WHEN LILY AND Rand told her mother they had news for the family, her eyes sparkled with delight.
“Since your father’s already in the gardens,” she said, “why don’t you find him and then wait by the twenty-guinea oak? In the time it would take me to explain why I want him to come inside, I can gather everyone else and meet you there.” A wide smile on her face, she hurried off.
It didn’t take long to find Father, who happened to be weeding a flower bed near the oak, using a hook and a forked stick. Lily decided to let him continue puttering.
She and Rand waited beneath the tree. “I should have told Rose first,” she suddenly realized, knowing her sister was going to be devastated. A stab of sympathy took her by surprise.
Rand shot a glance to her oblivious father before slipping an arm around her waist. “Because of your promise?”
“You knew?”
His arm curved, drawing her closer. “Your mother would never forgive you if you told your sister first.”
“True,” Lily murmured, realizing a second truth: She didn’t want to tell Rose first. She wasn’t ready to face her own anger or her sister’s.
“Lily?” He tilted her face up and touched a finger to the dent in her chin. “You’re supposed to be happy right now.”
“I am,” she said and smiled.
They parted when Rowan hurried out to meet them under the gigantic oak. “Benjamin couldn’t fish,” he said with a pout. “Mum said you have something to tell us?”
“Yes,” Lily said, “we do.”
“So what is it?”
She tweaked his nose. “You’ll have to wait for everyone else.”
With a small huff of impatience, he leapt to catch the lowest bough that branched off the huge, twisted trunk.
“It’s a big tree,” Rand commented, looking like he didn’t quite know what to say to Lily’s little brother. She supposed that living at a university, he mightn’t have much experience with ten-year-old boys.
“Zounds, it’s bigger than big.” Rowan swung back and forth, looking up at the cloudy sky through the canopy of leaves. “This tree has been here for more than three hundred years. And Father says we must never chop it down, even though it destroys the symmetry of his gardens.”
“Symmetry.” Rand raised a brow. “That’s a big word for a lad your age.”
Hauling his feet up, Rowan crouched on the big branch and began climbing. “I know,” he said proudly, his voice drifting from above. “What does it mean?”
Rand and Lily both laughed.
“What’s that?” Father demanded, noticing all of them at last. Lily laughed even harder, her amusement earning her a volley of coughs.
“It means balanced proportions,” Rand said loudly enough for even her father to hear.
“Ah, symmetry,” Father said. “You know, I’ve been advised to chop down this twenty-guinea oak for the sake of symmetry.”
Amid more laughter, Rand moved closer to Lily’s father so the older man could hear him better. Rand was patient with him, she thought. Not many young men would be.
Yet another reason to love Rand Nesbitt.
He raised his voice. “Why do you call it the twenty-guinea oak?”
Father smiled, always eager to answer that question, eager to tell the story that Lily had heard countless times. “A passing timber merchant once offered me ten guineas for the wood, saying it was quite the most enormous tree he’d ever seen.”
“Ten guineas, not twenty?”
“I’m getting to that,” Father said. “Well, the truth was, I’d been thinking of chopping the old boy down anyway, seeing as it impairs the symmetry of this garden. But I’m not one to act too rashly, you see, and so I told the merchant I’d like to think about his offer overnight. Next morning, bright and early, the fellow was at my door, increasing his offer to twenty guineas.” Father waved the long, pointed tool in his hand. “I figured that if the wood’s value could increase by a hundred percent overnight, the tree was an investment worth keeping.”
Rand laughed out loud, and Father grinned. Lily was glad they seemed to get along. But her smile faded when her mother arrived with Rose and Judith.
The gray sky might be threatening a gentle summer rain, but Rose’s expression looked like thunder.
Fresh sympathy tightened Lily’s sore throat.
Rowan dropped from the tree. “We’re all here now. What is it you were wanting to tell us? Is it something happy?”
It was, for her and Rand. Lily’s emotions were riding a seesaw, and despite her confusion, her smile returned to her face. “Lord Randal has asked me to marry him.”
Suddenly everyone was talking at once.
Mum threw her arms around her. “I knew it! Congratulations, dear.”
“Can Jewel come to the wedding?” Rowan asked.
“No,” their mother said. “Jewel is related to Violet’s husband, not Lily’s.” She kissed both of Lily’s cheeks, then pulled back and winked. “Even though I didn’t arrange the marriage, I wish you every happiness.” Not one to stand on ceremony, she turned into Rand’s arms next. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” he said, hugging her back rather awkwardly. Lily gave him credit for trying, knowing her family could be overwhelming.
Rowan tugged on her gown. “Lily?”
