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“Hmmm. I suppose she
might
be… for someone concerned with cost, that is.” Lily smiled beatifically at Constance.

Constance was forced to smile in return.

Gideon spoke up then, cheerily. “The country air seems to have suited you, Constance. You’re looking healthy.”

Lily almost laughed. She sincerely doubted it was the sort of compliment Lady Constance Clary would have liked to receive in the presence of the mysterious Miss Lily Masters from Sussex.

“Thank you, Gideon,” Constance said regally, her eyes flicking toward Lily as she said it.
See? I am allowed to call him by his first name
was the unspoken message.

Lily remained blandly unaffected. Or at least her expression did.

“Miss Masters has honored me with a few of her waltzes, but perhaps you’ll honor me with one as well, Constance,” Gideon ventured.

“Oh, Gideon, what a shame.” Constance’s tone was about an octave too sweet. “I’ve promised all my waltzes to Lord Jarvis.”

Lily’s brows dove into a gently puzzled frown. “Oh dear,
have
you promised all your waltzes to him? For I have promised Lord Jarvis a waltz as well, and— Oh! See, here he is to collect.”

And as Constance went scarlet, Lily smiled radiantly upon Lord Jarvis, who didn’t look the least bit guilty as he bowed to Constance and Gideon and Kilmartin. He led Lily proudly out to the dance floor, and she went without a backward glance.

Gideon stifled an errant impulse to pull her back by the elbow.

“As for
my
waltzes, they are all promised to Lady Anne Clapham,” Kilmartin said contentedly. He bowed and went in search of his partner, leaving Gideon alone with Constance, who was glowing a singular shade of pink and wearing an expression of patent disbelief.

Gideon would not have thought Jarvis so susceptible to novelty, but he’d seemed eager enough to run off to dance with Lily. Would Lily be all right? Would Jarvis be a gentleman, would Lily be afraid, would Lily be—

He stopped his thoughts, smiled softly. Lily had been… simply amazing. She was
always
simply amazing. And she could take care of herself, because she always had.

He turned to the beautiful bright pink woman standing next to him and felt a twinge of conscience; interesting how quickly Constance had resorted to lying—and clumsily at that—to salvage her wounded pride. Then again, Gideon couldn’t recall Constance needing to salvage
anything
before; perhaps she was new to it. He seized the opportunity to play the hero.

“I would be delighted if you would honor me with this waltz, Constance, as Lord Jarvis seems to have forgotten one of his commitments this evening.”

The feverish color faded from Constance’s cheeks; after a moment’s hesitation, she took his proffered arm with a gracious smile. And he smiled back at her. She truly
was
a spectacular creature. He
did
honor her. She would make a splendid wife.

He led Constance out onto the floor, and promptly craned his head to look for Lily.

Who knew that hell came equipped with an orchestra playing waltzes? It was not at
all
how Lily would have pictured it.

She’d made Lady Constance Clary’s perfect eyebrows rise, she reflected, as Jarvis manfully steered her about the dance floor; there was some satisfaction in that. She thought she might even have rattled the woman’s composure a little. But Lady Clary’s composure, Lily was certain, was built on bedrock: difficult to move off its foundations indeed.

Gideon was touching Constance now, Lily was sure of it, and the thought made her heart clench. His hand would be on the small of Constance’s back, as the music swept them along; perhaps he would laugh with her, wrap her in that slow inclusive smile. The two of them looked glorious together; they
both
could easily have been refugees from Olympus. Lady Constance Clary, Gideon’s future wife. If all went according to plan.

Lily
hated
Constance Clary.

Oh wait—Jarvis was talking. She’d better charm him, for that was her purpose here.

“And from where do you hail, Miss Masters?”

“I’m from Sussex, Lord Jarvis. Near Wilmington.”

“Charming place, Sussex. Have you been to Brighton?”

“My father takes us once a year. We enjoy the sea ever so much.”

“Wonderful! Do you generally enjoy the outdoors, then?” “Oh yes! In fact, riding is one of my favorite pastimes. I’ve a lovely horse named McBride I named him for my father’s old groom, for he has a long somber face, just like McBride did.” And despite herself, Lily felt the momentum of her story begin to buoy her; there really was nothing like a good story for distracting one from one’s troubles.

