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Our lips touched for the first time in years, and I confess confusion. Oh, my love, why must things always be so difficult?
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HOW DID FATHER DO IT?
Piles of paperwork lay before Owen, and he failed to fathom how his father managed it all himself. Owen’s grandfather certainly hadn’t known one end of a plow from the other. His focus was turned towards leisurely pursuits which emptied the family coffers. Which led his father to Ireland and his future wife. Neither of which offered insight into farming knowledge or tenant management.
Years of tutelage at school and under his father’s care seemed for naught as he struggled to balance everything.
Banging his head against the back of the chair, Owen scrubbed his cheeks in temporary defeat and moved on to another pressing matter: Lily.
Was it fair to blame her for his lack of motivation? His thoughts rang constantly with memories of her—old and new.
Almost a week, and nary a peep from her.
He’d visited her cottage and learned she was jaunting about the lake. Except he hadn’t found her after searching the usual paths.
When he’d returned again, Iris had informed him that Lily wasn’t feeling well, so couldn’t accept visitors.
He’d even left a note in their old hiding spot at the lake requesting—well, demanding—a meeting. Lot of good that did me. The folded sheet of paper remained unmoved last he checked.
“Pardon me, my lord, but Miss Lily Taylor is here to see you. I’ve put her in the green drawing-room.” Speak of the devil... Perhaps, she had read his letter.
“Thank you, Marvin.” Crossing the hall towards the aforementioned room, Owen halted at the closed door, his hand wavering over the knob. Which Lily awaited him? The girl of his youth finally come to her senses? Or the woman who’d orchestrated their disastrous coupling?
Could she be pregnant? Though it’d be an exceedingly rare case, considering he hadn’t—ahem, finished—inside her, it wasn’t completely unheard of.
Don’t be an idiot. It’s impossible to know so soon.
Right, shaking his head of any more ridiculous musings and steeling his spine, Owen casually opened the door, affecting a nonchalance he was far from feeling.
“What a pleasant surprise...”
She stood tall and proud in a pretty gown that highlighted her figure. Strong and capable with the perfect amount of curves, he admitted privately that he’d never met a woman who could compare to her. “I didn’t expect you to willingly grace my doorstep again after your committed avoidance this week. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Say you’ll marry me.
“I’ve come to accept your proposal under one condition.”
“Name it.”
Lifting her chin to an obstinate angle, she met his determined gaze with a bold one of her own. “You must pay off my father’s debt, specifically to a Mr. Edward Laramie. He claims my father owes him for an incomplete research project and is threatening to take the land and cottage for recompense.”
“I see.” Hands clasped behind his back, Owen walked closer to Lily’s position at the center of the room. His leisurely strides belied any outward reaction to the news, as did the composed expression he maintained. “I suppose it’s some relief you haven’t lost all of your good sense—choosing to come to me to save your sisters, if not yourself. I accept your terms.”
Releasing a pent-up breath, a satisfied grin almost emerged at her victory, and it amused him since he felt victorious as well. Saving her family from disaster was a small price to pay to get what he wanted.
Her.
“Excellent. Now, come with me.” She crossed the room with long, purposeful strides before grabbing his hand and hauling him along behind her.
It was inappropriate. Unladylike. And the servants they passed in the hall were sure to gossip about it until sundown.
But he couldn’t care less. Inciting, then weathering, gossip seemed to be her specialty. Besides, soon they’d be referring to her as “my lady”, and all the tittle-tattle would increase tenfold. No use bothering with proprieties now.
“Where are we going?” Owen asked, heels digging into the carpet to stop her rush forward. There were details needing to be discussed. Foremost in his mind, why the devil she’d kissed Asa Lynch seven years ago? Why she let him believe the worst of her for so long?
Owen accepted his need for her, but his trust wasn’t so easily restored.
“To tell my sisters the good news.”
“And it has to be this very moment?”
“Yes.”
Time was, apparently, of the essence. Chuckling at the vast switch from her previous lackadaisical reaction to his proposal, he added more of his weight to her hold on him, slowing her down even more.
“How quickly can your carriage be ready? Or perhaps we should walk to save time. Though arriving in a noble carriage would certainly make a statement.” He didn’t think that last part was spoken to him. She seemed to be running through scenarios in her head. What for, he hadn’t a clue.
Tired of indulging her, Owen came to a stop on the stone steps outside, tugging Lily backward before she tumbled down to the gravel drive. “Slow down.” A huff of exasperation burst forth as she yanked out of his grip. “We’ll ride in the carriage, and you can explain the haste.”
