Stretched out beside her on their bed, Joseph couldn’t hear the words filtering through the thick stone walls. “What’s that, Chrysanthemum?”
“Nothing, darling. I was just talking to myself.” She sipped from her goblet of wine. “I’m so happy that Lily is enjoying herself.”
He drank with one hand while inching his other fingers beneath her night rail. “What are they singing?”
“Oh, I cannot make out the tunes.” He’d die if he knew. Joseph liked to think his daughters were much too ladylike for bawdy fun, and she wouldn’t be the one to disabuse him of the notion. “I’m sure the others are just trying to cheer Lily up. And doing an excellent job, from the sound of it.”
She stifled a laugh as she heard them rhyme five with the supposed-to-be-unspoken swive, and then launch into “This way, that way” again. “It was good of Rose to plan the sleeping party. Thoughtful, don’t you think?”
Setting down his empty goblet, Joseph nodded. “Perhaps Rose has finally grown up.”
“Perhaps she has.” Chrystabel finished her own wine and sighed. “Our children are all growing up.”
“Too fast,” he agreed. His hand on her body stilled as his green eyes turned troubled. He hesitated. “About Lily—”
“I’m concerned, yes. Worried sick, truth be told. Should Rand not find a way out of this, Lily will be left devastated.”
“And perhaps with child,” he added in a rush.
“Oh, Lily isn’t with child.” Turning to face him, she reached to caress one whisker-roughened cheek. “I suppose I should have told you, but it never occurred to me that you would worry.” She always expected him to be oblivious to such things, like other men. But sometimes he surprised her. And he did love his children very much.
That was only one of the many reasons she loved him so very much.
“You’re still convinced they haven’t shared a bed?” He frowned. “How do you know? A mother’s intuition? Because I’ve told you before, my love, you cannot tell these things just by looking—”
She laughed, a sound of amusement mixed with relief. “I know because Lily’s maid told me her courses are upon her.”
“Oh.” He reddened, as he usually did when confronted by womanly things. But she felt his body relax into the mattress.
“I do think, though,” she continued, “that perhaps it isn’t such a good idea, after all, to allow young people such privacy. No matter how perfect they are for each other. If things had gone differently, we might have had a disaster on our hands. I…well, in plotting the best way to match Lily and Rand, I think in this one matter I may have been wrong.”
“Wrong? You were wrong?” His mouth dropped open.
Before he had a chance to close it and elaborate on her innocent miscalculation, she rushed to cover it with a kiss.
To her vast relief—and delight—nothing more was said that night.
FIFTY-SIX
HALFWAY TO Oxford, rain had begun falling, turning the roads to mush and Rand’s journey to a snail-paced nightmare. He’d arrived home and trudged through the empty house to the one furnished room, his bedchamber, where he’d promptly fallen into bed and passed a restless night.
Morning found him in a foul mood. Another day gone and no closer to finding a solution. He scrubbed up and pulled on some clothes, then opened his door, intending to inspect the house.
A measuring tape in one hand, Kit stopped and turned. “Rand. When did you get home?”
“Last night. Late.” Rand rubbed his aching head. “How is the job progressing?”
“Haven’t you noticed? It’s all but done.”
“Is it?” He followed Kit along the corridor, peeking into beautifully finished rooms. “My apologies. You’ve worked wonders.”
“I’ve been here since you left. Amazing how a few days onsite will motivate craftsmen to work.” He grinned, then suddenly frowned. “Hey, Rand, you’re going to break your teeth.”
Rand consciously relaxed his jaw, which had been clenched to the point of pain.
“What’s got your dander up?” Kit asked.
“The mental image of my father at Hawkridge, planning a wedding for five days hence.”
“I thought you wanted to get married.”
“To Lily, not Margery Maybanks.”
“Margery?” Kit’s green-brown eyes widened. “Margery! Why the hell would he want you to marry Margery?”
Rand sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Best told over a tankard of ale, I’d guess. Come along. It’s a bit early yet, but the King’s Arms is always open.”
“CHIN UP, DEAR,” Lily’s father bellowed across the table.
“You cannot give up hope,” Chrystabel added more gently, pointedly handing Lily a spoon. “There must be something that can be done.”
“Rand. Rand will have to come up with something.” Unable to eat, Lily pushed her dinner around on her plate and sighed.
Rand was her only hope.
The lighthearted camaraderie of last night was gone. In the wee hours of the morning, the young women had all giggled their way upstairs to share Lily’s big bed. It had been a tight fit with four instead of three, but worth it for the comfort she’d felt, surrounded by people who cared.
Today she could find no comfort. They’d awakened too late for breakfast and spent most of dinner revisiting all their useless suggestions, reviewing them with Father and Mum. No one had any new ideas to contribute, and Lily’s predicament seemed more hopeless than ever.
“Violet? Are you ready to come home?” They all looked over to see Ford had appeared in the doorway. “Did you have a fine time?”
Violet gave him a wan smile. “We did last night.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “While I go get my things, Lily will fill you in on what’s happened. Perhaps you’ll see a solution we haven’t.”
But brilliant as Ford was, he had no solution to offer, either. No new plan to change Lord Hawkridge’s mind.
They would have to prove Bennett’s innocence.
“Maybe one of the other hunters witnessed it,” he suggested. “Or someone else. Just because no one’s come forward—”
“Rand is planning to interview everyone in the vicinity.” Lily bit her lip. “But I’m afraid if anyone knew
