Unknown (12 page)

“Well, it’s this, Mr. Cole. I thought the word ‘cooperation’ implied… a certain unity of purpose. Perhaps even a partnership. But this morning I received an
order.”

Gideon frowned. “An order?”

“ ‘Be on time, ’” Lily quoted from his missive. Her pique was showing. “Not ‘
please
be on time. ’ An
order
. Nary a ‘please’ to be seen on the bloody thing. I
said
I would cooperate, Mr. Cole. You needn’t order me about.”

“Oh, you’re right, Miss Masters, he
does
do that.” Kilmartin sat up very straight suddenly, as though he’d just had an epiphany. “Orders
me
about now and again, too. A holdover from his military days, I expect.”

“Bloody irritating,” Lily groused.

“
Isn’t
it?” Kilmartin agreed, getting into the spirit of things. “It’s usually when he’s in a hurry, I’ve noticed. And sometimes when—”

“
Thank
you both very much for the education.” Gideon’s barrister voice, low but resonant, cut them off. “Miss Masters: I apologize. Will that do? I will acquaint myself with the word ‘please. ’”

She smiled a little, pleased with herself.

“As I said yesterday, Miss Masters, I’m not entirely convinced this undertaking isn’t pure folly. Our mission, after all, is to turn you into the sort of young lady of the
ton
who will outshine Lady Constance Clary, a true diamond of the first water and the daughter of a marquis.”

Lily snorted.

“Thank, you, Miss Masters, that
was
a lovely sound. And as I can’t recall ever hearing Lady Constance Clary snort, we’ll have to discourage you from doing so.”

Lily frowned and opened her mouth; Gideon continued quickly. “And while we shall not, for now, dispute that you were raised a
lady”
—he watched Lily’s face go mutinous— “we need to ascertain whether we’ve only a little polishing to do—whether we need only scrape St. Giles from you like barnacles from the hull of a ship, as it were—or whether it’s… well, as I said, folly.”

“
Barnacles
?” Kilmartin was delighted with the image.

Lily was not; lightning crackled in her clear eyes again. “My mother was the daughter of a curate, Mr. Cole, and she raised me to be a
lady
. To speak as a lady, to—”

“Well you see,
that’s
odd, Miss Masters, because I can’t recall the last time a
lady
called me a whoreson. I’m fairly certain Lady Constance Clary doesn’t even know the word.”

“Barnacles,” Kilmartin repeated happily. “Words like-well, words like that, Miss Masters, are barnacles.”

Lily ignored him. “Then it’s a wonder Lady Constance Clary is able to refer to you at all, Mr. Cole.”

Gideon couldn’t help it: he smiled again. Lord, but she was quick with a retort; it was as invigorating as a lawn tennis volley.
I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much
.

“Miss Masters, what are your pursuits?” he asked suddenly.

“My… my pursuits?”

“Yes. How do you spend your days?”

“Well… I pick a few pockets, visit my fence, buy a little dinner for Alice and myself if I’ve enough blunt. I read. I tell stories to Alice. Sometimes I pass the time talking and playing cards with Fanny, the prostitute upstairs.”

Kilmartin made a choked sound, which unfortunately triggered a full-blown fit of coughing. Gideon sighed and strolled over to the settee to thump him between the shoulder blades.

Lily looked distinctly pleased with herself once more.

“You may be surprised to learn that those are not the typical pursuits or accomplishments of a young lady of the
ton
, Miss Masters.” Gideon stopped thumping Kilmartin. “What sort of stories do you tell Alice?”

Lily’s eyes widened warily. “Just… stories, Mr. Cole.”

“About… Mr. Darcy, perhaps? Or maybe a… prince?” Gideon asked the question solely to see her cheeks go pink again, and they did. Like watching the sun tint a dawn sky, it was. She stared at him, her expression battling between stormy and embarrassed and amused appreciation.

“What about needlework, Miss Masters?” Kilmartin interjected brightly. “Do you count it among your accomplishments? Or drawing? Or archery? Constance wins all the archery tournaments; she would hate to be bested. Perhaps Miss Masters excels at archery.”

This sobered Gideon. “I am
not
outfitting Miss Masters with a bow and arrow.”

Lily looked disappointed. “I am quite deft, Mr. Cole.”

“Precisely my fear, Miss Masters.”

“I don’t suppose you play the pianoforte, Miss Masters?” Kilmartin had begun to sound a little discouraged.

