“If I think of anything that could help, anything at all, I will come to you,” she warned him as they emerged from the woods.
In the soft grass that lined the banks of the river, he set her on her feet and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he murmured, the words a damp promise against her skin. “We are in this together.”
Dinner was a subdued affair. Bacon tart was usually one of Lily’s favorites, its flaky crust and sweet almonds contrasting with the salty meat, but today she only picked at it while she listened to Rose grill Rand about the latest developments. For once, Rose didn’t seem jealous about Lily’s betrothal—in fact, Lily would wager her sister was glad she wasn’t the one in this predicament.
Mum looked very sorry that she had insisted Lily go along to Hawkridge, although as Lily pointed out, her absence wouldn’t have changed anything. “It would have spared you some discomfort, dear,” Mum said. But that didn’t matter to Lily. The reward for that discomfort had been more time with Rand—precious time that could turn out to be their last.
Afterward, Lily saw him out to his carriage. “If you think of anything,” she told him, “anything at all—I want to know. And if I think of anything, I’ll send word to you at Oxford.”
“I may not be there long enough for it to reach me.
There are less than six days now until the wedding. I need to get back to Hawkridge well before that if I’m to find evidence enough to prevent it.”
“Then stop here on the way. Please. ’Twill not cost you but half an hour, and I may have an idea—” She broke off when his lips descended on hers.
The kiss was wild, desperate. It made her mouth burn with fire and her senses reel dangerously. She knew, without a doubt, that she would never find this with another man—and the truth cracked her heart.
When he finally broke it off, he crushed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. “God, Lily, this cannot be the end for us. It just cannot.”
“It won’t be.” She kissed him again, softly, then drew back. “You’ll stop by on your way to Hawkridge?”
He opened his eyes and nodded.
“Then I’ll see you in a few days,” she said, suspecting those days would be the longest of her life.
Rose, however, was not going to let her mope around.
“I think tonight we should have our sleeping party,” she said when Lily reentered the house.
Lily rubbed her face. “Whatever are you talking about?” She wasn’t interested in any sort of party at all, especially tonight. Tonight she just wanted to crawl into her bed, curl up, and think hard about how Bennett’s innocence could possibly be proved.
If he even was innocent . . . but she had to believe he was. ’Twas her and Rand’s only chance.
“The sleeping party, remember?” Rose put a hand on Lily’s arm, her eyes dark with concern. “You said Violet should come over to sleep. And I think we should invite Judith, too. She’s your best friend—she’ll want to hear about all these developments. I’m going to write them both notes and ask Parkinson to see they’re delivered.”
Before Lily could protest, Rose was off. Lily stood in a daze for a while, then went upstairs and changed into a more comfortable gown. She didn’t need to impress anyone here at Trentingham.
By the time she caught up with her sister, messages had been sent to both Violet and Judith, and Rose was in the kitchen talking to Mrs. Crump, their cook. “Fruit, nuts, bread, and cheese. And some nun’s biscuits,” she said, “since those are Lily’s favorites. We need it all ready to take to her room at nine o’clock.” Spotting Lily, she turned and smiled. “We don’t want to starve during our sleeping party.”
Lily hadn’t realized her sister could be so efficient. Or kind—especially considering the broken promise. “Why are you doing all this, Rose?”
A flush touched Rose’s cheeks. “You told Rand that two heads are better than one. Well, four would be even better, do you not think? Perhaps tonight we can hit upon a solution.”
Lily wasn’t sure she felt up to what Rose had planned, but she did appreciate the sentiment. “Thank you,” she said, “for caring.”
“Don’t be a goose,” Rose said with a wave of one hand. “You’re my sister. Now, we’ll need some nice flower arrangements for the supper table and your chamber. I’d best get busy.”
She hurried away, and Lily looked after her in wonder.
It seemed her sister was back to normal, but she couldn’t figure out why.
A soft drizzle began to fall outside, turning the world gray and dismal to match Lily’s mood. Violet and Judith both arrived in time for supper, and the whole story was told again. By the time they all made it up to Lily’s room for their sleeping party, laden with a decanter of wine and the refreshments that Mrs. Crump had prepared, Lily was exhausted to the point of numbness.
