Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Lily strolled out into the early morning air and glanced over her shoulder at the small inn, then gazed forward at the road that stretched ahead.

She had never meant for Charlotte or Kate to make this trip with her, but now that she was alone, she couldn't ignore the growing pit in her stomach. Could she trust this man? Had she made a horrible mistake?

"Oh good, you are awake," he said just then, strolling out the front door of the inn while stuffing a dry biscuit into his mouth.

She scrunched up her nose. Lily was never huge on propriety but talking while one was eating? "Yes, you are planning on taking me to your brother, are you not?"

He rolled his eyes. "That was my brilliant idea, yes." He waved for her to join him in the carriage.

"Wait," she pulled back, stretching onto her tiptoes to see. "Are you sure we have all the luggage? Have they finished loading it?"

"Yes, yes," he placed his hand on the small of her back and gently pushed.

She dug her heels in, spinning around to level him with a deadly glare. "I am not cattle. I can get into this carriage on my own, without your help, thank you kindly."

He roughly swatted the crumbs away from his mouth, mumbled something under his breath, and stormed to the other side of the carriage and climbed in, waiting.

Damn him and his long legs.

"Mr. Davies, we have a long journey. Let's endeavor to be civil with one another. Yes?" She followed, settling opposite him in the carriage. It had appeared much larger on the outside than it was inside.

Or perhaps it was because she was to be traveling alone with this man for several days.

Alone.

She looked away, closing her eyes to stem the spiraling panic from overtaking her body.

Lily needed a husband, and she had found one in a newspaper. He must exist because his brother had appeared, as agreed upon to escort her to the Isle of Wight. She would not find herself at the other end of embarrassment again. Jilted twice, but she could, and would, marry this man. She would because she must.

The driver called out, then with a quick start, the carriage rumbled forward.

This couldn't be a mistake. Lily had no room for error.

Her family had practically disowned her, her friends questioned her sanity, and former bride grooms had all run away. She was on her own now for the next few weeks. And there was still a chance at love.

"Are you eating again?" she said, smelling the most wonderful lemon tarts.

Rafe glanced up from unwrapping the baked goods in a handkerchief. "You don't wish to see me if I haven't eaten. It's frightful."

She brushed a hand against her mouth, certain she was drooling. She had barely eaten this morning, too caught up with nerves. But that tart…

He stuffed one into his mouth in the most offensive, yet strangely satisfying feat she had ever seen .

"What's he like?" she asked, desperate to get her mind off food. Or the way his tongue so expertly licked the crumbs off his lips.

"Who?"

She crossed her arms, fighting off an annoyed growl when he chuckled.

"Henry is… particular."

"About what?"

"Everything. He wishes everything to go in a particular way, and if it does not, he will not stop until he lets you know how you have ruined everything."

"He sounds like my stepmother."

Rafe finished eating the tart, and his fingers grasped the second. Lily held her breath, watching, waiting. This trip could be redeemed… Rafe could be redeemed if only…

He shoved the second and last tart into his mouth and moaned. "I'll miss these tarts."

"I understand now why you are not married," she grumbled, reaching into her reticule for a book. She spied her Belgian chocolates and thought it best to hold on to them, even as her stomach growled.

"I'm not married because I wish not to be so."

Lily raised her eyebrows, smirking as she opened her book. Better not to say.

"What is it?"

She continued looking at her book as the carriage rocked back and forth. She had never been to sea, but she wondered how sea captains ever gained their sea legs when the world was constantly changing beneath one's feet.

"I would hate to ruin your morning, but if you are thinking your declaration of eternal bachelorhood is original, I sadly disagree. Seems men the world over like to think themselves free until they no longer find themselves not."

He scratched his jaw, puzzling her over. Everything within her tensed as she focused on the words on the page. Or attempted to. It was only something about the way he studied her that made her cheeks burn .

"It's best I never marry," he said, his voice dropping off as he turned to look out the window at the passing scrubby brush. "And I expect not many wish to marry a naval officer. I am hardly ever home and have little to my name."

