Lilias was halfway down the hall when her mother screeched, “Be quiet, girls! I’ve a horrid megrim, and I got no sleep last night.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Lilias called back, feeling guilty that she was actually glad to hear her mother had not slept well the night before. That meant she’d likely retire to bed early tonight, making it easier than usual for Lilias to leave the house without being noticed. Not that it was overly hard in the first place.
Her momentary pleasure turned sour as she tiptoed toward Nora’s room, intent on taking her sister by surprise. It actually did not feel so grand that her mother never noticed that Lilias sneaked out of the house. In fact, at times, her mother almost seemed to forget that Lilias existed, except she had mentioned just yesterday that Lilias needed a new wardrobe to go to London next Season. Mama intended to introduce Lilias to Society to marry her off and get one daughter out from under foot. Those words had pricked.
Lilias sniffed and shoved her injured feelings away. Mama was overwhelmed and melancholy, as she had been since Papa died. Lilias reminded herself not to take it personally. After all, Mama ignored Nora, as well. Regardless, Lilias did not want to be clothed to be wedded off. She’d already found the man she hoped to eventually wed, and she’d done that in a pair of borrowed trousers.
She grinned to herself as she flung her sister’s door open. Nora screeched and jumped off her bed, but Lilias tackled her and they both fell onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “Give me my letter!” Lilias demanded, laughing.
“What shall I get in return?” Nora asked through bursts of her own laughter.
“What do you want?” Lilias made a grab for the note.
“Your cloak,” Nora said abruptly.
Lilias stilled. She knew the one Nora was talking about without having to ask. Papa had purchased her a fur-lined cloak before he’d died. It had been the last gift he’d ever given her. After he’d gambled away so much money, presents had been scarce. He’d promised Nora one, too, but that had not come to fruition. Lilias had been feeling rather guilty now that the weather was so cold about having the cloak when her sister did not, so she had not worn it yet, which also made her feel bad since it had been a gift from her father. This was the perfect solution.
“All right,” she said.
“Truly?” Nora’s blue eyes popped wide.
Lilias smiled and held out her hand for the letter. “Truly, dearest. Just be certain to take good care of it.”
“Agreed,” Nora said and relinquished the letter.
Lilias hugged her sister before scrambling off her bed and returning to her own room to read the note.
Dearest Lilias,
My father has business in London that he requires me to attend to with him. I’ll return in a sennight. Don’t teach Nash about the constellations without me tonight. Oh, and let him know where I am. Also, I want to learn to dance. Will you teach me? Father says I’ll need this skill in London eventually.
Your friend,
Owen
With a grin, Lilias folded the letter, put it in her drawer, and tucked the one she’d written to Nash beside it. She tapped her fingernails against the glossy dark wood of her writing desk. Tonight, she’d be alone with Nash. Finally. And if he showed even an inkling that he felt for her as she’d come to feel for him, that was all the hope she needed.
Nash trod through the moonlit woods toward the bridge where he was to meet Lilias and Owen without really noticing anything around him. His thoughts were on Lilias. In fact, she’d been all he could think about since he’d first hoisted her up into the tree the night he’d started teaching Owen to swim. It seemed as if the harder he tried not to think about her, the more he did.
And he shouldn’t allow it. It wasn’t even because of Owen. Nash had completely misjudged Owen’s feelings toward her. His friend had told him a month ago, after a swim one afternoon when it was just the two of them, that he was going to find the perfect wife one day—a woman who respected the rules of Society and behaved with proper decorum. That certainly was not Lilias. Owen also had told Nash that his mother had scandalously run off with her horse trainer, so Nash understood what drove Owen to want propriety in a wife. Nash wasn’t glad it had happened to Owen, but he couldn’t ignore the relief he had felt knowing that Lilias was not who Owen was looking for. Owen had become his friend, but Lilias had become more than that. Exactly what, he wasn’t quite sure. He’d been trying to fight it. Whatever it was, he knew he didn’t deserve it, but it was impossible to fight the happiness she inspired.
He strode along the path thinking of her, shoving branches out of his way. When he glanced toward the bridge, he saw her. She stood in the moonlight, her hair glistening in the rays, her head tilted back, presumably looking at the stars. He looked around for Owen, and when he didn’t see him, Nash picked up his pace in anticipation of a few moments alone with Lilias. When he was very close, her dogs—who were surrounding her—started barking.
“You brought the dogs?” he called.
Normally, she didn’t.
She turned toward him, white teeth flashing in the dark as she grinned. “I left them outside in anticipation of coming tonight. I didn’t want to be alone while I waited for you.” Before he could ask about that, she said, “Hush,” to the dogs, who immediately quieted. She made a shivery sound on the heels of that statement.
He frowned, coming to stand beside her on the bridge. He touched a hand to her threadbare cloak. “Is this all you wore out here tonight?”
She shrugged. “It’s all I have. I had a fur-lined cloak, but my sister didn’t, and she’s been taking long walks out of doors lately, so…”
“So you gave her your cloak?” he asked, taking off his overcoat and settling it on her shoulders.
“You don’t have to give me your coat,” she protested, but he noticed the way she tugged the lapels together. It made him feel good to ensure she was taken care of.
“I know,” he replied, his voice rough with the emotions he was repressing—the ones that scared him. “Where’s Owen?”