She collapsed crosswise on top of her white coverlet.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have your party without me.”
Violet set down a bowl of fruit and reached a hand to help her sit up. “I’m sure you’re tired,” she said sympathetically, settling beside her on the bed. “But we have a mission to accomplish.”
Even in her state, Lily couldn’t help but notice the faint circles under her oldest sister’s eyes. “You look rather tired yourself.”
“Two babies will do that to you,” Violet said with a tender smile. But it faded as she watched Lily lay a hand on her abdomen. “You’ll have children, too, Lily.”
Rose nodded as she sat herself on Lily’s other side. The three of them against all the injustice in the world. “We just have to put our heads together and come up with a brilliant idea.”
“Why?” Lily couldn’t help asking. “Why all of a sudden are you willing to help me wed Rand Nesbitt?”
“The Earl of Newcliffe,” Rose corrected her, but not unkindly. “As to why . . . well . . .” Her cheeks reddened.
“This afternoon, when I saw how miserable you were, and Rand, too—well, I just realized that I’d never loved him like that. I’d only wanted him because he’s so handsome.”
“And titled,” Violet reminded her, leaning across Lily to send their sister an arch look.
“Well, that, too. I
do
want someone of consequence, you know. But Lily and Rand—they belong together.”
“Thank you,” Lily whispered. How bittersweet it was to have her sister finally approve at the same time her betrothal was falling apart.
Seated at Lily’s dressing table with a platter of bread and cheese, Judith stopped eating long enough to release a languid sigh. “You and Rand are so romantic.”
Lily eyed her friend thoughtfully. “You look happy.”
“I am.” Judith’s pale blue eyes shone. “I’ve spent some time alone with Edmund—I mean, Lord Grenville—”
“You’d never been alone with him?” Rose interrupted.
Buttering bread, Judith blushed. “Well, ’tis not exactly proper, I know, but Papa managed to talk Mama into allowing it. I was so very unhappy, not really knowing Edmund and thinking I might never come to love him.”
Lily began filling four goblets with wine. “So what happened?”
Judith looked up, her cheeks flushed with wonder.
“He’s ever so marvelous. The sweetest man. I cannot imagine why I expected to fall in love at first sight. It takes getting to know someone, do you not think? It matters not what a man looks like, but what he’s like inside.”
Rand, Lily thought, was wonderful both inside and out.
She would never find another man so perfect.
She handed Judith a cup. “So what is Lord Grenville like inside?”
“Thoughtful. Kind. He answered all my questions and listened when I answered his. He loved his first wife dearly, but he was ever so sad that she couldn’t give him any children. More than anything, he wants children. And I . . . I want to give them to him.”
“Have you considered,” Rose asked, “that it might be
his
fault?” ’Twas just like Rose to say out loud what other women would only wonder silently. “After all,” she added, “he is thirty-five years old.” She said that as though the man were likely to topple over and die at any moment.
“That is not so ancient!” Judith burst out defensively.
Lily’s sister blinked, clearly taken aback, but Judith just went on. “Do you know, Rose, that someday you will be five-and-thirty, too? And for your sake, I hope by then—”
She broke off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. But they all knew what she’d been about to say.
I
hope by then you’ll have found a husband.
“Well,” Rose said stiffly. “I hope for
your
sake that Lord Grenville’s childlessness wasn’t his fault. I expect you may gain some enlightenment when you discover whether he’s skilled in the bedchamber.”
“I can assure you,” Judith said just as stiffly, “that his childlessness had nothing to do with his skills. He is a
very
good kisser.” A hunk of cheese halfway to her mouth, she paused and glanced around as though waiting for them all to express shock. “Are you not scandalized,”
she finally asked no one in particular, “that I allowed him to kiss me?”
Violet laughed. “No, we’re not scandalized. As a matter of fact, Mum always told us that it was an excellent idea to kiss a man before assenting to marriage. After all,
’tis a lifetime commitment. ’Tis desirable to assure you’re compatible in that area.”
“Oh,” was all Judith said. In fact, Lily thought she looked a mite disappointed they didn’t think her a fallen woman.
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” Lily told her. “I imagine that now you’re really looking forward to your wedding.”