Lily had assumed the trip would be a trifle more exciting than this. She missed Kate and Charlotte. Rafe was a poor companion with eating all the tarts and making boring declarations and vague statements.

"Why is it that you are seeking out another to marry? Why have the previous attempts failed?"

With a hard blink, she drew in another breath until the world slowed a beat. "If I knew, we wouldn't be here, sir." She felt suddenly as if she were a comet, hurtling through the blackest of skies. Or perhaps it was only that the tips of her ears were hot. "That was rude."

It was rude and tactless, and the shock of it left her speechless for a moment. For sure, she had plenty of pointed responses, but they inconveniently lodged in her throat. An unfortunate common occurrence around men who tossed about their arrogance so freely.

She glanced back to her book, gripping the pages while embarrassment flashed to anger. But that was frowned upon, or so her stepmother loved to remind her. Titled or not, women were expected to swallow the bad actions of others and then smile as if no offense were taken.

It was rubbish, and it was on a very long list of why some days she wished more than anything that she'd been born a man.

Mr. Davies shifted in his seat. "My apologies. I didn't mean to offend you. It was a genuine question."

Lily nodded, never looking away from her book.

"What are you reading?" he asked after some time.

"It's called a book, Mr. Davies."

"I remember them well. I even read one from time to time."

"Do you now?"

He chuckled, a soft warm sound that reminded her of cinnamon tea and honey. "I see your opinion of me has already been settled upon. "

She shrugged. It didn't matter overly much what her opinion of her travel companion was. She wouldn't be marrying him. "I'm reading about astronomy."

"I noticed your telescope with the luggage. It's a beautiful piece. You must care for it very much because it's in perfect condition. There isn't so much as a scratch on the mahogany and brass. Do the stars interest you?"

Since she was a small child, she had fallen in love with the wonders of what the skies held. Perhaps because they were a reminder that the world was much larger than her small bedroom. There was a romantic hope in the stars that she harbored, even as she began to build up walls around her heart. "Thank you." She closed her book and peered at her companion. "It was my mother's."

"I'm sorry. She passed?"

His cravat was crooked, and yet if he walked into a London ballroom, she would bet he would turn the head of every available debutante hungry to land a husband.

She picked at her skirts, unsure if she could weather his hazel eyes much longer. What a cruel trick that, like his smile, they made her forget her name. "When I was six. I hardly remember her."

Rafe crossed his arms. "I was eight when my father passed away. He was a captain in the Royal Navy. He became ill while sailing to Brazil and died at sea."

That sounded truly horrible. It had been years now, and she barely remembered, but her mother had been ill for some time. And she at least had been able to say goodbye. "I'm sorry. It's not easy losing a parent."

"Well, Henry has taken it upon himself to wear the mantle well."

"It must be nice to have such a caring brother."

Rafe snickered. "I said nothing about caring. Managing, yes."

"I find that often those who love us also manage us."

He closed one eye and tilted his head toward the window. "If they love us, they would see we often don't need to be managed. We are all capable."

Perhaps that was true. She certainly wished Charlotte and Kate would see she was capable of settling her own future without their interference, no matter how good their intentions were. As for her father, well he managed her because he sought total control, and that was something altogether different.

Silence settled between them. Although she managed to read, Rafe couldn't sit still, and Lily thought she might go mad from the energy buzzing around the carriage.

"Tell me more about the book," he said finally.

Lily closed her eyes and sighed. "Leave me alone, I'm reading."

"I didn't bring anything to read myself."

She shut her book and glared at Rafe. "That's unfortunate for you."

He laughed in spite of himself. "Well, Miss Abrams, it has been grand."

"Wait, what are you doing?"

He stretched out, settling his head back against the wall of the carriage. "I plan to sleep. It's magic, see. Makes the trip much more tolerable by being unconscious for most of the ride."

They were barely acquaintances, yet this man, this sometimes devilishly charming man was going to nap as if he were a chubby tabby cat sunning himself in the afternoon.

