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“When did you fall ill, sir?”

“It must have been… oh, let me see. After the war. I took to my bed and I’ve scarcely moved from it since.”

Ah. He’d been ill since he’d lost his sons. It was grief, no doubt. Lily understood the impulse to let the darkness of it wash over you like a dreamless sleep; she had known the temptation to surrender to it, especially after Mama had died. But she’d always had Alice to care for; Alice had given her a purpose. She wondered if Lord Lindsey felt any sort of purpose. Perhaps after taking to his bed out of grief many years ago, he was now unable to get out of it from sheer habit.

“Do you ache? In your belly or head? Can you walk?”

“Good God, child. You
do
ask rather a lot of blunt questions.”

Oh no
. Now Gideon would haul her off to Newgate for offending his uncle. And she’d only been trying to help. “It’s just…” Lily stammered. “It’s just that I know an apothecary in St. Giles who can cure most anything at all. Particularly the pox.”

Lord Lindsey barked a startled laugh. “The po— My
God
, Miss Masters, but you’re a caution. Unfortunately, my problem is not quite that simple. And I’ve a fine physician of my own.”

“But he hasn’t yet cured you, has he, Lord Lindsey?”

At this bold statement, Lord Lindsey inhaled sharply and drew himself up to his full sitting height. He studied Lily, his blue eyes glittering and inscrutable, as if she were an interesting specimen he intended to shoot and stuff and mount.

In the silence that followed, Lily could hear a clock somberly ticking away seconds.

“No, he hasn’t yet cured me, Miss Masters,” Lord Lindsey said at last. “Though I suspect
you
may be able to.” He smiled rakishly then, and Lily’s heart gave a strange kick; even at his advanced age, Lord Lindsey’s smile was remarkably similar to Gideon’s. And Gideon’s smile was… a
weapon
.

“Would you join me in a game of cards, Lily? Entertain a bored old man?”

“Well, certainly, Lord Lindsey. But we cannot see our cards properly in such dim light. I’ll just open the curt—”

“No, Lily! It would—”

But Lily had already briskly pushed aside the heavy draperies. Light flooded violently into the room, sending the dust in the air into a swirling frenzy. Lord Lindsey threw his arm over his eyes.

A moment later, he cautiously lowered it again. And then he smiled, blinking sheepishly, as though someone had caught him in the midst of playing a prank.

“Lord, but I’ve forgotten what tyrants women can be. Very well, Lily. We’ll have cards
and
sunlight. I
may
call you Lily?”

“Certainly, Lord Lindsey. But I should warn you—I am a very good card player.”

“As am I, Lily. As am I. I hope you are in a betting frame of mind.”

“And
I
hope you do not mind losing.”

Lord Lindsey laughed.

* * *

Gideon was halfway down the hall to his uncle’s bedroom when a sound stopped him in his tracks: the unmistakable “pop” of a card being dealt from a faro box.

It was followed, to his burgeoning horror, by a throaty giggle.

What in the name of Lucifer
—

He was in his uncle’s room in two long swift strides.

“
Aarrgh
!” The brightness of the room attacked him. Gideon covered his eyes in defense. Since when had the sun been permitted into his uncle’s domain?

He was not the least bit pleased to hear more giggles mingling with a rusty chuckle.

Gideon lowered his arm again, blinking to accustom himself to the sunlight. And then he blinked again, attempting to make sense of the tableau that had come into focus before him.

Uncle Edward was sitting up. In a
chair
. At a
table
.

And across from him sat a wicked, barefoot angel.

Her hair, the color and gleam of old gold, was held loosely away from her face with a ribbon; it spilled in a sort of haphazard splendor down her back and framed her face in loose spirals. Her newly scrubbed skin was pearl and rose, flushed from laughter, and when she turned to look at him in the full sunlight her eyes were nearly translucent, as though the sky itself shone through them. There was a large pair of slippers on the floor near her feet; Lily had obviously kicked them off in order to be more comfortable, and ten pink bare toes were curled into the carpet, as though luxuriating in the feel of it. Cards were splayed out on the table, and a small heap of coins sat in front of her. All she lacked was a cigar and a snifter of brandy and a halo.

