Page 44 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Thirteen

The question of Frederick’s intentions—as well as his courage—was still unanswered when he made his way to the inn the following afternoon.

He’d spent most of last night and all of this morning going over the conversation he’d had with Penelope, his time spent with Lily, his feelings for Lily and how she might feel about him, and still he had no idea what he would do.

He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to marry her and spend his life with her.

He wanted her heart.

The problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it. He wasn’t worth much, and that was one of the reasons behind his reluctance to ask for her hand, despite how much he wanted to win it, and her.

He was afraid she would realize what a bad bargain he was—assuming she hadn’t already come to that conclusion herself. If she had, there was every chance she would reject him.

Unless he could convince her to take a chance on him instead.

But how?

His shoulders tightened and he kicked at a rock in the lane, watching as it skipped ahead several feet before skittering to a stop.

Penelope seemed to think Lily returned his regard, and he wanted to believe she was right. He knew Lily was fond of him, and enjoyed their time together as he did, but that did not mean she had fallen in love with him.

Even if she had, he knew better than to assume she would wish to be his wife. She’d cared for a man before, and had intended to marry him, and then he’d betrayed her. It would come as no surprise if she said she did not wish to risk her heart again, especially on a man like him, with a flawed past and directionless future.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Frederick kicked at another rock with the toe of his boot, then did it again, and again, distracting his troubled mind with the game as he walked the rest of the way to the inn.

When he finally reached the courtyard, an elegant black carriage passed him by on its way out, two large trunks strapped to the roof and a single occupant inside.

Frederick stomped his boots on the straw mat at the front door before he let himself inside. Mrs. Grayling greeted him with a smile at the foot of the stairs, her arms overflowing with freshly-laundered bedding.

“Here, let me help you with that, Mrs. Grayling,” Frederick said, brooking no argument as he took the load from her—not that she gave one.

“Thank you, Mr. Darrington,” she said gratefully. “You are a dear.”

He shifted the bedding in his arms and asked, “Was that Mr. Carstairs’ carriage I just saw leaving?”

She nodded. “He has apparently finished with the business that brought him here, and now he is going home.”

Frederick worked his jaw, the news inspiring a slew of contradictory emotions. “Lily must be relieved,” he said, and Mrs. Grayling chuckled.

“Undoubtedly,” she said. “And speaking of Lily, she’s waiting upstairs for me to bring her this bedding. I’d best take it up to her before she comes looking for it.”

She reached out as if to take the bedclothes from him, but Frederick ignored her. “I’d be happy to do it for you, ma’am.”

“Oh, would you?” she asked, relief in her voice. “I don’t mind admitting that my knees have had quite enough of those stairs today.”

“Then I will agree to take this up for you, if you will agree to sit and rest for a while.”

She smiled. “You are a bossy boy, but very sweet.” She gave his forearm a squeeze. “I agree.”

Still smiling over being called a ‘bossy boy’, Frederick climbed the stairs with his pile of bedding then ventured up the carpeted corridor, passing three closed doors until he finally reached an open one. He paused in the doorway and peered inside where he found Lily standing at the bed, grumbling to herself and fluffing a down pillow with unnecessary vigor.

“Have I come at a bad time?” he asked from the safety of the doorway.

Lily jumped, nearly dropping the pillow. “You startled me,” she sniped, leveling him with a glare.

Frederick pressed his lips together, unprepared for the grumpy greeting. “I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Your grandmother sent me up with fresh bedding. Where would you like me to put it?”

“On the bed.” She shoved a lock of dark hair off her forehead then huffed out a sigh. “Please. And thank you.”