Page 112 of Marry in Scandal

“I wasn’t fleeing.” She planted kisses wherever she couldreach him. “It was just, there was chicken pox at Aunt Dottie’s... and I didn’t want to go back to London, not if you weren’t there.”

He kissed her again, and when she had breath to go on, she added, “And I wanted to see the place where you grew up. And since your grandfather had invited me—”

He stiffened, and Lily realized he was looking over her shoulder. She glanced back. Lord Galbraith stood at the top of the steps leading to the house. “You!” Edward’s voice grated. “You had to trick her into coming here—”

“No!” She pulled on his arm to get his attention. “Don’t blame your grandfather. He had no idea I was coming. It was an impulse on my part. Please don’t be angry with him.”

Edward gave her a long glance, then nodded wearily. He walked toward the old man, his expression stony. “Grandfather,” he said tersely, and held out his hand.

Lord Galbraith ignored it. Half blind with tears, the old man embraced his grandson. “My boy, my dear, dear boy, you’ve come home at last.” His voice was choked.

Edward stood stiffly in his embrace, his eyes blank and shuttered as if the contact were somehow painful. Enduring it. He said nothing, but his throat was working.

Lily’s eyes filled.

After a moment, Edward gently released himself from the old man’s embrace and stepped back. Lord Galbraith pulled out a large white handkerchief and blew into it loudly. “Well, come in, come in, no need to stand about in the wind,” he muttered.

Lily started toward the house, but Edward caught her hand and stopped her. “We’ll be in in a minute, Grandfather.”

Lord Galbraith’s gaze dropped to where their hands were joined. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, but Lily’s not dressed for the outdoors.” He turned and stumped away. Edward glanced at Lily’s dress and followed.

He led her to the library—it would always be the library for Galbraith men, she realized glumly. Once inside, he drew her close.

“I was beside myself with worry—why didn’t you writeor leave a note? I can’t tell you how I felt—” He broke off, his gaze somber. “Yes. I can. I’ve been a coward for so long—”

“You’re not a coward.”

“I am.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Lily. I think I loved you from the first, only I was too cowardly to admit it.”

“No.” Lily pressed her hands against his chest and stepped back. It was time. She was done with evasions and pretense. “Don’t say any more. First I need to tell you something, a terrible secret I’ve been keeping from you all this time.”

He paled. His grip tightened. “What? What is it?”

She held him off. “I didn’t write to you”—she swallowed—“because... because...” She closed her eyes, unable to face the intensity of his gaze, and forced the words out in a rush. “I didn’t write to you because I can’t write. Or read. It’s some defect in me, nobody knows why. I just can’t.”

She waited. The silence stretched. She could feel his heart beating under her palms.

The waiting was unbearable. She opened her eyes a crack.

“And?” he said.

She opened her eyes all the way. “And what?”

“The terrible thing?”

“That’s it.”

He stared down at her. “You’re not ill, or dying?”

“No.”

He pulled her hard against him. “Thank God! I thought it was something terrible. That there was something really wrong with you.”

“There is. Don’t you understand? I can’t read or write.”

He finally seemed to take it in. He frowned. “You can’t read or write?”

“No.” She felt like an egg about to be smashed, all smooth, brittle shell outside, a mess of yolk and white within.