8. Lili
Lili
T he champagne glasses clinked like tiny bells in the distance, but the sound felt hollow after hours of forced smiles and careful conversation.
My cheeks ached from maintaining that perfect-hostess expression—the one Daphne had coached me on that said, "I belong here" when every fiber of my being felt like screaming "imposter."
Lady Victoria's cutting comments still rang in my ears, each one a carefully placed reminder that I was playing dress-up in a world that wasn't mine.
I needed quiet. I needed space that didn't smell like expensive perfume and judgment disguised as polite conversation.
The library had always been my sanctuary in this maze of a manor, and tonight I needed it more than ever.
My fingers found the familiar brass handle, and I slipped inside, immediately breathing easier in the hushed sanctuary of leather-bound books and ancient wisdom. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting everything in silver, making the whole room feel like something from a fairy tale.
I kicked off the deadly heels and let out a sigh that came from somewhere deep in my bones.
"Sweet merciful Jesus," I muttered, wiggling my abused toes.
The Persian rug felt like heaven under my stockings as I padded toward the window seat where I'd spent so many hours this past week, trying to make sense of my new life.
"Rough evening?"
I nearly jumped clean out of my skin, spinning around to find Edward emerging from one of the wingback chairs near the fireplace.
He'd shed his jacket and tie, his white dress shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The careful composure from the gala had melted away, leaving him looking almost human.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," I breathed, pressing a hand to my racing heart. "You scared the life out of me. I thought you were still playing host to the important people."
"I was. Until I realized I was about five minutes away from strangling Lord Pembrooke with his own pocket watch.
" He stood, and I noticed he was barefoot too, his perfectly polished shoes abandoned beside his chair.
"He spent twenty minutes explaining why American gardening techniques are inferior to British methods, despite never having grown anything more complex than a potted plant in his office. "
I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, bless his heart, but he's not wrong about everything. Y'all do have that whole centuries-of-experience thing going for you. But sometimes a little Texas know-how doesn't hurt."
"Texas know-how?"
"Don't sound so skeptical, Mr. Fancy-Pants.
We might not have your heritage roses, but we know how to make things grow in soil that's drier than a popcorn fart and twice as stubborn.
" The crude expression slipped out before I could stop it, and I felt my cheeks heat.
"Sorry. Mama would wash my mouth out with soap if she heard that. "
Edward's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "I've heard worse in boardrooms in the city. Though I admit, your colorful expressions are far more entertaining than Sir Malcolm's profanity."
We stood there in the moonlit library, two refugees from the world of social obligation, and for the first time since I'd arrived in England, the awkwardness between us felt different.
Less like a chasm and more like a bridge we were both afraid to cross.
"Why did you really leave the party?" I asked, settling onto the window seat and tucking my feet under me.
My heart was still doing little flip-flops from finding him here—alone, rumpled, looking more like a real person than the untouchable aristocrat he usually pretended to be. "And don't feed me some line about Lord What's-his-face. You handle difficult people for a living."
Edward ran a hand through his hair, completely destroying what was left of his perfect styling.
"Because watching you tonight, seeing how effortlessly you charmed everyone while still being completely yourself, it made me realize how long it's been since I've had a genuine conversation with another human being. "
My heart did this little flutter thing that had nothing to do with the champagne I'd had at dinner. "What do you mean?"
"Every word I speak is calculated. Every expression is measured.
" He paused, running a hand through his hair again, the gesture achingly vulnerable.
"I've been Edward Grosvenor, heir to the family legacy, for so long that I've forgotten how to just be.
.. Edward. Christ, I'm not even sure there's anything left under all the expectations and obligations. "
The raw honesty in his voice nearly undid me.
"Really?" I managed a laugh, but it came out a little bitter.
"Honey, I spent the entire evening terrified I'd use the wrong fork or say something that would confirm I don't belong in your world.
I felt like a fraud in that dress, no matter how pretty it was. "
"You do belong."
The conviction in his voice caught me off guard, made my chest tight in all the best ways. "Edward—"
"No, listen to me." He moved to the chair across from me, close enough that I could see the exhaustion in his gray eyes, close enough to catch that scent of his that was becoming dangerously familiar.
"You think what you do—helping people create beautiful spaces, making gardening accessible—isn't valuable?
My Mother's spent her entire life on charity boards, and I've never seen her help anyone the way you helped that caller last week who was grieving her husband's death by planting his favorite flowers. "
I blinked, surprised. "You watched the show?"
A flush crept up his neck, and Lord help me, it was adorable.
"I may have caught a few episodes. You have this way of making people feel like their dreams matter, no matter how small. That's not something you can fake. That's not something you learn in etiquette classes or boardrooms."
"My Mama says I get that from her. She always believed in people's potential, even when they didn't see it themselves."
I curled my legs up further, pulling the skirt of my dress down modestly. "She worked three jobs to send me to college, you know. Diner waitress, house cleaner, and she took in sewing on weekends. Never once complained, never made me feel guilty for wanting more than our little town could offer."
"She sounds remarkable."
"She is. Sometimes I wonder what she'd think of all this." I gestured around the grand library, with its first-edition novels and portraits of dead scholars. "Her daughter in a castle, wearing rubies that probably cost more than she made in five years."
"She'd be proud."
"Maybe. Or maybe she'd worry I'm forgetting where I come from. That I'm trying so hard to fit in that I'm losing myself in the process." The words slipped out before I could catch them, revealing more than I'd meant to.
Edward was quiet for a moment, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "Is that what you're afraid of? Forgetting?"
"I'm afraid of a lot of things." The admission felt dangerous, but somehow safe here in the moonlit sanctuary of books and whispered truths.
