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“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Lily asked Penelope as the two walked through the rear door and into the kitchen, where she set down the two empty lemonade glasses.

“No, thank you,” Penelope replied. “I’m fine.”

The words were clipped, and Lily slid her friend a surreptitious glance, as if her expression might reveal what she was thinking, and just why she was so furious with Frederick.

Alas, Penelope’s puckered brow revealed nothing more than Lily already knew, so she held her tongue until the two were safely ensconced in the empty private dining room, seated across from each other at the table.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Lily said, folding her fidgety fingers in her lap. “I suppose I thought your brother had told you about our arrangement, but I should not have assumed. I should have made sure you knew.”

Penelope was quiet for a moment then she blew out a sigh. “What arrangement?”

Lily spent the next few minutes detailing everything that had transpired with Mr. Carstairs and Frederick’s subsequent offer of assistance.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said sheepishly.

“Mr. Carstairs was asking questions about the betrothal I had just invented, and then your brother appeared and suddenly I found myself introducing him as my betrothed. It was...a moment of weakness. And your brother was kind enough to go along with it.”

Penelope had listened to the entire tale without uttering a word, and when she did finally speak, her voice was reflective. “And he did not ask for anything in return?”

Lily lifted a shoulder. “Only that he be permitted to help out around the inn.”

Penelope’s brow furrowed, as if the notion were difficult to believe. “Has he…behaved himself properly? Like a gentleman ought?”

“He has,” Lily said with no hesitation, though, of course, she had not forgotten their kiss. She simply chose not to mention it. Frederick had kissed her, yes, but only for Mr. Carstairs’ benefit, and only after he’d secured her permission. No one could call that ungentleman-like behavior.

“Is that why you were so upset?” Lily asked, leaning her elbows on the table. “You thought something improper was going on?”

Penelope sighed. “I told you before, my brother is a bit of a rogue, and because of that, I ordered him to stay away from you. When I learned about this betrothal today...” She pursed her lips. “I suppose I couldn’t help but assume the worst.”

Lily did not like to hear about Frederick’s past—or present—reputation with women, but she refused to allow herself to wallow in jealousy. What right did she have to feel jealous? How Frederick chose to spend his days and nights was absolutely no business of hers.

“I appreciate that you’re watching out for me, Pen,” she said gently, “but it isn’t necessary. Your brother is a nice man, and he’s been a great help these last few days, but there is nothing going on here besides chores.”

Penelope’s blue eyes searched her face intently. “You’re certain about that?”

“Yes. I’m certain.”

Only, she wasn’t—not even close—and her friend seemed to know it.

“It’s only that I watched you two together today,” Penelope said, “and it seemed there might be an attraction between you.”

“Well, there isn’t.” Lily blurted the words out then immediately contradicted them with an embarrassed blush that burned its way up her throat and into her face.

Penelope’s raised eyebrows suggested she’d noticed.

“And even if there was,” Lily said, stubbornly pressing on, “I am not the innocent lamb you seem to think I am. I can look after myself.” She gave her friend a small smile to soften the admonishment. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Penelope sighed. “You know I cannot help but worry. I don’t want to see you hurt. Freddy is going back to London soon, and I don’t know when he will visit again, but it likely won’t be anytime soon.”

“I know that,” Lily said, “and I’m fine with it. Truly. I will admit, I enjoy being with your brother, but I have no expectations, or even hopes, where he is concerned. I will enjoy his company and his help around the inn while it lasts, and then when he leaves, life will return to normal.”

Her heart squeezed at the thought, but she ignored it, shoving the feelings down deep where they belonged, and then she smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “And hopefully by then Mr. Carstairs will be gone, off pestering someone else far, far away.”

Penelope leaned her forearms on the table, her eyes filling with worry. “I had no idea Mr. Carstairs was bothering you. I hope I didn’t expose your ruse today at the tavern. I was so surprised by what he told me, I don’t remember what I said.”

Lily shrugged. “I knew there was a chance he would find out. It was hardly a fool-proof plan, so if you did expose it, I promise I will not hold it against you.”

“Well,” Penelope said, “perhaps I can do something to repair the damage. How would you and your grandmother like to have dinner with me and Freddy at the house later this week?”

“Dinner?” Lily sat back with a smile. “I’d like that. And I know Gran would, too.”

She would have to make arrangements for someone to watch over the inn while they were away, but it would be worth the trouble if it meant giving Gran a rare evening with friends and good food.

“Excellent,” Penelope said, clapping her hands together. “Shall we plan for Saturday evening?”

Lily nodded her agreement. That should give her plenty of time to find someone to watch the inn and plan what dress she would wear for the evening. Perhaps her green silk? Or maybe the blue organza?