She kissed his forehead, laughing when he blushed and pulled away. “Jewel may attend,” she told him, “if her parents agree.” She wanted her brother to be happy, too, and after all, it was her wedding. She ought to have a say in the guest list.
Her wedding, she thought in a daze. It still didn’t seem real.
“What’s all this?” Father asked.
Rand cleared his throat and raised his voice. “With your permission, sir, I’d like the honor of wedding your daughter.”
“If you know my daughter well enough to wed her,” Father bellowed back, “you know she’s not about to ask my permission. None of my flowers ask me before doing anything.”
“We can all hear, darling,” Mum reminded him. But he had Lily wrapped in a hug and wasn’t paying attention. When he released her, he turned to shake Rand’s hand.
“Well done,” he yelled, and Lily just smiled and shook her head. If Rand could get through this day with her family, she reckoned he would learn to fit in just fine.
Judith tapped her on the shoulder, her pretty face lit up with a grin. “We’re going to become old married ladies together!”
Lily gave her friend a hard hug, wishing Judith could be as happy about her own wedding. “Let’s get married before we worry about growing old.”
“Yes,” Rose said, “I’m the one who’s old.”
Finally, having put it off as long as she could, Lily turned to her sister.
Rose’s dark eyes were black with fury. “How could you?”
How could she what? Lily wondered.
What did her sister mean by those three words? How could she break her promise? How could she marry before her older sister? How could she steal the husband Rose had wanted? How could she be so selfish as to secure her own happiness?
All of it, undoubtedly, Lily thought with a resigned sigh. But while her heart grieved for her sister’s pain, and she regretted her part in causing it, she refused to accept the guilt. In her view, Rose had forfeited whatever claim she had on Rand by her abusive treatment of him earlier that afternoon.
And though Lily loved her no less, and would forgive her in time, she would not reward her sister’s folly with deference. Rose’s misery was of her own making, and though it aroused Lily’s compassion, she would not end that misery with a sacrifice.
Wanting to explain—in language softer than her present feelings, if she could manage it—Lily took her sister’s arm to draw her aside.
Rose shook her off. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, though she did move away from the others, closer to the oak. “You promised! You said you’d help, and then you told me to do the wrong thing on purpose.” As she talked, she advanced on Lily, backing her into the oak. “I went to Lakefield every day to offer my assistance with the translation, but he wouldn’t even see me.” Her face was right in Lily’s, her eyes flashing fire. “I always knew showing my intellect was the wrong way to get a gentleman worth having!”
The rough bark bit into Lily’s back, and she hit her head against it, trying to gain some distance from Rose’s venom. “No, it isn’t,” she protested. “It’s the right way. Rand was just the wrong gentleman.”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to trust your word?” With a huff and a swish of her skirts, Rose whirled away.
Shaking, Lily walked back to the others.
“I think we shall have a picnic tomorrow to celebrate,” Mum was saying brightly. “With champagne.”
Rowan made a face. “No champagne.”
“You don’t have to drink any,” Lily said woodenly, rubbing her head where it hurt. She looked up at the sky and wished she felt more like celebrating. “It will probably be raining anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Mum said. “If it rains tonight, it shall be clear and beautiful tomorrow.”
“A picnic sounds very nice.” Shooting Rose a concerned glance where she still stood near the tree, Rand moved to take Lily’s hand. “Thank you, Lady Trentingham. And I shall venture to invite your family to Oxford the day after, if you’re amenable. Lily ought to see her new home, don’t you think? I’ll give you all the grand tour, and you can stay overnight. I’ve no furniture yet in my house, save in the one room I’ve been using to sleep, but a respectable inn lies directly behind it.”
“An inn,” Rowan breathed. “May we go, Mum?” He looked more excited about the journey than he had about the picnic—or the marriage, for that matter.
“We’ve stayed at an inn only once since Rowan was born,” Mum explained to Rand, “and he was too young to remember.” She smiled at her son. “Yes, Rowan, I expect that we can go. I should like to see where my daughter will be living. And Rose always enjoys traveling, don’t you, Rose?”
She looked to Rose, but Rose wasn’t there.
Lily turned just in time to see her march up the portico steps and slam into the house.
“I’ll go after her,” Judith said fretfully.
“No, I’ll talk to her.” Mum started toward the house, then paused to look back at Lily. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ve done nothing wrong, but she’s hurting now, and I can’t say I really blame her. She’ll come to terms with it sooner or later.”
“I hope it will be sooner,” Lily said in a small voice.
She loved Rand. But if her own sister couldn’t be happy for her, could she be truly happy herself?