AFTER DINNER at Trentingham, Lily spent the afternoon tucked away in the drawing room, its thick oak doors shielding her from the chaos all around. Outside, the drive was crammed with carriages waiting to take friends and family home. Inside, uncles bellowed directions for packing and loading while children galloped about the corridors and nursemaids scurried after their charges.
But at the harpsichord in her family’s cream-and-gold drawing room, Lily felt at peace. The ivory keys were cool and smooth beneath her hands, the music rising and falling in perfect, predictable patterns. There was something satisfying in letting notes on a page direct her fingers through familiar motions—motions that produced the same sounds and silences every time, without fail.
Music always made sense.
Lily knew she should join the others and say good-bye. And she would, soon. Just one more song and she’d be ready to face the confusion of the household. Two songs at the most. Well, maybe three, but the third would be on the shorter side—
The door opened, and her mother glided gracefully into the chamber. Mum waited for her to finish. “Dear,” she began as the last note faded, “that was lovely, but you really should be—”
“I know, Mum.” Lily rose, forcing her lips to curve in a smile. “I’ll go make my farewells.”
“That’s my Lily.” Mum smiled in return. “Aunt Cecily could use some help bringing Lucy and Penelope downstairs.” Lucy and Penelope were Lily’s small cousins, aged two and three. “I’m afraid all our servants are engaged with the luggage.”
“Of course I’ll help.” With one last wistful look at the harpsichord, Lily quit the room and followed her mother upstairs, looking forward to hugging the two girls one more time.
But the nursery was empty. “Oh, well,” Mum said cheerfully. “Aunt Cecily must have managed to wrestle the little rapscallions downstairs by herself. Come along, then.” She turned back to the corridor.
Feeling like one of King Charles’s tennis balls being batted back and forth, Lily followed. Then nearly bumped into her mother when she stopped before a door—the door to the room that had been assigned to Rand.
If Lily hadn’t already known that, she would have figured it out by the singing that drifted from inside. Though the words were muffled, she recognized the same tune from the carriage this morning. Even muffled, his voice was gorgeous. It flowed through the gaps around the closed door, warm and rich like melted butter.
Mum knocked and called through the oak. “How do you fare, Rand?”
The door opened, and Rand stood there, a shirt dangling from one hand. “Very well, thank you,” he said, stepping back into the room to toss the garment into his trunk. He looked, Lily thought, like he was relieved to be departing Trentingham.
Well, she was relieved, too. The less she had to watch Rose fawning over him, the better.
A frown on her forehead, Mum pointedly scanned the room. “Where is the maid I arranged for? Did she never turn up?” She nodded to Lily. “Perhaps you can assist Rand with his packing for a few moments.”
“I—” Lily started.
“That’s my Lily.” Without waiting for her agreement, Mum turned to look down the stairwell. “Arabel!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare leave without a bottle of perfume!” And before Lily could say anything, she was gone.
Lily sighed and entered the room, suppressing a smile when she saw Rand’s sloppy method of folding breeches. “Let me help you with that.”
“I can manage it myself, although I cannot fathom why the maid unpacked everything. I brought enough for a two-week stay, but not here.”
“She wasn’t privy to your plans.” She took the garment and folded it neatly, thinking it felt a bit scandalous to be touching his clothes. “As soon as some of these people leave, more help will be available.”
Lady and Jasper watched from the sill, holding a noisy conversation. “What could a squirrel and a bird possibly be discussing?” Rand asked rather peevishly, then didn’t wait for her to answer. “I told Ford I’d be back in an hour. He wants to work some more on the translation.”
“Ford will have to understand.” She re-folded the last pair of breeches and placed the stack back in his trunk. “He can wait.”
Rand snorted. “I suppose he’s waited for four years. Another couple of hours won’t kill him.”
I’ve thought about you for four years…
Lily shook the words from her head. Last night ought to be the last thing on her mind right now.
She looked away as he came near to dump an armful of stockings in the trunk. Heat was rising in her cheeks, and her hands trembled slightly as they untangled the lump of stockings. If she meant to keep her resolve, she’d have to quash these feelings before they got out of hand.
“Rose is hopeless at packing, too, you know,” she said conversationally. “You two truly have a lot in common.”
“Are you disdaining my skill at packing, madam?”
She felt an instant of remorse before noticing the smile playing at the corners of his lips. An answering grin appeared on her own. “Are you alleging you have any, sir?”
What was it about him that made her so bold? She was hardly ever pert, not even with her own family. But with Rand, these things somehow tumbled out of her mouth.
“Why don’t you show me, then?” He offered a clean but rumpled shirt. “Instruct me in the art of folding, o wise Professor Ashcroft.”
Their fingers touched when she reached for it, and his hand was warm and much larger than hers. The shirt smelled like him, like soap and a hint of musk. Her skin prickled. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down to see that he hadn’t relinquished the shirt. In fact, he seemed to be using it to draw her closer, and try as she might to uncurl her fingers, they wouldn’t do as they were told.
She barely had time to realize she was about to get her first kiss before it was happening. His lips met hers gently, feather-light, soft and warm as the finest whisper of down. But that whisper alone was enough to make her head swirl. Wanting to feel more, she rose on her toes to press closer.
Rose. She’d promised Rose. She couldn’t do this.
Pulling away in a panic, she was horrified to realize the door was wide open. Why, anyone could have walked by and seen what they were doing! How could she be so stupid? Not to mention thoughtless, shallow, uncaring—
“I have to leave,” she said, stumbling toward the doorway, nearly tripping over her own skirts. She was shaking all over.
Lady tweeted from the window, and Jasper answered with a chirp, alerting Lily to their presence. How long had they been watching? she wondered vaguely, but a hundred other questions and doubts stampeded through her mind, making her stomach want to rebel. How had she let this happen? How could she have betrayed her own sister?
And how in heaven’s name would she ever forgive herself?