“Very well.” Arms crossing over her heaving chest, she caught his surreptitious glance downward before his eyes fastened on hers. A becoming flush rose to her skin at his perusal, and he dared to look again, a wicked grin lifting the corners of his mouth.
“You are insufferable. We’re not married yet.” But her words held no heat, only a breathy tone that wrapped around his cock and squeezed.
“No, but we will be. And it’s not as if I haven’t sampled those particular charms of yours before.” And how sweet they’d been. He’d relish the moment she belonged to him completely, when there was no longer a need to meet in secret or hide their desire.
Their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.
***
WHILE LILY STOOD LIKE a moon-eyed calf, mouth hanging half-open at Owen’s indecent reminder, he called for Marvin and ordered his horse and carriage to be brought around. She hadn’t expected him to blatantly flirt with her. The last time they’d been in each other’s company he’d been furious.
And now, he acted as if the past didn’t matter to him—well, the negative bits at least—as she recalled his comment about her breasts.
When two chestnut horses trotted up to the main entrance, they settled on opposite sides of the conveyance, while Lily relayed the woeful predicament the Taylor sisters found themselves in—skipping over Laramie’s marriage proposal to her. She didn’t think he’d like hearing how she’d been willing to lose her family home if need be, but becoming Laramie’s wife was a step too far.
That being Owen’s countess resided below living on the street.
You wouldn’t have ended up in the street. You would’ve been homeless, not penniless.
When they stopped in front of the cottage, Lily smiled at seeing Mr. Laramie’s hired coach present.
Perfect.
“A bit early for company, isn’t it?”
“The man’s like a dog with a bone.” Lily landed on the ground with a slight thump, ignoring Owen’s offer of help. “Shall we save Cara and Iris from his greedy clutches?”
Not waiting for an answer, she practically ran down the stone path leading to the cottage entrance, whipping the door open to a stunned audience. Owen entered without ceremony, but with no less surprise from the three people standing before them.
“Mr. Laramie, how fortunate you’re here! It means we can end this bad business once and for all.”
“Lily...” Caraway gave a minute shake of her head, a hard stare boring into her reckless sister.
Ignoring the warning, Lily continued, overwhelmed with her success and eager to send Laramie back from whence he came. “I’m afraid I must refuse your proposal, as I’m already betrothed to this man, the Earl of Trent. He’s also agreed to take care of what we owe for our father’s breached contract.” Owen’s body straightened to attention—no, he didn’t like hearing this newest tidbit.
“Betrothed!”
“When did this happen?”
Multiple exclamations spouted from around the room, but none more volcanic than from Mr. Laramie. “This is outrageous!” Wagging a finger in her direction, his eyes bulged from their sockets as he continued to bluster in fury. “You little hoyden! You think you can thwart me with this fraud?”
He motioned to Owen in disgust, and it occurred to her that he genuinely didn’t recognize a man of quality when presented with one. A mocking laugh mounted in her chest. “I assure you, sir. This is the Earl of Trent, and I am his betrothed. With our debt soon to be settled, I believe it’s time for you to leave. I’d wish you a good day, but hoydens aren’t known for their manners.”
A sweetly taunting smile edged Lily’s lips, which she could admit might have exacerbated the situation when Laramie charged forward like a bull seeing red. Frozen in place, her legs morphed into pillars of marble as Laramie’s angry form loomed large, the concerned cries of her sisters echoing in her ears.
Suddenly, the image disappeared.
The tall shadow of Owen fell upon her—shoulders rigid, muscles taut. He stood between Lily and Laramie, a protective wall of lethal intensity. “Lay a hand on my future wife—the future Countess of Trent—and I will see you jailed before the sun sets this eve. Cast any more aspersions on her character, and you will find yourself lying on the ground, short a functioning jaw to speak. Do I make myself clear?”
A tremor of heat slid down her spine, like a dollop of honey melting over a warm biscuit, except the weakening in her resolve to remain immune to him didn’t sit nearly as sweetly in her mind as it did her heart.
Laramie paused his aggressive stride, sputtering nonsense until he composed himself enough to murmur, “Apologies, my lord. The notion that a man such as yourself would marry a common country girl... Well, you can see why I doubted Miss Lily’s assertion.”
“The Taylor women are dear friends of my family and under our protection. With my marriage to Miss Lily, it will be doubly true. My solicitor will contact you about settling Mr. Taylor’s debt; a copy of the contract will be requested to attest to your claim. Until then, I believe Miss Lily had the right of it. Our business is concluded, and it’s time for you to go.”
