A gasp came from Rose. “A few more days? You two are going to stay at Hawkridge overnight? Together?”
Rand’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Together with a staff of a hundred, the meanest dogs in England, and my very formidable father. He’s a marquess, if you’ll remember.”
And Rose, Lily reflected, was unlikely to forget that.
“It’s entirely proper,” Mum said. “Lily and Rand are betrothed, and I’m certain there will be chaperones aplenty.”
Father frowned and reached for his pouch. “Who needs a loan of twenty?”
“No one needs any money, darling.” Chrystabel patted his cheek. “Our Lily is going to visit Rand’s family, that’s all.” She, for one, didn’t look the least displeased with the developments. She turned back to Lily and Rand. “I’m glad you’ll be staying until tomorrow, though. Rowan would hate to miss his tour, wouldn’t you, Rowan?” She glanced around. “Rowan?”
Lily quickly scanned the chamber, although given the lack of furniture there was certainly nowhere to hide. “He’s not here, Mum. Did he even come up with us?”
A moment later, they were all fanning out through the house. Knowing her brother well, Lily headed straight downstairs. Her heart lurched when sounds of a crash came through the front windows.
She hurried outdoors to find Rowan sprawled on the ground, splattered with white paint from a bucket lying nearby, its contents splashed all over the bare dirt. Above him, the scaffolding tilted at a crazy angle.
He swiped at his face, only smearing the paint more. “Zounds, that thing is rickety.”
She paused long enough to shout back through the door. “I’ve found him! He’s outside!” Then she turned to him, a hand to her still-racing heart. “Rand told you it was dangerous. Where’s the painter? You shouldn’t be out here alone. You shouldn’t be out here at all.”
Rowan shrugged. “I’m all right.” He pushed to his feet—or rather, he tried to. “Ouch!” he hollered and collapsed back to the dirt.
She rushed to kneel beside him. “Is it your ankle?” She tugged off his boot.
“Ouch!” Unmanly tears sprang to his eyes. “It hurts. This is God’s reckoning for my stupid mistake; I just know it.”
Gently she probed his ankle, relieved to find no indication of a break, although it was swelling rapidly. Her pulse calmed. “Yes, I suppose you should have listened to Rand,” she said sympathetically, still exploring the injury.
“Rand? What does Rand have to do with this?”
“Rowan, what are you talking about?”
“Ouch!” he wailed. “The barn!”
“The barn?” She released his foot and glanced up at his paint-stained face. “What about the barn?”
His cheeks flushed red under the splatters. “I told you about the barn.”
“Told me what?”
“About the joke, and how it went wrong, but I didn’t have any of Mr. Boyle’s fire-making things…it was a mistake,” he finished weakly, obviously realizing that although they’d talked about mistakes, he’d never admitted to starting the fire.
Or not in so many words. She should have realized, though—she liked to think she was smart enough to put two and two together. But she’d been focused on her own problems, her own mistakes, her love for Rand and her promise to her sister.
Shock and anger made her voice shrill. Rand could have died in there—as it was, his hair had burned. “You set it? You set the fire?”
“No, I didn’t set it.” Rowan looked half guilty, half petrified, his face gone white as the paint. “It just happened. I was trying to—”
“Rowan!” Mum called as she raced outside. “Dear heavens, you’re covered in paint!”
Rowan just stared at his sister, silently willing her to stay quiet.
When he didn’t say anything, Chrystabel shifted her attention to Lily. “Is he hurt? Is something wrong?”
Lily watched Rowan swallow hard. Inside her, a sense of duty battled with sibling loyalty. By not telling Mum, was she as good as a party to the crime? The fire was a serious thing, not some minor offense like straying too far from home on a fishing outing with a friend. Rand and her animals could have perished in that fire. Or someone else.
But in the end she held her tongue. The Ashcroft offspring had never been tattlers.
“Nothing’s wrong. Rowan’s fine.” She pushed to her feet, the anger draining away. Everything was fine, after all. “His ankle is hurt, but he’s otherwise unharmed.”
Rowan shot her a grateful glance, but he needn’t have worried. He was her brother, and his secret was safe with her.
THIRTY-TWO
AFTER MUCH fussing by all concerned, it was determined that Rowan had only sprained his ankle.
Rand shook his head at Lily. “I thought you said he was a monkey.”
“I should have said he’s an accident-prone monkey. At least this time no one will have to stitch him up.”
“Would you like to see my scars?” Rowan asked, past his fright and cheerful as ever.
Rand declined, and Rowan didn’t remain quite so cheerful when he realized he wouldn’t be able to walk around Oxford, let alone climb any towers. Since Lily’s father had been to Oxford before, he volunteered to stay behind with his son. The rest of them left the two playing draughts in the common room of the Spotted Cow, the inn behind Rand’s house where they would return to stay the night.
“King me!” Lily heard Rowan yell as they walked out the door, much later than they’d originally planned. Knowing that her family’s raised voices would ring through the inn from now until they left the next day, she imagined the proprietor would be happy to see the backs of them tomorrow.
Their walking tour started at Wadham College, where Rand had begun his years here at Oxford. The college was on Parks Road, around the corner and down one street from his house. “You really live in the center of things,” Lily remarked.
“We will, yes.” Clearly trying hard to set his troubles aside, he took her hand as they all crossed the smooth green lawn toward Wadham’s elegant facade.
