• Order a Copy
• Excerpt
• Information

Excerpt

Chapter One

Trentingham Manor, the South of England

August 1677

He'd forgotten about her.

Well, maybe he hadn't quite forgotten about her, but he'd certainly put her out of his mind.

Well, maybe he hadn't quite put her out of his mind, but he'd known she was only sixteen. And sixteen was too young, so, being the sort of man he was—an honorable one, or so he liked to think—he'd made a conscious decision not to pursue her.

For the four long years since their last meeting, whenever thoughts of Lily Ashcroft had sneaked into Lord Randal Nesbitt's head, he'd reminded himself she was only sixteen.

But now, he realized with a start, she must be twenty.

Focused as Rand was, the priest's voice, reciting the baptism service, barely penetrated his thoughts. Nor did the wiggling month-old child in Rand's arms. He stared at Lily standing beside him in her family's oak-paneled chapel, her sister's other twin baby held close.

Twenty. A lovely dark-haired, blue-eyed twenty. A marriageable twenty.

In all of Rand's twenty-eight years, he'd never really considered marriage, so the notion was jarring.

Having now, the priest continued, in the name of these children, made these promises, wilt thou also on thy part take heed that these children learn the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, and all other things which a Christian ought to know and believe to his soul's health?

I will, by God's help, Lily replied softly. Gently, gazing down at the babe in her arms.

Rand was unsurprised. In four years she had changed, of course. But her gentleness, that innate sweetness, hadn't changed. Couldn't have changed. 'Twas what made her Lily.

Ford Chase, Rand's friend—and father of the children in question—elbowed him in the ribs.

Hmm? Startled, Rand looked down to the lad he was holding, its bald little head patterned with colors made by sun streaming through the chapel's stained-glass windows. Ford's child, he thought, surprised by a rush of tenderness. Rand's godchild—or at least the tiny babe and his twin sister would be his godchildren once they managed to get through this interminable service.

I will, he answered, echoing Lily's words and vaguely wondering what he'd just agreed to.

By God's help, the priest prompted.

By God's help.

God help him get through this ritual. Mass, and then a lesson, and now this ceremony at the font—Rand felt like he'd been standing on his feet forever. Delivering a two-hour lecture at Oxford wasn't nearly this exhausting. He feared his knees were locked permanently.

The priest turned a page in his Book of Common Prayer. Wilt thou take heed that these children, so soon as sufficiently instructed, be brought to the bishop to be confirmed by him?

I will. He and Lily said it together this time. Their voices, Rand thought, sounded good together.

Name these children.

The child squirmed in Rand's arms, choosing then to begin wailing. Marcus Cicero Chase, Rand bellowed over the cries.

Rebecca Ashcroft Chase, Lily said more softly and with a smile, even though the girl's cry had joined her twin brother's, seeming to fill the chapel all the way up to its sculpted Tudor ceiling.

Whoever would have thought such small infants could make such a huge racket?

The priest rushed to finish, scooping water into his hand. It trickled through his fingers, running in rivulets down the backs of the two babies' heads and landing on the colorful glazed tile floor. I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. He muttered some more words and made crosses on the children's foreheads. Amen.

Amen. It was over. Well-wishers crowded close. Still holding his squalling godson, Rand turned to Lily.

She was gone.

How could she have disappeared so quickly? Using his height to advantage, he peered over heads. But she had vanished.

Nearby, Ford held tiny Rebecca and was chatting with an older man. Lily's father, if Rand remembered right. Or rather, Ford was shouting at the man, since the Earl of Trentingham was hard of hearing.

Marveling that his tall, masculine friend looked so comfortable holding an infant, Rand shifted little Marc uneasily. Rebecca had stopped crying, apparently content in Ford's arms, but in Rand's arms, her twin brother still howled.

Rand looked around for help, relieved to see Violet Chase—Ford's wife and Lily' s sister—moving close. When she reached for her son, Rand gave her a grateful smile. But then he found himself oddly reluctant to hand Marc over. The babe might be loud, but he smelled sweet and had a pleasant, warm weight.

Marc quieted immediately when Violet took him. Rand resisted the urge to run his fingers over that fuzzy little head, leaning a hand on one of the intricate carved oak stalls instead. I assume you chose his name, Marcus Cicero, for the philosopher.

