Lily (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Page B

question.
    “I’m making fire.”

    The grin vanished as the sliver of wood burned close to his fingers. He dropped it with a yelp.
    Rand strode forward to stamp it out. “What is it you have there?”
    “It matters not,” Rose said even more parentally. “He’s well aware that he is not to play with fire.”
    Too parentally, Lily decided. ’Twas one thing to display a love of children by offering to help Violet, quite another to scold like a shrew. Especially considering Rowan was her younger brother, not her child.
    “But what is it?” Rand bent closer.
    Rowan handed him the paper. “It has phosphorus on it.” If Rand looked surprised at hearing a boy of eleven use such a word, Lily wasn’t. Rowan spent hours every week in Ford’s laboratory. “And this,” he said, pulling another of the slim wooden sticks from his pocket, “has sulfur on one end. Ford’s friend, a man named Robert Boyle, has discovered that the two together make fire.
    Phosphorus has a very low burning point,” he added importantly.
    Although Lily wasn’t at all sure what that had to do with making fire, Rand nodded thoughtfully. “Brilliant.
    May I try?”
    “Boys will be boys. And apparently men will be boys, too,” Rose said in a tone Lily thought unwise for a woman hoping to marry one.
    Lily shot her a warning glance. Then, while Rand drew the wooden sliver against the paper, smiling as it sparked, she turned to her brother. “Did Ford give you these things?”
    His face reddened. “He showed them to me. Mr. Boyle is thinking about selling them. ’Tis a good idea, is it not?
    I’m thinking he could make a lot of money.”
    “I’m thinking Ford would be unhappy if he knew you’d taken such dangerous things home.” Her brother shuffled his feet. “I’m thinking,” she added softly, “that Ford would feel terrible if you burned yourself because he made the mistake of showing you something interesting, believing you were old enough to know better than to play with it.”
    “I guess I should give the things back,” Rowan muttered.
    “I’ll return them.” Rand reached out a hand. “Have you any more of the sticks?”
    Rowan dug in his pocket, handed over a few more slivers, then turned and ran for the house.
    An hour later, Rose banged on Lily’s door. “Lily? Lord Randal wants to leave.”
    Lord Randal again. Lily excused her maid and went to admit her sister. “May I suggest, Rose, if you wish to win the man, you might call him by the name he prefers?”
    “I know you’re trying to help, Lily, and I do appreciate it.”
    Lily wished her sister’s words sounded more convincing.
    “Are you ready?” Rose added.
    “Almost.” Beatrix at her heels, Lily went back to her dressing table to fetch the hat that matched her smart blue riding habit. “Are you not going to change?” she asked, eyeing her sister’s low-cut, bright red gown.
    “I like this dress. I told Lord Randal I’d prefer to take the carriage.”
    “Oh.” Lily set down the hat. “Shall I change, then?”
    “Good God, why should it matter what you wear? I told you, he’s growing impatient. Now, you must let him climb in first—”
    “He’s the man. He’s going to hand us in.”

    “Just leave it to me. Then you must allow me to enter next so that I can sit beside him. You’ll sit across.”
    “You’re trying too hard.” Beatrix jumped up onto the dressing table, and Lily stroked her fur. “Just be your usual beautiful, charming self—”
    “I cannot leave this to chance,” Rose interrupted.
    “Lord Randal is the only man I’ve ever truly loved.”
    From where Lily was standing, her sister’s emotions ran more to desperation than love—with perhaps a little lust thrown in for good measure. But she did allow that with all the two had in common, true love was likely to develop, given time.
    “Whatever you say, Rose. I’ll follow your lead.”
    Beatrix went with them and was first into the carriage.
    Rand, of course, insisted