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“Who are you?” Gideon demanded. “What is your name?”

Her arms remained crossed; her mouth remained closed; her gaze remained sullen.

“If you do not tell me your name
now
, I will call you other names that, I assure you, will not please you in the least.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” the girl hissed.

“Because, Miss Whoever-You-Are, I will make sure you spend the rest of your wretched life in Newgate if you do not. You’ve cost me thirty pounds.”

The girl studied him, the pulse in her throat beating visibly. After a moment, her expression shifted a little; she’d decided, it seemed, to take his threat seriously. “Lily.” The word was etched in resentment.

Gideon and Kilmartin were quiet. Gideon wondered if Laurie was thinking the same thing: Oddly, “Lily” suited her, ragged and begrimed though she was.

“And do you have a surname, Lily? Or do you even know who your father was?”

She scowled at him. “Do you know who
your
father was, Mr. —?”

“Cole. And of course I know who my father was.”

“I asked,” Lily drawled, leaning forward earnestly, “because I’ve never known a
whoreson
to know the name of his father.”

Gideon heard Kilmartin’s sharp intake of breath even as he felt his own face growing warm. Lily leaned back again, seemingly pleased with the impact of her insult.

“Miss—?” Gideon’s voice was gentle.

“Masters,” she revealed sullenly.

“Miss Masters, you underestimate the gravity of your predicament. You do understand what I just said, am I correct? You understand words like ‘underestimate’ and ‘gravity’ and ‘predicament’?” He didn’t trouble to disguise his sarcasm.

Lily glowered at him.

“Because the typical pickpocket would not, you see.”

“
I
,” Lily emphasized, “am not typical.”

“Hear, hear,” Kilmartin murmured. Gideon turned to glare at his friend before returning his attention to Lily.

“You are a terrible thief, Miss Masters.”

“I am an
excellent
thief, Mr. Cole.”

“You were caught at least
twice
in two days. Not an impressive record.”

“Mr. Cole, were you ever a soldier?” She sounded impatient.

Gideon was surprised by the question, and, quite frankly, curious enough about it to answer it simply. “Yes.”

“If you missed your target twice out of a hundred or so times you fired your musket, would you consider yourself a ‘terrible’ shot?”

Kilmartin gave a quick appreciative laugh. Gideon threw him a repressive look.

“So…” Gideon’s tone was silky. “You admit you’ve stolen at least a hundred times, Miss Masters?”

This quieted Lily.

“I am a barrister, Miss Masters. Do you know what that means?”

“You torment the poor?”

“I send lawbreakers to prison.”

Another silence from the pickpocket.

“Where do you live Miss Masters? Why do you pick pockets?”

“I live in St. Giles, Mr. Cole, and that should be answer enough for you.”

“But you could find other work, Miss Masters. As a scullery maid, perhaps.”

There was a pause; her eyes flicked away from his. “I’ve my reasons, Mr. Cole.”

Gideon studied her. “You’re well-spoken… for a
thief
, that is,” he allowed. “How did that come to be?”

Her head snapped back toward him. “How is any of this your business, Mr. Cole?”

“Thirty pounds makes everything about you my business, Miss Masters. Was your mother someone’s mistress, perhaps?”

“My mother,” Lily said through a jaw that all but clenched, “was a
lady.”

“A
lady
, was she?” Gideon’s voice was saturated with skepticism. “No doubt, then, she would find you a disappointment at the moment.”

Her expression shifted subtly, darkening. “No doubt,” she repeated softly.

The room fell silent. Gideon stared at Lily thoughtfully, his fingers drumming his thighs. And then a rogue inspiration swam into his mind. He indulged it.

“
Parlez-vous français
?” he barked. Kilmartin jumped.

“
Je parle français un petit peu.”
Lily looked startled by her own response.

French delivered in Lily’s rough velvet voice was simply devastating. Gideon and Kilmartin fixed her with dumbstruck stares.

She was well-spoken, she knew a little French… what other ladylike accomplishments lurked beneath her feral facade? Gideon was reluctantly, increasingly fascinated. He studied her for a moment longer. And then…

“Kilmartin…” Gideon could hear the portent in his own voice. “I’ve an idea.”

Kilmartin looked worried. “Gideon, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have ideas.”

“No, just wait. Hear me out. Miss Masters, can you read?”