Violet bounced the lad in her arms, her brown curls bouncing along with him. She looked more motherly than Rand usually pictured her. Did children change people so much? Life as a single man had its distinct advantages.

'Twas only fair, she said. Ford had the naming of our firstborn.

Nicky? Ah, Nicolas Copernicus, Rand remembered. Well, I suppose 'tis a better name than Galileo Galilei.

Ford's other scientific hero? She laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with humor behind the spectacles Ford had made for her. Even he wouldn't saddle a good English child with Galileo for a name.

And Rebecca? Who is she named after?

No one. I just like it. And there's never been a major female philosopher.

Yet, Rand added, knowing she hoped to publish a philosophy book of her own someday.

Yet, Violet confirmed with a nod, clearly appreciating his support. She touched her husband's arm, claiming his attention. We'd best be heading home, she said when he turned, or everyone will arrive there before us.

When Ford smiled at her, Violet's responding smile transformed her face. Perhaps she wasn't as beautiful as her sisters, Lily and Rose, but she was attractive in her own, unique way, and it had nothing to do with the magnificent purple gown she'd donned for the baptism.

Moreover, 'twas obvious she made Ford very, very happy. A sort of happiness that glowed from his eyes whenever he looked at her. A sort of happiness neither Rand nor Ford had dreamed of back in the days they attended university together.

'Twas frightening how much the man had changed.

Ford was still holding his new daughter, her tiny fist tangled in his long brown hair. Unable to resist this time, Rand skimmed his fingers over Rebecca's dark curls. So soft, he murmured.

Violet nodded. Have you never touched a baby before today?

Not that I can recall.

Someday you'll have children of your own.

Perhaps, he allowed. My favorite truism is never say never. But God willing, should it happen, 'twill not be too soon.

Her laugh tinkled through the almost empty chapel. We really must be going.

Come along, Rand, Ford said. I want to show you the water closet I built. 'Tis much better than the ones imported from France.

A smile curved Rand's lips as he followed them out the door. It seemed his friend hadn't changed that much, after all.

---

What? Lily laughed as her friend Judith Carrington pulled her toward a carriage. What is so important that you couldn't wait until we got to Violet's house to tell me? So important that you almost made me drop my niece, not to mention almost dislocated my arm dragging me out of there?

She paused before climbing in, waving at her parents and sister Rose lest they think she'd abandoned them. They were a handsome family, she thought suddenly, her father tall and trim, his eyes a deep green, his real hair still as jet-black as the periwig he wore for this special occasion. Her mother and Rose were both dark-haired and statuesque, elegant in their best satin gowns, Mum's a gleaming gold, Rose's a rich, shimmering blue.

Looking at them, one would never guess they were so eccentric.

Her mother waved back distractedly, holding her two-year-old grandson, Nicky, as she busily ushered guests out the door to their waiting transportation. Feeling Judith's hand on her back, Lily laughed again and lifted her peach silk skirts to duck inside the carriage.

What? she repeated.

Oh, just this. Even though they weren't ready to leave, Judith pulled the door shut. Then she settled herself with a flounce. I'm betrothed.

Betrothed? Lily blinked at her friend. As in you're planning to wed?

Well, Mama is doing the planning. It is ever so exciting. Can you believe it, Lily? Come October, I'm going to be a married woman.

No, I cannot believe it. The third of her friends to marry this year. Yesterday they'd been children; now suddenly they were supposed to be all grown-up. Who? Lily asked.

Lord Grenville. Did your mother not tell you she'd suggested he offer for my hand? Father says it is a brilliant match.

Grenville was wealthy, but thirty-five years old to Judith's twenty. Do you love him? Lily wondered aloud. She hoped so. Judith was plump and pretty, but even more important, she was genuinely nice. A good friend who deserved happiness.

I barely know him. But Mama assures me we will grow to love one another—or get along tolerably, at least. The excitement faded from Judith's blue eyes, replaced with a tinge of anxiety. Her fingers worried the embroidery on her aqua underskirt. 'Twill work out fine, I'm sure of it.

I'm sure of it, too, Lily soothed, reaching across to take her friend's cold, pale hand. She squeezed, wishing she were as certain as she sounded. Her own parents had promised their daughters they could choose their own husbands, but Lily knew it did not work that way for most young women.

Her family was different. The Ashcroft motto—Interroga Conformationem, translated as Question Convention—said it all.

