Page 18

If anyone were to ask how the evening was coming along, Lily would likely say it was going just fine, but that would be a lie.

The evening was awkward. Excruciating. Seemingly unending.

And dinner was only half-over.

Reaching for her sherry, Lily took a healthy gulp while Rose answered yet another of Gran’s questions about her life in London as a married woman.

Stephen sat beside his wife, doing more eating than speaking, as Rose and Gran did their best to fill the silence, but no amount of cheerful chatter could drown out the tension in the room.

Rose seemed to have grown even more beautiful these last two years, and tonight she was the image of elegance in a satin gown the same shade as her emerald eyes.

Ever since she was a little girl, Rose had always looked perfectly put together, never mussed, never a chestnut lock of hair out of place.

Unlike Lily, who gave up on being elegant long ago, even before she came to Little Bilberry. Fortunately, life here did not require elegance.

Nevertheless, looking across the dinner table at her sister, Lily couldn’t help but wish she were wearing a prettier dress than this blue organza two seasons out of fashion. Alas, it was one of her best, and it would have to do.

Rose, for her part, had lied very prettily when they greeted each other in the courtyard earlier, spouting off some nonsense about how lovely Lily looked in her gown.

Rose had even embraced her, as if everything was as it used to be. As if all had been forgiven.

Stephen wasn’t much better. He did have the grace to look a little embarrassed to be here, but mostly he was exactly as she remembered him.

Or, more accurately, exactly as she’d allowed herself to forget.

A bit pompous, a bit too serious. A dandy, with pomade in his curly blonde hair and a cravat trimmed in lace.

She couldn’t see him chopping wood or picking apples.

Even so, it was evident that he adored her sister, and that Rose adored him.

They were still in love, and Lily was surprised to discover there was no jealousy in her heart.

In fact, she was relieved to see their feelings were the same, even two years later.

The alternative would have been so much worse.

“By the way, Lily,” Rose said, daintily patting her mouth with her napkin. “Mother sends you her best wishes. And, of course, she sends her concerns, as well. She cannot understand why you’re not married yet, and she wishes you would return to London so she can find you a husband.”

Lily took a generous sip of sherry before deigning to reply. “Then I hope you reminded her that I would have been married years ago if all had gone according to plan.” She kept her voice even, as one should at the dinner table, and tried not to lob a dinner roll at her sister’s gorgeous head.

“That was two years ago,” Rose said with a dismissive wave. “And you’ve had more than enough time since then to find a husband.”

Her sister, younger than her by six years, apparently thought being a married woman gave her the authority to spout off unsolicited matrimonial advice.

“Your sister’s right, Lily, you should be married by now,” Stephen said, and because he was busy sawing at his beef, he missed the look of caution Lily sent his way.

Gran, although she undoubtedly agreed with them, wisely said nothing and kept her gaze on her plate.

“I’ve been far too busy running the inn to even think about hunting for a husband,” Lily said, before beheading a spear of asparagus with her teeth and chewing it as if it had offended her honor.

“Nonsense,” Rose said. “I know for a fact there have been at least three perfectly lovely gentlemen who would have married you in a heartbeat, but you turned them all away.”

“How—” Lily stopped, her gaze flicking to Gran, who gave her an unapologetic shrug before turning back to her meal. Traitor .

“Not that it’s anybody’s business but my own,” Lily said, “but I turned those gentlemen down because I didn’t need any of them. Nor did I love any of them. And I have decided that if I do marry, I will only marry a man who loves me even more than I love him. A man who proves his worth.”

She did not look directly at Stephen as she said it, but the weighty silence that fell over the room seemed to confirm her message had been received.

“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for, Lily,” Rose said quietly. “You deserve to be happy. And loved.”

Their gazes met across the table, and the determined cheerfulness in her sister’s eyes was gone, replaced by a sincerity that brought a lump to Lily’s throat. She reached for her glass of sherry and drank, trying to wash the lump away as if it were food instead of feeling.

