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The whims of fate? Like paying thirty pounds for a thief
? “Those rules are a civilized place to begin a friendship, Miss Masters. And they make one more
able
to tolerate the whims of fate.”

Lily was studying him; he could feel her eyes upon him. “Do they?” she said, again ironically.

He could not recall ever having a conversation quite like this, let alone with a woman. He was unaccustomed to mining his soul; it had begun to burn and needle him, like a limb shaken from sleep.

“
Surrender
!” Alice bellowed from near the stream. She was aiming her big stick at an unfortunate tree, a stand-in for a French soldier, no doubt.

They both turned to watch her. The play of emotions on Lily’s face when she looked at Alice—the concern, the affection, the irritation—were all the things one felt for sisters. But she was really more mother than sister, and had been, he suspected, even when their parents were alive.

“Where is your sister now, Mr. Cole?”

Gideon turned his face away from Lily. “In Yorkshire.” Two curt words.

Alice was shouting something else now; it sounded like “
Charge
!” It was followed by a hearty thwack. Some poor beech had just been smote.

“It seems we are not so different, Mr. Cole,” Lily ventured when Gideon said nothing more. “We both know something of loss. And responsibility.” She smiled a little, watching Alice. “And sisters, I would guess.”

His building inner agitation propelled Gideon abruptly to his feet. “You’ve an appointment with my uncle, Miss Masters. Please do try to walk like a lady, rather than a thief, as we return to the house. And if there is one thing you should learn from today, it is this: A
lady
would never issue an invitation to a footrace.”

She looked up at him, held his gaze for a moment before speaking. When she did, her words fell on him like a fine snow. “Somehow, Mr. Cole, I doubt a
gentleman
would accept one.”

She rose nimbly, ignoring his outstretched hand, and walked away from him to collect Alice. “Ten more pounds, Mr. Cole,” she said over her shoulder. “And by the way, thank you for me stockings and the book.”

3: 00 Cards with Lord Lindsey

 

Lily arrived for cards to find the baron dressed—and not in a dressing gown, but in a coat and trousers and boots, all several years past fashionable, but all beautifully made. Lily knew this from the years she’d spent studying gentlemen on London streets; one did get a sense for the current fashions, and who was likely to be carting about gold watches based on the quality of their clothing.

“You seem a bit subdued, Miss Masters. Are you feeling well?”

“Hush, Lord Lindsey. I know you are trying to distract me. I do not intend to lose tins hand. Have some tea.”

Lord Lindsey chuckled and obeyed. As Lily studied her hand, she heard a long sip and the comforting chink of porcelain meeting porcelain as he returned his cup to his saucer. “You’ve lost the last hand because you’re
already
distracted, Miss Masters. You seem a bit flushed. Have you been outdoors without a bonnet?”

Lily looked up at the old baron, a little bemused. It was rather nice to be fussed over. But being outdoors without a bonnet was
nothing
compared to being outdoors without shoes for the past several years of her life.

She wasn’t about to share this little observation with Lord Lindsey.

“Yes. There was a picnic,” she said shortly.

“And did you enjoy yourself?”

“Aster Park is beautiful,” she replied after a moment. It wasn’t exactly an answer to his question, but truthfully, Lily didn’t know the answer. Had she enjoyed herself? Admittedly, there was a great deal of pleasure to be had in simply
looking
at Gideon Cole. Especially when his shirtsleeves were rolled up and he was leaning back on his strong forearms, his long body outstretched, his head tilted up to catch the sun.

He’d done that only briefly, however. And men he had been all restless vigilance again, all probing questions. And then cold and closed, making sure she knew her place.

But there had been a moment, when she’d rescued me little black insect: he’d held so very still, and watched her so breathlessly, so intently, that her heart had bumped against her ribs. As if trying to escape from her chest to go to him.

It hadn’t been desire she’d read in Gideon Cole’s face. It had been a sort of… bewildered longing.

That makes two of us, Mr. Cole.

Because her rescue of me insect hadn’t been entirely selfless. The impulse to touch Gideon had been overwhelming; the copper hair curling up out of that taut, muscular arm—

Her confusion made her feel even more confined and restless; the danger of life in St. Giles seemed simpler, easier to navigate, somehow more
honest
than the peculiar danger she now felt; it was easier to know what to do about those grasping hands, those “Lily, give us a kiss, luvs!” than this relentless tug she felt toward Gideon Cole.
Ten more pounds and I can leave
.

