Chapter Five

A sleepless night of scheming and thinking had convinced Lily that she undoubtedly required help if she were to dance to Reid’s bidding. But lawks, why must that help arrive in the guise of her husband? The man she’d hoped never to see again now held her family’s future in his hands.

Don’t trust him. Lily stared at her reflection in the tea-shop window, all freckles and distorted form. Somewhere inside that shop, perhaps seated at one of the dainty tables along the north side, Adam waited. If he was going to help, she’d insist upon limitations to their association. For one thing, they would not engage in the sort of activities one did as man and wife. They might be married in name, but Lily would never again welcome him into her body or her heart.

She had time yet to change her mind. Walk away. Find a solution on her own.

But she wasn’t a scholar. If tested on her knowledge of jewels, she could dazzle an audience. Her knowledge of Egypt was riddled with gaps. And what if they asked after the essays she had purportedly published in scientific journals?

No, without help, she would falter and her family would be turned out. If she distrusted her husband, she trusted Reid only marginally more. He wasn’t the young man she’d once counted among her friends. If he’d changed so much, she wouldn’t put it past him to cast her family out onto the street and sell their holdings.

Willa’s marriage prospect had all but spat in her face. Sophie couldn’t be bothered to husband-hunt. The burden of their future resided squarely on Lily’s shoulders.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she opened the shop door and stepped inside.

The heady scents of cinnamon and sugar made her mouth water. Every table in the modest shop was occupied, everyone nursing a cup of tea and a scone or pasty. In the sweaty crush of bodies, Lily searched for the man she’d come to meet.

A young lady and her chaperone. Three young men recently out of university, by the fresh-faced look of them. An older couple. Nowhere did she see Adam. Had he not come? When she’d suggested they meet to discuss the particulars of his help and asked for his direction, he’d suggested they meet in this shop instead. Lily had readily agreed; the shop was near enough to her jeweler’s shop that she wouldn’t have to delay work too long in order to accommodate this conversation.

Adam must have changed his mind. About meeting her—and helping her. What was she to do now?

“Shall I buy you a pasty?”

He’d come. Given the way she trembled at the low timbre of his voice, she ought to decline. But if they were to work together, she had to act civil. Not to mention, a part of her wanted to squeeze him for every penny he had.

She turned, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to the sight of him. Today, he wore a chocolatey velvet jacket that molded to his athletic physique and emphasized his hazel eyes. Warm, earnest eyes that softened her belly.

“Please.”

He smiled as if handed a sunken treasure. “Wait here a moment. I’ll return directly.”

There he went, leaving her in his wake as he set off to accomplish his task. Lily clenched her hands over her waist and searched for an empty table. She might need him for the moment, for her family’s sake, but she couldn’t forget that he would disappear again. This time, hopefully without what little fortune she had to her name. She would accept his help, but she could never bring herself to be grateful to a man who had used and discarded her.

Deciding not to sit, Lily hardened herself. As much as memory called, she refused to fall prey to him again. In fact, this time she would be the one to use and discard him.

Maybe then, their slate would be wiped clean.

…

Adam juggled the hot pasties in one hand as he opened the door for Lily to precede him into the street. As a couple, they stirred no remarks as he led her along the cobblestones. Their conversation would meld into the babble and bustle, a hair more private than if they’d spoken in the cramped tea shop with so many people within earshot. Eager to touch her, he passed her the meat pasty he had ordered for her. She looked too thin, like she hadn’t seen a hearty meal in months. She accepted it without looking at him and strolled down the street.

He kept pace easily, studying her out of the corner of his eye. Was she tempted to renege on the acceptance of his help? He bit into his own hot meal, buying himself time to think.

He and Lily had always conversed so easily. He’d been absorbed in her, eager to learn her every facet. Every time he’d earned a laugh, he’d considered it a prize. However, ambling next to her, he felt as if a glass barrier separated them—invisible, but tangible nonetheless.

The woman walking by his side was far harder than the one he’d left in their hotel room in Bristol. She strode with a curt economy of her steps, as if reluctant to waste even those on him. First, she nibbled at her food, but appetite must have overtaken her because she polished off the last bite and drew a handkerchief from her bodice before they turned the corner. When she wiped daintily at her lips, Adam couldn’t help but recall their taste and shape.