“Of course.” The girl’s chin was up again. The
pride
in her. As if there had never been any question of a pickpocket being able to read.

“Do you dance?”

A snort from the pickpocket.

“I’ll take that as a no. How old are you? Do you know?”

She looked away from him.

“You may as well tell me, Miss Masters.”

“I am twenty years old,” she divulged begrudgingly.

Gideon eyed Lily Masters speculatively. Those singularly lovely eyes, that vulnerable pink heart of a mouth… As unlikely as it seemed, Lily Masters could very well be quite presentable beneath the rags and grime. Her hair was pinned up indifferently, but she seemed to have a good deal of it, and it was difficult to see what kind of figure she had beneath that ragged dress, but she was definitely slim. And then there was that voice.
Dear God
. The contrast between her ethereal appearance and her courtesan’s voice was mesmerizing. The
ton
, he was sure, had never seen anything quite like her. She had been taught to speak like a lady; she even spoke a little French. She had wit and pride—

No. It was madness. It would never work. She was a thief who preyed upon unwary men—by her own admission. It would be like setting the fox among the hens.

And yet it
could
work. It
might
work. Gideon had very little to lose at this point, and much to gain. And it might, in a way, help him recoup his thirty pounds. He felt something welling up in him, something that had been dormant for a very long time.

A taste for risk.

He supposed it lived in him like one of those fevers soldiers often acquired in the South Seas, the kind that went dormant only to reemerge in desperate times.

Apparently he was still his father’s son after all.

“Kilmartin,” he began innocently, “do you recall saying that Constance needed a rival? Someone exotic enough to throw her off her game and tip the balance in my favor?”

Kilmartin frowned, puzzled. And then understanding broke like a sunrise on his face.

And rapidly turned into alarm.

“No, Gideon. No, no, no. You’ve gone quite mad. It would never work.”

“But
look
at her, Kilmartin,” Gideon said excitedly. “
Listen
to her. It
might
work. With a little polish, we can pass her off as your country cousin—by the way, I already told Constance you had a country cousin you wished me to meet, just to make her painfully curious—and we’ll teach her to dance, to walk properly, and all that. We’ll take her to Uncle Edward’s house while Constance is away—”

Kilmartin was aghast. “She’ll steal the silver plate and copulate with the footmen.”

Gideon watched with interest as a deep color flared in Lily’s cheeks; she turned her head swiftly and her throat moved in a hard swallow.
So she understands “copulate,” does she
?

“My uncle’s footmen are long past being interested in copulation,” Gideon told Kilmartin. “And we shall keep her so occupied she won’t have time or strength to steal or think of anything else. It
could
be great fun, Laurie. And you
have
been complaining about how dull I’ve been. She need only know enough of the
ton
to pass through it socially for a month or so. We’ll watch her very carefully. And then, once Constance has capitulated and I am safely engaged, we can release her back into the wild.”

“You must truly be desperate, Gideon.” Kilmartin sounded woeful.

“I
am
desperate, Laurie. You know how important this is to me. I was so close, Laurie. It’s my—”

“I know: your Master Plan. So just to be very clear: you’re proposing to keep the pickpocket at your uncle’s house while Constance is away, reform her, unleash her upon the
ton
as my ‘cousin, ’ make Constance so jealous she’ll beg you to marry her, and then release Miss Lily Masters with a pat on the bum? Is that the new leg of your Master Plan?”

“In a nutshell.”

“No.” This came from Lily, who was breathing swiftly again.

“It’s this or Newgate,” Gideon said cheerfully. “Or there’s also transportation to Australia. So many lovely options.”

“No… I cannot… you cannot… you see, I’ve a sister…” The pride and impudence were gone, and Lily was all trembling panic. The transformation was remarkable.

Gideon went still.
I’ve a sister
. He knew about sisters. Twin pangs of guilt and regret always arrived with any thought of Helen.

Kilmartin sighed. “There are
two
of them?”

“How old is your sister, Lily?” Gideon softened his voice.

There was a pause. “Ten years, Mr. Cole.” She met his eyes, but the words were delivered reluctantly; she was clearly loath to divulge anything about her sister.
Protective
.

“We’ll fetch your sister. And then we’ll leave for my uncle’s house this afternoon.”