The Carringtons, on the other hand, were as conventional as roast goose on Christmas Day. Judith forced a smile and pushed back a lock of bright yellow hair that had escaped her careful coiffure. Who was that handsome man who stood as godfather?

Lily sat back. One of Ford's old friends. Lord Randal Nesbitt.

Would it not be fun to be newly wedded together, have babies together? Some of the color returned to Judith's cheeks. You should marry him.

Wherever did you get that idea? Lily crossed her arms over the long, stiff stomacher that covered the laces on the front of her gown. I hardly know Rand.

Rand, Judith repeated significantly, making it clear she'd noticed Lily's familiar use of the name. What does that matter? I hardly know Lord Grenville, either. And believe me, he doesn't look at me the way Rand was looking at you.

Looking at me? Lily echoed weakly. She'd hardly looked at him at all. She'd been focused on the cooing baby in her arms, her sister's first daughter. Her first niece. Nicky was great fun, of course, but here finally was a little girl to play house with, to fix her hair, to—

Lord, he hardly took his eyes off you the entire time. Judith's lips curved in an impish grin. 'Twas certainly more entertaining than the baptism.

Lily felt her face heat and wondered if Judith could be right—if instead of watching the ceremony, everyone had been watching Rand watch her.

But no…why would Rand be interested in her? They had nothing in common. Her friend had been seeing something that wasn't there. You just have the wedding fever, she said lightly, rubbing the faint scars on the back of her hand. Besides, if he's interested in anyone, I'm sure 'tis Rose. They share a passion for languages.

Ah, Judith said with a smug tilt of her pert nose, you know more about the man than you're willing to admit.

Ignoring that, Lily leaned to look out the window, but there was a long queue of carriages. They were going nowhere.

Who is that? her friend asked, following her line of sight. The girl in pink, coming out of the barn with your brother?

Jewel, Ford's niece. Rowan and she have been friends for years.

What sort of friends? And what do you suppose they were doing alone together in a barn?

Goodness, Rowan is only eleven and Jewel ten. Your mind is too much on romance these days. Knowing the two, they were probably planning a practical joke.

In a barn?

Lily laughed at the expression on her friend's face. Over the years, there's hardly a building on either property they haven't used to stage a prank.

Judith looked likely to say more, but the door popped open and her mother poked her head in. Were you leaving without me, dear?

Of course not, Mama. We just came inside to talk. Judith scooted over to make room.

A large, jolly woman, Lady Carrington wedged herself beside her daughter and tucked in her voluminous salmon skirts. Before her footman could shut the door, Lily's striped cat nimbly leapt inside.

Lady Carrington sneezed. Shoo! she exclaimed, waving one manicured hand at the hapless feline.

Beatrix, Lily said softly, you cannot ride in this carriage.

The cat gave her a hurt look but leapt out.

Much better, Lady Carrington said as the door shut. She turned to Lily. This afternoon, I'm hoping your father will advise me about flowers for Judith's wedding.

The Earl of Trentingham was nothing if not an expert on flowers. I'm certain Father will fancy being consulted, Lily assured her. She smiled vaguely, listening with half an ear to the wedding plan chatter as the carriage started moving.

She wasn't ready to think about weddings, or at least not her own. Rose was a year older—her wedding should come first.

Chapter Two

When Lily arrived at Lakefield, Violet and Ford's house, Rose motioned her into the drawing room and gestured with her eyes toward where Rand was in conversation.

He keeps looking over here, Lily. He's spotted me. Tall and willowy, Rose looked a pretty picture against the drawing room's soft turquoise walls—and well she knew it. She straightened one of her glistening chestnut curls and smoothed her deep blue satin skirts. He remembers me, she added confidently.

Of course he remembers you. Lily glanced in Rand's direction. You worked with him translating that old alchemy book, did you not? she continued slowly, finding herself staring.

How had she managed to ignore him in the chapel? Rand was not a man to whom women would be indifferent. His physique was lean and athletic, and his hair, a million mixed colors of blond and brown, was longer than hers and gorgeous enough to make her jealous.

As though sensing Lily studying him, he turned his head while still talking. For a split second, his intense gray eyes blazed into hers.

Or she thought they had. She blinked, clearing her vision. Now Judith had her imagining things.

I've been dreaming about this day for weeks, Rose said, reclaiming her attention.

The baptism?

No, you goose. Seeing Lord Randal again. Ever since I danced with him at Violet's wedding, I've known he is the man for me.

