She smiled sweetly. “Certainly he does—”
“Lily,” Rand interrupted.
“—but that doesn’t mean he must be at Hawkridge all the time. Many men own more than one estate, and a man cannot be two or three places at once. Why, Father visits Tremayne but once a year, and it thrives quite well without his constant presence.”
“Lily,” Rand tried to put in.
But she wasn’t finished. “Oxford has three terms a year of eight weeks each. Twenty-four weeks out of fifty-two. There are long breaks between those terms and the whole summer free…if Rand agrees to spend the remaining twenty-eight weeks at Hawkridge learning his responsibilities, surely you can survive without him during term times.”
“Lily—”
“Just until he’s needed at Hawkridge year-round,” she said by way of conclusion. “But given your excellent state of health, we’re both hoping that won’t be for a long, long time.”
She topped off her arguments with a sweet smile that the marquess apparently found bemusing, given he seemed to be frozen in place with his fork halfway to his mouth.
But Rand was not similarly charmed. “Lily,” he repeated and paused for a moment, expecting her to interrupt. When she didn’t, he sighed. “I truly want to sell my house so you’ll have the money for your animal home. It’s the least I can do after you so generously offered to save my family.”
Rose clapped. Lady Trentingham smiled.
The marquess came to life. “Animal home?”
“Lily’s childhood dream,” Lily’s mother explained. “She’s rather fond of animals—”
“This isn’t news to me,” the man said with a grin that looked out of place on his face.
“And she had planned, upon coming into her inheritance, to build a home where strays could be sheltered and, if necessary, nursed to health.”
“With a staff,” Lily added. “But truly, my lord, I don’t mind investing in Hawkridge instead. It will be my children’s legacy, after all. And I especially don’t want Rand to sell his Oxford house. As proud as you are of building Hawkridge, he feels the same of his home. And—”
“Enough.” The marquess waved his fork. “You will talk my ear off, child. Randal shall keep his house, and if his responsibilities at Oxford can be fulfilled in twenty-four weeks a year, they may have him for that time. But I get him the rest,” he warned.
“Of course.”
His jaw set, Rand shook his head. “No. I said—”
“She shall have her animal home,” the marquess interrupted, “at Hawkridge. I have staff enough to spare, and if nothing else, it will ensure you two stay there on a regular basis. Now, if everyone’s concerns have been addressed to their satisfaction, I need to go home. Margery’s wedding day approaches, and although it surely won’t be the extravaganza Lady Trentingham has in mind for yours, there are details to which I must attend.”
Half an hour later, Rand found himself dragged out of the house, drafted into helping his father, since, as Lily’s mother pointed out, it wasn’t term time at Oxford.
No sooner was he riding away than Chrystabel started a guest list.
“WELL, DARLING,” Joseph said that night, “that was very cleanly done, although I suspect the poor lad might die of longing if there were such a disease. And I don’t expect our daughter was very happy, either.”
“Nonsense,” Chrystabel said as she climbed into bed. “They can survive two weeks.”
“I feel for the boy. Before, you were only too happy to push them together, and—”
“There was good reason then. Lily was all too concerned about Rose, and—”
“But they’ve already been together—”
“That doesn’t matter. I won’t make the mistake again of allowing our children to risk conception before they’re safely wed.”
“The date has been set, so this makes no sense, my pretty Chrysanthemum. But not to worry, I love you anyway.” He kissed her soundly; then his lips trailed lower, tasting the skin revealed by her night rail’s low neckline. “I shudder to think of that boy alone in his bed tonight,” he added, his breath warm on her breast where he’d pushed the fabric down farther. “And I thank God I’m not in that same place.”
As his mouth closed over her, Chrystabel thanked God, too…and not only because her daughter’s happiness was finally secured.
SEVENTY
“SOON,” RAND whispered, “it will be our turn.”
Lily watched the starry-eyed bride and groom exit Hawkridge’s grand red-and-gold private chapel as though they were walking on air. Tears had welled in her eyes more than once during the romantic ceremony. “I cannot wait,” she whispered back, reaching up to touch the pendant Rand had given her.
The past few days without him had felt so empty.
Holding his hand, she walked sedately from the chapel, following the other guests to the great hall. Once there, she rushed to hug her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “The wedding was beautiful! You both look so happy.”
“We are,” Margery and Bennett said together, sharing a joyful smile.
Rand hugged Margery, too, while Lily watched, not at all jealous this time.
“Your gown is gorgeous,” she told her.
“Thank you.” Margery’s fingers skimmed the pearls and embroidery that covered her pale green satin overskirt. “It’s my best.”
Standing nearby, the marquess narrowed his eyes. “What happened to the gown you ordered in Windsor?”
“Oh.” Color flooded her cheeks. “Well. I—I…it wasn’t quite ready, after all. You didn’t give the seamstress much time, Uncle William.”
“Hmmph,” he said and walked away.
Rand waited until the man was out of earshot and then grinned at his foster sister. “You never ordered a wedding gown, did you? I suspected you were with Bennett that night.”
“It’s the vows that count,” she said evasively. “Not the clothes.”
Her groom laughed and gave her a kiss. As other guests pressed close to offer felicitations, Rand turned to Lily, a silvery glint in his eyes. “Come. I have something to show you.”
He led her from the great hall, grabbing a pewter goblet off a sideboard and handing it to her as they went.
She sipped, then smiled when
