Read Lily (Flower Trilogy) for Free Online

in front of Lily.
    “Holy Christ,” Rowan said. “Not again.”
    “Rowan,” Lady Trentingham admonished.
    “Well, someone should shut the windows.”
    Rose fanned herself with a languid hand. “With all these people, ’twould be too hot if we shut the windows.”
    “Cut the hedgerows?” Her father nodded sagely. “Yes, I’ve asked the groundskeepers to do that.”
    No one looked confused or surprised. Apparently everyone was well enough acquainted with Lord Trentingham to know that along with his passion for gardening, the man was half deaf.
    “Excellent, darling,” Lady Trentingham said loudly, flicking crumbs off his cravat. She looked down the table at Lily, who was busy feeding bits of bread to the sparrow. “Not at supper, dear.”

    Lily sighed. “Go, Lady.” She tossed the gray-brown bird one more crumb. “Outside now.”
    Amazingly, the bird gobbled the last of its feast and then took flight, heading for one of the windows where a squirrel sat on the sill, seemingly watching the proceedings. With a flutter of feathers, the sparrow landed beside the squirrel and turned to tweet at it. The squirrel chirped back, for all the world like they were having a conversation.
    Rand had never seen a wild bird that obeyed, let alone a squirrel that didn’t run at the sight of humans. He turned to Lily. “You do have a way with animals.”
    “Oh, there’s more to Lily than that,” her mother informed him from down the table. “She plays the harpsichord like an angel.”
    Lily blushed. She looked fetching when she blushed.
    Of course, she could be wearing rags and scrubbing a floor, and she’d look fetching. As it was, she’d exchanged the water-stained gown for one made of some shiny, pale purplish fabric that hugged her upper body like a second skin.
    He dragged his gaze back to her face. His fingers itched to touch the tiny dent in her chin. “Will you play for us after supper?” he asked her.
    “Eh?” Lord Trentingham shook his dark head. “Everyone will stay after supper. They’ve all been assigned rooms, have they not, Chrysanthemum love?”
    “Of course, darling.” Lady Trentingham smiled her ever-patient smile. “And Lily will play,” she told Rand.
    “And I shall sing,” Rose announced as she reached for some bread, grazing Rand’s arm in the process.
    On purpose, he was sure.
    Rose desired him. She’d made that clear, in action and words, four years ago and again now. As conversation buzzed around him, he wondered why he wasn’t tempted.
    She was lovely—tall and willowy, with a flawless, creamy complexion, glossy deep brown locks, and eyes so mysteriously dark they could be mistaken for black. A classic beauty.
    And not a cold one. Although still as outspoken and forward as he remembered, Rose had grown up. She was much warmer than he recalled.
    But the spark was missing. None of her heat penetrated his heart, while on his right, Lily seemed to burn like a bonfire. She was talking to the guest on her other side, but she sensed his gaze and turned slightly to meet his eyes, then looked away to continue her conversation.
    “I should like to hear you sing,” he told Rose, wondering if she had the voice for it.
    She graced him with a smile that revealed fetching dimples. If she were one of Lily’s cats, she’d be purring.
    And after supper, when she raised her voice in song, he was indeed impressed. Singing of love, the words flitted from her throat, rich and true.
    But Lily’s playing was even more splendid.
    Despite the fact that various relatives were all seated decorously in the cream-and-gold-toned formal drawing room, Rand found himself rising and wandering toward the harpsichord. While Beatrix dozed on her lap, Lily’s fingers flew over the ivory keys, raising magic in their wake. She glanced up and smiled at him, and without thought, he opened his mouth to harmonize with her sister.
    Go tell her to make me a cambric shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, Without a