Gran cleared her throat, and said with forced cheer, “A neighbor of ours who has recently returned from London saw a performance of The Magic Flute while she was there, and said it was absolutely marvelous. Have you been to see it, Rose?”

Her sister answered that she had then launched into a gushing review of the opera. Lily listened with half an ear as she ate another bite of asparagus, determined to keep her mouth full for the remainder of the meal.

If she had food in her mouth, she could not speak.

She had said too much tonight, letting her temper flare, behaving no better than a petulant child.

She supposed she should afford herself a little grace—after all, her sister was here in her home, at her table, asking her why she wasn’t married yet while the man who was supposed to have married Lily sat beside her, married to her instead.

A person could only withstand so much.

Even so, Lily expected better of herself, and was determined not to say another word until she was certain she could do so like a civilized person.

Fortunately, the remainder of the evening passed without further argument, though there was no shortage of awkward pauses and stilted conversation.

By the time the torment finally ended, and everyone parted for their bedchambers, Lily was overcome with exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

As she entered her bedroom and began her nighttime ablutions, the day’s events swirled through her mind, and it struck her again just how bizarre the day had been.

Her brain was overwhelmed with the effects of the evening meal, of seeing her sister again, and the man who was her former betrothed now brother-in-law.

Then, of course, there was Frederick’s proposal. She couldn’t possibly forget about that, although her sister’s arrival had permitted no time to ponder it, or even fully process that it had happened.

But it had happened.

Frederick wanted to marry her. He’d said he loved her and wished to spend his life with her here at the inn.

Was it all too good to be true?

Or was it possible Frederick was exactly what she’d been waiting for?

Lily climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how on earth she would ever get to sleep after the day she’d had.

The moment she closed her eyes, however, her thoughts fell away, and she drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

Lily awoke bright and early the following morning, feeling well-rested but no less uncertain.

Which was why, after quickly dressing and securing her hair in a tidy bun, she scurried down the stairs and went straight into the kitchen.

She needed to be doing something, and nothing calmed her so well as baking.

Baking was safe, precise, ordered. Baking made her feel sane, and after yesterday, she needed a bit of sanity in her life.

Contentedly, she flitted around the kitchen, removing the necessary ingredients from their cupboards and drawers and setting them on the table, lined up before her in two tidy rows.

She mixed flour and eggs in a bowl and threw in the remainder of the ingredients, and it was only when she began placing the dough balls on the baking sheet that she realized she was making scones.

Scones with strawberry preserves had always been Rose’s favorite food, ever since she was old enough to have teeth to chew with.

She hadn’t come into the kitchen intending to make a treat for her sister, but now that she was doing it, it felt right. She’d behaved badly last night, and she wanted to do something nice for Rose—not as an olive branch, but perhaps as the first step toward reconciliation.

Her sister had hurt her deeply, yes, but if she were being honest with herself, she had grown weary of her anger and bitterness. It served no purpose, and could not change the past, so what was she holding onto it for?

Besides, it was clear now that Rose had done her a favor by stealing Stephen away. If Lily had married him, she never would have come to live at The Weeping Whiskers, and she loved the inn and Little Bilberry far more than she’d ever loved Stephen.

“Good morning, Lily.”

She looked up to find Rose standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back, a tentative smile on her lips.

“Good morning,” she replied politely, kneading the dough in her hands. “How did you sleep?”

It was a safe question, one she might have asked any guest of the inn, but at least it was cordial.

“I slept well, thank you. The bed is very comfortable.” Rose cleared her throat, her gaze skating over the mess on the table. “It smells wonderful in here. What are you baking?”

“Scones.”

Rose’s eyes met hers. “I love scones.”

“I know.”

Lily drew in a deep breath and set the dough on the table before nervously wiping her hands on her apron. “Rose, I owe you an apology. My behavior last night was loathsome. I was petulant and rude, and you did not deserve it.”

Rose stepped further into the room, shaking her head vigorously.

“You’re angry with me, and you have every right to be.

I hurt you. I did not intend to; I did not set out to steal Stephen away from you, but we fell in love and.

..” She trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders, as if to say, what else were we to do?