Page 63 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“I thought you said,” Owen smiled behind his cup, “that opposing Lily is a waste of valuable energy.”

Marigold regarded the scene unfolding before her, the three friends with a sibling bond, arguing like a family should, lighthearted, meaning well, showing love and affection. And then she looked down at the hand that Lily still had on hers, anchoring and pulling her into this little circle.

“Marigold, you must help me out,” Lily said, smiling.

“Are you asking me to call my husband a misanthrope and your brother a rake?” Marigold asked. “Are we discussing how the sun comes up from the east next?”

“Am I being compared to a natural phenomenon?” Owen complained.

“At least the sun is reliable,” Brandon observed.

Lily and Marigold held hands as they laughed, the men looking at them with malicious smiles on their faces.

“I regret introducing you two.” Owen shook his head.

“It might as well have been the best and cleverest thing that you have done in your whole life,” Lily replied.

She then turned to Marigold and squeezed her hands encouragingly.

“I have heard the rumors, Marigold,” she said. “Despite what people think, I don’t have many friends either. Most women are terrified of me, and the others are too busy trying to marry my brother.”

“I must assure you,” Marigold said, leaning in, “I am not terrified of you, and I have no intention of marrying your brother.”

“That is quite reassuring to hear,” Brandon gritted through tight teeth.

“I have known Brandon since I was almost eight years old,” Lily explained, “when he came back from Eton to stay with us during Christmas. I had given up hope for either of them ever getting married and settling down. I guess miracles do happen.”

“Are you calling me hopeless?” Brandon demanded.

“I was calling Marigold a miracle.”

Brandon glanced at Marigold with a soft, almost smiling look. Marigold was stunned to see him shedding his cold, dismissive expression. He didn’t say anything, but there was something in his look that conveyed he concurred with what Lily had just said.

Soon, they were drawn back into the conversation and the teasing and the banter, but that look lingered and remained with her like a little pocket of sunshine on a cloudy day.

Marigold found herself relaxing in a way she had not done in years, maybe ever. Lily was easy to talk to. She was curious but not prying, she spoke her mind without offending, and she was kind, listening to her without judgment, offering her thoughts without hesitation.

“So, you read botany books?” Lily asked.

“Yes. I have a garden here that I grow,” Marigold said without going into details about how she got into the habit of growing her own vegetables.

“You must show me,” Lily seemed genuinely interested. “I am hopeless. I have managed to kill a succulent.”

“A succulent?” Marigold said with eyes wide open. “Those are… rare and expensive.”

“Are they?”

Marigold realized that she was in the circle that measured money differently.

“Yes. Rare and very hard to kill. That was quite a feat.”

Lily chuckled in good spirits.

“It wasn’t that hard, really. I thought it looked thirsty, I overwatered it, and it died.”

“Would you like to see my garden?”

“I would love to! Get up, boys!”