The cheerful chirping of meadowlarks filtered through the window as they waited for Laramie’s reaction in the ensuing silence. Surely, he wouldn’t risk furthering an earl’s ire by refusing Owen’s command.
“Indeed.” Bending into a quick bow, Laramie swept a hand across his sweaty forehead, the edges of a dark spot peeking out at his hairline, before heading towards the doorway. Owen sidestepped out of the man’s way, careful to keep his body between Laramie and Lily. “I’ll await your solicitor’s correspondence in London. Good day, sir... ladies.” The last word dripped with sarcastic doubt as he shot one last beady glare at Lily before finally making his exit.
A tense lull coated the room before it exploded into incredulous voices clamoring for an explanation, and Lily’s ears rang with admonishments. She’d saved her family from being cast out of their childhood home, yet this was the thanks she received? Was it too much to hope for an expression of gratitude rather than reprimands?
The black pit always hovering in the background flared to life—a stark reminder of how unfairly life treated her. How even when she tried to do good, it ended badly.
“Would someone care to explain how the two of you jumped from avoiding each other to betrothed in the span of a few weeks?” Caraway’s pointed question directed itself towards Lily.
“Feelings changed after my mother’s ball. Lily and I were able to discuss the past, and events progressed from there.”
A half-truth.
She didn’t recall much of a discussion outside of Owen’s shouting after breaching her maidenhead.
“How convenient... After years of discord, one reunited evening erases the past and lands you an engagement.” Cara studied Lily’s face, searching for clues as to the real story behind the abrupt change. It was no secret the animosity Lily held for Owen after the scandal. “An engagement arriving in the nick of time to save our family from disaster at the hands of Mr. Laramie. Remarkable!”
“Oh, stop being so cynical, Cara.” Iris cut in with a reassuring pat to her sister’s crossed arms before gliding forward, arms outstretched to hug Lily. “I’m happy to hear you’ve worked through your troubles, dear. And such a romantic tale! Falling in love across a ballroom floor, a second chance at happiness.” She turned to Owen and embraced him just as strongly.
Lily tamped down an answering jeer at the fairy tale embellishment of that night; no use disabusing her sisters of the ridiculous notion. Perhaps it would win a quicker acceptance of the news since she didn’t fancy an interrogation.
One can dream.
“Does your mother know?” This time, the dart plunged into Owen’s armor as he winced at Cara’s question. Dear lord, she’d forgotten about the dowager countess. How would she feel about gaining a daughter-in-law with a less-than-perfect pedigree?
She’s Irish. She can’t be too harsh on you.
But a niggling doubt persisted.
***
“LADIES, FIRST.” OWEN motioned for Lily to enter the sitting room before him, but she hesitated, sudden apprehension wrinkling her dark brows. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve? After dragging me across Shoreham for the performance of a lifetime in front of your Mr. Laramie?”
Caraway and Iris’s interrogation over the surprise engagement had spanned an hour’s time, and now they prepared themselves to answer more inquiries from his mother back at the Trent home. At this point, he almost wished Lily had dragged his mother along with them to the Taylor cottage earlier, just to avoid reiterating the tale.
“He’s not my anything. I made sure of that by proposing to you, didn’t I?” Lily’s ungloved hands clasped and unclasped, and tugged at her sleeve cuffs, before returning to their earlier position. The unusual fidgeting reminded Owen how much time had passed since he’d truly known her. The girl he used to know burst with energy, true, but it was always directed towards accomplishing one thing or another. Never had he seen her restless with anxiety.
And the change endeared him more towards her.
Gather yourself. One chink in her armor isn’t cause to become a lovesick puppy again. Especially without a proper explanation about Lynch.
“Yes, a rather Cornelian dilemma. Either choice would’ve been terrible in your mind, I suspect.” And it irritated him to no end. Did she really think so little of him? They both maintained their reservations about the other. But to place him in a category so close to that bastard Laramie?
It wasn’t right.
Before she could form a rebuttal, the amused melody of his mother’s voice drifted over them. “Are you two planning on spending all afternoon arguing in the hall, or will you finally grace me with your presence?”
Lily’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, and he feared his own face held the same look of embarrassment at the gentle chastisement. His arm waved forward once again—daring her to deny him a second time, now that they were aware of their audience—before following her inside to share the news of their impending nuptials. No doubt his mother would be thrilled.
The dowager countess lounged regally in her favorite spot by the bay windows, the picture of noble gentility and grace, her flame-red tresses the only outward sign of a rebellious streak that ran through her veins. Courtesy of an Irish grandmother, of course. A leather-bound book lay in one hand while the other placed an emerald ribbon between the pages to mark her spot.
