PROLOUGE
Lillian watched in dismay as her elder sister’s nose was smacked with the bridal bouquet that had just been tossed.
One would think that flowers wouldn’t be able to do that much damage. The white lilies were soon tossed aside and blood began to stream from Juliana’s nose.
The handsome new duke just happened to be standing behind her sister, and caught her as she stumbled backwards clutching her face.
“My nose,” she cried out tearfully. A crowd was gathering. And soon their older brother, Phillip, The Marquis of Randall, and his wife Eden were escorting the noticeably upset Juliana back into the church.
Their mother, the Dowager Marchioness, fainted at the sight of the blood. Lillian had expected something of the like to happen, their mother had always been terribly squeamish.
The bridal carriage was well on their way, not realizing the commotion they had left in their wake.
The onlookers were busy discussing if the poor girl would suffer any disfigurement from the calamity.
The duke had rushed along inside with Juliana. And the remainder of the wedding party started to disperse. It was only Lillian that noticed the beautiful bouquet lying in the dirt.
It seemed not quite right to ignore it. After all, those lilies had caused quite a commotion. Lillian walked over to where they lie forgotten.
A few stems had been broken, and the petals were wilting from lack of fresh water. But it was still a thing of loveliness, despite it’s apparent flaws.
Lillian leaned over the pick it up. Carefully dusting off the mud and dirt, “There now,” she smiled, “you aren’t so bad after all. Let’s find some water.”
She tucked the bouquet under her arm and turned to join the others in the Cathedral. But stopped short when she saw the rugged American watching her every move.
She knew that it was one of the duke’s brothers, but there were several and the only time she had been introduced was at a ball.
Lillian wasn’t terribly good with names.
And the gleam in his dark eyes was making her awfully nervous.
“Excuse me,” she muttered and tried to flee.
“Darlin’, wasn’t that your sister?” his low drawl captivating her attention.
“Yes, Julianna, I had best go see how she is doing,” again Lillian tried to escape.
“And yet you saved the flowers,” it was said as a statement, but Lillian couldn’t help but feel it was a question.
“I care about my sister,” she blurted out, lifting her chin in defense.
The American’s lips twisted into a smirk, “I would never assume otherwise, Darlin’.”
“Oh,” Lillian could feel her cheeks heat.
“I just find it interesting that you were the only one to notice that the flowers had been left behind.”
Lillian shrugged, “I suppose that most would see them as rubbish, broken as they are. But I can’t help but see the beauty they still represent.” She raised her brow, as if daring him to refute her, “They are lovely you know.”
His hot gaze never left her face, “Extremely so. You had better run along as you said, Darlin’.”
Lillian flushed, and in an uncharacteristic moment expressed her ire, “I do have a name!”
He smiled wide, his white teeth gleaming in the sunshine, “I would be happy to use it. Good day to you, Lovely Lillian.”
Lillian stood there dumbfounded as the American tipped his hat and then sauntered away.
Had that honestly just happened? She knew that there were times that her imagination ran away with her. But after giving herself a tight pinch, she realized that she was most certainly awake.
What was with that bloody American? How dare he use her given name? Had he known who she was the entire time?
And did he just call her lovely?
A tingling sensation fluttered in her stomach. Knowing that no good would come from fretting about it, she clutched the lilies to her breast and raced back inside.