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Lily imagined joining their giddy, girlish conversation: “Well, if you think he
looks
heavenly, you should
taste
him! And oh my
goodness
, he has the most enormous… well,
you know
. Why, I felt it pressing against me just the other day. In the garden. While we passionately kissed.” What would they say to
that
?

“Well, I swear to you he looked at
me
,” another of the girls chimed in. “Right at me.
Appreciatively
. While he was dancing with Lady Clary.”

“Oh, bosh. He was looking
over
you to look at
her
. You know—Lord Kilmartin’s cousin.”

Lily’s heart bumped. Was he? Had Gideon been looking at her? And then she recalled:
Of course he was looking at me. It’s all part of our charade
.

“Lord Kilmartin’s cousin? Miss Lily Masters? I hear she has piles and piles of money.”

“My father says he knows her father. Made a fortune in shipping, or what have you.”

This was interesting, Lily thought, given that
she
had never met her fictional father. Perhaps she should just close her mouth from now on and let the story do what it would, as it seemed to be taking on a fascinating life of its own.

“She
is
very pretty,” one of the allowed. “And agreeable.”

“Oh yes, very agreeable, so agreeable,” they all chorused.

Lily bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

“But she makes all of us that much more invisible.”

Imagine that! Lily Masters, who had made an art form of being invisible, was making
others
feel invisible.

“Mr. Cole wouldn’t look at us anyway. He only has eyes for the Lady Clarys and the Lily Masters of the world.”

If they only knew.

“Do you think Mr. Cole will marry Miss Masters instead of Lady Clary?”

“Not if Lady Clary has anything to say about it.” They giggled, but one of the girls made a nervous shushing noise, as if Constance was omnipotent and bound to overhear.

Lily supposed it
was
funny. But still it hurt, and brought with it another rush of impatience for Gideon, who was intent on marrying the daughter of a marquis so he could live his father’s life over again, only without the disaster this time.

Lily knew him in a way none of these innocents, these girls no older than herself, did or ever would. She wondered if Constance knew Gideon the way she knew him, or if she only knew the public Gideon: the one who smiled often but not
too
often; who charmed but was not effusive or passionate or moody; who was witty but not silly. The Gideon who was always all that was appropriate, everything that the odious little brown book said he should be. Did he care for Constance? He’d never once said that he did.

Perhaps Gideon has revealed himself to me because he knows I am of no social consequence
. Deep down, she knew this wasn’t true. McBride had once told her that herbs were most potent when harvested beneath a full moon, because the moon drew their strongest qualities to the surface, much the way it pulled tides to the shore. And Lily knew somehow she had drawn Gideon’s true self to the surface—probably because, under the skin, they were the same. And this, Lily thought, with a wretched smile, probably bothered Gideon more than a thousand stolen watches.

The strains of the next waltz drifted out to her. Ah. It was her turn once again to dance with the “heavenly” Gideon Cole. She slipped back into the drawing room like a shadow, thinking that in this instance Gideon couldn’t possibly object.

“Well, I’m for bed.” Kilmartin yawned. “More parties tomorrow. And the next day and the next,” he added cheerfully. “Well done, Lily. You’ll win a bride for Gideon yet!”

Lily had never appreciated a compliment less. “Good night, Lord Kilmartin.”

“Laurie?” Gideon said suddenly, just as Kilmartin was about to mount the stairs.

“Yes, Gideon?”

“When do you intend to propose to Lady Anne Clapham?”

Kilmartin froze in his tracks. He twisted his head back toward Gideon, his eyes huge with alarm.

Gideon smiled mischievously. He was almost too enchanting when he was being a rascal, Lily thought. “Ah, forget I said anything, old man. Go to bed. I shall see you in the morning.” He was grinning broadly now.

Kilmartin gave him a quick dark frown and huffed up the stairs. “
I’m
not the one with a Master Plan, Cole.
I’ve
all the time in the world.”

“But what if someone else snaps her up while you’re ‘taking your time’?” Gideon teased.

Kilmartin paused on the landing, and his expression was one of gentle, almost pitying amusement. “Oh, no one else will snap her up. We are meant for each other.”

