“It’s a big tree,” Rand commented, looking like he didn’t quite know what to say to Lily’s little brother. She supposed that living at a university, he hadn’t much experience with eleven-year-old boys.
“Zounds, it’s bigger than big.” Rowan swung back and forth, looking up at the cloudy sky through the canopy of leaves. “This tree has been here for more than three hundred years. And Father says we must never chop it down, even though it destroys the symmetry of his gardens.”
“Symmetry.” Rand raised a brow. “That’s a big word for a lad your age.”
Hauling his feet up, Rowan crouched on the big branch and began climbing. “I know,” he said proudly, his voice drifting from above. “What does it mean?”
Rand and Lily both laughed.
“What’s that?” Father demanded, noticing all of them at last. Lily laughed even harder, her amusement ending in a volley of coughs.
“It means balanced proportions,” Rand said loudly enough for even her father to hear.
“Ah, symmetry,” Father said. “You know, I’ve been advised to chop down this twenty-guinea oak for the sake of symmetry.”
Amid more laughter, Rand moved closer to Lily’s father so the man could hear him better. Rand was patient with him, she thought. Not many men would be.
Yet another reason to love Rand Nesbitt.
He raised his voice. “Why do you call it the twenty-guinea oak?”
Father smiled, always eager to answer that question, eager to tell the story that Lily had heard countless times. “A passing timber merchant once offered me ten guineas for the wood, saying it was quite the most enormous tree he’d ever seen.”
“Ten guineas, not twenty?”
“I’m getting to that,” Father said. “Well, the truth was, I’d been thinking of chopping the old boy down anyway, seeing as it impairs the symmetry of this garden. But I’m not one to act too rashly, you see, and so I told the merchant I’d like to think about his offer overnight. Next morning, bright and early, the fellow was at my door, increasing his offer to twenty guineas.” Father waved the long, pointed fork in his hand. “I figured that if the wood’s value could increase by a hundred percent overnight, the tree was an investment worth keeping.”
Rand laughed out loud, and Father grinned. Lily was glad they seemed to get along. But her smile faded when her mother arrived with Rose and Judith.
The gray sky might be threatening a gentle summer rain, but Rose’s expression looked like thunder.
Fresh sympathy tightened Lily’s sore throat.
Rowan dropped from the tree. “What is it? You can tell us now. Is it something happy?”
It was, for her and Rand. Lily felt like her emotions were riding a seesaw, but she couldn’t help the smile that returned to her face. “Lord Randal has asked me to marry him.”
Suddenly everyone was talking at once.
Chrystabel threw her arms around her. “I knew it! Congratulations, dear.”
“Can Jewel come to the wedding?” Rowan asked.
“No,” their mother said. “Jewel is related to Violet’s husband, not Lily’s.” She kissed both of Lily’s cheeks, then pulled back and winked. “Even though I didn’t arrange the marriage, I wish you every happiness.” Not one to stand on ceremony, she turned into Rand’s arms next. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” he said, hugging her back rather awkwardly. Lily gave him credit for trying, knowing her family could be overwhelming.
Rowan tugged on her gown. “Lily?”
She kissed his forehead, laughing when he blushed and pulled away. “Jewel may attend,” she told him, “if her parents agree.” She wanted her brother to be happy, too, and after all, it was her wedding. She ought to have a say in the guest list.
Her wedding, she thought in a daze. It still didn’t seem real.
“What’s all this?” Father asked.
Rand cleared his throat and raised his voice. “With your permission, sir, I’d like the honor of wedding your daughter.”
“If you know my daughter well enough to wed her,” the earl bellowed back, “you know she’s not about to ask my permission. None of my flowers ask me before doing anything.”
“We can all hear, darling,” Chrystabel reminded him. But he had Lily wrapped in a hug and wasn’t paying attention. When he released her, he turned to shake Rand’s hand.
“Well done,” he yelled, and Lily just smiled and shook her head. If Rand could get through this day with her family, she reckoned he would learn to fit in just fine.
Judith tapped her on the shoulder, her pretty face lit up with a grin. “We’re going to become old married ladies together!”
Lily gave her friend a hard hug, wishing Judith could be as happy about her own wedding. “Let’s get married before we worry about growing old.”
“Yes,” Rose said, “I’m the one who’s old.”
Finally, having put it off as long as she could, Lily turned to her sister.
Rose’s dark eyes were black with fury. “How could you?” she asked.
How could she what? Lily wondered.
What did her sister mean by those three words? How could she break her promise? How could she marry before her older sister? How could she steal a man her sister wanted? How could she be so selfish as to see to her own happiness?
All of it, undoubtedly, Lily thought with a resigned sigh. But while her heart ached for her sister’s pain, and she regretted her part in causing it, she refused to accept the guilt.
Rose had no right to ask for that promise. She’d never had a prayer of winning Rand. Some things weren’t meant to be.
And others were meant to be, like Rand and Lily.
Wanting to explain, Lily took her sister’s arm to draw her aside.
Rose shook her off. “Don’t touch me. You promised.” She did move away from the others, though, closer to the oak. “How could you?” she repeated.
“Because I love him, and I should never have promised, and I couldn’t believe the way you treated him in the summerhouse—”
“You said you’d help,” Rose interrupted through gritted teeth, “and then you told me to do the wrong