She didn't feel comfortable doing so. If she were being honest with herself, she didn't feel much of anything except wrong. She half wished she was back in Cumbria. The other half wished to tease and taunt Mr. Davies more. Instead, he softly snored in the corner of the carriage as she looked him over, all long, lean grace. His suit was nicely tailored, even if his black hair was a bit too long and curled by his ears. He had a long Roman nose, high cheekbones, and a thin, wide smile that was exceedingly good at making her forget her next sentence.

"What about Henry?" she whispered, turning to focus on the window again. The carriage still swayed, the passing fields were all uneventful and rather plain in appearance, and she was forced to keep company with her thoughts which were miles away.

It took another four hours to reach their inn for the evening.

Rafe found a table and attempted to have her order dinner, and though she was hungry, she didn't have an appetite. She didn't wish to be in his company any longer and excused herself, asking for the innkeeper to arrange for her to have a bath in her room.

It was a small luxury after a day such as she'd had. Would this be what the remainder of her journey would be like? The same sharp-tongued banter in a rocking carriage as the world spun slowly around the sun, wondering if her new husband would like her because his brother clearly did not.

Not that it mattered.

She only wished they could be civil with one another.

Perhaps enjoy a bit of the trip if possible. She had never traveled beyond London. And someday, she wished to see Venice.

She stepped out of the bath and dressed, then paused as a knock rapped at the door.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She didn't wish to see Rafe, didn't wish to speak to him. If she could only have the night to place all that armor back on and pretend to be brave. She wouldn't fall apart because of a man again and certainly not fall to pieces in front of one.

She opened the door to a warm meal at the foot of the door with a simple note. Sorry.

Lily glanced up and down the small, dim hallway but didn't see anyone. She picked up her food tray and ate a quiet dinner by herself before crawling into bed alone with her astronomy book until sleep was too much to fight and she drifted off. One day closer to meeting her new husband on the Isle of Wight.

It wasn't as if Rafe had to marry Lily.

He had taken it upon himself to escort her home to Henry, still fully believing she would be an agreeable match. His brother needed a wife, whether he admitted it or not, to help rebuild the crumbling ancestral seat.

When Henry inherited the title unexpectedly, and they both agreed to leave their lives in London, Rafe was charged with assisting in the management of the tenants while Henry tackled the poorly kept ledgers. But the house itself was in disrepair, and they needed more help.

Not to mention, a bride might be just what Henry needed to stop his constant grump terror campaign.

None of that accounted for why Rafe was a cad to her yesterday.

Eating dinner alone in a stuffy tavern room was bad enough. But then he found himself missing her witty retorts and that crooked smirk of hers when she bested him.

Because that was the most annoying thing of all—the bride he had chosen for his brother was beautiful and smart, and everything…

Well, once he had wished to marry, and she would have been perfect.

But he couldn't count on himself for much, so why would he ever marry? He was a large enough disappointment to Henry. And besides, though their time together had been brief so far, it was clear Miss Abrams did not enjoy him or his company.

"You can pack two extra tarts, please?" he asked the barmaid in the tavern, peeking out the window as his luggage was packed onto the carriage.

"Of course, sir."

He slid the coin over the worn bar top, then glanced over his shoulder, catching Lily coming downstairs in a blue traveling dress and bonnet. Their eyes met, and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he turned back to grab the tarts.

Miss Abrams nodded hello, walking through the tavern room as if she were holding court. By God, she was a thing of beauty. He wished to possess whatever power she held that propelled her through the world with such certainty.

"Good morning," he called out, following her to the carriage. She flashed a quick, polite smile, turning back to watch as the rest of her luggage was secured onto the roof.

"It appears we have everything," she concluded, spinning to face him.

He wanted none of her politeness. Nor did he deserve it .

Still, he was stuck with her standing before him in blue on a beautiful June morning. She appeared radiant and well rested. Her hair was so beautifully deep brown. He loved how her curls danced around the full apples of her cheeks.