And with that supremely, peacefully confident statement, he bowed to them and disappeared from view.

Gideon was quiet after that, pensive. His long fingers tapped an absent tattoo on the arm of his chair; he caught himself and stopped.

Lily stood, prepared to follow Kilmartin up the stairs to her own room. “Well, Mr. Cole, good—”

“Do you miss Alice?” Gideon said suddenly.

Lily turned to him, surprised; she slowly lowered herself back into her chair.

“Well… yes I do, very much,” she admitted. “We’ve never been apart since she was born.”

“We’ll return to Aster Park soon.”

Lily nodded. She supposed he’d meant it to be reassuring, but when they returned for Alice, it would very likely mean that Gideon’s engagement to Constance Clary had been achieved, and that she and Alice would be leaving Aster Park for good.

Leaving Gideon for good.

“Well, no doubt Alice is too diverted by Aster Park’s many pleasures to miss
me
much.” She smiled wryly.

He was silent for a moment. “It is… it is difficult to imagine that anyone… would not miss you.” His voice had a catch in it.

And suddenly Lily knew he was saying two things at once. Her heart jolted.

His eyes were on her, softly, softly burning. With longing.

I should leave the room. Now.

She wanted to lean forward and cup his beautiful face in her hands, stroke the strong lines of his cheekbones, touch her lips to his and drink the longing out of him. The ferocity of her sudden wanting turned her breathing shallow; Gideon’s own breath was coming more swiftly, too. His eyes heated to black; they never left her. They willed her closer; she could feel it from where she sat, the strength of his desire. Her skin prickled, remembering the feel of his hands on it.
God, just to touch him
…

Lily stood up quickly. “I should retire for the evening.”

Gideon went very still, surprised. And then he nodded once; he looked down into his lap a moment, as if ashamed. And then he slowly rose to his feet, as ever conscious of manners.

She turned and moved toward the stairs.

“Lily?”

She paused, turned back toward him.

“You are… you are remarkable.” The words were softly said, but urgency thrummed through them; a yearning that thrilled her and terrified her.

Her lips curved into a hint of a smile. “I know.”

Gideon gave a short pained laugh, and turned his head away from her.

And with extraordinary difficulty, Lily turned her back to him and mounted the stairs.

How foolish she was. Here she’d thought Gideon Cole had already broken her heart. She recalled her book of Greek myths, and she now understood that she was like poor Prometheus chained to the rock: as long as she remained near him, Gideon Cole would have the power to break her heart over and over again, and the pain of it would be fresh every single time.

Chapter Fifteen

Lily wanted to be alone with Constance Clary about as badly as she wanted to be transported to Australia. And so far she’d been fortunate: at social affairs, she was usually buffered by a collection of new admirers, or by Gideon and Kilmartin. The woman’s Olympian impact had always therefore been somewhat diluted.

But tonight, just two nights after Lady Delloway’s ball, Lily was in Constance’s territory—the town house Constance’s father owned and that she shared with her aunt— for a dinner party, and Constance had just issued an invitation directly to her:

“Miss Masters, would you like to accompany me to the withdrawing room? I do believe my hair is coming loose of its pins, and I could use some assistance.”

Gideon was absorbed in a conversation with some elderly gentleman Lily didn’t recognize. Kilmartin was dancing attendance upon Lady Anne Clapham.

And Constance clearly wanted to be alone with Miss Lily Masters.

Lily thought of her
Encyclopedia of Natural History
. It described how a lion would separate a zebra from its herd in order to make a meal of it. Lily suddenly knew just how the zebra felt.

“Oh, certainly, Lady Clary,” she said. For what other response could she offer? A truthful one?: “Not on your life, Lady Clary”?

Resignedly, struggling valiantly to float like a swan and not shuffle like a prisoner being led off to the racks, Lily followed Constance. She caught a glimpse of the two of them in a long mirror as they passed: two lovely blonde women, one tall and buxom and glowing with health and self-satisfaction, the other petite, slim, looking a little apprehensive. She was reminded of a gnat buzzing after a great horse.