Transfixed, his breath lost, he stared at the revelation that was Lily Masters. And as he stared, Gideon felt something inside him, something he could not quite identify, break loose from its moorings, shifting his equilibrium perilously.

“Back from London, are you, son? Are you going to stand there and gape like a looby, Gideon, or will you make your bow to us and say good afternoon? Miss Lily Masters of Sussex has been beating me at faro. She has an apothecary friend who will make me well, she says. We’ve written to him for an elixir.” Lord Lindsey winked at Lily.

“Have you, now?” Gideon drawled. Lily looked a little worried at his tone.
And well she should
. “I am glad to see you… up, Uncle Edward.” Gideon struggled to keep his voice even. His uncle. At a
table
. Playing
cards
.

“She’s a caution,” his uncle continued, as though his being “up” was something that occurred every day. “She has graciously allowed me to call her Lily. You didn’t mention she’d be joining Lord Kilmartin.”

“Oh, Miss Masters is quite…
gracious.”
Gideon delivered the last word with all the irony he could muster and watched with some satisfaction as storm clouds began to move over Lily’s clear eyes. “And her visit was something of a… surprise. Miss Masters, we’ve an appointment this afternoon, do we not?” Gideon kept his voice even and polite. His eyes, however, told a different story, of that he was certain.

“Yes,” Lily answered faintly. “I suppose we do.”

“Must you take her away, my boy?” Lord Lindsey sounded disappointed. “Very well, then. Lily, promise you’ll visit again.”

“I promise,” she said, in the same faint voice. She quickly stood up from the table.

“You’ll want your shoes, Miss Masters,” Gideon said mildly.

“Oh.” She thrust her little feet back into the big slippers.

“Help me back into bed, will you, Gideon? And pull the curtains closed. Silly girl insisted on sunlight.” Lord Lindsey smiled. “Shake hands with me, Lily, there’s a good girl, and come see me tomorrow.”

Lily gave Lord Lindsey her hand and smiled, an open smile, warm and joyous and teasing. It struck Gideon in his solar plexus like a tiny comet.

And left in its wake a sizzling, irrational jealousy that it had not been directed at him.

“Don’t forget your winnings, m’dear.”

Gideon watched Lily sweep a handful of pennies and shillings into her palm. “Thank you, Lord Lindsey. I
will
see you again.” She cast a sidelong look at Gideon.

Gideon helped Lord Lindsey back into his bed and closed the curtains against the invading light.
Like putting a toy soldier back in his box
. His uncle was not a toy for Lily Masters to play with at whim.

“Shall we, Miss Masters?” Gideon’s voice was grim.

He steered her into a nearby sitting room. The blue room, his aunt had called it when she was alive; carpeted and draped and upholstered in a full dozen shades of blue, not all of them complementary, and furnished with ridiculous spindly French furniture.

“You were told to stay in your room, Miss Masters.”

To his astonishment, her eyes widened in surprised amusement. “And you assumed that I
would
? Besides, I took but a few steps—”

“Which led directly to my uncle’s room. Did you
really
think you could seduce a sick old man, Lily?”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “
Seduce
?” she squeaked, outraged. “But I’ve never… he probably could not…”

Her cheeks colored; it was like watching wine slowly being stirred into cream.

“You’ve never
what
, Miss Masters?” His tone was silkily amused. “My uncle probably could not…
what
?”

Lily remained quiet for a moment. “Why are you asking me these things?” Her voice had gone thin.

Gideon paused. “I’m deeply concerned about my uncle’s welfare, Lily. And you’re in possession of a rather interesting book, which leads me to believe that you may also be in possession of some rather interesting…
skills
. Which you may attempt to practice upon him. He’s sick and elderly, and despite the grandeur of this house, he is
not
a wealthy man.”

“Book?” Lily looked puzzled. And then: “Oh.” A wave of mortification swept across her face as understanding took hold.

“Yes. ‘Oh. ’”

“It was a gift,” she said swiftly.

“From an admirer?” Why on earth should he want to know that?

There was a beat of silence. “Of a sort.”

“I read the book, Miss Masters. It was very enlightening.”

“Oh? I understand only a very little of it.”

“Then why are you blushing the color of a peony?”

Lily was silent; she glared her embarrassment at him.

