The breath was knocked out of her lungs.
“Lily, what is it? You look so pale.” Isabel leaned against her shoulder to scan the paper. “Oh, no. How horrible! Who is this man?”
Lily turned to stare at her sister’s worried face. Tom had come after her family before with James, but James was out of reach now. What would Tom do now that he was free and on the run? He would be desperate, even more than he was before, as he tried to evade capture. And he would not just disappear. She knew he would never abandon revenge until it was done.
Would he come after Isabel now? Sweet, dear, beautiful Isabel?
“We have to get back to the theater,” Lily said. She grabbed Isabel’s hand and rushed back along the streets, not even seeing where she was going, who she raced past.
“What, right now? Lily, what’s the matter? Who is that man?”
“I can’t talk now, Issy,” Lily answered. They came to the Majestic’s stage door, and she held tightly to her sister’s hand. “I must go do something, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Promise me you will stay close to Father, or to Dominic or Brendan, until I return.”
“Lily, what—”
“Promise me!”
Isabel nodded, her eyes bright with confused tears. “I promise, Lily. But, please, if you’re in danger, don’t go. Stay here with us.”
Lily shook her head. “I have to take care of this, once and for all. I love you, Issy. I’ll be back. Now go and find Father.”
Isabel looked as if she longed to argue with Lily, to protest and cling to her. But she nodded and ducked through the door.
Once Lily was sure Isabel was inside, she spun around and hurried to the end of the lane, the newspaper crushed in her gloved hands. This time Tom Beaumont would not escape.
This time she would end it.
“So, David, what brings you back to the bosom of the family?” Aidan asked his brother as he poured out two generous glasses of brandy. It was still afternoon, but they needed some sort of fortification in the Huntington town house, especially after luncheon with their parents.
“Not my choice, believe me,” David said. He took the glass Aidan handed him and knocked back half of it in one swallow. “Mother sent me an urgent message saying Father was ill. I dutifully hurried to town, only to find he was not quite as ill as she implied.”
“Very sneaky of Mother,” Aidan said. He sat down across from David and stretched out his legs as he sipped his own brandy. “How did she get you to the assembly?”
David shrugged. “She got all teary-eyed and insisted I do at least one duty before I left. Duty now done, I intend to get out of London tomorrow. Especially before she can throw any more heiresses at me.”
“Very wise,” Aidan said with a chuckle. They seldom saw David in town; their mother was bound to take full advantage of every moment he was here to matchmake. He wondered what those heiresses thought when they came face-to-face with David, with his long hair and rough clothes.
Not that it mattered when a ducal coronet was at stake.
“What about you?” David said. “I understand the banns will soon be called for you and Lady Henrietta.”
“Then you understand wrong. I have no more desire to marry than you do.” Aidan had never wanted to marry, never wanted to subject any woman to having him for a husband. But somehow now he saw Lily in his mind as he made that protest, saw her smile, heard her rare laughter.
“Indeed? I hear you have some sort of ladylove.”
Aidan snorted. “Where did you hear that?”
“In the stables. Servants always know what’s really going on. They say you’ve been hiding her away somewhere, that no one knows who she is.” David finished his drink and pushed himself up from the settee to go and
pour another glass. He was in his shirtsleeves and riding boots and leather breeches, his hair loose over his shoulders. “Not that I’m surprised. You always have had women flocking around you, but you don’t usually go to such lengths to hide them.”
“It’s no one’s business who I might be seeing,” Aidan answered. He was used to being the subject of gossip, but somehow it made him angry that there was cheap speculation about Lily. “Especially not the grooms. There’s nothing at all of interest going on in my life.”
David laughed. “Ah, so there
is
a new lady. She must be quite fascinating if you want to keep her to yourself. Who is she?”
“No one you know, David. But was there no lady at the assembly who caught
your
eye? No one who tempts you to do your ducal duty?”
David shrugged, but a shadow seemed to drift over his face as he stared down into his glass. His long, scarred, sun-browned fingers tightened on the heavy crystal.
Aidan sat up in interest. “So someone did catch you eye. Who was it?”
