Loving Lily (Fair Cyprians of London 6)

Her dungeon and her respite, she thought with beating heart once she was safely out of the public’s eye, and she could let out her breath in one thankful sigh.

For a long while, she stood with her cheek against the cool stone wall, eyes closed, listening as the burst of chatter above faded to nothing.

Then Mr Montpelier was before her, telling her she was free to go as their audience had dispersed.

It was a strange moment, that moment of quiet when her job was done, yet Mr Montpelier had released her with no claim upon her time. Nothing other than the faintest suggestion that he was satisfied with her performance.

Exhausted and frightened, she longed for warmth and companionship. Someone

who would believe her as well as comfort her.

But she had nowhere to go except the villa to which she’d been given the keys by Madame Chambon for two weeks.

She was, she realised, quite alone.

Chapter 22

Lily had taken a hackney home, despite the cost. She wasn’t going to risk walking alone after dark these days.

Her heart was heavy, and her future felt like a leaden weight upon her shoulders.

Grace must have heard her tread upon the path for she opened the door, her eyes large with worry. “Ma’am, I weren’t sure wot ter do,” the young maid whispered. “There’s a gennulman ’ere ter see yer but I weren’t sure if I should let ’im in.”

Feeling the burn of hope and excitement as she handed her outerwear to the maid, Lily murmured, “I’m sure you were quite right to do so, Grace. You can go to bed, now. I shan’t need you anymore.”

At the entrance to the parlour, Lily had to put her hand on the wall to support herself. Hamish had come back. His desire to be with her exceeded his reservations. He was prepared to give her the chance she needed to prove her claims.

That Mr Novichov was a villain?

Maybe not that, but that Lily could be what he needed.

Nervously she put her hand to her heart and tried to calm herself.

“Ma’am, I should tell yer—”

But Lily had already thrown open the door, Grace’s words only half attended to before she realised her error in assuming what she should not have.

For it was not Hamish who sat comfortably in the armchair by the far side of the fire, his long legs stretched in front of him, his manner as insouciant as she remembered.

“Teddy!” she gasped, as he rose, coming towards her, arms outstretched to draw her into his embrace as he touched his lips to the top of her head.

“Lily, my own precious darling!” he ground out, holding her tighter. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve searched for you?”

She broke away, putting her hand to her mouth, confused by both his words and her own reaction.

“Darling?” He frowned, extending both hands as if he had no idea what could have occasioned her behaviour. “Are you not glad to see me?”

“Teddy! I…I…” She barely knew what to say.

Capturing her hands once more in his, he squeezed them tightly. “I’ve taken you completely by surprise, I can see that. I’d have given you notice, if I hadn’t been so eager to find you the moment I learned you were not dead.”

“Dead?” Lily shook her head. Her mouth felt dry, and a painful tattoo was playing upon her heart. “No, I’m not dead, Teddy. But you are married,” she said softly.

“Married?” He looked surprised. “I’m not married. Lord, Lily, I told you I’d wait for you, didn’t I? I told you I’d get you out of that dreadful place. I’ve been trying for two years, thwarted at every turn. Until I got news that you were dead.”

His arms were about her again before he released her, bending to cup her face with his sensitive, long-fingered hands. “My, but you’re even more beautiful than I remembered. But Lily…” He straightened, frowning again as he obviously tried to make sense of their altered relationship. “How is it that you are here? You escaped from the maison, I can see that. But you did not come searching for me? I thought that after all the letters I’d sent you, it would be clear that I was on my way to whisk you to safety.”

Lily covered her face with her hands. “Letters? Teddy, I received not one letter from you. The man who took me from the maison made me think it was at your direction. But then he told me you were married! I work for him. That’s why I live here.” She indicated her surroundings with a sweep of her arm, adding hurriedly to dispel the suspicion in his expression, “I mean, I work as a…a spiritualist. It’s respectable and he’s never…” She swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.