Oh, but the park itself… no words could describe it. Well, perhaps a single word could: Eden. Surely one couldn’t
own
Aster Park. Surely Aster Park itself did the owning.

“Won it in a card game—Aster Park,” Lord Lindsey mentioned idly.

Lily nearly spit out her tea. “You
didn’t
!”

“Of course not.” He smiled roguishly. “But I thoroughly enjoyed saying so just now.”

“You’re a rascal, Lord Lindsey.”

“That I am, that I am,” he agreed absently, mulling his cards. “Truthfully, I inherited the property and the title from a distant relative… Very unexpected thing, it was.” He made his play, selecting and discarding a card.

“Good heavens. I can hardly imagine what that must have been like.” Lily made her play and Lord Lindsey arched a brow, conceding defeat. She smugly raked her winnings toward her with one hand.

“Oh, it was quite an adjustment, I must say. I moved my family—Beatrice, the boys—from a little cottage in the country into this immense place. Pity no real money came along with it Aster Park is rather an albatross of sorts, truthfully. But it manages to eke out a sort of income for us— beef and wool, you know. We’ve made do for some time.”

“Your boys must have loved it here,” Lily said, and then she could have bitten her tongue. She would hate to see grief sweep down over Lord Lindsey’s face again.

But to her relief, he merely looked pensive. “Oh, they may have. But it was Gideon who took a real interest in the landscaping and such—he loved this place the moment he set eyes upon it, and I swear he prowled over every inch of it. He was at Oxford by the time the park came into my hands, and then his parents died and Helen up and wed that farmer in Yorkshire. I was dead against
that
. Waste of a perfectly smashing girl, if you ask me. A more pigheaded pair of children never— Well, anyhow, there were very few picnics here at Aster Park. I must say, it’s odd to see Gideon at…
play
at all, as it were.”

“Oh?” Lily tried to sound casual, but she was desperately curious.

“I didn’t think the boy knew
how
to stop working, really. Ever since his parents died he worked at… well,
everything
. Got himself beaten quite a bit for his trouble, too,” he added cheerfully.

Lily felt faint. “Beaten?”

“Well, the boy never would bend. Young boys are animals, Gideon was poor—and so all those rich lads at Oxford goaded him for it. He fought back, and they thrashed him. It’s a time-honored school tradition, you see. But his pride probably got him beaten more than was strictly necessary. He’d come home for the holidays with blacked eyes.”

Lily could hardly believe Lord Lindsey was being so cavalier about such a thing.

“But that’s… that’s
awful”

“That’s life, Miss Masters,” Lord Lindsey said gruffly, rifling through his cards to determine the quality of his new hand. “Gideon knew the risks he was taking when he continued on at Oxford. But he had plans for himself. And Oxford is where you meet the people who will help you achieve those plans.”

Like becoming a barrister. And marrying the daughter of a marquis,

“And then there was your cousin. They used to pick on poor Kilmartin, too, as he was shy and plump. Terrible thing to be at Oxford, shy and plump. Gideon got himself beaten even more on Kilmartin’s behalf: He’d leap to the defense of anyone, that boy. Once Gideon and Kilmartin were friends, however, the whole of the pack backed off. Damned if Gideon didn’t earn their respect for standing up for himself. Still has it,” the baron added proudly. “They’re his clients now, and friends.”

Oh, damn
. Lily didn’t want to care about Gideon Cole, or the things that drove him and the deeper reasons for them. She didn’t want to care about, wonder about, the pain that flickered across his face whenever his sister was mentioned. She didn’t want to feel again this treacherous weakening or want, she didn’t want to feel…
tenderness
… she didn’t want to—

She didn’t want to
like
him.

“Your draw, Lord Lindsey.”

Lord Lindsey drew, and cleared this throat. “Perhaps you can persuade Gideon to go on more picnics, Lily. The boy needs to play.”

Oh, he’s not a boy, Lord Lindsey. He’s most definitely a man.

She wondered if Lord Lindsey would encourage more picnics if he’d known about firelight, and stockings, and poetry… and a look of bewildered longing.

