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Authors: Jillian Hunter
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siren-in-waiting whose innocent looks mislead?”
“Do you know how boring it is to live in Tissington?”
“Indeed, I do. Boredom has led a lady into more than one affair she should have avoided.”
They came to the gate, which Samuel made a point of locking behind them. Suddenly Lily noticed four footmen stationed above the garden wall. It was almost as if they had been told to stay out of view.
“They weren’t there before,” she remarked over her shoulder to the duke.
He smiled knowingly.
Chloe broke formation at the courtyard garden to take stock of Lily in the moonlight. “Well, aside from a few bedraggled feathers, you’re none the worse for your walk.”
The duke grinned at her, again the guileless chevalier. “And me?”
Chloe laughed. “You can take care of yourself. Now stay with me, Lily. We will enter from the direction of the cloakroom together.” She curtsied as an afterthought. “Good luck with your charities, Your Grace.”
His gaze followed Lily’s retreating figure. “The same to you.”
He lost sight of Lily when she entered the gold salon for the midnight unmasking. A gentleman wearing a papier-mâché crown had already greeted her and brought her a glass of lemonade, chatting with his head to hers as if he knew her well. Samuel suppressed a flare of resentment. Lily and the other man seemed warm toward each other, but not like a pair of lovers. Samuel could not imagine a gentleman escorting her to a party and leaving her alone for even a minute with the viscountess as guard. A brother or another cousin? Samuel debated staying for the official tour of the garden to find out. But suddenly he changed his mind.
He was a man who followed his instincts, and instinct presented a new plan that he decided couldn’t wait. The gentleman hovering over Lily had risen unexpectedly, crossed the salon, and was barreling through the hall, knocking his shoulder against Samuel’s lance.
“My pardon.” Samuel nodded. “I trust I didn’t hurt you.”
The man gave an unkingly grunt. “I’m tougher than that. Mind you, you could have taken out my eyes.”
“King Lear?”
“Who?”
“Your costume?”
“Yes, but please don’t ask me to quote any lines.”
Samuel smiled inwardly, staring past the friendly gentleman into the salon. Lily had turned to glance into the hall. When she noticed the two men talking, she hastily looked away. Maybe she was afraid Samuel would reveal her garden escapade to her relation.
“I tell you what,” Samuel said in a confidential tone. “There is a lady I am suddenly enamored of, and I might lose her if I don’t take action tonight to state my intentions.”
The huskier man grinned. “You’ll lose her if you poke her with your lance. And that shield—ye gods. You might have cleaned it up for the party. Take my advice and hand them off to a footman. You’ll never win any prizes dressed like a shabby knight.”
“Aren’t you competing in the midnight unmasking?” Not that Samuel gave a damn, but it never hurt to make an ally when one could.
“I have a card game going, and I might lose my throne if I can’t find a friend to borrow a little cash from. I wasn’t prepared to bet this heavily.”
“A card game.”
There was a country gullibility about this man, an innocence that evil would feed on and consume. A gentleman with any guile or romantic understanding would have never left Lily alone with the wolves of London—predators as dangerous to maidenly virtue as their fairy-tale prototypes.
He brought out Samuel’s ever-present desire to protect, to enlighten before it was too late. “Do you cheat when you play?”
“Good heavens, sir, I would die before taking a crooked pence.”
“But you do know that there are professional players who do?”
“Not in a house like this.”
His naïveté pained Samuel. “Why not?”
“Everyone invited is well-off, or has family who is. There’s no need to cheat.”
Samuel stared
“Do you know how boring it is to live in Tissington?”
“Indeed, I do. Boredom has led a lady into more than one affair she should have avoided.”
They came to the gate, which Samuel made a point of locking behind them. Suddenly Lily noticed four footmen stationed above the garden wall. It was almost as if they had been told to stay out of view.
“They weren’t there before,” she remarked over her shoulder to the duke.
He smiled knowingly.
Chloe broke formation at the courtyard garden to take stock of Lily in the moonlight. “Well, aside from a few bedraggled feathers, you’re none the worse for your walk.”
The duke grinned at her, again the guileless chevalier. “And me?”
Chloe laughed. “You can take care of yourself. Now stay with me, Lily. We will enter from the direction of the cloakroom together.” She curtsied as an afterthought. “Good luck with your charities, Your Grace.”
His gaze followed Lily’s retreating figure. “The same to you.”
He lost sight of Lily when she entered the gold salon for the midnight unmasking. A gentleman wearing a papier-mâché crown had already greeted her and brought her a glass of lemonade, chatting with his head to hers as if he knew her well. Samuel suppressed a flare of resentment. Lily and the other man seemed warm toward each other, but not like a pair of lovers. Samuel could not imagine a gentleman escorting her to a party and leaving her alone for even a minute with the viscountess as guard. A brother or another cousin? Samuel debated staying for the official tour of the garden to find out. But suddenly he changed his mind.
He was a man who followed his instincts, and instinct presented a new plan that he decided couldn’t wait. The gentleman hovering over Lily had risen unexpectedly, crossed the salon, and was barreling through the hall, knocking his shoulder against Samuel’s lance.
“My pardon.” Samuel nodded. “I trust I didn’t hurt you.”
The man gave an unkingly grunt. “I’m tougher than that. Mind you, you could have taken out my eyes.”
“King Lear?”
“Who?”
“Your costume?”
“Yes, but please don’t ask me to quote any lines.”
Samuel smiled inwardly, staring past the friendly gentleman into the salon. Lily had turned to glance into the hall. When she noticed the two men talking, she hastily looked away. Maybe she was afraid Samuel would reveal her garden escapade to her relation.
“I tell you what,” Samuel said in a confidential tone. “There is a lady I am suddenly enamored of, and I might lose her if I don’t take action tonight to state my intentions.”
The huskier man grinned. “You’ll lose her if you poke her with your lance. And that shield—ye gods. You might have cleaned it up for the party. Take my advice and hand them off to a footman. You’ll never win any prizes dressed like a shabby knight.”
“Aren’t you competing in the midnight unmasking?” Not that Samuel gave a damn, but it never hurt to make an ally when one could.
“I have a card game going, and I might lose my throne if I can’t find a friend to borrow a little cash from. I wasn’t prepared to bet this heavily.”
“A card game.”
There was a country gullibility about this man, an innocence that evil would feed on and consume. A gentleman with any guile or romantic understanding would have never left Lily alone with the wolves of London—predators as dangerous to maidenly virtue as their fairy-tale prototypes.
He brought out Samuel’s ever-present desire to protect, to enlighten before it was too late. “Do you cheat when you play?”
“Good heavens, sir, I would die before taking a crooked pence.”
“But you do know that there are professional players who do?”
“Not in a house like this.”
His naïveté pained Samuel. “Why not?”
“Everyone invited is well-off, or has family who is. There’s no need to cheat.”
Samuel stared
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