He frowned. “Well, you do have a tendency to act rather rashly. I’ll confess that I agreed with her on that. That was something I tried to talk to you about. You really ought to temper that tendency—for the sake of your future happiness. But I wanted to bring you with me,” he said. “I wanted to talk some sense into you. I couldn’t understand why you were being so stubborn about sitting out every dance or leaving every party before it had even begun…” His voice trailed off as so many pieces fell into place.
Her illness.
Her stubborn pride that wouldn’t have wanted anyone’s pity. Not even his. Was this really what had happened? He needed to know.
“Lily,” he sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
Her eyes were wide and glistening with unshed tears. There were too many emotions there for him to read, and his own chest ached with regret and hope and affection and...desire.
The thought had barely formed before the air between them seemed to thicken with awareness and tension. But this wasn’t like the anger he’d grown accustomed to or even their old camaraderie.
This was something else entirely. He was keenly aware of how her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, of how the stray curls fell against the soft skin of her neck…
His gaze dropped to her lips. Slightly parted, they were temptation itself.
He wanted to kiss her.
He desperately wanted to pull her further into the shadows and into his arms and claim her lips with his. He wanted to kiss her until every misunderstanding dissolved and every betrayal was forgotten.
“Lily,” he said softly.
Her gaze dropped and her chest moved quickly with shallow breaths. “Merrick, I—”
She cut herself off suddenly, her gaze fixed on something behind him.
“What is it, Lily?”
“Abigail,” she whispered.
He frowned. Abigail again. It always came back to Abigail. He dropped his grip on her arm and shoved a hand through his hair. “I thought you understood, Lily. I never meant to choose—”
“No.” She gave her head a little shake, her eyes moving up to meet his. “Abigail,” she said again, lifting her arm to point behind him. “She is here.”
Chapter Seven
Lily woke the next morning, the knot of sick dread still tight in her stomach.
For a brief moment, she considered crying sick and staying in her room for the day.
The idea had merit. First because Abigail was here. Not that she cared about the other girl’s snide comments or her holier-than-thou demeanor, but the thought of watching Abigail and Merrick together. That made her stomach twist again.
Because Merrick had been so close to Lily last night. She’d felt his heat, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his breath caressing her cheek, the temptation of his lips so close to hers.
And she’d wanted him to kiss her. That much was clear. Wanted it more then she’d wanted anything in all her life.
And today, she’d have to watch Abigail strutting around on his arm as though she belonged there. As though Merrick were hers.
But then again… She sat up in bed. Perhaps that wasn’t how today would go at all.
Merrick had told Lily that he hadn’t spoken to Abigail in months. And the silly fool had chosen his brother over him. Surely that meant he’d given up on the idea of marrying that vapid chit.
Pushing back the covers, she crossed the room and pulled the cord next to the door. She may as well dress and find out what this day would bring.
An hour later she found herself tucked into a quiet corner of the rose garden with Marigold. They’d slipped down to the garden before breakfast to have a private conversation. It was the precise spot she’d run into Merrick two days prior.
How things had changed in just a few days.
“So he didn’t want to cut you out?” Marigold asked, her hands fluttering nervously at her side. “Oh, Lily. That is just…” She nibbled at her lip. “That’s just a terrible misunderstanding to have come between friends.”
Lily dipped her head. Did she tell her friend about the near-kiss? Or what she thought might have been a near-kiss?
Her brow creased. What if she was wrong and he’d never intended to kiss her?
She’d have to admit she’d been a fool. Something she never did very well.
And she’d have to face the fact that she’d really wanted him to.
“I think we’ve made our amends. For the most part. I now know what happened between him and Abigail and—”
“Lily,” Marigold stopped fidgeting, straightening up. “Did you tell him why you became a wallflower to begin with?”
Lily dipped her head. The answer was no. Or at least, not entirely. She hadn’t really shared much about her illness or the time that followed. It wasn’t something she did particularly well. “Why does he need to know that?”
Marigold let out an uncharacteristic huff of breath. “Because.” Then she moved closer. “He cares. It’s evident in every line in his face. And he’d be willing and able to help you when you need it.”
“I don’t—” She’d been about to say she didn’t need help.
“You do.” Marigold reached for her hand. “We all do, sometimes.”
Lily shook her head. “I hate the weakness.”
“I know.” Marigold gave her gloved fingers a squeeze. “You’re very strong. I love that about you. But sometimes even you need a bit of help.”
Lily returned the squeeze. “And you know how much I appreciate that I can count on you and Daisy for support.”
Marigold wrapped her arms about Lily’s back. “It makes me feel good to help you after everything you’ve done for me.”
Lily blinked, pulling back to look at her friend. “Does it?”
Marigold gave her a soft smile. “Don’t you know? People need to feel like they get to give back to you. It can’t be all you, Lily.”
Lily winced.
Was she making it all about her by being so strong all the time?
She frowned. Even her mother had bowed to Lily’s wishes, not telling anyone outside of their immediate family the extent of her illness. Perhaps she was strong to a fault. Was Marigold right? Did she need to allow people to help her sometimes?
“She’s right, you know.” Merrick’s deep voice rumbled from behind her. “And I would add that if you allowed them to help you, you too would benefit. Not just them.”
She slowly let Marigold go, turning to face the man she’d been openly discussing. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His face was set in stern lines.
“Why do you look so...irritated?” she asked as Marigold gasped behind her.
He let out a long breath, his eyes narrowing. “It was this very sort of situation that drove a wedge between us two years ago.”
“Oh,” Marigold cried behind her. “Did you see that stunning butterfly? I think I shall try and catch it. I’ll be back in five to ten minutes.” Then she spun and disappeared around a corner.
Lily watched her go, her hands smoothing her skirts. Part of her wished Marigold had stayed. Without her, Lily had to face Merrick’s annoyance all alone. “Traitor,” she muttered.