“She means Nicky, my godchild,” Rose put in. “I shared the honor with Ford’s two brothers.”
Rand shrugged a shoulder, a half smile curving his lips. “I was sorry to miss the occasion, but I’m afraid I was in Greece.”
“Greece!” Rose laid a graceful hand on her embroidered stomacher. “That sounds like a dream. I would so adore traveling the world. I could make use of all my languages.”
Lily did a little mental dance, so happy to see that her sister was doing as she’d suggested—as the entire family had been suggesting for years. For once in her life, Rose wasn’t going to hide her brains and pretend to be empty-headed.
It would work, Lily was sure. Rose’s bad luck with men would finally come to an end. And then, she couldn’t help thinking, with her sister safely wed, she’d feel free to find love for herself.
Chrystabel cleared her throat. “You’ll remember my daughter Rose?” she asked Rand. “And Lily, her younger sister?”
“And Lily,” Rand repeated, his eyes meeting hers. Capturing hers, like they had four years ago and again just a few minutes earlier.
In all of her twenty years, she’d never seen another gaze as compelling as Rand’s. It felt as though he could see right into her, yet not in an uncomfortable way…in a way that warmed her and held her captive.
She’d forgotten about that. It seemed she’d forgotten a lot in those four years.
Rose—bold Rose—reached to touch him on the arm. “Did you ever succeed in translating that alchemy book?”
“Secrets of the Emerald Tablet?” He smiled at Lily before shifting his attention to her sister. “Not yet. A fine puzzle it is, very time-consuming, and Ford said that with the sale of his watch patent there was no longer any rush.”
At that, Ford broke into their little group. “You certainly took that to heart,” he said accusingly. “Four years is a bit longer than I had in mind.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Rand countered, sounding defensive. “And ready to finish it.”
Ford grinned, revealing the heated exchange to have been nothing more than jesting between friends. “Only because you have nowhere to live.”
“That’s not true. I have a beautiful new home.”
“Half built.”
Rand ruefully rubbed his forehead. “The hammering and sawing were driving me insane.”
“Rand has commissioned a new house,” Ford explained to the girls and their mother. “It was supposed to have been ready by now, so he’d already sold his old one.”
“And as a consequence,” Rand added, “I’ve been sleeping in a construction site.”
Rose nodded, her face a study in understanding. “Where’s your new home, my lord?”
“Rand,” he corrected her, having asked them four years ago to call him that. “And it’s in Oxford.”
“Rand is a professor of linguistics,” Ford reminded Rose, although Lily was sure her sister needed no reminding.
But apparently Rose decided to pretend she’d forgotten. “Oooh, my lord, that’s so impressive,” she cooed, favoring Rand with a wide smile—one Lily had seen her practice countless times in her dressing table mirror.
“A matter of determination and persistence,” Rand told her, looking oddly immune to that smile.
He wasn’t responding to the old, coquettish Rose. Lily would have to point that out to her sister. Flirtation didn’t mesh well with her new, more intelligent image.
“How long will you be staying?” Chrystabel asked him.
“My house should be finished within a week or so—”
“As long as it takes,” Ford broke in, “to figure out whether the book indeed holds the secret to making gold. Now, would you all like to see the new water closet?”
“It seems to me,” Rand said in the sort of needling tone only a fast friend would put up with, “it’s taken you longer to build that water closet than I’ve spent on the translation.” He turned to Lily’s family. “I remember when his brother had water closets installed—”
“Colin,” Ford clarified.
“My friend here was so envious. Said he’d design one for Lakefield in no time. That was what, ten years ago?”
“Eleven. Come see.” As he talked, Ford led them out of the drawing room, threading his way through the many guests. “I’ve finished but one so far, and you’re a fortunate man since it’s in the room where you’ll be staying.”
Rand went with Ford up the square oak staircase, Rose hurrying to follow. Lily watched her sister’s swishing skirts as she and her mother trailed everyone else up the stairs, her striped cat, Beatrix, scampering behind.
Ford reached the landing and headed down the corridor. “Colin’s water closets were imported from France.”
“They must have been expensive,” Rose said.
“Absolutely. But I examined his thoroughly, and they seemed a simple enough design to build myself. In fact, I thought of improvements.”
“Of course,” Chrystabel put in.
She thought her son-in-law was brilliant. In fact, she’d originally told Violet that Ford was too intellectual for her. Funny how wrong she’d been about that, but it had been just as well. Mum was somewhat renowned as a matchmaker, and although Violet and Ford were perfect for each other, if she’d tried to match them up, their marriage would never have happened.
The three Ashcroft sisters loved their mother dearly, but they were determined to avoid becoming another page in The Big Book of Weddings Arranged by Chrystabel.
Lily was watching, in fact, to see if Mum would try to match Rose with Rand. They were an obvious fit, after all, and at twenty-one, Rose was getting rather desperate. When poor Violet turned that same age, Rose had pronounced her an official spinster.
But if Mum tried to push Rand on her, Rose would surely go looking elsewhere. And Lily would be honor-bound to help. The girls had a long-standing pact to save one another from their mother’s matchmaking schemes.
Inside the guest chamber, everyone including the cat squeezed into a tiny room that Ford had hired a man to construct in the corner—while Ford was an accomplished inventor, he was less talented at anything requiring sweat or a ladder. They all gathered around the water closet and
