpsichord. “I certainly hope they don’t expect to witness our wedding night,” he said wryly.
She blushed and laughed, then laughed even harder when they both began coughing.
Life was wonderful, even with a stuffy nose.
TWENTY-SIX
WHEN LILY AND Rand told Chrystabel they had news for the family, her eyes sparkled with delight.
“Since your father’s already in the gardens,” she said, “why don’t you find him and then wait by the twenty-guinea oak? In the time it would take me to explain why I want him to come inside, I can gather everyone else and meet you there.” A wide smile on her face, she hurried off.
It didn’t take long to find Lily’s father, who happened to be weeding a flower bed near the oak, using a hook and a forked stick. Lily decided to let him continue puttering.
She and Rand waited beneath the tree. “I should have told Rose first,” she suddenly realized, knowing her sister was going to be devastated. A stab of sympathy took her by surprise.
Rand shot a glance to her oblivious father before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Because of your promise?”
“You knew?”
He squeezed, drawing her closer. “Your mother would never forgive you if you told your sister first.”
“True,” Lily murmured, realizing a second truth: She didn’t want to tell Rose first. She didn’t want to deal with her own anger or her sister’s.
“Hey.” He tilted her face up and touched a finger to the dent in her chin. “You’re supposed to be happy right now.”
“I am,” she said and smiled.
Next Rowan hurried out to meet them under the gigantic oak. “Benjamin couldn’t fish,” he said with a pout. “Mum said you have something to tell us?”
“Yes,” Lily said, “we do.”
“So what is it?”
She tweaked his nose. “You’ll have to wait for everyone else.”
With a small huff of impatience, he leapt to catch