He hadn't slept. He had spent most of the night tossing and turning, then wishing the kitchen was still open because he hadn't eaten enough dinner after Lily cried off early.

"Yes," he said rather stupidly, "it does appear so."

She clasped her hands, then laughed nervously. "Yes, well… should we start our day?"

He nodded, stumbling a few steps as he opened the door to help her inside.

"No need to trouble yourself now, Mr. Davies. I don't wish to be a burden today."

A dagger right to the heart.

Not that he should care. It wasn't important if Lily liked him. She was intended for his brother. But he wasn't a caveman. He had manners. Or so his mother had endeavored to teach him before he left to sail at eleven on the HMS Hopkington .

She climbed into the carriage and settled opposite of him, always looking ahead at the road before them. He sat across from her and signaled for the driver to begin. The coach rattled off to a slow start, and he cleared his throat, scratching at his jaw as she turned from the window to study him.

"I wish to…" He placed his hands on his lap and licked his lips. "That is, I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was terrible company. I am sorry."

"I had a fine evening without you, though I appreciated you delivering dinner to my door, nonetheless. Thank you for your apology."

The air inside the coach smelled too much of her perfume and was too hot. Or perhaps it was too quiet. His heart drummed in his ears as he opened the small handkerchief and revealed the tarts.

"I wish to make amends. Can we travel as friends now?" He held out his hand, scolding himself as it shook, waiting for her to reach for one .

"I don't believe I asked for a friend. I wrote to your brother because he was seeking a wife."

"Yes, but if we are friends, then we can at least endeavor to enjoy the journey."

"Can a woman and a man be friends?" She snatched a tart and sat back with a big, easy smile. It was a welcome sight.

Her brown eyes lit up when she smiled.

"Anything is possible."

Lily threw her head back and laughed, truly laughed. It filled up the carriage, and soon, Rafe found himself joining in. She took a delicate bite of her tart, closing her eyes as the bright raspberry jam hit her tongue.

Now, it was known quite well throughout many London social circles that Rafe loved tarts… of all kinds. But the damnedest thing was, watching Lily eat hers was perhaps the best tart he had ever had.

Trouble, he warned himself. It was much too early into the trip to be thinking such thoughts about his companion.

Hours later, after they had finished traveling for the day and were enjoying dinner together, he was having to remind himself of the same. The two had talked all day, about everything, and he had enjoyed it.

Lily reached for a glass of claret and speared another boiled potato with her fork, deep into a conversation about a celestial body she called the Milky Way.

Felton and the man before him… complete and utter cads. They didn't deserve Lily.

"Are you paying attention?" she asked, waving her fork around while explaining gravitational force.

"I'm riveted."

She kicked his boot under the table, biting the corner of her lip before her brown eyes met his.

Trouble.

Pure trouble.

Because not only did he enjoy his time with Lily, he couldn't stop himself from flirting. Perhaps it was best if she thought him a grumpy arse.

He snickered, leaning forward in his seat and resting his face into his palm. "Please, I am. Continue."

But now she was also giggling. And her nose scrunched up in the most adorable way.

"Prepare yourself. I can talk for days about the stars. I am working on writing a science textbook for young women. Well for anyone, really, but I wish to create greater access to the fascinating ways science shapes our lives."

And I could listen, he thought.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Excuse me," a younger man said, approaching their table.

Lily instantly straightened, and she was lost to him—the woman he had discovered during their time together was lost behind a front of aloofness. He wished she didn't shut herself off.

Rafe turned. "Yes?"

"This is going to sound bizarre, I am sure… but you aren't Lieutenant Rafe Davies, are you?"

Now it was Rafe's turn to pull away. He had been called out in the past and could tell when a fist was about to fly in his direction. But this man was smiling, so it wasn't anything half so bad.

"That depends, I guess."

Lily kicked him under the table again. This time, there was no giggle or nose scrunch, just a burning glare.

"My brother served with you on the HMS Hopkington ."