And wonder if any other men had sipped from them. Had Chatterley?

Hell and damnation, but Adam shouldn’t even be here. If that blackguard hadn’t threatened Lily, twisted her into doing his bidding like a marionette, Adam would have kept his distance until he’d finalized their escape plan. Reid Chatterley had made the consequences of returning to Lily abundantly clear. Adam hadn’t worked so hard to keep her out of Chatterley’s crosshairs only to throw all his efforts to the wind now.

“My offer to help is genuine. Whatever he intends for you to do, we’ll square it away. You and your family will be safe.”

Safe from Chatterley. How could she call that cretin a friend? From the moment he and Lily had met, Chatterley had hovered over them, offering his opinion where it was not wanted. Had Lily known the truth of her friend, she wouldn’t trust herself to be on the same continent with him, let alone in the same room.

The truth burned the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. She wouldn’t believe him even if he attempted to explain. After all was said and done, he had left her to her own devices in Bristol, trusting that her family would take care of her. With actions like those to speak for his character, telling her the truth might only propel her to Chatterley’s doorstep to seek confirmation. And Chatterley had made it abundantly clear that he would have Adam tried for desertion and also have Lily charged with harboring a fugitive, if Adam turned her good opinion of her former friend.

No, better she hate Adam and remain free.

Thrusting the handkerchief back into the crevice between her breasts, Lily stopped abruptly on the street corner. The tall building to the southeast cast its shadows over them like an accusatory finger.

Two young girls barely out of the schoolroom stumbled over their hems and muttered obscenities. Their chaperone, a matronly woman with a stern eye, grabbed them each by the shoulder and steered them away, boxing their ears as she went. Turned toward him, Lily didn’t appear to notice them.

Her eyes narrowed, their full intent and focus upon him. Every muscle in his body coiled in anticipation as she flexed her hand. The soft squelch of the pasty in his hand reminded him not to lose focus. She raked him with her gaze, not her touch—that, he’d lost forever.

Gingerly, he slipped the mangled meat pasty into his other hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he dug in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the dribbling juices. Finding none, he surreptitiously edged his fingers down to wipe his palm on his breeches.

She thrust her handkerchief into the air between them, a white, fluttering flag. When he reached for it, she pulled it back, her expression wary. “If we’re to work together, I have rules. I know you’ve never been a man to mind the rules, but…”

“I accept.”

Her green eyes glinted like jade daggers. “You’re only capitulating so I’ll give you the handkerchief.”

“I couldn’t give a”—he cleared his throat—“a farthing for the handkerchief. If it’s rules you want, you’ll have them.”

“You haven’t heard them yet.”

I don’t need to. He would abide by any laws she laid, so long as she continued to speak with him. No matter the cost to his pride, he must ensure her safety.

Once again uncharacteristically tongue-tied, he pulled his gaze away from the disdainful curve of her mouth and cleared his tight throat. “What are your rules?”

“For one, either eat that pasty or rid yourself of it before you wear it.” With that brisk proclamation, she turned, gauged a gap in the traffic of carriages, and strode between them without hesitation. Her hips swayed with a confidence not only in herself, but in his reaction to her. That swagger proclaimed, you will follow.

Lily had never met the definition for meekness in private, but in public she had held herself to a different standard. Always polite and proper, often forgettable to all, save Adam, who had seen beneath her mousy demeanor. A paragon of the Bancroft family, his Lily.

Now… Zeus, he didn’t know this woman. He’d missed four years with her, and in that time, Lily had metamorphosed into someone else. She didn’t need him. What had he been clinging to these past four years?

Love. Stability. The optimism of her smile. A life free of carnage and violence. A future.

For an indefinable moment, he was on the deck of the Nemesis again, blood leaking through his fingers as the beloved brother he’d just found was lost.

Reaching the far side of the street, Lily turned to look over her shoulder at where he still stood, numb. He saw her in front of him, but the image he had clung to for the past several years shattered like a bullet through glass.