“I don’t know her name. We were not introduced,” David said. He took a long drink. “I saw her when we came in. She was… very beautiful.”
“Well, well,” Aidan said with a laugh. “She must have been beautiful indeed if you noticed her. You are usually off in your own strange world. What did she look like, then?”
David shook his head, and a knock at the drawing room door interrupted the suddenly interesting conversation. The butler came in with a bow.
“If our mother is asking for us, tell her we’re occupied
at the moment,” Aidan said. David always teased him about his love life—it was time for a little payback.
“It’s not Her Grace, Lord Aidan,” the butler said, looking strangely hesitant. “There is a… a female asking for you at the servants’ entrance in the kitchen. She says it is most urgent.”
Aidan was intrigued. He finished his brandy in one deep swallow and put the glass down on the nearest cluttered table. “What female?”
“She wouldn’t give her name, and she wears a veil. But she was quite insistent.”
“That does sound intriguing, Aidan,” David said. “Is this your mystery lady showing herself at last? You had best go see what this is all about.”
“So I shall. But our conversation isn’t over yet, David. I want to hear more about your beautiful lady at the assembly.” Aidan followed the butler down the maze of staircases and through the kitchens, which were quiet at that hour between tea and dinner, the faint scent of roasting meats and sugary baking hanging on the cool air.
The woman hovered in the shadows just inside the door, her slender body held tense as if she would flee at any moment. She wore a purple walking dress and jacket, and a dark veil hung from her bonnet to conceal her face. When she eased it back, Aidan could see it was Celeste, one of Madame Marie’s girls.
“He’s escaped,” Celeste said. “Tom Beaumont. And a lady named Lily came around looking for news. Marie sent me to fetch you and tell you that.”
“What!” Aidan shouted. “Tell me what has happened. Exactly.”
She held out the paper in her hand, and he quickly read
the lurid tale of Tom Beaumont’s escape from prison. A cold, still fury settled over him as the words sank in.
“I went to your lodgings, but the woman downstairs said you were probably here,” Celeste explained.
“Tell me what Lily was doing at Marie’s house. Is she still there?”
Celeste shook her head. “She wouldn’t come in, just wanted to ask the doormen some questions. Marie thinks she’s going to try and catch Beaumont herself.”
Hell no, she will not
. “And where did she go when she left? I assume Marie had her followed.”
“To a place called the Devil’s Fancy in Mayfair. As far as I know, she’s still there.” Celeste’s stare turned speculative as she studied him. “Who is this Lily? Someone special?”
Aidan nodded. Lily
was
special—and he wouldn’t risk her life by letting her run around the city after Beaumont. He had to find her now.
The door behind them opened, and Aidan heard his brother say, “Tell me how I can help.”
S
he was really there again. Lily could hardly believe it. Her throat felt so tight she could barely get the words out. She sat rigid on the edge of a velvet chair, her hands clutching at the gilded arms.
She hadn’t been in Madame Josephine’s establishment for years, not since her mother’s death, and she’d thought she would never see it again. That it would only live as a memory, a place that was just a dream. Something to struggle to forget. But here she was, as if no time had passed at all. Here in her mother’s brothel, with Tom Beaumont lurking out there somewhere, she was just that feral street child again, fighting tooth and nail to survive.
Yet back then she was completely alone. Now Aidan was with her, and that made all the difference. He kept the wild desperation inside of her at bay.
He had found her as she paced at the Devil’s Fancy, trying to decide what her next move would be since Madame Marie’s fierce majordomo wouldn’t let her in. She had been about to come back and break into the brothel when Aidan appeared and insisted he would help her.
Aidan prowled between the windows in the small
room where they waited, his long fingers parting the heavy red velvet draperies to study the street below. He had discarded his coat, and the fine white linen of his shirt glowed in the dim light from the candles. The lean muscles of his back and shoulders were coiled and tense, as if he were ready to attack.
“It grows dark now, and we need to rest and decide what to do next,” he said. “This is a safe place, and Marie and her girls might have information that would be useful to us.”
