Page 17

The question of Frederick’s intentions—as well as his courage—was still unanswered when he made his way to the inn the following afternoon.

He’d spent most of last night and all of this morning going over the conversation he’d had with Penelope, his time spent with Lily, his feelings for Lily and how she might feel about him, and still he had no idea what he would do.

He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to marry her and spend his life with her.

He wanted her heart.

The problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it. He wasn’t worth much, and that was one of the reasons behind his reluctance to ask for her hand, despite how much he wanted to win it, and her.

He was afraid she would realize what a bad bargain he was—assuming she hadn’t already come to that conclusion herself. If she had, there was every chance she would reject him.

Unless he could convince her to take a chance on him instead.

But how?

His shoulders tightened and he kicked at a rock in the lane, watching as it skipped ahead several feet before skittering to a stop.

Penelope seemed to think Lily returned his regard, and he wanted to believe she was right. He knew Lily was fond of him, and enjoyed their time together as he did, but that did not mean she had fallen in love with him.

Even if she had, he knew better than to assume she would wish to be his wife.

She’d cared for a man before, and had intended to marry him, and then he’d betrayed her.

It would come as no surprise if she said she did not wish to risk her heart again, especially on a man like him, with a flawed past and directionless future.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Frederick kicked at another rock with the toe of his boot, then did it again, and again, distracting his troubled mind with the game as he walked the rest of the way to the inn.

When he finally reached the courtyard, an elegant black carriage passed him by on its way out, two large trunks strapped to the roof and a single occupant inside.

Frederick stomped his boots on the straw mat at the front door before he let himself inside. Mrs. Grayling greeted him with a smile at the foot of the stairs, her arms overflowing with freshly-laundered bedding.

“Here, let me help you with that, Mrs. Grayling,” Frederick said, brooking no argument as he took the load from her—not that she gave one.

“Thank you, Mr. Darrington,” she said gratefully. “You are a dear.”

He shifted the bedding in his arms and asked, “Was that Mr. Carstairs’ carriage I just saw leaving?”

She nodded. “He has apparently finished with the business that brought him here, and now he is going home.”

Frederick worked his jaw, the news inspiring a slew of contradictory emotions. “Lily must be relieved,” he said, and Mrs. Grayling chuckled.

“Undoubtedly,” she said. “And speaking of Lily, she’s waiting upstairs for me to bring her this bedding. I’d best take it up to her before she comes looking for it.”

She reached out as if to take the bedclothes from him, but Frederick ignored her. “I’d be happy to do it for you, ma’am.”

“Oh, would you?” she asked, relief in her voice. “I don’t mind admitting that my knees have had quite enough of those stairs today.”

“Then I will agree to take this up for you, if you will agree to sit and rest for a while.”

She smiled. “You are a bossy boy, but very sweet.” She gave his forearm a squeeze. “I agree.”

Still smiling over being called a ‘bossy boy’, Frederick climbed the stairs with his pile of bedding then ventured up the carpeted corridor, passing three closed doors until he finally reached an open one.

He paused in the doorway and peered inside where he found Lily standing at the bed, grumbling to herself and fluffing a down pillow with unnecessary vigor.

“Have I come at a bad time?” he asked from the safety of the doorway.

Lily jumped, nearly dropping the pillow. “You startled me,” she sniped, leveling him with a glare.

Frederick pressed his lips together, unprepared for the grumpy greeting. “I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Your grandmother sent me up with fresh bedding. Where would you like me to put it?”

“On the bed.” She shoved a lock of dark hair off her forehead then huffed out a sigh. “Please. And thank you.”

He crossed to the bed and dumped the pile onto the middle of the mattress. “I saw Mr. Carstairs leaving as I arrived,” he said, searching Lily’s face for clues which might explain her ill temper.

She grunted, her eyes downcast as she began separating the linens. “Yes, thank heavens,” she muttered. “He’s finally going home to Glastonbury.”

“Is that the reason for your less-than-cheerful mood?” he teased. “Already missing your ardent admirer?”

The smile he’d hoped for did not appear. “I am not in the mood for jokes today, Frederick. If you have no intention of helping me make up this bed, please leave me to it.”

His humor faded, and he frowned, only now noticing the troubled look in her eyes. Something had upset her, and it wasn’t Mr. Carstairs’ departure.

“Lily, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“I’m upset,” she said, shaking out a pillowcase with a sharp snap. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“And why are you upset?”

She did not answer him straightaway, but he did not press her, and his quiet patience seemed to ease her agitation. She drew in a deep breath, expelling it as she said, “A letter came for me today. From my sister.”

Ah. The sister she hadn’t talked to since she left London. The one who’d stolen her betrothed away. No wonder she was upset.

“What did the letter say?” he asked, leaning a shoulder against the bedpost.

“She’s coming to the inn,” she said, her eyes flashing with panic.

“And she’s bringing Stephen with her. They plan to stay for a whole week.

” She tossed the pillowcase onto the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t seen them in two years.

We haven’t exchanged even a single letter since I came to Little Bilberry.

Why are they coming? What do they want?”

“Maybe your sister wants to make amends. Maybe she misses you.”