Suddenly Lily remembered that Rand had danced with her, too, at that wedding. Not to mention, of course, that Rose lusted after every handsome, eligible man who crossed her path.

But Lily had to admit that Rand could be the one for Rose. Good looks aside, he was more suited to her sister than most men were. They were both academically minded and shared mutual interests. I had no idea you'd been thinking about him all these years.

Dreaming, Rose repeated on a sigh.

Four years is a long time to dream. Lily cast him another quick glance, then smiled. I suppose he is the memorable sort.

Her sister looked at her sharply. You're not interested in him yourself, are you?

Of course not! First Judith, now Rose? Was something in the air today? Whatever would make you think that?

You said he's the memorable sort.

That doesn't mean I want him. A man like Rand would never be interested in someone like me. He'd want someone like you, Rose. You're both fascinated with languages. Rand and I have nothing in common. And he's too tall. Lily drew herself up to her full height of five foot two and figured she stood to about his shoulders.

Looking down at her, Rose snorted. There is no such thing as a man who is too tall. Will you promise?

Promise what?

Promise me you won't pursue him. Promise me you'll not get in my way.

The entire idea was so absurd, Lily laughed. I promise. In fact, I'll do better than that. I'll help you land him.

Would you? Rose breathed.

Of course. You're my sister. I love you, and I want to see you happy.

Rose's dark eyes actually misted. You're so good, Lily. You want everyone to be happy.

Is there something wrong with that?

Of course not, Rose said, and then in the next breath, What will you do to help?

Rose would be Rose, Lily thought with an inward smile. Whatever I can. But you must do your part, too. And that means, for once, not pretending that your head is filled with pudding. I wish I could speak half the languages you do. You're an intelligent woman, and hiding that makes no sense.

For Lord Randal, perhaps it doesn't, because we have similar interests. But for other men—

For any man. Why would you want a man who doesn't value your strengths?

You don't understand men, sister dear. Most of them thrive on feeling superior. When Lily opened her mouth, Rose held up a hand. But we were talking about Lord Randal, who is not most men— She broke off, her eyes widening. Gemini, here he comes!

As Rand approached, their mother seemed to appear out of nowhere—a habit Lily and her sisters found vexing. Chrystabel Ashcroft gave him a brilliant smile. Lord Randal. How very nice to see you again. Her brown eyes shone with genuine warmth. We missed you at my first grandson's christening.

She means Nicky, my godchild, Rose put in. I shared the honor with Ford's two brothers.

Rand shrugged one shoulder, a half smile curving his lips. I was sorry to miss the occasion, but I'm afraid I was in Greece.

Greece! Rose laid a graceful hand on her embroidered stomacher. I would so adore traveling the world. I could make use of all my languages.

Lily did a little mental dance, so happy to see that her sister was doing as she'd suggested—as the entire family had been suggesting for years. For once in her life, Rose was going to reveal her intelligence to a man instead of pretending to be empty-headed.

It would work, Lily was sure. Rose's bad luck with men would finally come to an end. And then, she couldn't help thinking, with her sister safely wed, she'd feel free to find love for herself.

Chrystabel cleared her throat. You'll remember my daughter Rose? she asked Rand. And Lily, her younger sister.

And Lily, Rand agreed, his eyes meeting hers. Capturing hers, like they had four years ago and again a few minutes earlier. In all of her twenty years, she had never seen another gaze as compelling as Rand's. 'Twas as though he could see right into her, yet not in an uncomfortable way…in a way that warmed her and held her captive.

She'd forgotten about that. It seemed she'd forgotten a lot in those four years.

Rose—bold Rose—reached to touch him on the arm. Did you ever succeed in translating that alchemy book?

Secrets of the Emerald Tablet? He smiled at Lily before shifting his attention to her sister. No. A fine puzzle it is, very time-consuming, and Ford said that with the sale of his watch patent there was no longer any rush.

At that, Ford broke into their little group. You certainly took that to heart, he said accusingly. Four years is a bit longer than I had in mind.

I'm here now, am I not? Rand countered, sounding defensive. And ready to finish it.

Ford grinned, revealing the heated exchange to have been nothing more than jesting between friends. Only because you have nowhere to live.

That is not true. I have a beautiful new home.

Half built.

Rand rubbed his forehead, then flashed a rueful smile. The hammering and sawing were driving me insane.

