From his own magnificent estate that shared a wooded boundary with hers, Oliver prepared to ride to Heatherfield. He had left a footman at Heatherfield so that he could be kept abreast of the activities Lilli didn’t share with him. She had had a visitor, a male visitor, that seemed suspicious, according to the footman.
“The staff has warned her off his visits, and yet she entertains him.”
Oliver straightened his cravat before the looking glass, his jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscle twitch beneath his freshly shaved face. The letter from his Lilli lay open on his desk, the third this week. It was time to respond, personally, and find out the real story behind the caller and his Lilli. She had been allowed to run amuck long enough.
“Your Grace,” his valet murmured, “your horse is saddled for Heatherfield.”
Oliver nodded, tucking a small velvet box into his coat pocket. Through his window, he could see the stone chimneys of Heatherfield Manor rising above the ancient oaks that separated their lands. Smoke curled from only one, her study no doubt, where she’d be poring over those maps again, searching for clues to her father’s whereabouts.
This last note from his Lilli bothered him and was the final straw to her staying alone. Today, her letter stated that a “gentleman” called at Heatherfield and offered to tell her where her father was. For a fee. That is why she wrote him. Not for assistance in dealing with the visitor or to discuss the event. She wrote him because he held her funds. It was another thing hislady was angry about but there was nothing she could say that would change that circumstance.
He mounted his stallion and rode through the morning mist toward the shared boundary. The Bow Street runner’s latest report weighed heavy in his breast pocket. As he crested the hill overlooking her meadows, he heard it—Lilli’s unmistakable laugh, followed by a splash. His exasperating Lilli had found some new predicament. His heart lightened to hear her happy then fear crowded out the joy. Water and winter didn’t pair well together when outside.
The winter’s cold mist clung to Oliver’s greatcoat as he urged his stallion across the boundary separating his lands from Heatherfield. His jaw clenched at the thought of what Lady Lilliana might be doing unsupervised. Again.
“Lilli,” he muttered, the familiar name escaping unbidden.
His affection for her, even after her naughty escapade several months ago, didn’t dim his desire for his little darling. He intended on making her his soon. Very soon. The wait was not to be born. She would accept him if he had to give her pleasure often to get her to accept his proposal… when he made it. Then he would get her to the altar quickly for he knew his Lilli could change her mind in a moment.
From the ridge, he spotted her honey-gold curls through the morning haze. She knelt in the meadow, muddying her expensive skirts as she gathered what appeared to be winter vegetables from the garden, her lady’s maid nowhere in sight. A smile tugged at his lips before he mastered it. Then a puppy bounded from the sodden garden grounds that lay near a small pond, and he cringed when she allowed him to put his paws on her skirt. Another reason he loved her—she was carefree and so Little sometimes.
The Heatherfield manor loomed behind her, stark since her great-grandmother’s passing and yet more lively for Lilli’sleadership. Lilli had taken it hard and then harder when she could not find her father alive. She had accepted Oliver’s guardianship without another word, but she was melancholy. When Lilli glanced up at the sound of hoofbeats, the defiance in her green eyes made his heart quicken in a most ungentlemanly fashion. His beautiful, wild, naughty lady.
“Your Grace,” she called, not bothering to curtsy, “have you come to bring me my money or to scold me again?”
“I have come to discuss the business you want to engage in with this stranger. But I am also here to scold the Little girl that stands before me in a ruined dress, playing in the cold.”
Lilli’s eyes flashed with that familiar spark of defiance as she rose from the garden, brushing dirt from her hands onto her already ruined skirts. The puppy yipped excitedly at Oliver’s arrival, bouncing around Lilli’s ankles. Oliver eyed the muddy animal that was obviously devoted to his mistress. He was not the only one, but for now, the dog had the freedom to display his devotion.
“I am not a ‘little girl,’ Your Grace,” she retorted, emphasizing his title with that maddening lilt that told him she was mocking him. “I am a woman managing her estate quite capably, despite your constant interference.”
“I interfere, Lilliana, because it is my duty and my desire to keep you safe and out of harm’s way as much as you will allow.”
“Oliver, it is my estate and my money.”
Oliver dismounted in one fluid motion, handing the reins to a stable boy who came running at his approach. The lad appeared far more concerned with propriety than his mistress did. The scent of wet soil and crushed winter herbs filled his nostrils as he approached her. His boots sinking into the damp earth, shortening the distance between them with purposeful strides.
His gaze traveled over her muddy hem, errant curls that slipped her simple up-pinned hair, and the smudge of dirt across one cheek. She was so beautiful and so in trouble.
Oliver nearly smiled at the look of trepidation that his defiant miss gave him as he approached, but he held his stern demeanor. “Heatherfield’s gardens are hardly the place for a lady of your standing to be digging about like a common farmhand,” Oliver said, his voice stern but not unkind. The puppy bounded toward him, muddy paws threatening his polished boots. He stepped aside with practiced ease. “And I see you’ve acquired yet another responsibility without consulting me.”
Lilli stood, brushing dirt from her hands onto her already ruined skirts. “Shadow is hardly a responsibility. He’s a gift from Mr. Northgate. And my companion.”
“Mr. Northgate.” Oliver’s jaw tightened. “It sounds like a name he took off a village building. So this is the mysterious caller, no doubt. The same gentleman who claims to have information about your father’s whereabouts?”
“The very same.”
Oliver reached out his hand to Lilli. “Time to come in and clean up. Then we shall have tea and talk about this Mr. Northgate. And your penchant for finding trouble.”
“I am not in trouble. I am a grown adult and I do not worry about retribution.”
“Oh, my love, you very truly are in trouble, and you should be worried about the fallout from your actions. It seems my little lady is in the suds often. You have been lucky thus far that I have not taken up residence at Heatherfield but those days of free rein are now at an end. Your arse will be meeting my palm often, I fear. If you are too defiant, it will have a meeting today.”
Lilli opened her mouth then closed it, twisting herself away from Oliver’s offered hand and grabbed up her sodden skirts totrudge back into the house. It seemed as though she was always dragging her wet skirts after some antic or other. Oliver smiled. He was going to love having her for the next forever, all to himself. Her days of sitting pretty without fail were now over.
When she arrived in the library, she discovered Oliver, sitting at ease, a paper in hand. When she entered the room, he stood up and smiled broadly. She knew that smile. It said he had it all worked out, and she would not like the outcome of his solutions. She sighed heavily. So be it. She was tired of doing things alone. She loved running the estate but when things came up, demanding she decide outside of the daily tasks, she longed for Oliver.
She missed him when he returned home. She hated that she wanted him near her, that she loved when he took over for her sometimes, she hated that he knew it. She was so confused, tired, and lonely. Everything she had thought would be the outcome when she ran the estate on her own, was challenged and she wanted Oliver to take over but she would never tell him. He would never give her any autonomy again.