Lily’s eyes began to dart about the room, as though she was searching for some way, any way, out of Kilmartin’s lodgings.

“I wouldn’t try it, Miss Masters. You owe me thirty pounds.”

“ ‘Tis not as though I begged you to rescue me, Mr. Cole. I believe you have only yourself to blame for your loss.”

Gideon smiled. “And yet I
did
rescue you. And so you are in my debt. Or do thieves have any honor at all? I’ve always wondered.”

That did it; he’d sensed it would. Her chin went up and her slim back went rigid again. “I suspect
you
know little of honor, Mr. Cole.”

“I’m certainly willing to give you an opportunity to find out how much I
do
know of honor, Miss Masters.”

Kilmartin was shaking his head. “You are mad, Gideon. Mad.”

“But you
will
help, Laurie?”

“Of course,” Kilmartin said cheerfully. “It might very well be grand fun.”

Chapter Three

“
Oi, L
ily, fine choice for yer first one, lovey,” Fanny called down from her open window. “
Cooey
, jus’
look
at that cove. Where
did
you find ‘im?”

A quick hackney coach ride under the unrelenting watch of the towering Gideon Cole, who had a loose but determined grip on her arm, and Lily was once again in front of Mrs. Smythe’s boarding house. Fanny was leaning out of her upstairs window, and her bosom was leaning out of her bodice.

“‘E’s a special case, Fanny,” Lily shouted up. “’E’s ‘avin’ trouble gettin‘ ’is
staff to
rise. It jus’ sort of lays there, like. Very sad. ‘Is name is Gideon Cole, by the way.” Lily raised her voice to make sure as many people as possible heard her. “
Gideon Cole.”

Heads everywhere up and down the street turned to get a look at Gideon. Even the prostrate drunks managed to lift their heads.

Gideon shot Lily an unreadable look. She was very pleased with herself.

“Oooo, ye poor lad,” Fanny cooed down at Gideon sympathetically. “Come up to me, luv, I
know
I can get yer pole to rise. I’ll ride ye proper. Unless ye prefer the boys?” she suggested helpfully. “We’ve a lovely selection of boys in St. Giles.”

Lily didn’t trouble to disguise her smile.

“‘Staff’?” Gideon murmured with equanimity to Lily. “‘Pole’?”

Bloody gentry cove and his bloody poise, amused by everything, thinks he owns the world
, Lily quietly seethed. And then she could practically hear her mother’s voice in her head:
Don’t say “bloody,” Lily
.

“Lovely accent, by the way, Miss Masters. You’re certainly versatile,” Gideon added.

Lily ignored him.

When she pushed open the boarding house door, the dank smell of the hallway rushed out to meet them like a huge eager beast. Lily was uncomfortably conscious of the contrast between her home and Kilmartin’s plush lodgings. For a brief moment, she fervently wished that she really did have fleas, just so that a few could have made themselves at home in Kilmartin’s furniture. “Freakishly lovely,” was she? It made her want to growl.

Suddenly a low rumbling started up beneath their feet, and then the tired slats of the boarding house floor began rhythmically jumping.
Thud, thud, thud, thud
.

It heralded the approach of the formidable Mrs. Smythe.

Her voice reached them before she came into view. “I’ll ‘ave no shoutin’ in me halls, Lily Mas—”

Mrs. Smythe saw Gideon Cole.

She froze as though she’d run smack into the flat of a shovel. And then the lower half of her face twitched, and convulsed, and then suddenly, improbably…

Mrs. Smythe was smiling.

It was horrible.

“And ‘oo ’is
this
, Lily?”

Dear God, Mrs. Smythe was not only smiling, she was
flirting
.

Gideon bowed to the matron, who uttered a strange helpless little syllable that sounded almost like a coo.

“Alice!” Lily called desperately. “Alice, where are you?” She attempted to free her arm; Gideon refused to relinquish it. At last her sister came running up the hall, her braid flying out behind her. She halted abruptly behind Mrs. Smythe and peered around her at Lily. Alice’s eyes, confused and frightened, traveled the long length of Gideon, and then skipped to Lily’s face.

“Lily?” her voice quavered.

“We’re going on a journey, love,” Lily said gently, wishing Gideon would let her speak to Alice privately. “This is Mr. Cole. We’ll be traveling with him. I will be… in his employ for a while.”