Lily shook her head, clearly skeptical. “Maybe. But whatever the reason, I wish I’d had more time to prepare for their visit. The letter was delayed. They arrive today.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “I need more time. I don’t know how I should behave, or what to say to them, or…”

She sank onto the settee by the window, and Frederick joined her, drawing her hands in his, offering comfort the only way he knew how. “I wish I had the right answer,” he said. “Would it help if your betrothed was there alongside you tonight?”

A small smile touched her lips. “I appreciate the offer, but Mr. Carstairs is gone now, and our arrangement has ended.”

“We could begin a new arrangement.”

She shook her head. “No, Frederick. Thank you, truly, but I could not ask you to go on pretending.”

Frederick stilled, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Pretending . Yes, he was through with pretending, wasn’t he?

He wanted a new arrangement with Lily, but this time, he wanted it to be real. And permanent.

He knew he wasn’t worth much, but just being around this woman made him feel that he could be. That if he worked at it hard enough, if he could earn Lily’s love, maybe he might be worth something after all.

“What if we weren’t pretending, Lily?” The words were rasping, his heart in his throat. “What if we were betrothed for real?”

Lily was staring. She knew she was staring, even through the haze of shock and bewilderment, and Frederick was staring right back at her, awaiting her answer.

She half-expected him to take the words back, or at the very least, crack a smile to reveal he was only teasing.

But he did not smile, and he did not speak, even to take it back. He simply sat there, still holding her hands, his eyes impossibly blue and unflinchingly patient.

“Betrothed for real?” she parroted. “I told you already I am not in the mood for jokes.”

He shook his head. “You know I’m not joking.”

“Then you’re being impulsive. You haven’t thought this through, Frederick.”

“I assure you, I have.” His response was immediate, his voice so calm, so assured, it pricked at her already-frayed temper.

“When?” she demanded, surging to her feet.

“Over the last two minutes? That is hardly a thorough consideration.” She stalked to the bed and picked up the now-wrinkled pillowcase, only to toss it back onto the bed.

“Marrying me would mean running this inn with me, working and toiling, every day for the rest of your life.”

“I know that, Lily.”

She turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest. “It isn’t an easy life. And not everyone is suited to it.”

“You’re right,” he said, rising to his feet. “But I think I am. I love it here. I love the work. I’ve never known what it was to be useful, to be doing something that matters, that contributes to a joint endeavor. I like it, and I don’t want to give it up.”

She had seen his enthusiasm these last two weeks, his eagerness to learn, his willingness to try.

But was it a fleeting feeling? Would it last longer than a month? A year? Or would the feeling fade along with the newness of it?

“What about London?” she asked. “Won’t you miss the city? The opera? The affairs with married ladies ?”

It was a low blow, she knew, but now was not the time for mincing words. Now was the time for honesty, no matter how brutal.

“There was only one affair with a married lady,” Frederick said, his voice somber, “and one was more than enough for me. I’ve had my fill of affairs, and of city life. London has grown too dirty, too crowded.”

“But London is not dull,” she reminded him. “And life in Little Bilberry can be very dull.”

“Not with you around,” he said, and there was tenderness in the words, and in his eyes. “You are many things, Lily Grayling, but you are never dull.”

He walked toward her then, his hands outstretched, pleading his case, and Lily felt herself softening. Melting, even.

And then he took her hands in his and said, “I want to marry you, and run this inn with you. I want to spend my life with you. Wherever you might be.”

The man seemed to have an answer for everything. A good answer. And Lily wanted to believe him, to believe in him, even as logic cautioned her to proceed with care.

“Frederick...” She drew in a deep breath, attempting to gather her wits in the face of temptation. “You know I have come to care for you a great deal, and of course I’ve enjoyed this time we’ve spent together, but... marriage? We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

“I know. But it only took me one to fall in love with you.”

Lily stared at him, rendered mute by the maelstrom of feelings crashing through her body.

Love?

Frederick was in love with her?

The admission was stunning, thrilling, and unbelievable all at once. She had no words. Her brain was mush.

The silence was broken by a horse’s faint whinny, followed by the distinct crunch of gravel under wheels, announcing the arrival of a carriage.

Visitors.

Slipping her hands from Frederick’s grasp, she strode to the window and peered down at the courtyard just as a liveried servant pulled the carriage door open and handed down one of its passengers, an elegant brunette in a mint green gown. Rose.

Lily turned from the window, anxiety sweeping through her already shocked brain. “My sister has arrived,” she said evenly, though her thoughts and pulse were anything but calm.

“I’ll go,” Frederick said. “But let me say one last thing before I do. I know for you it seems too soon for talk of marriage, but I’ve been waiting all my life to find you, Lily.

I just didn’t know it until I met you. Surely you can see why I want to make you mine, and why I don’t want to wait even one more day. ”

Lily’s heart swooned and she probably would have dashed across the room and launched herself into his arms, but then her grandmother appeared, popping her head around the doorframe.

“Lily,” she whispered urgently, “your sister has arrived.”

“Right. Thank you, Gran.”

Her grandmother slipped away, and then Lily turned to Frederick with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I must go.”

He nodded before heading for the doorway, where he paused and turned to look at her.

“Good luck with your sister,” he said. “And do try to remember to give my offer some consideration.”

The smile he gave her was equal parts wry and teasing, and then he was gone, leaving her to wonder how, even with her sister here, she could possibly forget even a single word he’d said today.