The Wallflower Duchess. Liz Tyner

it regularly.’

      ‘Thank you, Miss Hightower. Your presence makes me capable of things I didn’t know possible. Such as my earlier recovery. I wanted to tell you that I remembered your visit to me when I was ill. I suspect I had so much laudanum in me I hardly knew what was real or imagined.’

      ‘I had little choice but to visit you,’ she said, a smile added. ‘Your mother was pacing outside, weeping, certain you weren’t going to make it. The temperature had turned back to winter and rain had started. I begged your mother to let me see you so I could get her out of the weather.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘I may have been worried about you a hair. Just a hair.’ She smiled again.

      ‘As you had me planned for Abigail’s husband.’ His eyes iced over.

      ‘Not just that—and you know it. I’ve known you and your family all my life.’

      ‘Would you have been so concerned if it were my brother Andrew, or Steven, ill?’

      ‘Of course—’ she insisted. His eyes narrowed. ‘Of course,’ she added, speaking straight into the ice. But she softened her words with an upturn to her voice. ‘But they never caused me to be scarred for life. Growled at me. Or tried to convince me that unicorns did not exist.’

      ‘Fine. You win. The drawing you showed me did prove that unicorns are real and I hope you have finally saved enough to purchase one.’

      ‘I bought a doll instead.’

      ‘I did ask to see the unicorn when you purchased it.’ His shoulders turned to her.

      She lowered her chin. ‘Even then, I was not fooled by your sincerity.’

      The silence in the air between them was filled with shared memories of childhood.

      ‘Well, I do thank you for visiting me while I was ill,’ he spoke softly. ‘It meant a lot.’

      ‘Someone needed to make you mind your manners,’ she said.

      ‘What?’ He raised his brows.

      ‘When you were ill and Fox said that dreadful thing and—you—really shouldn’t have done that, you know.’

      He shook his head, not following her meaning.

      She looked over his shoulder and stared into space. ‘That gesture. The bad one.’

      ‘Ah...’ He shrugged. ‘I apologise. I was out of my head from the pain and the medicine and I didn’t realise you were there. Fox and my brothers and I don’t always speak gently to each other.’

      She shook her head and censured him with her stare. ‘Your mother had stopped in the doorway. I had to make sure she didn’t see it.’ She leaned closer. ‘And then you were whispering that very bad word.’

      ‘I didn’t whisper anything.’

      ‘You did.’ She locked on to his gaze. ‘I had to speak to cover your words and get you quiet.’

      She examined his face when she spoke to him, because he certainly wouldn’t say what he thought, and if not for the little—well—spasms of emotion that she could imagine, she wouldn’t have any idea what he might be thinking. His words didn’t give much away.

      But he had been quite the different person when he was ill. In those moments she’d sat at his bedside, he’d needed her. She’d known it. She’d known he wouldn’t have wanted her sister—or any other woman—to see him sweating and restless, but he didn’t mind her being there at all. ‘You squeezed my hand and called me an angel,’ she said. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’ She leaned in. ‘And you had to be out of your head to do it.’

      He didn’t respond. Not even with his eyes.

      ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

      ‘That honesty is refreshing.’

      ‘Isn’t everyone honest to you? Mostly?’

      ‘If their opinion is what they think I wish to hear.’

      ‘Don’t let it concern you. Most people are like that.’

      ‘It does concern me. Most people won’t say what they’re thinking to me and it seems your words are a reflection of what you truly believe. Not just what is the more correct thing to say to a duke.’

      ‘Are you wishing you were born a second son?’ She asked the question aloud the moment she thought it.

      He examined her face. ‘No. Not at all. I was born to be who I am. As we all are.’

      Lily heard laughter break out at the other side of the room. She turned, forcing her attention from Edgeworth, but not truly noticing the others.

      Lily wasn’t meant to be who she was. It was just her good fortune not to be living in a home with a fiery pit. ‘One would say your mother was born to be a duchess, too.’

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘One could say the same of you.’

      She gulped in air and moved so that she held her glass with both hands for a second. ‘No. One couldn’t.’ Her heart warmed at his politeness. Edgeworth knew his manners.

      ‘Don’t disagree when I’m right,’ he said. ‘It’s true.’

      Music filled the air and Edgeworth watched her as if she should say something profound, but all she could manage was a pinched-sounding mumble of thanks.

      ‘Greetings, all.’ Fox appeared behind Edgeworth, popping into the conversation like a marionette might drop on to the stage to scatter the other puppets.

      ‘Edgeworth dragged me from the country so that I might attend this evening, but when I realised that I would be seeing the two Hightower sisters, I thanked him most utterly and profusely—even though one of them...’ he tilted his chin to the ceiling, batted his eyes and looked as if he might whistle ‘...may once have compared me to a piece of very important pottery.’ He smiled. ‘I tried to steal a kiss and you told me you’d prefer to kiss a chamber pot.’

      ‘I meant it as a gentle reprimand,’ Lily said.

      ‘It was.’ He chuckled and put a hand to his ear. ‘Is that music I hear?’ He held out his arm for her to clasp. ‘Dance with me, please, I beg you, so that I might apologise for being so ungallant in the past.’

      ‘You are not here to impress Miss Lily,’ Edgeworth said.

      Foxworthy’s jaw dropped, but his eyes sparkled. ‘I thought for certain I was here to impress every woman in attendance. I’m crushed.’ He winked at Lily. ‘So even if I cannot sway you to swoon with admiration, will you please do me the honour of dancing with me?’

      Edgeworth’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed.

      Quickly, she returned her glass to the table and accepted the request, feeling the men must be separated immediately.

      She glared at Fox and hurried to the dance floor.

      Even with her back to him, her mind’s eye could see Edgeworth watching her. Prickles of warmth flared. But he needn’t have worried. Foxworthy was all nonsense. He liked a certain type of woman and she wasn’t it. That she knew.

      Fox turned to her, pulling her into his orbit with a half-hidden smile. He moved into the dance so quickly she had to pay attention.

      ‘Edgeworth is watching us.’ Fox leaned close and practically stumbled over her, but she was certain he was an excellent dancer. The cad. She hated to dance and it was hard enough for her to keep up with the steps without having a partner who purposefully stumbled.

      His head turned and at that moment his eyes changed. ‘Your sister just walked into the room.’

      ‘She tends to do that.’

      ‘I