“ ‘Did’ ? What became of McBride the groom?” Jarvis looked intrigued.

“He married the local barmaid and sired nine children. Died of happiness a few years ago, or so Papa says.”

Lord Jarvis laughed, and Lily smiled up at him, pleased. “Miss Masters, where
have
you been hiding?”

“Oh, this is my first season, Lord Jarvis. Papa thought it was time we go to London instead of Brighton. ‘About time you let the lads get a look at you, m’dear,’ he said.”

Lord Jarvis laughed again; he seemed delighted with her.

It was working! She was charming him!

And yet her heart still felt so much like an anvil it was a wonder Lord Jarvis was able to spin her about at all.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Constance. And may I say, the green of your dress does magical things for your eyes?”

“Doesn’t it?” Constance agreed. “My modiste…” she trailed off. Clearly, she had slightly less confidence in her modiste than she’d had a moment before—she had Lily to thank for that. “My modiste assures me that she kept the fabric aside especially for me, as no other woman of the
ton
had the strength of presence to carry it off,” she finished bravely.

“And I know how that sort of things pleases you,” Gideon murmured.

“Perhaps I should investigate another modiste.”
Ah, now she is fishing
.

“Perhaps, Constance. Although I would hate for you to change even a hair. Your own modiste so clearly suits…
you
.”

Constance seemed uncertain whether to be pleased with this assessment; it wasn’t altogether an unqualified compliment. She changed the subject. “Have you known Miss Masters long, Gideon?” She gave the words a casual lilt.

“Oh, two weeks or so.” His answer was just as airy. “We were much thrown together in the country.”

“Were you?” Constance paused. “Perhaps I shall invite her to one of my dinners. I should like to know her better. She seems very…” She faltered a bit. “Agreeable. Yes, very agreeable.”

“Oh, she
is
. She is
very
...” Gideon paused, as though searching for just the right word. “… Yes, she is… agreeable.” He allowed his voice and his gaze to drift dreamily out over Constance’s head, implying that no words were truly adequate to describe Miss Masters, so “agreeable” would have to do.

“Well, one
so
wants people to be agreeable, of course,” Constance continued smoothly. “Especially when they are the relatives of our special friends. What is her family like?”

“Oh, her father is rich.”

“Rich?” The word was a feeble squeak.

“Very,
very
rich,” Gideon confirmed. “Very,
very
rich,” he embellished, for his own amusement. “He owns virtually everything near Wilmington. Houses, land, horses. Quite fortunate in his investments, you know.”

“But he hasn’t a title,” Constance guessed, a hint of triumph in her voice.

“Well… no.” Gideon frowned a little, as though puzzled why such a thing would matter in the least.

Constance abruptly changed tack. “Papa asked after you today, Gideon. He’s very fond of you.”

“Oh, please do send your father my regards. I am fond of him as well.”

“He said he’d be willing to introduce you to a few
very
important people at a dinner when he returns from the country. I do believe they’re now ready fill the new position in the Treasury.”

And at her words, the little band of tension that always tightened his chest whenever he danced with Constance loosened just a little, and Gideon allowed himself to savor this very small victory. He smiled upon her warmly. “Please tell your father, Constance, that I would not object in the least to meeting… a few
very
important people. Or discussing a position in the Treasury.”

Lily had just jounced about in a reel partnered by George Willett, and she was reasonably satisfied that she’d performed it with a convincing enthusiasm and conviction. George Willett seemed to think so, anyhow; he claimed to want to speak with her again sometime later in the evening, if that was quite all right with her. Poor sod had stammered out the words.

“I’d be delighted, Mr. Willett,” she’d told him gently, to ease his torment.

She was just fanning herself when she looked up to find Gideon standing before her, his dance card in hand.

“Miss Masters? I believe this is our waltz.”

She stared up at him. How well he looked in evening clothes, in stark black and starched white, a sober-colored waistcoat; the colors suited his fair skin and those dark, dark eyes. Still, she preferred him in an open-necked white shirt, sleeves rolled up, his head tilted back to catch the sun on his face. Butterflies rather than silk fans fluttering nearby. She knew, in his heart, he preferred it, too, and she felt a surge of irritation with him.

