words, but I could tell you are fond of me. You always spoke so honestly to me.’
‘I speak honestly to everyone.’ She leaned forward so he could not miss the emphasis in her words.
‘No, you don’t. I’ve watched. You’re very kind, nice, and—’ he moved so they stood at a slant to each other, mostly facing the room and shoulders aligned ‘—the most polite Miss Lily Hightower. With me, you’re different. You told me when my voice squeaked like a carriage wheel and asked if I could please do it again.’
‘I didn’t know boy’s voices did that.’ She took in a breath and looked away. ‘You could have explained it wasn’t a new skill. I thought it fascinating. And the look on your face that day didn’t convince me you were fond of me in any way.’
‘I wasn’t. At that moment.’ His shoulders bumped just a bit. ‘I thought my voice would stay that way for ever.’
Their eyes caught in memory.
She had to speak, to put words in the air between them and make the world seem normal again. ‘What if I had courted someone else?’
‘I would have swooped in like a hawk.’
‘It would have been too late.’
‘That’s what I mean about your honesty,’ he said. ‘And it wouldn’t have been too late.’
‘And you have quite the opinion of yourself.’
‘I was taught I should,’ he said. ‘And so should you. Have a high opinion of yourself.’
Her teeth tightened against each other. She couldn’t keep her lips from forming a straight line.
Small muscles in his face tensed, making a statement of disagreement without speaking. ‘We’ve known each other since childhood.’ One shoulder moved in the closest he would ever get to a shrug. ‘I thought you were keeping yourself hidden away...well, because you were waiting for me.’
‘No. I wasn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘I was just—living. Next door.’
His lids shuttered his eyes, but then he looked at her—the first whimsy she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes weren’t cold. Her toes squeezed into her slippers and somehow her legs kept from melting away.
‘Apparently, when I err it’s on a grand scale,’ he said.
‘We’ve been friends for a long time, true. And you’re a lot like your...family.’ She thought of his father.
‘It’s a good life,’ he said. ‘I’ve known you since I was six. Or something around that age. Why shouldn’t you be my duchess?’
He knew full well why. Just as everybody else did.
‘Is this a proposal?’ she asked. ‘Not a jest—not a jest like when I took your book and you left the volume of manners out for me to see.’
He moved closer. ‘I knew you’d see the note.’
‘There was a note?’ Her voice rose.
‘Yes.’ He nodded.
‘What did it say?’
‘That you would need this for when you became a duchess.’
* * *
Edge watched her. ‘Lily. Breathe.’ She acted as if he’d told her he’d not marry her if she were the last woman alive.
Her lips moved. ‘I have other plans.’
‘What other plans?’ He leaned in.
‘I don’t know.’
The first time he remembered seeing her she’d asked if he could growl. She’d walked to the bench on his parent’s property, holding a biscuit in each hand.
And in his confidence at being the heir and needing to do whatever he must, he said, ‘Of course. I can do almost anything.’
‘Growl, then.’
‘No.’ He’d frowned. ‘I’m studying.’
‘Lord Lion can’t growl. And you can’t fly. You can’t do most anything. You only read.’
‘Lord Lionel,’ he’d corrected her.
She’d paused, studying his face as if she didn’t hear correctly. ‘Lord Lion-owl. Lions growl. Owls fly. You don’t do either. I’ve watched.’
‘Lord Lionel,’ he’d insisted.
She’d looked him over. Frowned. ‘If you growl, Lord Lion Owl, you can have a biscuit. They’re good ones. Cook makes them just for me.’
He’d held out his hand, but she’d stepped back, shaking her head.
He’d growled. She’d thrown the biscuit at him whilst sticking her tongue out. He’d caught it with one hand and growled again. She’d turned, running to her house, laughing.
That biscuit had tasted like orange cake.
Lily stared. Edgeworth didn’t look down his aristocratic nose at people—she was certain of that. But when one looked at the sky and saw one layer of wisped clouds floating lower, and then a second tier floating above the first, Edgeworth was the most distant level. He floated on the top tier.
‘No,’ she said, remembering her manners and then adding, ‘but thank you so much. I’m so honoured to be asked. And it is a great compliment. I will cherish this moment.’ She paused. ‘For ever.’
His eyes still blared blue at her. And he did seem to be looking down his nose a bit, after all.
‘I said thank you,’ she whispered. All eyes would be on her as a duchess. And while she didn’t take the responsibility for anything her mother had done, she couldn’t bear the whispers about her being above herself.
He didn’t move when he heard her answer. ‘You said “No, thank you”. One word too many.’
‘Perhaps you could clasp your hands over your heart,’ she said, ‘and act as if an arrow pierced you deeply because I didn’t respond with a yes.’
‘I am deeply wounded.’
She lowered her chin. ‘I believe so,’ she said. ‘I believe the shock has rendered you unable to show the deep grief you’re feeling.’
‘Exactly.’
She shuddered a half-shake in disagreement. ‘Why do you consider me for a duchess?’
‘If you’d said yes, I’d be inclined to tell you.’
‘You’re