Drawing in a ragged breath, he glanced to his left. A beggar, huddled in rags with a dirty stump of a leg, rattled a wooden cup at him. He passed the man the remnants of his pasty, the base wrapped in Lily’s handkerchief, along with a penny from his pocket. The hollow words of thanks sank into him unnoticed.

Wiping his hands clean on his breeches, he crossed the street to rejoin with Lily. She tapped her toe, the picture of irritation.

“Did you change your mind?” The question dripped with sarcasm.

“Not yet.” The quip lacked its usual bite. For the first time since he’d returned to London, he looked at her—truly looked at her, absorbing all the miniscule changes the years had wrought in her. He’d had a common ground to build from the Lily of old. Although he’d spent years studying people, learning the telltale changes in expression and posture so that he could manipulate them to his end, he didn’t want to begin anew with Lily using that sort of deception.

Would she want to begin anew with him?

“Why did you insist on meeting in public? Your lodgings or my shop would have been more private.”

He couldn’t be seen at the latter—and he feared for her safety if she joined him in the squalid room he’d let for the month.

“Hiding under the public eye grants more privacy than you think. People care more for their business than for yours.”

She glowered at him.

Adam adjusted the cravat around his suddenly tight throat and ushered her into motion. He leaned closer to murmur above the city bustle. “As long as you do nothing to draw attention to yourself, no one will pay us any mind. And yes, that means you cannot smack the expression from my face.” He raised a sardonic eyebrow.

Her scowl deepened. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of glancing at him. “We are married.” She whispered those three words like an epithet.

Tingles swept through him at the reminder. Time had estranged them, but it couldn’t banish the golden memory of the connection they’d had. His love for her had been the one thing in his life he’d taken a true risk to hold. “Yes, we are, darling.”

He lingered on their shared surname, watching her cheeks deepen with scarlet color. She looked as beautiful as she had four years ago—perhaps more. Years and responsibility had carved dignity into her face. Less innocent, more worldly.

Every bit as distracting.

When she gripped his elbow and shoved him toward the mouth of an alley, he stumbled. “What are you—”

“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” she snapped in reply.

His heel squelched in something he’d best not dwell upon. Even as well swept a street as St. James didn’t eliminate all the waste the city produced. “This is far from the atmosphere I’d hoped to find when discussing your predicament.”

Her eyes blazed. “Adjust.” She snatched her hand from his sleeve and flexed it before dropping it to her side. Did he still have an effect on her?

The notion went a long way toward soothing the shock of finding her unfamiliar. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He had spent too many lonely nights imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her again. The thought of seeing her had carried him through these past four years. Their reunion was…not as he had pictured.

“If everyone knows you’re in Town, don’t you think we ought to share the same house? People will talk if they learn we live in different residences.”

Not at all what he had pictured.

He smiled, warmth curling his toes. “Are you inviting me into your bed?”

Her expression turned cantankerous. “The first rule of our association will be that I am not doing my marital duty with the man who stole from me. Ever. I hope my dowry keeps you warm at night, because I never will.”

Never was a very, very long time. Especially considering the way her pupils dilated and she wet her lips when she looked at him. The suggestion had taken root, even if she fought it. Adam burned. The challenge called to him, but he contained his baser desires.

He would not, could not take her to bed if not permitted to keep her.

His voice rough, he asked, “What else?”

She crossed her arms. “I will not agree to any other aspect of our association until you agree to that rule.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I will demand nothing of you that you don’t wish to give.”

She scoffed.

He balled his fists, suddenly cold. “You sound as though you don’t believe me. When have I ever pressed you to perform in a way you opposed?”

Her mouth softened, but she didn’t meet his gaze. His stomach petrified, the knot sinking his mood further as he relived every happy memory he’d had with her. Had it all been one-sided?

“You haven’t.” Her confession was so low, it was almost drowned out by the sound of the mold growing on the walls. Meeting his eyes, she added with more conviction, “At least, not to me. You made a career of parting others from things they preferred to keep. Your silver tongue can be most persuasive.”

“Money,” he choked out. “And that, from men who had too much of it and were too greedy to spend it for anything but their own benefit.”

She shrugged. “Justify it as you will.”