“Oh, yes,” Judith breathed.
Lily wished she had her own wedding to look forward to instead of dreading Rand and Margery’s. Five days now. She was thrilled for Judith, but for some reason her friend’s newfound happiness made her own situation seem that much more miserable.
Judith handed her a nun’s biscuit. “Have you kissed Rand?”
Biting into the sweet almond and lemon treat, Lily nodded and left it at that.
“She’s done much more than kiss him,” Rose said, waggling her brows.
Feeling her face flood with color, Lily gasped. In Oxford Rose had promised not to tell. She glared at her sister. “You have no reason to believe such a thing.”
Rose’s dark eyes widened as she got the message.
“Gemini, I was only jesting.”
Lily brushed sugary crumbs off her skirts while she thought of a way to quickly change the subject. “Remember that song I was practicing for Rand? The one he is always humming?”
“What of it?”
“It has naughty words. And he knows others, too. He has a whole book of them.”
“A book?” Rose licked her lips. “Did you read them all? Or play them?”
“Only a couple that Rand remembered. The book is in Oxford.”
Rose looked very disappointed.
“Could you mean
An Antidote Against Melancholy
?”
Violet reached for a strawberry. “Ford has that book.”
“In your library?”
“No, upstairs, mixed in with all of his dusty science tomes and other books from when he attended university.
I’ve looked through that book—it is
very
naughty,” she added with a grin.
Lily sipped her wine. “How funny that he and Rand would have the same book.”
“Perhaps it was required reading at Oxford,” Judith quipped, eliciting titters from Lily’s sisters.
“Let us send for it,” Rose suggested. The glitter in her eyes belied her solemn tone. “It sounds educational.”
Violet laughed but scribbled a note to Ford. They sent a footman to deliver it and instructed him to wait and bring back the book. “Now,” she said, “while
we
wait, we must solve the problem at hand.”
Lily went over the whole story again, all the depressing details. Then they tossed around ideas. But every solution proposed, no matter how promising at first, turned out to be flawed, impossible, or downright ludicrous. As it appeared more and more that Lily’s situation was hopeless, the suggestions became fewer and farther between, until an hour later they finally fell into a heavy silence.
Violet slipped off her spectacles and polished them on her skirts. “Egad, we’re a woebegone bunch. This is supposed to be a party. We will discuss this again later, but for now, let us see if the songbook has arrived.”
Soon they were in the drawing room, giggling, the book propped up on the harpsichord where they could all see the words and Lily could read the music.
“Play this one, Lily,” Rose said, her dark eyes wide.
She began singing.
Let her face be fair,
And her breasts be bare,
And a voice let her have that can warble; Let her belly be soft—but to mount me aloft, Let her bounding buttocks be marble!
They’d brought the wine with them, and Judith gulped hers, looking shocked. “I cannot believe men sing songs like that!”
Amusement quirked on Violet’s lips. “Oh, women sing songs like that, too.”
“They don’t,” Judith said.
“They do.” Violet reached over Lily’s shoulder to flip some pages, then stepped back. “‘The Nurse’s Song.’
Play this one, dear sister.” She sang along with Rose.
My dear cockadoodle,
My jewel, my joy,
My darling, my honey,
My pretty sweet boy!
To make thee grow quickly
I’ll do what I can:
I’ll feed thee, I’ll stroke thee, I’ll make thee a man.
The Ashcroft sisters laughed, but Judith gulped more wine. “I do not understand. To make thee grow quickly?”
“’Tis the man’s yard the song speaks of,” Rose said.
“His yard?” If anything, Judith looked even more confused.
Rose waved a hand. “The man’s . . . you know.” For all her forthrightness, Lily thought, Rose was still innocent.
“I vow and swear,” she continued, “you must read
Aristotle’s Masterpiece
before you get married.”
Now Judith gasped. Although she knew the Ashcroft sisters had all read it, the book was considered scandalous. A desperate look in her eyes, she turned to Violet.
“You’re married. Tell me.”
Lily was relieved she wasn’t the one asked to explain.
Nobody even looked toward her. Perhaps Rose’s thoughtless comment had been taken as a jest after all.