Just inside the door, Chrystabel met her and wrapped her in a hug. “That was a short visit.”
Lily clung to her mother for a moment, inhaling her familiar floral scent. “It felt like a lifetime.” When she pulled away, she looked around as though seeing her home for the first time. So light and bright, the staircase off the entry fashioned of classical white balustrades instead of heavy, dark carved wood. The atmosphere warm and loving, not cold and full of resentment. “It’s good to be home.”
Concern flooded her mother’s brown eyes. “Do you not like Hawkridge Hall? Will you not want to live there?”
“Oh, Mum, it seems I won’t be living there even if I did want to!” Here, finally, was someone who cared. Lily had felt invisible at Hawkridge Hall—no, worse than invisible. A burden to Rand and persona non grata to everyone else. “Things have changed—”
Spotting Rand standing in the doorway, she broke off.
“Rand.” Though Chrystabel smiled at him, the expression in her eyes said she knew something was wrong. “How very nice to see you again. You’ll stay for supper, won’t you? Or does your father expect you back at Hawkridge this afternoon?”
“No,” he said dully. “I’m going home to Oxford for a few days.”
“The sun sets late this time of year, so you can stay for dinner, then, at least.”
He shrugged as though he didn’t care. “I’m going for a run,” he said to Lily, already struggling out of his surcoat. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“No,” she said. “Oh, no.”
As he turned and walked away, Chrystabel laid a gentle hand on Lily’s arm. “I can see that things didn’t go well with his father. Leave him be, dear.”
“No.” Lily started toward the door. “I’ve let him be quite enough. I’ll be back and explain later.”
“Lily!” Mum called.
But she was already out the door and down the steps.
FIFTY-THREE
“WAIT!” LILY called.
But Rand didn’t, even though she was sure he’d heard her. To the contrary, he shoved his coat and cravat into the carriage and then began to run, putting more distance between them.
She hurried past blue and yellow flower beds in her high Louis-heeled shoes. Hoping she wouldn’t twist an ankle in the soft grass, she wished she hadn’t dressed so fashionably this morning.
The shoes and the lavender gown with the heavy overskirt had been a final attempt to impress her future father-in-law. If she wasn’t so upset, she’d laugh at herself for her characteristic optimism. The fact was, there was nothing she could do to make the man like her. He wanted his son to marry Margery, and that was that.
He’d probably sent up a cheer when he saw her climb into the carriage and ride away.
Lily had never really disliked anyone in her life, but she disliked Rand’s father immensely. Not for the way he treated her—he didn’t know her, after all—but for the way he treated Rand.
Rand. There he was, crossing the bridge to the other side of the river.
“Rand!”
Thanks to living with her father, Lily knew how to make her voice carry. But although Rand stopped running, he didn’t stop altogether, instead pacing determinedly along the far bank.
Hopping on one foot and then the other, she pulled off her shoes and left them jumbled on the daisy-strewn lawn. Then she picked up her skirts and ran—across the grass, over the bridge, along the path with the river on one side and grazing fields on the other.
Her face heated and her lungs burned. She developed a searing stitch in her side. But she wouldn’t stop running.
She would never give up on Rand Nesbitt.
In the woods beyond, she spotted him in the distance and pushed herself to close the gap. “Rand,” she called breathlessly.
He slowed, stopped, and turned, looking defeated. “You’ll cut your feet,” he said in a dead voice.
Panting, she looked down to the forest floor, littered with twigs and leaves. Her silk stockings were torn, which was no surprise, but she hadn’t noticed when it happened.
“I—don’t—care,” she said between gasping attempts to catch her breath. She bent at the waist, hugging the pain in her side. “All I care for, Rand, is you.”
If she’d hoped he’d melt at those words, she was disappointed. “Sometimes,” he said, “I need to be by myself. Can you not leave a body alone?”
“I’ve tried that. It hasn’t worked.”
“I need to think. I cannot think.”
She straightened and met his gaze. She had something she needed to tell him, and she knew he needed to share something, too. A piece of the puzzle was missing—the piece she suspected had made him run. “We can think together. Maybe two heads are better than one.”
His jaw tensed as though he were forcibly holding back words. He crossed his arms, shutting her out. His gaze drifted up to the canopy of leaves overhead.
The solitude he wanted would solve nothing. “I’m staying here, Rand. I won’t leave you. Do you hear me?” She shouted it to the trees. “I won’t leave you, no matter what your father says!”
Slowly he lowered his eyes. “Do you believe in fate?”
“I believe you’re my fate.”
“Oh, Lily.” He shook his head, opening his arms. “Come here.”
His arms felt so good around her, so solid and sure. He kissed her, kissed her until she was more breathless than she’d been from running, until she felt boneless and light-headed. He put one-hundred-percent of himself into the wordless promise of that kiss.
And she knew, without a doubt, that whatever it was that made him run away, time after time, had nothing to do with a lack of love for her. Perhaps he simply didn’t know how to share. He’d spent so very much of his life on his own.
Well, she’d show him how. Two heads were better than one, two hearts even stronger.
When he finally drew back, she searched his intense gray eyes. “What happened?
