And just like that, Lily found herself alone with Rand, wondering what she should say.
FOUR
IT WASN’T THAT Lily had no experience talking to men. She could hardly remember a time when men—or boys, when she was younger—hadn’t pestered her and Rose for precious time in their company. None of them had ever made her nervous. But for some reason butterflies seemed to be battling one another in her stomach.
And Rand’s piercing eyes seemed to see it.
He smiled in a way surely intended to set her at ease, gesturing toward three oak trees hung with swings. Two children sat on a broad one built for a couple. “Is that your brother, all grown-up? He was an imp of seven last time I saw him.”
Lily smiled. “Yes, that’s Rowan. And he may be growing tall, dark, and handsome, but there’s still a bit of the imp left in him, I assure you.”
“And is that Ford’s niece with him? Jewel? She’s showing every sign of developing into a beauty.” A frown appeared between Rand’s eyes. “Do you think they’re sitting rather close on that swing?”
Their raven heads were rather close together. But Lily wasn’t worried. “They’re longtime friends, and Rowan thinks of her as a sister. Or a brother, more like.”
The two children slipped off the swing and headed toward the house. When Jewel reached for Rowan’s hand, he hid it behind his back. Watching, Rand laughed. “Apparently Jewel doesn’t feel quite so sisterly towards your brother. And I reckon Rowan will wake up someday and notice she’s a girl.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Not nearly as pretty as you.”
Lily had certainly received compliments before. But most men were glib, flattery tripping off their tongues with little thought and many flowery phrases. Rand’s words were simple and soft-spoken.
And he should be saying them to Rose.
Taken aback, Lily clutched the kitten tighter. The feline squeaked and leapt from her arms, landing by Rand’s feet. It looked up at her with a comically hurt expression before scampering away.
Lily stared down at Rand’s black shoes, long-tongued with stiff ribbon bows. The heels were black, too, not red as was the fashion. Her gaze meandered up his lean, muscled form, noting that his slate blue velvet suit wasn’t dripping with ribbons and baubles. Though well dressed, he wasn’t a fop.
Perfect. No wonder Rose was so taken with the man.
When her gaze reached his face, he grinned in a fashion that made her wonder if he’d read her mind. But thankfully he chose not to comment, instead gesturing toward where Jewel was following Rowan to the house—by way of walking atop an eight-foot-high stone wall. “Is that wise?”
“My brother is a monkey,” she told him, relieved to be on another subject. She couldn’t remember ever eyeing a man before—that was one of Rose’s seductive tricks.
Rand began walking toward the formal garden, a charming area divided by low hedges cut in geometric patterns, the flower beds dotted with cheerful reds, yellows, and purples. “Do you suppose Jewel is taking him to see the water closet?”
“Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re plotting a way to use it for a prank.”
“I would hope not,” he said. “I imagine they could make quite a mess.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Chamber pots weren’t appropriate conversational subject matter, no matter how new and fancy. “So you’re staying with Violet and Ford until the translation is finished?”
“I’ll be here for just a week or two, until my house is ready. Although I do hope to make good progress on the translation in that time.” At the edge of the garden, he stopped beside a long table. “Would you care for some refreshments?”
The selection looked delicious. “Yes, thank you.”
He handed her an empty plate and took another for himself. “The house was supposed to be completed long before now, but a friend is building it, and you know how that goes—when something else comes up, it’s always easier to put off a friend’s job than a contracted client’s.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” she observed.
“Oh, but he is. We’ve known each other since we were knee-high lads in dresses. It’s just that Kit is very busy, very much in demand. You may have heard of him, in fact. Christopher Martyn.”
“The architect? Isn’t he working for King Charles?”
“So you have heard of him.” Piling fruit on his plate, Rand cast her a glance. “I suppose, then, you can understand how another client can take precedence.”
“When that client is the Crown, I suppose I can.” She selected a wedge of apple tart as they worked their way down the table. “But you’re a professor, yes? I’m surprised you can leave Oxford for weeks.”
“It’s summer,” he said blithely. “A four-month break. I usually travel the Continent, looking for lost languages”—he flashed her a lopsided grin—“but I thought I’d stay home this year and settle into my new house.”
She followed him into the garden, stepping gingerly since Beatrix had reappeared and was padding along with her, batting at her swishing skirts. “Yours sounds like an exciting life.”
“I’m not sure I’d describe it as exciting, but I enjoy my life, yes. It’s interesting, and I’m content.”
They skirted around a sundial, old but lovingly repaired. Tables were scattered around the garden, surrounded by chairs for the guests. Sitting with Lady Carrington, Lily’s friend Judith waved in invitation, her golden curls gleaming in the sun. Lily waved back and started over, but Rand stopped at a tiny square table and pulled out one of the two chairs. “Will you do me the honor?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She seated herself carefully, sending Judith an expressive shrug. Judith winked and waggled her brows, obviously misunderstanding why Lily was with Rand.
That was something Lily didn’t quite understand herself. It should be Rose here, she thought as Beatrix returned and leapt onto her lap.
“This striped cat is yours, if I’m not mistaken?” Rand took the chair opposite. “However did it find its way here from Trentingham?”
She found