“I—” Lily paused. Gideon watched an intriguing shadow of longing pass over her face. “No, I don’t play the pianoforte.”

“Do you ride, Miss Masters?” Kilmartin tried again, a little desperately. “Lady Clary is an exceptional horsewoman. Perhaps you can best her there.”

“Never been on a horse in my life.” Lily sounded grimly triumphant.

“Constance is an exceptional
everything
, Laurie,” Gideon replied smoothly. “I suppose Miss Masters can be seen riding with me in your high flyer, rather than on horseback.”

“You’ll like my high flyer, Miss Masters,” Kilmartin said cheerfully to Lily. But he sent Gideon a worried look.

A slightly disheartened silence followed.

Gideon raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, it’s not as though she’ll be expected to demonstrate needlework or drawing, necessarily. We can perhaps work around the pianoforte, though young ladies are often asked to perform. We’ll just begin by telling everyone that… Miss Lily Masters is Lord Kilmartin’s cousin, from Sussex, near the town of Wilmington, and that her father is a very wealthy gentleman who owns land, and ships, and—”

“Do I have a horse?” Lily had begun to look intrigued.

Gideon blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“A horse. Perhaps this Miss Lily Masters of Sussex is an equestrienne. Perhaps she has a horse of her own back in Sussex.”

“But we’ve established you don’t ride, Miss Masters.”

“But Miss Lily Masters of
Sussex
might ride. Just not in London.”

“Very well. Miss Lily Masters of Sussex has a horse.”

“What is his name?”

“His
name
?”

“The horse’s name.”

Gideon drew in a long breath through his nose, and let it out again. “Anything you like, Miss Masters, with perhaps the exception of ‘Baubles. ’”

Lily looked pleased. “McBride. Miss Lily Masters of Sussex has a horse named McBride.”

McBride
? Gideon let that pass for now. “As I was saying, Miss Masters, we can say that your father is an extremely wealthy gentleman—he owns stables full of horses, land, houses, ships, canal shares, and just about everything near Wilmington. And by
gentleman
, I mean he hasn’t a profession.”

“I
know
what a gentleman is, Mr. Cole. I often wonder whether you do.”

Kilmartin laughed at that. Gideon sent him a quelling look. “And perhaps your pursuits can include long walks and… and reading.”

And when Lily’s eyes went wide and she swiftly looked down into her lap, he knew at once they were both thinking of the same thing: that insidiously compelling little French book.

He briefly lost his powers of speech.

Kilmartin swiveled his head from Gideon to Lily and back again, confused by the sudden awkward silence.

“Sounds bloody dull, if you ask me,” Lily said to her lap, finally. “Walking, reading.”

“Barnacles,” Kilmartin said sadly. “Words like ‘bloody, ’ Miss Masters, are barnacles.”

Gideon felt drained suddenly. How to explain the intricacies of the
ton
to this girl, who knew London’s darkest district but had never navigated the velvet battleground of a ballroom? Who spoke like a lady but who used “bloody” like an ordinary adjective? She probably easily knew as much about lovemaking as the average St. Giles whore, if the book was any indication. But she couldn’t very well share that information in the drawing rooms of London.

Folly. I should send her home
. He looked at Kilmartin again, gave a slight shake of his head.

And then suddenly Lily Masters took a deep breath; her chin elevated to a defiant angle.

“Ten pounds.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Masters?”

“Ten pounds against my debt says I can prove that I can do it.”

“
What
can you do, Miss Masters?”

“Rival Lady Constance Clary.”

Gideon gazed at her a moment, bemused. “Miss Masters…” he began gently. “Lady Constance is the daughter of a marquis. She is beautiful and wealthy, she wears the finest clothes, rides in the finest carriages, wins archery contests, sets fashions and ends them—I could go on and on. She’s the most admired young woman in the
ton
. She makes very certain of it.”

This recitation merely seemed to make the set of Lily’s jaw go more stubborn. “Ten pounds, Mr. Cole.”

He smiled faintly. “Miss Masters…”

“You don’t think I can.” It was a statement, not a question. It was also a dare. Two pink spots of indignant pride sat high on her cheeks.

Gideon looked at the pickpocket in her big borrowed dress, her hands clasped in her lap, spine rigid and chin high. The girl was like an epee: forever parrying. Where did it come from, that confidence, that fight, that
pride
?