The gilding in the little withdrawing room fairly blinded Lily: the mirror, the legs on the chairs, the trim on the bureau—all were polished to a supernatural brilliance, no doubt so Constance could see herself reflected in as many surfaces as possible. Everything else—the settee, the stools and chairs, the curtains —was fashioned of silver-blue satin, heavy and lustrous, corded in gold. Practically mirror like in sheen, as well.

Constance settled onto a plump stool in front of the vanity and eyed herself in the mirror, turning her fine head this way and that to examine her hair. A tendril had escaped. She frowned a little at her hair’s blatant insubordination.

“I’m
so
pleased you could attend my party, Miss Masters.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the
world
, Lady Clary. I’m honored to be included.”
A bigger pair of hypocrites
, Lily thought,
cannot be found in all of London
.

“And are you enjoying London, Miss Masters?”

“More than I can say, Lady Clary.”

“And do you perhaps enjoy some amusements… more than others?”

Lily almost sighed. Constance really wasn’t nearly as clever as she believed she was. “I’m sorry, I do not take your meaning, Lady Clary.” Lily’s gaze met Constance’s in the mirror innocently.

Constance’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there perhaps one…
activity
… you prefer more than all others?”

“By activity, do you mean parties and balls, things of that sort?”

“Yes. Or perhaps dancing with a particular…
person
. That sort of thing.”

“Oh, no. I rather enjoy
all
that London has to offer,” Lily replied cheerfully.

She watched Constance’s face go closed and expressionless, like a pot lid clamped over the bubbling stew of her thoughts.

Lily decided to change the subject. Her eyes went to the impressive object circling Constance’s throat; a series of small blue stones and small white ones. “Your necklace is stunning, Lady Clary.”

“Thank you, Miss Masters. It’s new.” Constance fingered it possessively. “Papa gave it to me for my birthday. And it’s not paste, you know. It’s three sapphires and two diamonds.”

Sapphires and diamonds
! McBride would have fainted on the spot. Lily’s fingers itched to at least
touch
it. “My papa would never buy me anything quite so grand. He says it’s a job for my future husband.”

Constance pounced on this like a fox on a hare. “Oh? Are you
engaged
, then, Miss Masters?”

Lily donned her enigmatic expression. “I suppose one could say that.”

She watched Constance draw in a breath and hold it in an agony of anticipation. And Lily waited, and waited, until she decided she’d better speak before Constance actually turned blue and toppled from her perch.

“That is, engaged in
becoming
engaged. But then, aren’t we all, this season?”

She met Constance’s eyes in the mirror once again. Constance released her breath and pressed her lips tightly together. Her gray eyes were now downright wintry.

And in that moment, Lily knew:
I have officially made an enemy
. Which suited her perfectly.

Lady Clary studied her coolly in the mirror, no doubt wondering why it was so difficult to cow Lily Masters the way she’d cowed all the other girls in the
ton
. Lily would have loved to tell her exactly why: None of the other young ladies had actually been
schooled
in Lady Constance Clary.

Do you even care for Gideon, you… you
… creature? It took all of Lily’s self-control to keep the thought nothing more than a thought.
If it doesn’t matter to Gideon, why should it matter to me
?

She tamped down her impatience and anger and gathered her manners about her. “Lady Clary, perhaps we can tuck up your loose hair now. Your guests will be missing you, no doubt.”

Constance, obviously accustomed to being administered to, waited while Lily gently pushed the wayward tendril of hair back into place and pinned it. Her face was contemplative, but not in a soothing way, as she watched Lily in the mirror.

Lily’s fingers brushed the clasp of the necklace; she imagined she could feel the dazzle of it shoot right through her fingertips.

* * *

Slowly
, Lily reminded herself.
Not as though I’m digging to China
. She lifted the heavy silver fork to her mouth and tasted the pickled vegetables; she fought the urge to pucker.
Perhaps a slice of beef would help wash down the taste
… She peered at the platter and noted that the beef was swimming in sauce.
Everything
seemed to be swimming in sauce. She didn’t mind, really; a layer of sauce added a layer of mystery to the food. Lily liked being surprised by tastes each time she lifted her fork to her mouth.