The rough bark bit into Lily’s back, and she hit her head against it, trying to get some distance from Rose’s vehemence. “No, it isn’t,” she protested. “It’s the right way. Rand was just the wrong man.”
“Oh, I don’t want to talk to you!” With a swish of her skirts, Rose crossed her arms and turned away.
Shaking, Lily walked back to the others.
“I think we shall have a picnic tomorrow to celebrate,” Mum said brightly. “With champagne.”
Rowan made a face. “No champagne.”
“You don’t have to drink any,” Lily said woodenly, rubbing her head where it hurt. She looked up at the sky and wished she felt more like celebrating. “It will probably be raining anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Mum said. “If it rains tonight, it shall be clear and beautiful tomorrow.”
“A picnic sounds very nice.” Shooting Rose a concerned glance where she still stood near the tree, Rand moved to wrap an arm around Lily’s shoulders. “Thank you, Lady Trentingham. And I should like to invite your family to Oxford the day after that. Lily should see her new home. I’ll give you the grand tour, and you can all stay overnight. I’ve no furniture yet in my house, save in the one room I’ve been using to sleep, but an inn lies directly behind it.”
“An inn,” Rowan breathed. “May we go, Mum?” He looked more excited about the journey than he had about the champagne—or the marriage, for that matter.
“We’ve stayed at an inn only once since Rowan was born,” Chrystabel explained to Rand, “and he was too young to remember.” She smiled at her son. “Yes, Rowan, I expect that we can go. I should like to see where my daughter will be living. And Rose always enjoys traveling, don’t you, Rose?”
She looked to Rose, but Rose wasn’t there.
Lily turned just in time to see her march up the portico steps and slam into the house.
“I’ll go after her,” Judith said sympathetically.
“No, I’ll talk to her.” Mum started toward the house, then paused to look back at Lily. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ve done nothing wrong, but she’s hurting now, and I can’t say I really blame her. She’ll come to terms with it sooner or later.”
“I hope it will be sooner,” Lily said with a sigh.
Despite her love for Rand, if her own sister couldn’t be happy for her, she wondered if she could be truly happy herself.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“WELL, Chrysanthemum,” Joseph said as she crawled into bed that night, “your daughter is betrothed as planned. Are you happy?”
“Happy? I’m not sure who’s more miserable, Rose or Lily. Or me.”
Rand and Judith had left. Rose had taken supper in her room. Chrystabel had spent over an hour trying to soothe her, then another trying to convince Lily that her sister wouldn’t hate her the rest of their lives.
Rain pattered on the window, spelling doom for her picnic, and a headache was brewing, relentlessly hammering her temples. She hated when everything didn’t go the way she’d planned.
“Roll over,” Joseph said. “I’ll rub your back.”
She did, snuggling into the feather mattress and sighing when his hands began to work their magic. For a spell she just lay there, letting his fingers knead away her tension.
“Better?” he asked after a while.
“Getting there.” The pounding in her temples was fading to a mere annoyance. “I’m afraid Lily might change her mind.”
“No, she won’t.” He rubbed circles on the small of her back. “She’s in love.”
“You finally noticed?”
Running his thumbs down her spine, he snorted. “I haven’t the talent you seem to possess of discerning a person’s feelings by the look in his or her eyes. I know she’s in love because you told me.”
“Ahh.” The sound was half agreement, half bliss. “Lily is feeling very badly, though, that Rose is hurting. I’m afraid she’ll break the betrothal because her sister is unhappy. Choose her relationship with Rose over Rand.”
He trailed his fingertips lightly down her legs. “Have you no sympathy for Rose?”
“Of course I do. She’s my daughter, and I ache for her. Although she had no right to bind her sister to that ridiculous promise, I understand that she feels betrayed. And yes, her words in the summerhouse were unwise, but I don’t believe for a minute that our Rose is truly that calculating. I suspect she sensed Rand slipping away and acted unthinkingly, out of desperation. Alas, our Rose never has been one to think before words leave her mouth. But she doesn’t truly love Rand, and Lily does, which is why I’m worried that Lily…um…Joseph?” One hand was sneaking under the hem of her night rail. “That’s not my back.”
“Is it not?” he asked, his voice a study in innocence. “I expect I should rub up higher.” He did—higher on her bare legs. “I’m sure Rose will recover.”
“Of course she will. She’ll be after another man by next week. Which is why I’m more concerned about Lily at the moment.” She paused, listening to the soft rain, her body beginning to tingle as Joseph reached even higher. “I hope it’s still raining tomorrow,” she said suddenly.
“Hmm…?” While his fingers sent pleasure spiraling through her, he began kissing the back of her neck, little kisses that made her shiver. “Won’t the rain destroy your picnic?” His warm breath stirred the baby hairs on her nape.
She flipped over to look into his eyes. “Lily and Rand will still picnic. In the summerhouse. Alone. There isn’t room for all of us in there, as you know…but it would be a shame for them to miss their betrothal picnic.”
Moving over