Rand has commissioned a new house, Ford explained to the girls and their mother. 'Twas supposed to have been ready by now, so he'd already sold his old one.

And as a consequence, Rand added, I've been sleeping in a construction site.

Rose nodded, her face a study in understanding. Where is your new home, my lord?

Rand, he corrected her, having asked them four years ago to call him that. And it's in Oxford.

Rand is a professor of linguistics, Ford reminded Rose, although Lily was sure her sister needed no reminding.

But apparently Rose decided to play as if she'd forgotten. She favored Rand with a wide smile—one Lily had seen her practice countless times in her dressing table mirror. Oooh, my lord, that is soooo impressive.

A matter of determination and persistence, Rand told her, looking oddly immune to that smile.

He wasn't responding to the old, coquettish Rose. Lily would have to talk to her sister about that. Flirtation didn't mesh well with her new, more intelligent image.

How long will you be staying? Chrystabel asked him.

My house should be finished within a week or so—

As long as it takes, Ford broke in, to figure out whether the book indeed holds the secret to making gold. Now, would you not all like to see the water closet?

It seems to me, Rand said in the sort of needling tone that only a fast friend would put up with, it's taken you longer to build that water closet than I've spent on the translation. He turned to Lily's family. I remember when his brother had water closets installed—

Colin, Ford clarified.

My friend here was so envious. Said he'd design one for Lakefield in no time. That was what, ten years ago?

Eleven. Come see. As he talked, Ford led them out of the drawing room, threading his way through the many guests. I've only finished one so far, but you're a fortunate man since it's in the room where you'll be staying.

Rand went with Ford up the square oak staircase, and Rose hurried to follow. Lily watched her sister's swishing skirts as she and her mother trailed everyone else up the stairs, her striped cat, Beatrix, scampering behind.

Ford stepped onto the landing and started down the corridor. Colin's water closets were imported from France.

They must have been expensive, Rose said.

Absolutely. But I examined his thoroughly, and they seemed a simple enough design to build myself. In fact, I thought of improvements.

Of course, Chrystabel put in. She thought her son-in-law was brilliant. In fact, she'd originally told Violet that Ford was too intellectual for her.

Funny how wrong she'd been about that, but it had been just as well. Mum was a renowned matchmaker, and although Violet and Ford were perfect for each other, if she had tried to match them up, their marriage would never have happened.

The three Ashcroft sisters loved their mother dearly, but they were determined to avoid becoming another page in The Big Book of Weddings Arranged by Chrystabel.

Lily was watching, in fact, to see if Mum would try to match Rose with Rand. After all, they were an obvious fit, and at twenty-one, Rose was getting rather desperate. When poor Violet turned that same age, Rose had pronounced her an official spinster.

But if Mum tried to push Rand on her, Rose would surely go looking elsewhere. And Lily would be honor-bound to help. The girls had a long-standing pact to save one another from their mother's matchmaking schemes.

Inside the guest chamber, everyone including the cat squeezed into a tiny room that Ford had hired a man to construct in the corner—Ford was an accomplished inventor, but less than talented when it came to anything requiring sweat or a ladder. They gathered around the water closet, peering down at it in wonder.

'Twas a padded box with a round opening in the top, rather like a closestool. But instead of a removable chamber pot inside, there was a permanent alabaster bowl. Back here, Ford pointed out, this copper pipe leads down from it. The pipe disappeared into the wall. The system works as a siphon.

They all nodded, since he'd explained siphons to them years ago, along with other scientific marvels.

I suppose it empties into the river? Rose asked, demonstrating her intelligence.

It does. And there will be more pipes—eventually all over the house. I mean to put a water closet in every bedchamber. And my laboratory.

Leaning to pick up Beatrix, Lily hid a smile. The man practically lived in his laboratory.

Another pipe ran up from the back of the seat, ending at a tank affixed to the wall. The water. Ford gestured toward a third pipe that disappeared into the ceiling. 'Tis fed from a cistern on the roof.

How does it work? Lily asked.

Well, first you use it—

No need to demonstrate that, Rose rushed to say.

Of course not. Her brother-in-law rolled his eyes, but 'twas a good-natured roll. Lily suspected there had been a time he'd disapproved of Rose's forthright nature, but those days were long past.

Rose was Rose.

After you use it, you pull on this lever. Ford grabbed a handle attached to the tank. It releases the water to wash the waste out to the river.