The man beamed back, mistaking Rafe's scowl for something akin to pride. It wasn't. He spent his days actively avoiding thoughts of what he and the rest of the crew endured on that ship.

"Mr. Davies?" Lily prompted.

He cleared his throat, nodding briefly before reaching for his ale and gulping it down. The glass slammed down onto the table when he was done, and then, and only then, did he finally meet the stranger eye to eye.

"I am, and I wish not to speak of it further. Goodbye. "

"Mr. Davies," Lily hissed.

The man made his apologies and left, leaving Rafe there with an empty glass and a broody soon-to-be sister-in-law.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled back.

She sat up straight, brushing the hair away from her eyes. "You could be civil."

"I don't feel like entertaining strangers with war stories."

"Very well." She sighed, then pushed back from the table and threw her napkin onto her cleared dinner plate. "Then I will do my best to leave you alone. Good night."

Words were trapped in his throat again, which happened too much around Miss Abrams. Along with a clawing panic in his chest as he watched her weave through the crowded dining room to retire upstairs. It wasn't as if he wouldn't see her again.

Whatever it was that she brought out in him, he hated it. He had never acted so much a fool around a woman in his life. He reached for the roll on his plate and tore it two, gnawed a piece off, and flagged down the barmaid for another ale.

Perhaps he was only made to live his life at sea.

The man was infuriating.

Lily shut the door behind her a little too loudly, cursing under her breath. Why she ever thought she could be friends with him when he acted like a spoiled child was beyond her. She was thankful it was Henry and not Rafe she had agreed to marry.

Imagine Rafe's letters. It would be nothing more than a few brief sentences highlighting what he had consumed for breakfast.

They would be nothing compared to the biting wit in Henry's letters that won her over.

She blew out a big breath, drawing herself to the center of the small bedroom. It was nothing grand. A small bed with a serviceable quilt and pillow. A washstand and a small mirror. The curtains on the windows were thin, brown broadcloth. The wide pine floors were worn by years of travelers. She lit candles and poured fresh water into the washbasin.

This journey was the first she had ever taken alone. It seemed a shame it would end soon. But there was more good to come, surely. After waiting years, she was finally moving forward, toward something. And that wasn't insignificant.

If Rafe didn't wish to see her, then Lily wouldn't beg for his attention. If he wished to speak to her, then he could do so kindly, or else he could spend the remainder of the trip alone. She was an interesting woman, worthy of attention.

Why no one else thought this, was confusing.

Her mother thought her interesting once. After her death, Lily only remembered her father seeking to place more and more distance between himself and his only daughter. She barely recognized him now. Kate and Charlotte supported her but often tried to manage her as if she were a child about to cause mayhem. And her stepmother and stepsisters? Well, they didn't wish for her to be around either.

What if the same were true for her new husband?

She splashed water onto her face and unpinned her hair, quickly brushing it out before undressing down to her stays and opening the trunk to change into her nightgown.

"Horse feathers!"

Lily grabbed the first item in the pile, threw it on, then opened her door and peeked down the hallway. She rushed next door and pounded on Rafe's door, shutting her eyes and hoping he wasn't still down in the tavern drinking.

She heard the door crack open, then she popped one eye open.

"What are…"

Rafe grabbed her, hauling her through his door. She sputtered, shaking off his grasp as she stood in his room, shaking.

"We lost luggage." She crossed her arms, hiding what she could of her body from him.

"Sorry?"

It was then she noticed the Welsh lilt in his voice. He was drunk.

Goodness .

"I was preparing for bed and…" She waved her hands, gesturing at the man's shirt she was wearing. "The trunk in my room doesn't belong to me."

Rafe stumbled back a step, his eyes meeting hers before glancing down the length of her body with hooded eyes.

She felt the heat bite her cheeks, and if it didn't feel so much as if she had just swallowed a jar of butterflies, she might have been angrier at the way he looked at her then. But she had spent years asking for someone to look at her, truly look at her as he just had.

