lace-gloved hands over her bare arms as she listened to the laughter and chatter and the clack of the roulette wheel spinning. She saw it all and took it all in, but she didn’t feel as if she were really there. She felt like she had been wandering in this strange half-waking state ever since the incident at the park yesterday.
Her nightmares of the past and Dominic’s hints that she should spy on the Huntingtons, it was all tangled up in her mind. She worked to pull her usual calm coolness around her, tried to lose herself in account books and the club, but it all hovered there at the edge of her thoughts.
She noticed Brendan staring at her from across the room, and she made herself smile at him. He didn’t smile back, but he gave her a nod before looking down at the cards in his hand. In the rosy-amber glow of the gaslight, the tracery of scars on his left cheek was softened and his brushed-back sweep of black hair gleamed. He was fashionably dressed in his usual black-and-white evening attire, yet still there was that air of barely leashed rawness about him, something dark and primitive and angry.
Brendan was the brother Lily understood the least, for he always stood slightly apart from the rest of the world. He never told anyone how he got those scars, what had happened to him when he disappeared several years ago and returned with his gorgeous face marred. And Lily never dared ask.
But his hatred of the Huntingtons had seemed even hotter after that. Lily would rather talk to Dominic about the Huntingtons than Brendan, if she had to talk about them at all. She couldn’t even imagine what Brendan would want her to do as their spy.
She strolled slowly to the other side of the room, making sure everything was going smoothly and all their patrons seemed happy. The steady flow of champagne always seemed to lessen the sting of losing, and she made a note to order more from the vintner.
“Mrs. Nichols,” a footman said at her shoulder. “A gentleman wishes to see you in your office.”
“My office?” she said sharply. No one was to go in there without her; everyone knew that.
The footman flushed and shuffled his feet. “I am sorry, Mrs. Nichols, but he was quite insistent. You did say we should never upset the patrons.”
Lily sighed and shook her head. These arrogant aristocrats, pushing their way in everywhere! God save her from them and their demands.
And from one “arrogant aristocrat” in particular, she added as she thought of Aidan’s blue eyes and his smile.
“Very well, I will see to them. But from now on, fetch me
before
they are shown to my office.” She hurried from the salon and up the stairs, intent on ejecting whoever it was from her room. And if they protested, so much the better; somehow she was itching for a fight tonight.
She pushed open the office door and strode across the threshold, only to freeze. It was not just some drunken patron who waited for her. It was Aidan.
He stood next to the bookshelf behind her desk, lazily studying the titles there with his hands on his lean hips. He turned to smile at her, his teeth flashing white in the dimness of the room. There was only one lamp lit on the desk, and he stood just beyond its light. Yet she knew without a doubt it was him. No one else was that tall, that elegantly powerful, like some jungle cat just waiting to coil its strong muscles and pounce. He seemed to fill up her whole room, possess it, just by standing there.
“Good evening, Lily,” he said.
Lily closed the door behind her and leaned back on it. “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Then you should have come to the salon. I’ve been there all evening.”
“I wanted to see you alone,” he said bluntly. “And I came to return these.”
He laid something on the desk, and she saw it was her riding gloves, lost in the confusion at the park. His fingersslid over the leather, and she braced her hands harder on the door.
“You could have
Her nightmares of the past and Dominic’s hints that she should spy on the Huntingtons, it was all tangled up in her mind. She worked to pull her usual calm coolness around her, tried to lose herself in account books and the club, but it all hovered there at the edge of her thoughts.
She noticed Brendan staring at her from across the room, and she made herself smile at him. He didn’t smile back, but he gave her a nod before looking down at the cards in his hand. In the rosy-amber glow of the gaslight, the tracery of scars on his left cheek was softened and his brushed-back sweep of black hair gleamed. He was fashionably dressed in his usual black-and-white evening attire, yet still there was that air of barely leashed rawness about him, something dark and primitive and angry.
Brendan was the brother Lily understood the least, for he always stood slightly apart from the rest of the world. He never told anyone how he got those scars, what had happened to him when he disappeared several years ago and returned with his gorgeous face marred. And Lily never dared ask.
But his hatred of the Huntingtons had seemed even hotter after that. Lily would rather talk to Dominic about the Huntingtons than Brendan, if she had to talk about them at all. She couldn’t even imagine what Brendan would want her to do as their spy.
She strolled slowly to the other side of the room, making sure everything was going smoothly and all their patrons seemed happy. The steady flow of champagne always seemed to lessen the sting of losing, and she made a note to order more from the vintner.
“Mrs. Nichols,” a footman said at her shoulder. “A gentleman wishes to see you in your office.”
“My office?” she said sharply. No one was to go in there without her; everyone knew that.
The footman flushed and shuffled his feet. “I am sorry, Mrs. Nichols, but he was quite insistent. You did say we should never upset the patrons.”
Lily sighed and shook her head. These arrogant aristocrats, pushing their way in everywhere! God save her from them and their demands.
And from one “arrogant aristocrat” in particular, she added as she thought of Aidan’s blue eyes and his smile.
“Very well, I will see to them. But from now on, fetch me
before
they are shown to my office.” She hurried from the salon and up the stairs, intent on ejecting whoever it was from her room. And if they protested, so much the better; somehow she was itching for a fight tonight.
She pushed open the office door and strode across the threshold, only to freeze. It was not just some drunken patron who waited for her. It was Aidan.
He stood next to the bookshelf behind her desk, lazily studying the titles there with his hands on his lean hips. He turned to smile at her, his teeth flashing white in the dimness of the room. There was only one lamp lit on the desk, and he stood just beyond its light. Yet she knew without a doubt it was him. No one else was that tall, that elegantly powerful, like some jungle cat just waiting to coil its strong muscles and pounce. He seemed to fill up her whole room, possess it, just by standing there.
“Good evening, Lily,” he said.
Lily closed the door behind her and leaned back on it. “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Then you should have come to the salon. I’ve been there all evening.”
“I wanted to see you alone,” he said bluntly. “And I came to return these.”
He laid something on the desk, and she saw it was her riding gloves, lost in the confusion at the park. His fingersslid over the leather, and she braced her hands harder on the door.
“You could have
Similar Books