There was a rushing sound. Startled, Beatrix leapt from Lily's arms and streaked from the room. Almost bumping heads, everyone leaned over the alabaster bowl to watch the water flow down the pipe.

Goodness, Lily said. 'Tis wonderful. There's nothing to take out, nothing to clean.

As though you've ever scrubbed a chamber pot, Rose teased.

Oh, hush. Lily playfully shoved her sister's shoulder. While it was true there was no lack of servants at Trentingham Manor, that was beside the point.

Used to their squabbling, Ford simply pushed back up on the lever. When it's clean, you stop the water.

That's it? Mum asked.

That's it, Ford said with a smile. To deal with the, um, unpleasant odors in the pipes, I have curved the one below the bowl into an S shape. Clean water fills it and forms a seal.

Chrystabel beamed. Brilliant, as usual.

Very impressive, Rand allowed.

The demonstration over, they all squeezed out through the narrow doorway into the pale green bedchamber. Luggage—Rand's, Lily assumed—sat in a corner. Why did you build the first one here? she asked Ford.

I wanted to make certain everything worked right before I started punching holes in the walls of rooms we regularly use. He waved them back toward the corridor. Come along, now. I'd like to show you the pipes outside, and others are waiting for a demonstration.

Everyone, I'd wager. Rose maneuvered to descend beside Rand. I wish they'd all leave. I cannot wait to use it.

Rand appeared to be smothering a laugh.

Mum released a sigh but let the improper comment pass. Me, too, she whispered to Lily as they followed the others downstairs.

Me three, Lily murmured.

Once outdoors, Ford hurried them through the garden and around the side of the white-painted house. Bright new copper pipe shone in the sun, making its way down the wall before disappearing into the ground. A tidy trail of newly turned earth traced the pipe's path to the nearby Thames.

Amusement glittering in her eyes, Rose raised one perfect brow. I see you've become handier with a shovel.

Harry did the digging, Ford said, referring to his ancient man-of-all-work—and apparently either taking Rose's observation as a jest or failing to recognize her subtle sarcasm.

Probably the latter, Lily decided. The man was known to be rather oblivious.

An orange kitten came up and wound around her, ducking beneath her skirts to tickle her ankles. With a giggle, she bent to fish it out. This is all so very impressive, she told her brother-in-law, smiling as she stroked the kitty's fur and felt it begin to purr. Can you put some water closets in Trentingham, too?

And have pipes running down the outside of the house? Now Rose's perfect brows drew together. That wouldn't look well at all.

Mum shrugged. I could accept the unsightliness for the convenience.

Father would never allow it, Rose said.

To the contrary, Lily doubted their father would even notice—he rarely took note of much beyond his beloved flowers. If a thing didn't grow, he wasn't apt to pay it much attention.

What is your cat's name? Rand asked.

Lily gazed down at the ball of fluff vibrating against her middle. This is not my cat. I've never seen it before in my life. Still stroking the soft apricot fur, she looked up at Ford. Is it yours?

He shrugged. Not that I'm aware.

Of course, he wasn't apt to pay much attention to anything that did grow, unless it was some sort of muck in a beaker in his laboratory.

Cats just come to Lily, Rose told Rand.

Her words were spoken in a loving, teasing way, and Rand grinned. They must be able to tell she's the nurturing sort.

Lily's cheeks heated. I adore animals, she said. All animals.

She's the mothering sort. Rose sidled closer to Rand.

Rose, Mum said softly.

But that didn't deter Lily's sister. Men don't care to be mothered, she purred, laying a hand on Rand's arm and narrowing her eyes until she looked rather catlike herself. Do they, Lord Randal?

I cannot speak for other men, he said tactfully, leaving it at that. In keeping with the careful wording, he gently extricated himself from her grip by crossing to his friend. Ford, I do believe your other guests are getting impatient.

And Violet asked if you'd freshen some of her flower arrangements, Chrystabel reminded Rose.

Although Rose truly did enjoy turning flowers into towering works of art, she looked reluctant to leave Rand's side. Violet can wait awhile.

Now, dear, that is not very sisterly. Mum smiled at the men. Please excuse us, she said as she took Rose by the arm and led her off.

I must give others the tour, Ford said and followed them.

And just like that, Lily found herself alone with Rand, wondering what she should say.

Like it? Buy it!

Back to top links ↑

In Stores Now!