“Do you value that book?”

“Yes. As I said, it was a gift.”

“Perhaps,” Gideon mused, “I will take it from you and sell it.”

Lily inhaled sharply. “Oh, very clever, Mr. Cole. Believe it or not, I
do
understand that stealing is wrong. But it is necessary.”

“
Necessary
? There
are
other options, Miss Masters. You could sell flowers, or—”

“My body, Mr. Cole? Is that what you’re implying I do? Would you find that preferable to my taking your watch?” Her cheeks flamed with fury.

Gideon looked down at her small proud chin, her soft, full mouth. “No,” he said softly, at last. “I would
not
find that preferable, Miss Masters.”

Lily blinked hard, like someone who had been charging full speed at a bolted door only to have it swing open at the last minute. Gideon smiled a little.

“But my watch is precious to me, Miss Masters. It belonged to my grandfather. And you would have taken it from me without a care, is that not so?”

“I cannot afford to give much thought to such things, Mr. Cole.”

“Because a conscience is a burden to a thief?”

Lily paused, and then sighed deeply. “Mr. Cole, have you a sister? A brother?”

And it was as though she had suddenly stabbed one of her slim fingers into a wound. “Yes,” he said, when he was certain his voice would be steady. “I’ve a sister. Helen.”

“Do you care for her?” Lily’s tone had gone somewhat gentler.

He said nothing, but he suspected his expression answered her question, for Lily nodded once to herself, as if she’d confirmed some suspicion of her own.

“What
wouldn’t
you do for your sister, Mr. Cole?”

In a moment, it was his turn to nod once, conceding the point to her as though they were indeed in a formal debate.

“I do know of other options,” she said. “None of them, apart from one, would have provided enough blunt to keep a roof over my head and food on the table and Alice at my side and off the streets.”

He just watched her; he knew how people lived dozens to a room in St. Giles. He knew they used gin to stay warm; he knew of the violence and illness and misery that often ensued. He suspected she was telling the truth.

“I did… I did try,” she faltered, in the face of his unblinking gaze.

“What did you try, Miss Masters?”

“I applied for work at great houses. And shops. No one would have me. I’ve no experience of that sort of work, you see, and not enough education for any other sort. And would you hire someone who looked the way I did only a day ago?” She hurried on as if she couldn’t bear to hear his answer to that question. “And families who have need of serving girls are usually unwilling to also take on small sisters. And so I… well…”

For some reason he wanted very much to salvage her pride. “You would make a terrible servant, Miss Masters. Perhaps a better colonel.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cole.” She looked genuinely pleased.

He couldn’t help it; he smiled again.

“I have provided for my sister for years now, you know,” Lily continued. “We are doing well enough.” Her voice thrummed with pride.

“If not for me, Miss Masters, you would very likely be sentenced to transportation to Australia at this very moment.”

“I hear ‘tis quite fine this time of year.”

He refused to smile at that. “The life you lead is dangerous, Miss Masters.”

“I know. It’s not as though I enjoy it.”

There was a pause. “Oh, I think you enjoy it a little,” he murmured.

And God above, she smiled at him then: an unrepentant smile, broad and mischievous and dazzling and young. The beauty of it
hurt;
it stopped his breath. Gideon took an involuntary step back, a peculiar act of self-defense.

“
Thirty pounds
, Miss Masters. I suggest you return to your room and read your book as instructed, lest you wish to discover just how
fine
it is in Australia at this time of year. And my uncle is not a plaything. If you attempt to seduce him, or to steal anything from him… I
will
know it.”

To Gideon’s profound relief and boundless regret, the smile disappeared as quickly as it had flashed into being, and Lily spun on her heels, the skirts of her big borrowed gown whipping about her ankles. She bustled toward the door—by God, he’d never seen someone move so quickly.

But when she reached the door, she paused. And spun around to face him again.

“I have a question, Mr. Cole. It concerns honor.”

Gideon gave a short laugh. “You wish to engage me in a philosophical discussion, Miss Masters?”

“No, I wish to ask you whether I am a
prisoner
, or whether I will be free to go if I repay my debt.”

“You’re hardly in a position to return my thirty pounds, Miss Masters. There isn’t a fence for miles around. I looked into the matter for you.”