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CHAPTERELEVEN
Rangeley stood in the garden,staring up at a second story window, Tillie at his side. “That’s her room?”
“That’s it.”
“And you’re going to do what?”
“Toss pebbles at the panes,” Tillie said with the sort of annoyed tone that clearly indicated she thought the plan obvious.
“And why not just knock on her door?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice. The Crosby sisters could keep a man on his toes, that was for certain.
“Because…” Tillie drew out the word, her eyes rolling up to the sky. “She’ll have several maids in the room with her. This way, she’ll dismiss them, saying she needs to rest and then meet us out here without my mother being the wiser.”
“And she’ll recognize the sound of pebbles as a signal from you?”
“She will.” Tillie picked up a pebble, tossing it easily in her hand. “We were forever being sent to the nursery when we were naughty as children and we’d pretend my mother was the evil witch that we needed to escape. We’d signal each other in this way.”
Rangeley grinned then, holding back an amused chuckle. He’d been so focused on marriage as a solution, and then as a choice, how had he not considered how much fun being in a family might be?
It had been so long since he had one. “I think I should have liked to know you when you were a child, Tillie. I’d wager you were a great deal of fun.”
Tillie raised her brows. “Most other children found me tiresome. Not Millie or Ben. They loved me.”
He was about to tell her his own past. His mother had died when he was very young and his father hadn’t remarried. But he didn’t get the chance.
“Tillie?” Lord Farthington called. “What are you doing out here with Lord Rangeley?”
Tillie waved her hand. “My maid is around here somewhere.”
A lie. And he watched Lord Farthington glance around—the other man knew it too. His gut clenched. He and Tillie should be not alone.
“Tillie,” her brother said, his voice growing stern.
“Do stop, Ben,” Tillie said, tossing her first pebble. “It’s all very innocent. Lord Rangeley and I have decided we are not compatible but he’s gone and fallen in love with Millie.”
The air grew still around them. “Millie?”
“I know. It’s all very inconvenient, especially when one considers Mother.”
“Inconvenient does not begin to cover the situation you just described.” Lord Farthington’s voice grew harder with every word.
Parker grimaced. “My lord.” He swallowed down a lump. “Lady Matilda never wished to marry me. She told me so on my first day of arrival.”
“I did,” Tillie agreed, tossing another stone. “I also asked him not to tell anyone else so that I could take a moment to try and decide my own future with our formidable mother distracted by an impending wedding.”
“Millie knew about this?”
Parker winced and so did Tillie.
That was the issue. Because of the layers of dishonesty, there was a wealth of misinformation.
“Well,” Tillie said, tossing a third stone. “We’re trying to get her out here so that all three of us might discuss the situation and—”
“Tillie,” Lord Farthington’s voice grew even louder. “Go inside and get Millie. Then you can bring her back to my office where all four of us can get all the particulars straight.”
Tillie frowned. “But I’m throwing pebbles.”
“As the head of this household, I am going to skip the lecture where I remind you that all of this should have been done with my knowledge. But if we are truly discussing Millie’s future, I will be part of the conversation.”
