Loving Lily (Fair Cyprians of London 6)

Lily leaned back against the squabs and closed her eyes. “What choice do I have?”

“I’m offering you one.”

Her first response was to put her hand to her breast in a show of outraged modesty that caused him to laugh for the first time.

It was not a respectful laugh. “Let me spare your concerns on that front, madame. You may have been a beauty, once, and indeed my endeavours in rescuing you from the maison are based on the hope that a good dousing and a month of nourishing food may

restore you. But right now, you are a filthy, vermin-ridden creature who holds absolutely no appeal for me or for any other red or blue-blooded male, I shouldn’t think.”

It was the longest speech he had made, and Lily observed that although he phrased his sentences like a gentleman, a coarseness to certain words proclaimed him the charlatan he must be, she now realised, if he had made this journey unbeknownst to her husband.

“There are few ways a woman can earn her keep other than on her back, yet I have a proposition that will safeguard whatever modesty or virtue you claim to possess. It is easy enough to return you to the maison.” He made a sweeping gesture of the passing countryside—muddy and bleak. “However, I wished to gauge for myself, during our journey, that you had the mental faculties needed to fulfil the new role I have in mind for you, should you accept my terms.”

Lily considered him in this new light—abductor and charlatan. “Your terms?” For if he was not taking her back to Robert, he was indeed kidnapping her. “I must agree to your terms to gain my freedom?” Terms that did not include the bartering of her body. It sounded too enticing to be real. “What are your terms?” Despite the impression she’d given of outraged modesty, she couldn’t think of anything she would not do to secure her freedom.

No, that was not true. She would not barter her body. She’d taken a lover once, and she was still paying for that mistake.

“Patience, Madame Bradden. I would not overload your feeble brain with too much information. You have been overcome by enough novelty already today.”

“I cannot agree to any terms if I do not know what you are offering me.”

He gave another of his slight, dismissive shrugs. “I can return you to your husband, or you can agree to work for me. Women are ungovernable creatures ruled solely by their emotions, and yours have clearly got the better of you too many times for your own good. No, you will be told what is required of you in good time to be properly equipped for your role. Disappointingly, I will have to wait for you to gain some flesh, and a bloom to burnish your sallow, filthy skin before you bear any resemblance to the woman you once were. But I am patient. After a few weeks of nourishment and training, I trust you will be ready to put our little plan into practice. And did I mention that there would be rewards for both of us?”

Now Lily truly did tremble. She was to be used for someone else’s ends, yet he would tell her neither whose ends nor what her role was?

She glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the disappearing asylum, a tiny speck on the hill, and then at her boots. Her stomach growled audibly.

“What say you to a saddle of beef and a bottle of claret when we reach our lodgings? Something substantial to sustain us before the crossing tomorrow.”

Food.

Mr Montpelier knew how easy it would be to make her sing to his tune.

Her stomach growled again. But what did that matter when she’d sell her soul for a saddle of beef and a bottle of claret? A few more months at the maison, and she suspected that in her currently weakened and ill-nourished state, she’d be dead from any number of the diseases that swept through on a regular basis.

“I say that the prospect of such a meal sounds delightful!”

Her tinkling response landed badly when received with his usual dour contempt. “The street urchin trying to sound like a lady.” He looked amused as he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what they will make of you.” Then he sobered, and added, “Those who don’t know who, and what, you truly are.”

Lily met his stare, unafraid. She would agree to Mr Montpelier’s terms because he was returning her to England. Not to her husband. In a day or two, she would be back in the land of her birth.

Once in London, amidst the press of traffic, it would be easy to do what she now intended must be her only course. She would flee the carriage and, on foot if necessary, make her way to where her aunt lived in Norfolk. Aunt Kerridge would keep Lily safe until Lily found a means to support herself.

It was even possible Robert did not know she was missing.

“A saddle of beef and a bottle of claret,” she sighed, dreamily, stretching and closing her eyes as a feeling of contented satisfaction enveloped her. Mr Montpelier thought he was so clever, abducting her so he could make her do his bidding.

But he’d met his match.

“I’d agree to anything,” she added, “for a saddle of beef and a bottle of claret.”

Chapter 3

Hamish McTavish tapped his fingers on his knee, quietly impatient at the delay caused by the cooper’s wagon blocking Bond Street. The driver had jumped down to inspect the wheel, and now the horses were getting restless.

As was his sister, though that was nothing new. Lucy had been complaining about something for the past few minutes, but Hamish had been too busy thinking of his forthcoming interview with Sir Lionel to pay her any mind.

Until she thrust an object onto his lap, demanding, “I tell you, it’s shoddy work, Hamish, and I shall demand my money back. Already the flowers are detaching from my new bonnet—”