"I'm afraid of failing so spectacularly that I prove everyone right about Americans being too loud and too ambitious.
I'm afraid of losing myself trying to fit into a world that was never designed for people like me. "
I took a shaky breath. "And I'm terrified that I'm falling for someone who represents everything I should probably run from."
The last words hung in the air between us like a challenge.
Edward's eyes darkened, and I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.
"And I'm terrified," he said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "that I've already fallen for someone who could destroy everything I've worked to build."
"I would never—"
"Not intentionally. But don't you see?" He stood abruptly, moving to the window where moonlight painted silver streaks in his dark hair.
"Everything about you challenges everything I am.
You make me want things I can't have, feel things I've trained myself not to feel.
You make me question whether any of this—" he gestured around the library, the manor, the weight of centuries "—actually matters. "
My heart was racing now, that familiar cocktail of want and impossibility swirling in my chest. I rose too, my bare feet silent on the rug as I moved closer. "What if you stopped trying to control it? Just for tonight?"
He turned to face me, and the anguish in his expression nearly broke my heart. "Lili..."
"I know. I know all the reasons this is impossible.
Your family, Daphne, how different our worlds are—" His eyes sharpened, and I realized I'd revealed more than I should have.
But it was too late to take it back now.
"The fact that we're so different, different lives, different everything.
" I took another step closer. "But I also know that when you look at me, I forget about everything else.
And right now, in this library that smells like old books and secrets, maybe we could just be.
.. us. Not heirs or hosts or people with responsibilities. Just Edward and Lili."
Something shifted in his expression, the careful control cracking like ice in spring.
"You're going to drive me completely mad, you know that?"
"Probably." I smiled, taking another step until I was close enough to smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body. "But what a way to go."
His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones with a reverence that made my breath catch.
The calluses on his fingers were a surprise—evidence that for all his privilege, he wasn't entirely removed from real work. "This is madness."
"Good thing I've always been a little crazy then."
The space between us charged like a lightning storm. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell that intoxicating cologne that was becoming dangerously familiar. His thumb traced along my jawline, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room.
Every rational thought in my head screamed that this was dangerous. But my heart was louder than my head, and when Edward's face started moving closer to mine—close enough that I could feel his breath ghosting across my lips—I forgot how to breathe.
"Lili," he whispered, my name like a prayer on his lips.
"Edward—"
The library door burst open with a bang that shattered the moment like crystal hitting marble.
We sprang apart, my heart hammering as I spun to see Daphne practically stumbling through the doorway.
Her usually perfect appearance was decidedly mussed—her updo had come loose on one side, her lipstick was smudged, and there was definitely a small tear near the hem of her designer dress.
But more telling were her glowing cheeks and the satisfied smile she quickly tried to hide when she saw us.
"Oh! I didn't... I mean, I thought..." She looked between Edward and me, clearly registering the charged atmosphere and our guilty expressions.
Her eyes were bright, almost fevered, and she seemed to be radiating a kind of giddy energy that had nothing to do with champagne.
"I was just looking for a quiet place to—"Her phone, clutched in her hand like a lifeline, lit up with a text notification. In her flustered state, she hadn't hidden the screen, and the preview was clearly visible from where I stood:
J: Missing you already. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. Our secret is safe.
Edward's eyes locked onto the screen, his expression shifting from frustrated desire to sharp suspicion in an instant. "Daphne, are you quite alright? You look rather disheveled."
"I'm fine!" she said too quickly, too brightly, shoving the phone behind her back as another notification chimed. "Just tired from all the socializing. You know how these events are—exhausting!"
But I caught the way her eyes darted around the room, avoiding both Edward's penetrating stare and my curious gaze. And there was something else—a glow about her, a satisfied flush that had nothing to do with champagne and everything to do with…
Well, I'll be damned. Daphne had been up to exactly what Edward and I had almost been up to.
"Who's J?" The question popped out before I could stop it.
Daphne's face went scarlet. "No one! I mean, just a friend. A very distant friend. From school! You wouldn't know them."
Edward stepped forward, his lawyer instincts clearly kicking in.
The romantic moment was completely shattered now, replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. "Daphne—"
"I should go!" she interrupted, already backing toward the door. "Let you two finis… whatever this was. Goodnight!"
She fled as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving Edward and me staring at each other in the sudden quiet of the library.
"Well," I said after a moment. "That was..."
"Suspicious as hell," Edward finished grimly.
Our secret is safe , the message had said. Not just any secret— our secret.
The intimacy of those words hung in the air like a question neither of us dared ask.
Edward moved to the window, his jaw tight with the kind of controlled tension I was beginning to recognize as his danger signal. "First Mother's mysterious phone calls, now Daphne's clandestine text messages. Is everyone in my family keeping secrets?"
"Maybe she's just seeing someone," I offered weakly, though even I didn't believe it. "You know, a boyfriend she hasn't told y'all about yet."
But even as I said it, I remembered the way Daphne had been acting lately—the mysterious relief in her eyes after Edward agreed to show me around London, the pushing for Edward and me spending time together, the way she'd seemed to know exactly how tonight would unfold.
Like she'd been planning it.
Whatever secret Daphne was keeping, I had a sinking feeling it was a lot more complicated than a simple romance.
The way she'd been pushing Edward and me together suddenly felt less like innocent matchmaking and more like.
.. what? A distraction? A cover for her own activities?
And somehow, deep in my gut where all my best instincts lived, I was beginning to suspect it had everything to do with Edward and me.
Was Daphne trying to help us, or were Edward and I just convenient pawns in whatever game her family was playing?