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lips enfolding it.
    “Lily,” he groaned aloud. “Lily.”

Chapter 3
    L ily woke early the next morning. She smiled to herself, remembering the ball. She had enjoyed it, to her surprise. Lord Victor had been charming company, although she didn’t wish to encourage him. Somehow, she had to get him interested in Alexandra.
    And the duke. His kiss and his dance edged their way into Lily’s mind more often than she desired. Consciously, she banished them.
    Lily brushed out her hair and plaited it, letting the long braid hang down her back. She dressed in a morning gown of pale orange and put on her ankle boots. The men would no doubt be meeting to begin their hunt. She decided to give them a few more moments before descending. Most of the women would still be abed due to the late hour of the ball last evening. Lily intended to take her art supplies and do some painting. She gathered her leather case that held her watercolors and paper. She took out a pint-sized jar, filled it with water from the basin, and capped it and put it in her case. She dropped her writing journal into the case as well. Then she left the room quietly. Rose was still breathing steadily in slumber.
    She enlisted a young servant to carry her supplies and walked toward the alcove. Servants were hurrying about on the front lawn, setting up tables and chairs for the ladies’ lawn party that afternoon. In about ten minutes, she found the rocky path she had walked across eight years ago, and in the distance the stony alcove beckoned. The bench was still there, although foliage had grown over parts of it.
    Lily dismissed the servant and hummed softly to herself as she set up her easel, placed a watercolor board upon it, and tied an apron around her waist. She opened her jar of water and saturated the paper. Delving in to the case again for her colors, she spied the painting she had brought from home. She looked beyond at the landscape she had painted. Remarkably, it hadn’t changed much in eight years, except no color bloomed now. It had been early autumn during her last visit. She put the painting back in her case and decided to start fresh. She continued humming as she mixed color for the sky, which was scattered with wispy white clouds. A bird twittered in the distance, and Lily stopped in mid stroke. She jotted a few sentences in her journal describing the sounds in the alcove and then went back to her painting.
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    D aniel stood several yards back . He smiled as he watched Lily paint, write, paint, and write. He’d first seen her years ago, in this very spot. She had been lovely, her dark hair and eyes promising true beauty as she matured. She had not disappointed. She dipped her head a bit as she mixed more color, and then she added some lush green to the light blue of her painting. Her strokes were deliberate, leaving the color in silky caresses on the paper. She turned again to her journal and wrote for a few moments, and then went back to painting. She changed to a thin brush and drew some delicate brown lines on her board.
    Daniel stole forward. “My lady.”
    She turned, startled. He recalled with a smile how she had stood up eight years ago, spilling her tin of water. She remained seated this time.
    “Good morning, Your Grace. What are you doing here?”
    She sounded remarkably calm at his presence. For some reason, this bothered Daniel.
    “It is my estate,” he said.
    “Why aren’t you on the hunt with the others?”
    “I have some business to attend to this afternoon, so I decided to skip the hunt.”
    “What on earth are you skulking about for then? I didn’t think men of your station were inclined to rise before noon.”
    Daniel chuckled softly. “It seems you have some rather interesting ideas regarding men of my station.”
    “You haven’t done anything to make me cast my notions to the wind.” Lily reached for her journal.
    “Perhaps I can change your mind about some of your generalizations,” he said. “What are you