No matter what time the clock read it would still be “later” and Lily would still not be here.
Where she was? That was anyone’s guess. He’d seen her signature red hair in passing twice during the afternoon but there had been no sign of her yet this evening.
He frowned over at the door. She had not taken ill, had she?
His foot tapped incessantly as he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about.
When Griff turned back from his seat in the row in front of him beside Daisy, he forced himself to still. He likely had nothing to worry about.
Lily had said herself that she was well on the way to recovery. And he’d seen her mother smiling and laughing with some friends just before this dreadfully boring musicale began.
Surely her mother would not be laughing if her daughter was upstairs ill in bed.
Still, was she not as eager as he to finish their earlier conversation?
He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave in to the urge to check the clock once more. Nerves and excitement were warring in his chest, and combined they left him on edge with impatience.
He’d kissed her.
At last, he’d kissed her.
And the kiss had been more amazing than his wildest dreams. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he finally allowed himself to acknowledge a truth he’d long sought to avoid.
He had imagined kissing Lily. Often. But he’d never let himself dwell on it. He’d never let himself imagine his attraction had returned. She’d never treated him as anything more than a friend. Her brother’s friend and her compatriot.
He’d treasured that friendship so thoroughly that he’d never acknowledged that he thought of her the way a man thinks of a woman.
Until this house party. Perhaps it was the time away from her that had him seeing her anew. Or maybe it was seeing this other side of her—getting glimpses of the young, lively, free spirit he’d always known but also the lovely, fierce, kind woman she’d become over the past few years.
All he knew was, there was no denying it now. Not to himself, and not to her. He wanted her. And now that he’d kissed her, he knew for certain what he had to do.
He glanced up at the clock. Tonight he would propose.
He glanced over at the door. If she ever arrived.
By the time the musicale ended and the crowd moved to the drawing room for refreshments, he was ready to tear the manor apart to find her. Thoughts of her sick in bed tormented him. The thought that she could have died all those years ago...that he’d come so close to losing her and never knew it…
“Miss Mary,” he called out when he spotted Marigold.
She flinched at the sound of her name and her shoulders hunched as if she could hide in plain sight. “Pardon me,” he said in a far softer tone when he approached her. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Her cheeks turned pink as some of the partygoers turned to eye them curiously, but her smile was wry. “It cannot be helped, I’m afraid.”
He laughed at her rueful tone. “I was merely curious to know if you’ve seen Lily this evening.”
Marigold’s smile turned knowing. “I have not, but I suspect that she’s fallen ill—”
Whatever it was she saw in his expression, she stopped short. “Oh no, my lord, not like that. I merely meant…” She glanced left and then right to ensure they were not overheard. “She has a headache, you see. The kind that always seems to come about when an amateur musicale is about to begin.”
He stared at her for a full second as that surge of panic subsided. When it did, he burst out in a laugh, his head falling back. Yes, of course Lily would feign illness to avoid the tedium he’d just experienced.
Marigold was grinning when he met her gaze once more. “I understand completely. Thank you, Miss Mary.”
She nodded and started to follow her mother across the room. “She will be here, though. I am certain of it.”
The relief he felt at that reassurance was more than a little embarrassing. At what point had his happiness hinged on whether Lily was at his side? He gave his head a little shake as he studied the crowd, keeping watch for the sight of her. It was surely insanity to have lost one’s head so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.
His gaze caught on Griff and Daisy, smiling adoringly at one another in the far corner of the room, seemingly unaware that the rest of the world even existed. A pang of jealousy shot through him.
That was what he wished to be doing this evening. Spending time with the one person who made him feel alive. Who looked at him and saw more than the charming smile. The one person who did not wish for him to be a perfect copy of his brother or care about his title and his connections. The one person who made him happy and furious, who made him laugh, who listened to him speak, who challenged him and made him feel like…
He looked around for her once more with the unpleasant feeling that he was lost at sea in this crowd without her at his side.
She made him feel as though he were home.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that—how much he’d missed her—until he’d had her back in his life these past few days.
He no longer cared what his family wanted, he knew what he yearned for for the first time in years. Lily was right. It was liberating.
He headed toward the doors to the veranda, knowing it would be the first place she would head when she joined the party. His Lily hated the constraints of moving within the crush of the crowd.
He passed Daisy and Griff on his way out, but they did not notice him passing. Merrick grinned and shook his head.
If what he felt for Lily was lunacy, then perhaps it was contagious.
He was so far gone in this new affliction of the heart that he did not notice Abigail until she was at his side.
“Lord Merrick, how lovely to see you.” Her sweet, soft, high-pitched voice was like a splash of cold water on this warm summer eve.
He stiffened. He’d been facing the gardens, daydreaming about how he would ask Lily to be his bride and now he tumbled back to reality with a jolt.
Summoning every ounce of decorum he possessed, he turned to face the woman he’d been foolish enough to believe ought to be his wife. “Lady Abigail,” he murmured.
He could not quite bring himself to return the sentiment. Perhaps it was from spending so much time with Lily lately but that small fib that indicated social grace stuck in his mouth. “It’s nice to see you too”—would not leave his lips.
“How have you been? How is your dear mother?” That was how her litany of questions began. No hint of acknowledgement that the last time she’d seen his mother was the last time she’d seen him. When she’d made it quite clear that his suit was no longer wanted once his brother had shown an interest.
He answered her questions mildly, but all the time he watched her. He studied her.
And he kicked himself for ever having been fooled by her.
Here, now, after his time with Lily and his past with Abigail...it was all so painfully obvious. Her beauty was so superficial, her kindness only skin-deep. She knew how to say all the pretty words, and she said them with a charming smile.
But right now, he felt nothing. No sense of regret at what they might have had. If anything, all he could feel was relief that she’d shown her true nature before he’d asked for her hand.
“And how is your brother?” she asked when he failed to make any attempts at leading this conversation.