Lily forced herself to sit back on the chaise and relax. She did feel tired. But being here, in the place of her childhood, filled her with a nervous energy. As did Aidan’s prowling.
“You don’t seem to be resting, though,” she said.
He tossed her a half-smile over his shoulder. “I’m watching to see who might be arriving.”
Lily studied the small but luxurious chamber, the red velvet furnishings and tawny silk paper on the walls, the thick carpet on the floor, and the erotic paintings on gilded easels. Oil burners in the corners gave off a rich scent of roses and musk that was so much like the perfume her mother used to wear. From beyond the thick door, she could hear music and the silvery ring of feminine laughter. Yes, it was all much as she remembered. All that was lacking was the whistle of the whip, but that was sure to come later.
“I doubt Marie would let the likes of Tom Beaumont near her place,” Lily said. “Not if she’s like her mother. Josephine was most particular about her clientele, and she kept her doors well guarded.”
“Oh, Marie is every bit as particular as her mother
was,” Aidan said. “And Beaumont isn’t stupid enough to show his face in this part of town. But even girls as expensive as Marie’s hear things and know people. One of them is sure to have news for us. Marie will ask discreetly and be here soon.”
“And Marie was the one who led you to the river dredgers,” Lily said. She frowned as she studied Aidan’s expressionless face. She had the terrible feeling that she had only scratched the surface of knowing this man. She knew he had a life that was hidden from his family and the aristocratic world. What did she not see about him?
Lily turned away from him, suddenly frightened by her longing to know him. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if to hold him away from her. But he had already crept on stealthy feet past all her careful guards.
“She must be a good friend to you indeed,” she said.
“I have known Marie for some time, yes,” Aidan answered. “She’s helped me out on several occasions, and I loaned her a substantial sum when she wanted to expand her premises last year.”
Lily heard him move to the table where a maid had left a tray of refreshments. The crystal glasses clinked as he poured out some wine. “Is she your mistress?” she said before she could stop the words. She didn’t really want to know what Marie was to him.
He was silent for a long moment, and she glanced up to find that he watched her closely. One of his long fingers tapped against the wine carafe.
“No, she is not,” he said quietly. “I have no mistress. I’ve never wanted to be that… formal.”
He walked across the room, slowly and deliberately, almost as if he feared he would frighten her away. And
she did want to flee. She felt all the muscles in her body coil as if to spring away, but she could only sit there, frozen, like a hapless rabbit as the predator crept closer.
He held out one of the glasses. “Drink this. You’ve had nothing to eat or drink all day, and it will be a long night.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and sipped at the wine. It was good, of course, French, only the best in Marie’s house.
Aidan sat down in the chair across from hers and stretched out his long legs in front of him. He held his glass loosely between his fingers, but he didn’t drink from it, merely turned it around as the candlelight caught on the ruby-red facets.
“Is it as you remember here?” he said.
“Yes,” Lily answered. “Perhaps the furnishings are a bit more luxurious. Marie must have used part of your loan to decorate. I could almost think—” She broke off and shook her head. It was a mistake to think that way. So many mistakes.
“Almost think what, Lily?” he asked softly.
She looked at him, and suddenly she was so tired. Tired of secrets and the past, tired of fighting against everything. “I could almost think my mother would walk through that door again, that I could see her and tell her all the things I’ve wanted to all these years. I never, ever wanted to be like her, and make her mistakes.” Lily swallowed the rest of her wine, hoping the rich red liquid would give her a jolt of new courage.
“You are not like her, Lily,” Aidan said. “You are much too strong to ever end up like her. You drive me to insanity sometimes. But I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Lily had never met anyone like him either. She had never even imagined someone like Aidan Huntington
could exist in the world. Things would be horribly dull once he was gone from her life.
The door opened, and Madame Marie appeared there. Lily sat up straight in her chair, a shock running through her. Marie looked so much like her mother, Josephine, with bright red hair piled atop her head and a tall, buxom figure set off perfectly by a low-cut satin gown. She had the same shrewd glint in her eyes, the same hard set to her rouged mouth. But it softened when she saw Aidan.