Then she noticed Margery walking toward them.
“You must be Lily,” Margery said. “It warms my heart to see how happy you’ve made Randy.”
Lily blushed to the roots of her hair. Margery must have been sitting on that bench, watching, the entire time. And if she hadn’t approached now, Lily might well have begun stripping Rand out of his damp clothes.
Well, not really, but she’d wanted to. What a creature of lust she was becoming!
Margery looked wistful.
“I hear you’ve found a love of your own,” Lily told her.
“Yes, I have.” Margery’s expression softened, but just for a moment. “Randy—I mean, Rand—we must talk. There’s something—”
“What the hell are you doing with my dog?”
They all turned to see the marquess storming down the path to the river. Beatrix scampered up a nearby tree to join Lady and Jasper where they sat on a branch, chattering nervously. Lily’s heart pounded.
“Don’t worry,” Margery whispered. “He might bellow like a bear and insist on his own way, but he’s not a man to do physical violence.”
“I beg to differ,” Rand said tightly, making Lily wonder anew what his childhood had been like.
As his father drew near, he looped an arm over her shoulders, a clear message of possession. The tall, formidable marquess stood before them and glared down into Lily’s face. “Well?”
Although Lily had always been nice, she’d never been shy. “I was only playing with Rex, my lord. He seems to enjoy it.”
“Rex?”
She shrugged. “He needed a name. I assure you, I’ve done him no harm.”
He whistled to the dog, which obediently ran over. “His name is Attila,” he said, grabbing the chain around the animal’s neck. “And like the rest of my mastiffs, he’s a valuable fighter. He’ll sell for a top price once he’s fully trained—that is, if he doesn’t die of a chill first.” His fist was white-knuckled on the links. “My dogs do not play.”
Lily drew herself up to her full height of five-foot-two. “Perhaps they should. As they don’t seem to get a lot of human attention, some toys would be a welcome addition to their enclosure. Knotted rope, as I told Rand.” Rand’s hand tightened on her shoulder in warning, but she ignored it. She refused to be intimidated by the man she hoped would be her father-in-law. “And you’d do well to uproot the apple tree in there—the fruit is of a size to be a choking hazard.”
Surprisingly, the man looked thoughtful if still fierce. “These dogs are meant to accompany soldiers at war. They get plenty of human attention when I train them—to kill. But perhaps some toys might not be amiss. Knotted rope could well promote fighting amongst themselves, which would help keep them in shape.”
It wasn’t exactly what Lily had in mind, but it was something. And he was no longer ignoring her.
He turned his attention to Margery. “When did you arrive?”
She exchanged a look with Rand. “Mere moments ago, Uncle William.”
“Good. We’ll talk over dinner. It’s long past time we settled your betrothal and marriage. In the meantime, come along. You need to make yourself presentable. The meal will be served in one hour.”
He swung on a heel, taking Margery’s arm to pull her along with him, the dog trotting on his other side. Lily stared at the man’s stiff, retreating back. Margery needed to make herself presentable? Lily had rarely seen a woman so pristine. She glanced down at her own water-and-mud-stained skirts with dismay.
Rand came around to face her and lifted her chin with a hand. “You did well,” he said admiringly.
She fluffed at her filthy blue gown. “If he believed Margery needed grooming, he must think I’m a veritable fustilug.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “He wasn’t looking at you; he was listening. Miraculously. And he only said that to Margery as an excuse to drag her off. He doesn’t want us talking and figuring a way around his plans.”
“But we will, won’t we?”
“Absolutely. He’s unaware of your inheritance. And although he’s stood firm on her betrothal, it seems Margery doesn’t fear him. Perhaps he’s softened in his old age.”
He didn’t look like he actually believed that, but Lily drew hope from his words. “An hour,” she said. “I’ll need that time to bathe and change.”
He shrugged out of his surcoat and handed it to her. “Take this inside for me, will you? I’m going for a run.”
“A run? Now?”
“I’ll just have time.” His fingers worked the knot in his cravat, then stilled as he met her gaze. “It’s just a run, Lily. I like to do that. To—”
“To think. I know.”
Then why did she feel shut out?
Not understanding, he smiled as he handed her the lace-trimmed linen. “Thank you. I’ll see you at dinner.”
All through her bath Lily told herself that Rand’s running didn’t equate to running away—at least not from her. By the time Etta laced her into a fresh peach gown, she almost believed it.
FORTY-FOUR
“JEROME, YOU may leave us now. And inform the others they are not to enter the dining room unless I ring.”
The aging footman bowed and backed away, looking grateful to escape as he shut the door behind him. Rand watched his father pick up his fork and stab a piece of buttered and sugared turnip. The staff was still wary of the man’s moods, he thought with an internal sigh. If employment were easier to come by, he imagined most of the old-timers would have left long ago.
“Now,” the marquess said, looking pointedly at Rand and then Margery. “You’re both here. It’s time to seal this betrothal and get on with our lives.”
“My lord,” Lily started.
“No.” The man waved his fork. “You’re not part of this family, my lady, and there is nothing you can add to this discussion.”
She shared a look with Rand, then set to silently picking at her food.
Seething, Rand lifted his goblet. “You’re