“That’s quite a breeze you’re creating with that fan, Lily. Best be careful, or all these muslin gowns will fly up.”

“And then perhaps this event will be
truly
enjoyable.” She said it more tartly man she’d intended.

Gideon laughed and extended his arm. Heads turned when he laughed, and eyes went to Lily curiously, and then the heads moved closer together to discuss her. It was the way Gideon wanted it to be, she knew; he wanted people to notice her. And so she swallowed her pride and impatience and rested her gloved hand on his arm, gliding out to the dance floor with him. Like a swan.

They eased into the slow circles of the waltz, and Lily’s perception narrowed to his hand on her back, to his hand closed over hers, to his eyes searching her eyes. A telling heat rose in her cheeks. She was grateful that it could be mistaken for the flush of exercise, and not, God forbid…
desire
.

“Thank you for the necklace,” Lily said softly at last, because it seemed he would never speak. He was only
looking
at her.

“I beg your pardon?” Her words seemed to startle him.

She raised her voice. “I said, thank you for the necklace.” Lily could feel her face growing warmer. Bloody fair skin of hers.
Don’t make me bellow it, Mr. Cole
.

“Oh,” Gideon said uncomfortably. A warm pink had settled into his cheeks as well. Was Gideon
blushing‘?
“Yes.”

An awkward silence settled over them.

“Well,” Lily asked brightly, finally, since the necklace was clearly an uncomfortable topic, “has Lady Clary succumbed to your charms? Are you engaged?”

Gideon lifted a brow. “That eager to marry me off, are you?” When she didn’t reply, he added, “I do believe she’s rather… taken note of you.”

“She really is spectacular,” Lily admitted. “Constance, that is.”

“You thought perhaps I’d been exaggerating?” He smiled down at her.

Don’t smile at me, you maddening man
, Lily thought.
It hurts when you smile at me
.

“I can’t say that I like her, however.” Lily was surprised when she realized she’d said it aloud.

“It isn’t necessary that you do,” Gideon said quietly.

Lily looked away from him; she saw Kilmartin sail by in the grip of a pleasant-looking brunette. Ah, Lady Anne Clapham, of course. If even half the world was anywhere near as content as Kilmartin looked at the moment, it would be an entirely different place.

“But the two of you look very well together. You and Constance.” Lily’s voice was a little weak.

“Thank you, Lily.”

“Well, you do. Look well together, that is.”

“No, I meant… thank you. Thank you for…” Gideon faltered; he cleared his throat. “Just thank you.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. He seemed momentarily transfixed.

He was remembering. She had to make it stop.

“Pleased I can help,” she said crisply.

Gideon started; she had successfully jarred him from a deeper foray into sentiment. He smiled a little again. “I overheard Jarvis extolling your charms. He repeated a story about a groom named McBride who’d sired nine children and died of happiness.”

Lily smiled despite herself. “I
am
clever that way.”

Gideon turned somber again. “I think our plan just may work.”

Our
plan? It certainly wasn’t any plan of
hers
. “You invested thirty pounds in me, Mr. Cole,” she told him softly. “It’s the least I could do.”

He laughed again, and heads turned again to see Gideon Cole enjoying himself so thoroughly with someone who wasn’t Lady Constance Clary.

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you know what they are calling her, Gideon?“ Kilmartin was beside himself with excitement. “
La Belle Lily
! She’s already been given a
nickname
! We have succeeded beyond our wildest dreams.“

“Quite.” It was the evening after Lily’s debut in the
ton
, and they were all attending yet another ball, this one presented by Lady Delloway, who had thoughtfully arranged all of her velvet-covered furniture into groups suited for intimate conversations. Lily was perched on the edge of a settee flirting with the Willett lad. Once dismissed as shy, George Willett seemed to bloom in Lily’s presence.

Gideon was suddenly very irritated with Lady Delloway’s clever seating arrangements.

“And—it gets even better, Gideon—there are bets in the books at White’s that wager you will transfer your affections from Constance to La Belle Lily and announce your engagement before the end of the season! And a few related bets wagering that any number of other females will cast themselves off bridges and out of windows at the announcement.”