Major Westhaven's Unwilling Ward. Emily Bascom

here.’

      Too overcome to protest much, and puzzled by the expression he now wore—a kind of fierce, guilty regret—Lily allowed herself to be led back to the house, where the carriage had just drawn up.

      ‘Lily!’ It was Kitty, hurrying down the steps, an expression of bewildered terror on her pale face. ‘Where were you?’

      Lily took one look at her and, absurdly, tears came to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Kitty. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I am fine, truly.’

      Speechless, Kitty could only shake her head in confusion.

      ‘If you will allow me, Lady Stanton.’ Major Westhaven held out a hand, for all the world as though he was not dripping wet, and helped her solemnly into the carriage.

      Then, turning to Lily, he took her cold fingers in his, even as she attempted to evade him. Heat flooded her at his touch, and—just for a moment—she was lost once more in his gaze, oddly fascinated by the way the raindrops clung to his eyelashes. He supported her as she climbed into the welcome dryness of the carriage, her skirts clinging to her. Then, coming to herself, she snatched her hand away.

      ‘I will call tomorrow to discuss arrangements,’ he said.

      Brushing aside the hair plastered to her face, Lily made a valiant attempt to pull herself together. ‘Do not trouble yourself, sir. I will not be moving under your roof.’