Lily cleared her throat, and Rafe blinked, diverting his gaze. "Maybe there was a mistake, and your trunk is in another room. I'll find out." He reached around her for his jacket hanging on the back of a chair and tossed it around her shoulders. The giant garment enveloped her. "In the meantime, I think it best you head back to your room."

His jacket was still warm, still smelled of ale and cinnamon and bay rum.

She fought the urge to nuzzle her cheek against the collar to be closer to the fine fabric.

He gestured for her to follow, and she did, sneaking out into the hallway before dashing into her room.

"I will be back shortly. Stay here."

The door closed behind him, and she plopped back onto the bed, sinking deep into the old feather mattress. It felt like hours before there was a short rap at the door. She jumped to her feet and pulled Rafe's jacket around her tightly, cracking the door open.

"No trunk?"

He shook his head. "No, sorry. No other guests have reported a mix up. Which means it must have been left behind at the last inn."

For a moment, it was as if the room spun. Or perhaps she needed to sit.

Gone.

Her trousseau was in that trunk. Her clothes. She was to meet her new husband in the same dress she wore today and nothing else.

Lily quickly brushed the back of her hand across her eyes as the edges of the room blurred. A quick burst of cold swept over her body, and she felt suddenly adrift.

"Very well."

"Don't cry," he said.

Lily nodded, tears burning her eyes.

"I can't… Please don't cry, Lily."

There was no point in wiping the tears away now. They were happening whether she embraced them or not.

Rafe leaned closer. "May I come in?"

She stepped aside as he rushed inside and closed the door.

He had said her name, as if it was some holy devotion, and she was something to worship.

And she was crying like a fool.

"Oh, I hate crying." She brushed back her tears, staring up at him as he studied her. He walked closer, bracing his hands on her arms.

"There is nothing wrong with crying."

"I don't wish to. It's only…" She threw her arms to her side and laughed in spite of herself. "I don't wish to bother you. Please, I will figure this out in the morning. You may return to your room."

"It doesn't seem like I should leave you now."

"I don't need managing! I wish everyone would stop moving me around like some pawn so their life can be made easier."

Rafe rubbed his thumbs over her arms. Her eyes turned up to his. Even from beneath her tears, it was time to admit that Rafe Davies was handsome. Frustratingly so. She had no business standing here with him in her room, the two of them alone.

"Let me say that again," he said in a low voice, "I don't want to leave you now."

She sniffed, then closed the distance between them and buried her face against his chest.

"Don't cry, Lily," he whispered, gently wrapping his arms around her.

Lily melted into his embrace and cried. Cried about being jilted at the altar twice. Cried about being left behind by her mother. Cried about being treated like a guest at her own home after her father remarried. Cried for feeling as if she was always a problem to everyone around her.

And all the while, Rafe stood firm in the middle of her rented room at the inn, holding her, letting her fall to pieces without any judgment.

She pulled back, wiping her face and smiling. "I assure you, that is not a common occurrence. I hate crying."

It was his turn to nod.

She wished he would have said something irreverent then. Anything to turn her attention away from the warmth of his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth. For all his bristly comments during their brief time together, she knew at that moment that Rafe Davies was hiding a terrible secret.

He was unequivocally kind.

The realization annoyed her. He was to be her brother-in-law, and yet, she was wearing his jacket. She had just rested in his arms as if they were lovers. And she had just thought about his lips kissing hers.

"Lily," he repeated.

"Please stop saying my name," she said in a small whisper, "before I…" She stopped herself, sure that if she continued she would kiss him.

"Very well." He stepped back, then circled around to examine the trunk. "It looks identical to yours."

She threw her hands on her hips. "Open it up."

He snapped his attention to hers. "I believe you. I don't suspect you'd come find me in nothing but a man's shirt otherwise."

"I don't think that is considered proper, no."

He chuckled. "As if I'm concerned with what's proper or not."

Rafe opened the trunk and removed another tailored jacket. "Very fine clothes. Is there a name here, so we know who it belongs to?"

She shrugged.