She knew Frederick was going back to London soon, and that it would take more than a dress to compel him to stay, but she couldn’t help wanting to look pretty for him at least once before he left.

Maybe then it would be harder for him to forget her after he’d gone.

Penelope did not speak to Frederick before leaving the inn after her talk with Lily, so when he returned to the house later that evening, he had no idea what sort of welcome he would receive.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, though. The moment he stepped into the entrance hall, his sister materialized in the drawing room doorway and asked to speak with him.

Frederick held back a weary sigh as he removed his dusty coat and handed it to his sister’s butler. “I spent most of the day laboring under the hot sun, Pen. Can this not wait until after I’ve changed?”

But his stubborn sister shook her head. “Now, please. It will only take a moment.”

He could see by the determined set to her jaw that there would be no winning this battle, so he handed his hat to Higgins with his thanks then followed Penelope into the drawing room.

She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to hers, and although the officious gesture rankled, he did as he was instructed and sat down beside her.

“Listen, Pen, I know you’re angry with me, but—”

She held up a hand, staying his words, and the look she gave him left no doubt that she was the one in charge of this meeting.

“I’m not angry with you, Freddy,” she said. “I’m hurt.”

Bollocks . That was even worse. Much worse.

“I’m hurt that you’ve been lying to me for days,” she continued, her voice quiet, “and that you were sneaking around behind my back, keeping secrets from me.”

Frederick dropped his head and stared at his hands clasped in his lap. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t like hiding this from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.”

A moment passed and then she sighed. “I suppose I can understand that. I don’t know that I would have taken the news any better than I did, even if you’d told me at the start.”

Frederick looked at her. “You know I hate lying to you, Pen. You’re my favorite sister, and my friend.”

A small smile softened her features, and her eyes had regained some of their usual warmth. “I know.”

“Then will you please end my misery and tell me I am forgiven?”

She patted his knee. “Yes, all right. You’re forgiven.” She speared him with a pointed look, her smile fading. “My original warning still stands, though, Freddy. Trifle with Lily and you will answer to me.”

He opened his mouth to make his assurances, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Don’t bother with the wounded pout or passionate denials. I saw the way you were looking at her and, worse, the way she was looking at you. Even a muttonhead could see there was some feeling between you.”

Frederick drew in a deep breath, a heavy knot of confused emotion settling in his chest. Penelope’s words were not unpleasant—after all, what man wouldn’t want to hear that a woman like Lily esteemed him?

Still, in that knot with the pleasure and satisfaction were other, less pleasant emotions, like discomfort. Guilt. Unworthiness. For what could a man like him offer a woman like Lily? He was the third-born son of a viscount with no goals, no occupation, no purpose in his life.

Lily deserved a better man than him.

“I won’t deny that there is an attraction between us,” he said, measuring his words, “but I have no intention of acting upon it, or of taking advantage of the situation. I care about Lily, and her grandmother, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt either of them.”

Penelope was silent for a long moment, her gaze downcast, and then she looked at him. “Sometimes we hurt people without meaning to, though.”

He had no response to that. He knew the words were true. And whether his sister was thinking of him, or the man from Lily’s past, he couldn’t say—but then, it didn’t really matter, did it? The meaning was the same.

“I know how exhilarating a new infatuation can be,” Penelope said, “and I’m concerned you might find the temptation too great to deny.”

His brow knit. “I’m not some randy goat, Pen. Nor am I the amoral scoundrel you apparently think I am. I do not bed every willing woman who crosses my path, and I certainly don’t seduce virgins.”

“I know you don’t, but...” She trailed off, clearly flustered. “I’m sorry if it seemed like that’s what I was saying. I know you are a good person. Only...please promise me you will tread carefully?”

“I will.”

She held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded, as if satisfied with what she saw there. “Good. Now you may go and change. And you might consider taking a bath before you do.” Her nose wrinkled. “You’re rather odiferous.”

With a wry smile, Frederick left the drawing room to do just that, and while he made his way to his bedchamber, he thought of Lily and his sister’s warning.

He’d meant every word he’d said: he was no randy goat controlled by his urges, nor was he a heartless rogue out to slake his lust on any willing woman who crossed his path.

Still, there was no denying he wanted Lily Grayling, more than he’d ever wanted any woman before.

And that was a troubling reality. Because even though he had no intention of hurting her—even though he would rather eat glass than hurt her—there was still that small chance that he might, just by being around her.

Penelope was right. Sometimes we hurt others without meaning to, and sometimes we hurt ourselves the most. He should keep his distance from Lily, not only for her welfare, but also for his own.

He should.

He just didn’t know if he could.