At Lily’s name, his father’s eyes had softened. It was amazing how much the man had apparently come to like her. He almost looked wistful.
But his expression swiftly hardened again. “I vowed on Simon Maybanks’s deathbed that his daughter would wed my heir. Lady Lily’s inheritance does nothing to mitigate that.”
“Uncle William.” Margery rose and walked over to him, stepping up onto the raised dais. She placed her palms on his desk and leaned toward him, her eyes pleading. “I was an infant when my father claimed that boon, and he was only attempting to provide for my future the best that he knew how. Don’t you think he would have been thrilled to marry me to a baron with Bennett’s vast lands and income? Most especially because I love Bennett so very much, and he loves me in return. You must agree that if my father had had any way of foreseeing such an opportunity, he would have given his blessing freely.”
In the silence that followed, Margery backed down the step and returned to her seat. She folded her hands in her black-skirted lap. A clock ticked on the mantel, unnaturally loud in the stillness. The marquess blinked but said nothing.
“Father,” Rand pressed, hoping the man’s lack of response meant he was considering Margery’s words, “you’ve told me that your treatment of me, in years gone past, was because you blamed me for my mother’s death.”
The marquess’s lips thinned. “I’ve also told you I’m sorry.”
“And I’ve accepted your apology—and your explanation.” Saying the words, Rand suddenly realized he had. “But what I’m wondering now, or perhaps I should say what I’m assuming, is that you loved her very much.”
“Of course I did,” his father said, looking bewildered. “I loved her with all my heart.”
“Well, then, if you loved her enough to blame me, whyever would you wish to deprive your son and foster daughter of that same sort of love?”
The marquess blinked some more. Margery’s hands clenched in her lap. The clock kept ticking. Rand prayed silently, harder than he’d ever prayed in his life.
“Marry whom you wish,” his father said at last with a sigh.
Margery leapt up and rounded the desk to hug him. “Thank you, Uncle William, thank you! You’ve always been so kind to me, I knew in the end you’d choose for my happiness.”
Rand’s father just grunted.
Rand sat immobile, his entire body seemingly gone boneless.
He’d done it.
He was going to marry Lily.
“I must go tell Bennett.”
Rand had never seen Margery’s eyes look so green, her face look so flushed. He smiled, picturing Lily looking that happy.
“I’ll take you to him,” he said, “on my way back to Trentingham. Lily will be anxious to hear this news, too.”
“I’m going with you,” his father said.
Halfway to rising, Rand dropped back onto his chair. “Pardon?”
“What sort of a man do you take me for?” the marquess asked, then apparently decided he’d best not wait for an answer. “Not only has your Lily saved my dog’s life, she is also about to save Hawkridge from ruin. The least I can do is welcome her into our family.”
Rand wasn’t sure he was ready to think of himself and his father as a family—he suspected they might never truly be friends. But he grudgingly admitted that it seemed the man’s heart might be in the right place.
Or getting there, anyway.
SIXTY-EIGHT
WHILE THE marquess rode around Armstrong House dismissing all the guards, Rand dismounted and walked Margery to the door. The butler answered and showed them both into a sitting room, then went to fetch Lord Armstrong.
Rand sat on a red velvet chair watching Margery walk aimlessly around the chamber, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She’d be happy here, he thought. Though the house was centuries older and much smaller than Hawkridge, it was well kept and richly appointed. Besides, he knew Margery would be happy anywhere so long as she was with Bennett.
It was the same for him and Lily. Home would be where Lily lived, even if that was Hawkridge.
“Margery!” Bennett rushed into the room, then stopped short when he saw Rand.
Rand rose from the chair. “She’s yours, Armstrong.”
Long-lost hope leapt into the man’s eyes. “You mean…”
“Yes. My father has agreed to your marriage.”
“How—why—”
“Margery will explain,” Rand said. “Later.”
She’d stopped roaming. Now she seemed simply frozen in place, gazing at Bennett as though she couldn’t believe he would be hers. When he took a step toward her, she came to life and rushed into his arms.
Their lips met, and Rand smiled. That would be he and Lily soon, and he was sure their reunion would be even better. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why he was standing here watching the two lovers kiss when he could be kissing his own love himself.
“I’m leaving,” he announced.
With a heartfelt sigh, Margery drew her mouth from Bennett’s. “Good-bye, Randy,” she said, gazing into the other man’s eyes.
“I’m leaving you two alone.”
“I know,” she murmured, her words directed to Bennett along with a wide smile.
“Be good,” Rand said, knowing they wouldn’t.
LILY’S FINGERS ran over the harpsichord keys in an unceasing pattern. “What time is it?” she asked.
“About five minutes after the last time I told you.” Rose didn’t bother to look at a clock. “I thought you found music calming.”
“Well, today it’s not.”
“Perhaps it would help if you’d play something besides scales.” Rose set down her needlework and pulled a droopy bloom from the flower arrangement beside her. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry.” The music stopped abruptly as Lily folded her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be patient. “That it’s taking this long, it’s a good sign, it that not so?” She heard her sister rise and walk across the drawing room. “It must mean his father is listening.”
“It must,” Rose said in a soothing way.
But Lily
