“I expect we should all go upstairs to my bedchamber.” Rand led the way while Kit went off to fetch the mail. “It’s the only room where we can sit.”
Even there, the seating was lacking. Rose took the single chair at his desk, while Rand waved the rest of them toward his enormous bed, a heavy oak four-poster with hunter green hangings. “I’m sorry there are no other chairs,” he said, perching himself on a carved wooden chest. “All my furniture is in storage, and in any case, it needs replacing.” He forced a distracted smile. “I’m hoping my new wife will help with that.”
“I’ll be honored to.” Lily sat beside him. “And I promise not to choose white.”
“Nothing white?” Rose looked incredulous. “Nothing at all?”
“White isn’t a good color for a home with children,” Lily said, feeling her cheeks flood with heat.
Why had she mentioned children? Surely nobody knew what had happened in the summerhouse. They couldn’t tell just by looking at her, could they?
Her heart seized when she saw her parents exchange what seemed to be a knowing glance. But then Kit came in with a stack of accumulated mail, and her attention was drawn as Rand reluctantly took it.
He flipped through the letters and slowly pulled one out. “Here it is.” Forgotten, the rest of the mail fluttered to the floor.
Kit bent to retrieve it. “You didn’t believe me?”
“I was hoping you were wrong.” Rand shrugged as he broke the seal. A big, black one. Then he just sat there with the paper in his hands. “Word from my father cannot be good.”
Lily scooted closer. “Perhaps it’s not from your father, Rand. Could it be from his ward instead?”
“I’ve yet to answer Margery’s last letter. And she doesn’t use the Hawkridge seal.”
“Does your brother never send letters?”
“Alban has nothing to say to me.” He stared at his name on the front. “No, this is the marquess’s writing.”
At last he unfolded the paper. As he scanned the single page, an expectant silence descended on the room. Impatient, Lily leaned to see the letter. The writer had a heavy hand. The ink was dark and decisive.
She looked up to Rand. His face matched the plain white walls, all the color drained, his eyes lifeless.
“What is it?”
Both his hands dropped to his sides, the paper dangling from one. “Alban has died,” he said disbelievingly. “At the hands of another man.”
The air left Lily in a rush. She knew Rand had harbored no love for his brother, but if she felt this shocked, she could only imagine how the news made him feel. Unsure what to say, she reached for his free hand and quietly laced her fingers with his.
“I’m so sorry,” her mother murmured.
“What—” her husband started.
“Hush, darling.” Chrystabel laid a firm hand on his arm. “Rand’s brother has died.”
Rand shook his head as though to regain his senses. The paper crackled when he waved off the sympathy. “I never liked the man, so condolences are unnecessary. But it seems I’m now my father’s heir—and the old goat wants to see me at once.”
“You’re going to be a marquess?” Rose looked between him and Lily, her eyes dark with envy. “The Marquess of Hawkridge? And what are you now that your brother is gone? The Earl of Something?”
“The Earl of Newcliffe,” Kit said. “But none of that matters.”
Rose’s expression said it mattered quite a bit, as well as displaying disdain that a commoner like Kit wouldn’t think so.
Releasing Lily’s hand, Rand stood and began pacing. “I’ve no wish to be a marquess. Or even an earl. I like my life.”
“Your life may not have to change, Rand. Or at least not right now.” Lily watched his agitated movements, feeling helpless to soothe him. He looked like a penned animal. She suspected that if it wouldn’t be so impolite, he’d leave Kit and her family here and set off running through the streets. “How old is your father?”
“Only fifty-two,” he admitted. “And last I saw him, healthy as a horse.”
“Well, then…”
He waved the letter again. “He wants me at Hawkridge. He expects me to leave the life I’ve built and learn how to run his damned estate. I don’t want to do that. I’ve been happy with my life here…” He finally stopped pacing and turned to meet Lily’s gaze. “I’m even happier with my life now.”
Chrystabel rose from the bed. “Then you should go tell him that. Both of you.”
Although Lily was surprised by the idea, she still felt a prick of hurt when Rand said, “Both of us? I think not.”
“Both of you.” Mum sounded determined. “Since you’ve pledged yourself to Lily, and she to you, the two of you should face life’s difficulties together. And in any case, Lily should meet her future father-in-law.”
“Why? If I have my way, she’ll never meet him at all.”
Lily rose and moved close to him. “Rand…” Much as she loved and admired him, his relationship with his family was one area she thought could see improvement. Especially now that his “family” was just his father.
Glancing around at her own family, her heart ached for him. Now, more than ever, he needed a reconciliation. Whether he knew it or not.
“Of course I want to meet your father,” she said softly. “He’s part of what made you the man I love.”
His gray eyes turned hard as steel. “Whatever I’ve made of myself, it was despite him, not because of him.”
Feeling like she was becoming less nice by the minute, she set her jaw. “I’m coming with you.”
Silence reigned for a span of time, an unspoken battle of wills.
When Rand finally sighed, Lily took that as agreement. “Shall we leave immediately?”
Tempered by her loyalty, the steel in his eyes softened. “No, we’ll leave tomorrow. Today we’ll tour Oxford and you’ll all stay the night at the inn as planned. The letter was written early last week; my father can wait another day.” He folded the paper as he addressed Kit.