He waited for Lily to be seated before joining her on the settee; their close proximity stiffening her shoulders. How flattering. Every man wanted his future bride to go stiff as a floorboard in his presence. Stifling a bemused cough, Owen waited for his mother’s opening volley.
“I take it you have something of importance to share with me?”
“It seems you shall have your birthday wish, after all, Mama. Miss Lily and I are to be wed.”
An expressive brow arched in surprise, though he saw the twitch of a smile toying around his mother’s mouth. She was pleased with the news. She’s always liked Lily...
“What a splendid development!” Clapping her hands together in approval, Lady Trent nonetheless speared Owen with a look of reprisal. “However, I don’t recall you asking for your grandmama’s ring. Did you propose to this lovely girl without it?”
Damn, he’d forgotten about the ring. Since he was a boy, his mother had shared the story of her Irish origins and the antique ring handed down from generation to generation. No matter the family’s circumstances—rich or poor—the ring stood the test of time.
But he could hardly be blamed for the oversight. Both proposals were hasty and precipitated by life-altering events. Didn’t leave much time to race down to the family jewels.
“At the risk of sounding ill-bred, I’m afraid I proposed to your son, my lady. So, the absence of the ring is entirely my fault.” Lily stepped in, shocking him with her defense. He thought she might have let him bear the brunt of his mother’s reprisal or join his mother’s light teasing.
“A modern woman! Just what the next Countess of Trent should be.” Reaching to tap Lily’s arm in affection, his mother smiled in easy acceptance of Lily’s brazen admission. “Welcome to the family, dear. Though, I suppose, you and your sisters have always been part of it as much as you children played together. But it will be good to make it official. We shall start wedding planning immediately. When can your sisters join us to help?”
Owen drifted off during the rest of the conversation as it shifted to wedding fripperies and the like. Gaze drawn to the portrait of his father hanging above the mantel, a portion of his mother’s words nagged at him.
You’ve always been part of our family.
A long-forgotten conversation with his father played in his mind’s eye, replacing the sunlit drawing room with the darker tones of the former earl’s study. After his twentieth birthday celebration, Father had invited Owen to the familiar room for a serious discussion about his future. Raised from an early age to learn the inner workings of the estate—more so than even his peers, who relied on managers—Owen knew his future duty to the land and tenants.
But his father had wanted to discuss a different topic altogether: that of marriage and heirs.
“Son, I’ve seen the way you look at the Taylor girl, witnessed the fiery exchanges between you two.” Reclining behind his desk, the earl addressed Owen with kindness tempered by an iron determination. “That girl’s a wild filly; the whole family embodies a sort of peculiarity.”
Owen prepared to defend them, but Father lifted a staying hand. “I mean no offense. I like them; we’re not exactly known for our conventionality either, are we? Not with your dear mother’s Irish blood.” He sighed in resignation, and Owen recalled the necessity of his parents’ marriage. How the earldom had been near destitute when Father had traveled to Ireland on a tip from a friend about a speculation opportunity. While the opportunity fell through, the luck of the Irish hadn’t deserted him. Instead, the earl met a wealthy distiller’s daughter and a match was struck.
However mercenary the tale, Owen knew his parents loved each other, and he hoped to emulate their marriage to his own children.
“What I’m trying to say is think about the path you’re on. The past two generations of Trents have made a bungle of our legacy. First, your grandfather gambling away our fortune, thus forcing me to marry a woman below my station in order to restore said fortune. No offense to your mother, of course, but facts are facts. I care about your happiness, and I know you believe it lies with Miss Lily, but would you condemn your heirs to another mark against their lineage?”
“You act as if my life has been ruined by our family’s past. As if a couple of side glances from uppity matrons matters to me. I love Lily like you love Mama, and we’ll handle any negative gossip together.” A fierce light glowed in Owen’s eyes, his father’s crestfallen expression doing nothing to dim it.
“I was afraid this would be your response.” Father shook his head in sadness, but didn’t forbid Owen from seeing Lily again. “You can be bull-headed when you want to be, but you’re a man now, which means you’ll need to learn through experience.”
And, by Jove, had he learned.
“My dear, are you listening?” Mama asked, shattering the past memory. Lily and she looked expectantly at him, and he struggled to return to the present.
His father had warned him about choosing Lily. Yet, he’d done so anyway, and she betrayed him. Perhaps not in the way he’d thought, but the kiss he’d witnessed between her and Lynch hadn’t been an illusion.
Now, he was choosing her again, and a sense of foreboding settled like a pall over his thoughts. What would his decision bring about this time?