6: 00 Dining

 

Gideon sent a note up with Mrs. Plunkett informing Lily and Alice that the gentlemen would be dining alone. A little port, a cigar, some manly conversation about politics and horses… He would be himself again by the end of the evening.

He most certainly hadn’t been himself all day.

He repaired to the drawing room with Kilmartin and the two sank into comfortable chairs, chosen, no doubt, by his uncle or some other sensible male ancestor with an aversion to the spider-legged furniture that overran the rest of the house.

A fire was leaping merrily in the grate, and Gideon leaned over it to light his cigar. He tugged the rich smoke into his lungs and watched for a moment the colors in the flames, the soothing lick of ambers and oranges and hot reds…
Firelight on fair skin, a spill of gleaming hair that begged his hands to plunge into it
…

“And so… are you determined to go forward with this thing, Gideon, or were you thinking of stopping?”

Gideon looked up, startled. “Stopping… ?”

“Our project. Miss Lily Masters versus Lady Constance Clary. Your Master Plan. Pay attention, Gideon. Or have you consumed too much port?”

“No,” Gideon said quickly.

“No to the port, or to the stopping?”

“To both. I wouldn’t dream of stopping now.”

“Are you all right, Gideon?”

“Distracted, Laurie. Thinking about—”

“Don’t tell me: work and Constance.”

Gideon smiled. “Right again.”

“I must admit Miss Masters is quite a find, Gideon. Almost makes one want to wade on into St. Giles and reform the whole of it.”

“You,” Gideon told him pointedly, “wouldn’t last a moment in St. Giles.”

Kilmartin looked briefly offended, and then sighed. “I suspect you are correct.” He took a pride-assuaging draw on his own cigar, stretched his legs out, and crossed them at the ankle.

“Besides, I’m very nearly certain Miss Masters is one of a kind,” Gideon added.

“Then it’s lucky for you it was your pocket she attempted to pick.”

Lucky
? Gideon let that one lie. He shifted his body and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair a few times. “You don’t like Constance, do you, Laurie?” he asked suddenly.

Kilmartin looked up sharply. “Well,” he began carefully. “It’s not so much a matter of
liking
… I mean, one doesn’t go about saying, ‘I
like
Athena’…”

Gideon’s mouth twitched. “What
is
it a matter of?”

“I’m not sure… She’s certainly very beautiful, in an entirely conspicuous way. She has fine manners and connections… You would do very well with her as a wife. She rather intimidates me. But you know all of that. It’s just… well, and please don’t take offense, Gideon—”

“What is it?”

“I would prefer that she cared more for you.” Kilmartin looked a little anxious about the revelation.

Gideon nodded once, thoughtfully. “You don’t think she does?”

“Oh, after a fashion, of course. But mostly I think Lady Constance Clary cares for Lady Constance Clary.”

“Don’t you think it’s a luxury, Laurie? Ensuring that one is, as you say,
cared for
in a marriage.”

“Oh, see, now you’ve gone sarcastic. You should not have asked; I should not have answered. You may be right. No doubt you’ll be very happy with her.”

Gideon sighed. “Sorry, Laurie. Forget I asked at all.” He pulled on his cigar until the tip glowed red.

“Perhaps if she sees that Miss Lily Masters harbors a
tendre
for you… she will discover how much she truly does care for you,” Kilmartin offered.

Gideon’s heart bucked. “A
tendre
for me? Miss Masters?”

“It’s your plan, isn’t it, Gideon? Miss Lily Masters of Sussex will outshine Constance and pretend to adore you, thus securing your engagement to Constance, and et cetera.”

“Oh. Of course.” Gideon moved restlessly in the chair again, and so help him, he could feel his face going warm, and it wasn’t due to the fire. “So… have we a hostess in the ton? A ‘chaperone, ’ if you will, for Miss Masters?”

“Yes, Aunt Hester has agreed to put us up in her town house there. I’m lucky to have so many cousins; she wasn’t the least bit suspicious about the sudden appearance of a Miss Masters. The three of us can stay with her for the… well, duration. Which I assume means as long as it takes for you to get engaged or concede defeat. Or for Miss Masters to steal something important from a ball guest. I’m certain she won’t,” he added hurriedly. “She does rather clean up nicely. She’s a game little thing, isn’t she?”

The corner of Gideon’s mouth quirked wryly. “Our thief.” He returned his attention to the fire.