always hated it when he turned serious. “Father forgot these. Did you enjoy your ride?”
“Very much.” Lily turned back to the mirror to finish unpinning her hat. The eyes that stared back at her in the glass glittered too brightly, and her cheeks were slashedwith red. She looked and felt feverish, shaking with old memories and new, frightening feelings for Aidan.
When he had held her after the child was snatched away, she had wanted to cling to him, losing herself in the clean heat and strength of him. In that flashing moment, she had
needed
him, and she didn’t like that feeling at all.
“You’re back late,” Dominic said.
“The park was very crowded today,” Lily answered. She wished he would go away and quit looking at her like that. She had had enough today of people trying to peer into her soul. She needed to be alone, to rebuild the walls of her careful defenses. To forget.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Dominic said suddenly.
Surprised, Lily raised her gaze to meet his in the glass. Dominic so rarely apologized. “For what?”
“For pestering you about Aidan bloody Huntington. You were quite right—it’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not.” Lily slowly put her hat down on the pier table under the mirror. “But you seemed so deeply opposed to me even talking to him. Why be sorry now?”
Dominic scowled. “I had a talk with Brendan.”
“Oh? And what did the two of you decide about my life?” she asked wryly.
“Know thy enemy.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Perhaps it would be a good thing for one of us to be friends with a Huntington.”
“Oh, would it now?” She whirled around toward Dominic, trying to resist the urge to hit him with her hat. It had been a long, trying day, and she was sick of people trying to use her. “Well, Dominic St. Claire, I am not your spy.”
He held up his hand. “That is not what I meant—”
“Oh? Then pray tell, what did you mean? Because that is exactly what it sounded like. To spy on the Huntingtons through Lord Aidan.”
“We just want to know what they’re planning. They’ve caused the St. Claires enough grief already.”
“That was long in the past! And perhaps you want to cause them a bit of grief now?” Lily lifted the heavy hem of her habit and hurried up the stairs. Her head was pounding in earnest now, and she was tired. Tired of men and their schemes, tired of her own emotions tying her up in knots.
“Well, you and Brendan go and do your worst to the Huntingtons—get yourselves killed in duels, cast out of society—and see if I care,” she called over the balustrade. “I won’t be your spy.”
“Lily, please.” The soft tone of Dominic’s voice stopped her foot on the next step. Her confident, laughing brother never sounded like that.
She peered down at him as he came to stand just below her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have said anything tonight, not when you’re tired. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just… Damn it, Lily, it’s the Huntingtons.”
“And we are the St. Claires. I know,” Lily answered quietly. No two families could be further apart. None could hate each other more. And she could not forget that no matter what else he was, Aidan was a Huntington.
“We’ll talk more of this later, Dominic,” she said, and continued up the stairs toward the empty darkness of her room.
Chapter Eight
L ily slowly wandered around the edge of the main salon of the Devil’s Fancy, watching the people gathered around the card tables. It was not as crowded as the night they had opened. She had heard that Queen Victoria was in attendance at the Italian opera tonight before she left for Coburg, and most of society would be gathered there to curry her favor. But they still had quite a crowd at the club, people who were becoming regulars, who would prefer the thrill of winning and losing on the turn of a card to staring at the young queen and her stern German husband.
Lily rubbed her
“Very much.” Lily turned back to the mirror to finish unpinning her hat. The eyes that stared back at her in the glass glittered too brightly, and her cheeks were slashedwith red. She looked and felt feverish, shaking with old memories and new, frightening feelings for Aidan.
When he had held her after the child was snatched away, she had wanted to cling to him, losing herself in the clean heat and strength of him. In that flashing moment, she had
needed
him, and she didn’t like that feeling at all.
“You’re back late,” Dominic said.
“The park was very crowded today,” Lily answered. She wished he would go away and quit looking at her like that. She had had enough today of people trying to peer into her soul. She needed to be alone, to rebuild the walls of her careful defenses. To forget.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Dominic said suddenly.
Surprised, Lily raised her gaze to meet his in the glass. Dominic so rarely apologized. “For what?”
“For pestering you about Aidan bloody Huntington. You were quite right—it’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not.” Lily slowly put her hat down on the pier table under the mirror. “But you seemed so deeply opposed to me even talking to him. Why be sorry now?”
Dominic scowled. “I had a talk with Brendan.”
“Oh? And what did the two of you decide about my life?” she asked wryly.
“Know thy enemy.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Perhaps it would be a good thing for one of us to be friends with a Huntington.”
“Oh, would it now?” She whirled around toward Dominic, trying to resist the urge to hit him with her hat. It had been a long, trying day, and she was sick of people trying to use her. “Well, Dominic St. Claire, I am not your spy.”
He held up his hand. “That is not what I meant—”
“Oh? Then pray tell, what did you mean? Because that is exactly what it sounded like. To spy on the Huntingtons through Lord Aidan.”
“We just want to know what they’re planning. They’ve caused the St. Claires enough grief already.”
“That was long in the past! And perhaps you want to cause them a bit of grief now?” Lily lifted the heavy hem of her habit and hurried up the stairs. Her head was pounding in earnest now, and she was tired. Tired of men and their schemes, tired of her own emotions tying her up in knots.
“Well, you and Brendan go and do your worst to the Huntingtons—get yourselves killed in duels, cast out of society—and see if I care,” she called over the balustrade. “I won’t be your spy.”
“Lily, please.” The soft tone of Dominic’s voice stopped her foot on the next step. Her confident, laughing brother never sounded like that.
She peered down at him as he came to stand just below her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have said anything tonight, not when you’re tired. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just… Damn it, Lily, it’s the Huntingtons.”
“And we are the St. Claires. I know,” Lily answered quietly. No two families could be further apart. None could hate each other more. And she could not forget that no matter what else he was, Aidan was a Huntington.
“We’ll talk more of this later, Dominic,” she said, and continued up the stairs toward the empty darkness of her room.
Chapter Eight
L ily slowly wandered around the edge of the main salon of the Devil’s Fancy, watching the people gathered around the card tables. It was not as crowded as the night they had opened. She had heard that Queen Victoria was in attendance at the Italian opera tonight before she left for Coburg, and most of society would be gathered there to curry her favor. But they still had quite a crowd at the club, people who were becoming regulars, who would prefer the thrill of winning and losing on the turn of a card to staring at the young queen and her stern German husband.
Lily rubbed her
Similar Books