The words she didn’t say cut him deeper than the ones she did. If he had not targeted Chatterley’s father in his last scheme, the pair of them would not be standing in a damp alley on a dreary Tuesday.

Because she would be unlikely to accept any apologies from him—and he would be unlikely to mean them—he reiterated, “I will not press you to warm my bed. Though I’m surprised you think yourself prey for my silver tongue. You used to be immune.”

She tightened her hold on her arms, making the line of her bodice dance. He forced his gaze away from the swell of her chest and the treasures beneath that cloth. Her freckles extended farther down…

“I am immune.” She dropped her hands to her sides, fisting them. “But my sisters are not, and you must vow not to make advances toward them, either.”

He’d been told, during his brief seafaring career, that when he lost his temper he gained a look that made grown men soil themselves. He’d never thought to turn that look on his wife, but in this she had gone too far. She paled considerably, taking a small step toward the open street.

“I have not been and am not unfaithful to my wife. I never will be.”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. The vow had slipped out without him meaning to take it. Would he remain faithful to her if she ended their association?

Don’t think on it. These past four years, he hadn’t thought further than returning to London to make amends to her.

As her expression sharpened to one of curiosity, she raked him with her gaze, assessing. That brazen curiosity had aroused him more than once. He stared at the gray sky as he willed himself to regain control before he embarrassed himself.

She didn’t ask the question in those eyes, didn’t confirm that he had taken no women to bed. He didn’t ask her the same question— The answer might ravage him more than wondering. Although he had left her with every intention to return as soon as he’d wriggled out from under Chatterley’s thumb, to her he had abandoned her. She might have chosen to warm her bed with someone else.

The unwanted images of her with another man near killed him.

His voice cold and emotionless, he said, “I will thank you not to accuse me of infidelity again. I presume you have other rules?”

She swallowed audibly. “If you steal from us, I will call the Bow Street Runners down on your head.”

That she hadn’t the first time was a minor miracle. When he’d returned to London, he’d expected to find himself a wanted man and had taken precautions. However, for all these people to assume they were happily married, she must not have spoken a word of the scandal, outside of her family.

“I won’t steal from you.” This time, he hoped to keep the promise. “I presume, since you mentioned your sisters, that you’ll have me move into your house?”

She nodded, curt. “Only so long as we have business together.”

If he thought he slept in a volatile quarter of London now, he had no doubt the reality teetered on the precipice of becoming far worse. And not only because of her sisters. With Lily so close and still out of his reach…

“Do you have any other rules?”

She shook her head. “I think that will do. Once I have the artifact for Reid, your sins will be expunged. Until then, give me your assurance that you will treat this as a matter of paramount importance. Tell me you aren’t working a scheme on Lord Breeding or someone else at the dinner party. I need your full attention.”

As much as he would like to teach a lesson to a lecherous swine like Lord Breeding, he was no longer the confidence man he’d been when he and Lily had met. For the peaceful future they’d envisioned, he’d been willing to relinquish that life. Lily had soothed the anger in him, satisfied the desire to enact revenge against men who used the servants who worked for them as though they were expendable. For the past four years, he’d dreamed of nothing but the retirement he wanted to live with Lily.

“You have my word I’ll help you in this. My sole and undivided attention will be on resolving this matter.”

She studied him for a moment, her eyes glimmering with untold emotion as she held her lower lip between her teeth. “And when it’s finished?”

He matched her breathless voice with as low a whisper. “If you desire it, you need never see me again.” He had always intended to walk away after making amends. After all, a woman as intelligent as Lily would be smart enough not to give him a second chance, even if he could somehow hide the two of them from Chatterley.

“That’s it, then.” Nodding, she held out her hand as if to shake his. “I suppose we’ll have to work together one last time.”

The chasm between them was never more evident than in the stiff bearing of her shoulders and the unwavering look in her eye. This stranger in his wife’s skin was more than capable of dealing with any men on equal footing, even him.

In a foolish, impulsive urge to remind her that theirs had been a matter of the heart, not of business, he raised her hand to her lips and kissed it. “We’re in business, darling. Now, let’s prepare you for the mummy unveiling.”