And then it occurred to him: the same place he’d gotten his own confidence, and fight, and pride. It had been built and tested through use, like a muscle. Whereas Constance’s effortless grace, her correct conversation, her tranquil confidence, had been virtually issued to her as part of her birthright. Constance would not
expect
to be challenged, for she never had been.

And one of the most effective battle strategies, he knew, was the element of surprise.

Lily’s debt to him stood at twenty-eight pounds. And he was his father’s son, after all: one taste of risk left him open to another. He could risk ten pounds to see what she proposed to do.

“
How
do you propose to rival her, Miss Masters?”

“Ten pounds if you deem me successful, Mr. Cole?” She was all tension.

“Very well, Miss Masters.”

“Your word of honor?”

“You have my word of honor,” he said softly.

The tension visibly left her; she turned to Laurie. “Lord Kilmartin, if you would pretend to be Lady Clary?”

Laurie sat bolt upright. “If I would
what
?”

“Pretend that you are Lady Clary, and that we have just met.”

Kilmartin shot a pleading look at Gideon; Gideon turned his palms up with a grin. “You’ll make a splendid Lady Clary, Laurie. Go right ahead.”

Kilmartin sighed gustily and turned to Lily. “How do you do, Miss Masters?” he chirped.

“Very well, thank you. And how do you do, Lady Clary?”

“Exceptionally well. Your gown is
lovely
, Miss Masters.” Kilmartin was finding his feet in his role.

“Thank you, Lady Clary,” Lily said smoothly. “And may I return the compliment?”

Two pairs of eyebrows, Gideon’s and Kilmartin’s, rose, admiring her graceful response.

“Why,
thank
you, Miss Masters. And is this your first visit to London? From what part of Sussex do you hale?”

“I live near Wilbeyton, Lady Clary.”

“
Wilmington,”
Gideon stage-whispered.

“Wilmington,” Lily corrected without batting an eye. “I was in London once before, as a child.”

“And how do you find London now?” Kilmartin-Lady Clary asked.

Lily’s eyes went dreamy. “Oh, London is heavenly. The crowds, the noise, the excitement, so much to do and see. And everyone has been so exceptionally kind. But I do long for Sussex now and again, and McBride, my horse. Sweetest nature, he has, and a star right”—She pointed to her forehead—“here, you know. A coat as black as night. I named him for my father’s old groom, who had a long somber face.”

Gideon stared. The words spun out of her like fairy dust. He could detect no trace of the feral girl who’d thrashed in the grip of the huge man only yesterday—apart from the faint aura of defiant confidence that surrounded her and her determinedly erect posture. Her expression was benign as a blossom. Poor Kilmartin seemed downright mesmerized.

“And what other pursuits do you enjoy in Wilmington, Miss Masters?”

“I enjoy long walks very much! Oh, and reading. I often read to my neighbor Fanny, as she has just the one eye.”

Kilmartin blinked, a little startled.

“What became of her other eye?” Kilmartin-Lady Clary asked.

Lily leaned forward conspiratorially. “It was an archery accident, you know. Fanny was the best archer in all of Sussex, but one day during a tournament a misfired arrow took out her eye and sailed away with it—right to the center of the target! And the person who aimed the arrow would have won the tournament, apart from the… well, you know. Fanny’s eye.”

Kilmartin was agog.

“It was blue,” Lily added. “The eye.”

“How very dreadful!” Kilmartin managed faintly after a moment.

“And it’s why, you see, I wouldn’t dream of dabbling in archery anymore. One can have a terrible accident, like poor Fanny. And I do so enjoy looking out at the world through
two
eyes.”

Gideon was agog, too. It was both brilliant and unnervingly convincing: Gideon was fairly certain the image of an airborne eye wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. Nor would Miss Lily Masters of Sussex be in any danger of being invited to participate in archery tournaments. Even Lady Constance Clary would think twice about archery tournaments upon hearing that story.

“Well, she is fortunate to have you as a friend,” the Kilmartin version of Lady Clary said, recovering himself. “What sort of things do you read to her?”

“I read Shakespeare to her, and novels, too. Fanny is particularly fond of novels. We just finished
Pride and Prejudice
. I adore a happy ending, even if one must suffer a bit to get to it.” She gazed at Kilmartin limpidly, her head tilted.

Kilmartin gaped at Lily, captivated.

Gideon cleared his throat.

Kilmartin jumped. “Ah… right,” he stuttered. “Have you… have you been to Brighton, Miss Masters?”