"Let's find out." He drummed his fingers together deviously.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't feel as if we should go through their belongings. "

"We are on a mission." He tossed her the jacket. "Check the pockets."

He unpacked a top hat next and placed it on his head, then ruffled around to discover another jacket… this time in a bright velvet magenta. "Well, a man about town. Look at this…" He shrugged on the jacket and tipped his hat toward her.

Lily laughed. "Good evening, sir."

"Good evening." He waggled his brows before diving in to discover yet another top hat and tossed it to Lily.

She placed it on her head and shrugged on the jacket. "How is Mayfair this time of year?" she asked in her best man-around-town voice.

"Oh, it's fine I suppose. But I was traveling. I am a man of the world. I just returned from the most incredible trip to the Greek isles. The water is the clearest blue you will ever lay eyes on."

"I have always wished to see Venice."

"It's beautiful." The silliness dropped from his voice, and suddenly he was wistful.

She walked around him to rest on the edge of the bed.

"I would be there now." The top hat slid forward a bit, blocking her view of Rafe.

He came to sit down beside her, and she felt the heat radiating off his body. The smell of his bay rum cologne washed over her, and she closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled, feeling everything within her relax.

"That rotter."

She laughed. She couldn't help it around Rafe. It was perhaps the first time in her life that she felt completely at ease with someone. As if the walls she had meticulously built around her and her heart after all these years suddenly had bits of light slipping through the cracks.

She rested her head against his shoulder.

"You will get there someday. I am sure of it."

"Do you think Henry will wish to go to Venice for our honeymoon?"

Rafe waited for a beat before answering. "Henry is rather preoccupied with renovations at Cliffstone Manor and sorting out the estate. I don't know if he'll ever travel to the Continent. He wishes to stay home most of the time. I am surprised he left London. But then again, he has always valued upholding one's duty."

"That's very honorable."

"Hmm."

"And what about you? Do you like to travel?"

"I've been off at sea for most of my life, and I've certainly seen plenty."

"What has been your favorite place? Tell me." She sat up and turned to meet his burning stare. Everything melted inside of her under his gaze. Suddenly, she didn't wish for him to go.

"I had a sailboat once that I built with my father. I've wanted to be a shipbuilder all my life. I much prefer… Well, I don't know anymore. I've been helping Henry manage the house and assist him with the tenants since leaving London last autumn, and I'm to select a post in a few weeks' time."

"Why did you leave London?"

Rafe bent his knees and rested his arms on top. His brows furrowed for a moment before he scratched his jaw and returned her patient gaze.

"Henry asked if I would help after he inherited his title." He swallowed, his shoulders visibly tensing. "Well, that was some of it. I landed myself into some trouble in London, and there's talk I might be promoted to captain. A change of scenery was necessary."

Lily wished to press more. She didn't miss him avoiding her first question, and her curiosity was certainly piqued about what happened in London, but she could already feel him pulling away. "Managing Cliffstone sounds like a lot of responsibility."

"I'm not reliable. Even you should have guessed that by now. I'm sorry for how I behaved at dinner, by the way. I should be more gracious, more…"

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You are a horrible liar, Rafe."

"Hmm? "

"You are heartbroken, too."

He reached out and placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed. "I'm not convinced my brother deserves you, Lily."

She gazed down at their hands entwined. His hand was rough compared to hers and scarred where hers were smooth. And yet it felt as if there was nothing else more perfect in the world than holding hands with this man.

Lily blinked hard, then slipped her hand away and stood. "It's growing late. Let's figure this out in the morning."

"We will find your things. Don't worry." Rafe stood and shrugged off his borrowed jacket and top hat as Lily did the same.

She was about to return his jacket as well before he held out his hand. "You can keep it. In case you catch a chill."

"Good night, Rafe."

"Good night, Lily," he said, slipping out of her room.

She stood there for a few moments after the door closed, waiting for what just transpired between them to make sense. But even after staying up until the early hours of the morning, working on writing her manuscript, it was still puzzling.

Because Lily was sorry for missing the chance of kissing Rafe.