Chapter Fourteen

In the bookstore, Adam leaned closer, his breath stirring the hairs at Lily’s nape. Gooseflesh chased down her spine. She fought a shiver. His warm body bracketed hers, trapping her against the bookshelf in front of her. It was a thrilling sort of entrapment, the kind she had loved that short week they’d been married in the conventional sense.

“There she is.”

Reminded of the moment, Lily glanced to her left, following the jerk of his chin toward a small woman she’d never met. Lily often considered herself plain with her freckles and brown hair, but this woman seemed to pale in comparison. Her skin was free of blemishes, complemented by hair that was neither blond nor brown, a chin too short to be dainty and a nose too long, and a wide, stubborn mouth turned down at the corners as she juggled an armful of books. The young woman personified the bookish scholar—with her flyaway hair, haphazardly perched spectacles, and smutch of ink along one cheekbone—far better than Lily ever could.

The notion that she could exert influence over a peer of the realm was baffling. “Are you certain?”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “While you were drowning yourself in Egyptian texts, I was searching for information about Lord Granby. He is happily married, I’ll have you know. His wife seeks out no lovers, either. They have but one daughter, and there she is, standing in front of you.”

Lily frowned. An intimacy with jewels and a youth spent on the fringes of polite society had granted her an uncanny ability to discern wealth at a distance. This woman bore none of the marks, save for the impressive pile of books in her arms and her spectacles. Her dress was a plain steel blue, a bit too short and displaying her shift and serviceable boots. She wore no jewelry and didn’t have the bearing of the haughty lady. In fact, she had the bearing of a timid rabbit.

Frankly, Lily wished she didn’t have to mislead the poor girl. “Are you certain we ought to do this?”

Adam leaned against the bookshelf in front of her, the picture of self-assurance. The way he held himself drew her attention like a magnet. His shoulders filled out his jacket to distraction. She fought the urge to lick her lips, altogether too aware of the muscle he kept hidden beneath that cloth. Since the afternoon in the study when her barriers and ill will had crumbled, he’d made a habit of standing near her. Yes, he was her husband. And yes, she craved him, desperately. Yet, she’d managed to keep from inviting him past their adjoining door.

He’d made no overtures, either.

“Are you still set on stealing the artifact?”

Lily nodded without hesitation. Despite the nightmares keeping her from sleep, she’d reconciled herself to the risks. Her only hope of saving her family was to follow through with the promise she’d made.

“Then yes, we must do this. I promise you, we will receive an invitation within the week. Shall we?”

Lily nodded. As she pursued Lord Granby’s daughter toward the front desk, Adam laid his palm on the small of her back. His warm hand branded her in ways she dared not speak aloud. His touch spurred her forward.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Cabot. I’m certain I had more than this…” Worry pinching her expression, the young woman upended her reticule over the pile of books she no longer had the pin money to purchase.

Lily and Adam had arranged for that deficit through the use of a swift-fingered street boy. Watching the dismay on the bluestocking’s face, Lily fought to keep from wincing. Adam trailed his hand up her spine to splay it between her shoulder blades. A reminder.

We must begin by leaving her ingratiated.

Adam was the expert, even if she didn’t agree with his methods.

The burly shopkeeper waved a hand. “Oh, think nothing of it, Miss Granby. You frequent the shop every week and your esteemed father is another of my good patrons.”

No. Their careful scheme couldn’t be for nothing! Swiftly, Lily stepped in and donned her role, leaving Adam a step behind her. She glanced at the stack of books, recognizing one of the names. “Oh, is that the newest by Godwin? I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. Have you heard how it compares to his older works?”

Ask a simple question. When she answers, she will feel superior and relax around you.

Miss Granby pursed her lips and tilted her head so her hair hung across one cheek. “I haven’t had the opportunity to read it, either. I very much enjoyed Things as They Are and his biography of his late wife.”

“Oh, did you? I’ve only read St. Leon. Would you say Things as They Are is as well written?” Lily had read neither of the books herself, but she was certain she’d seen them in her sister’s hand a time or two. She had to capture the young woman’s interest somehow; elsewise Miss Granby could walk out of the bookshop without a second glance.

The young woman’s eyes lit up behind her spectacles. “Oh, I think it’s far better. It’s true that his ability from writing Things lent him a greater arsenal of tools to use when writing St. Leon, and I do love Marguerite’s spirit. However, a book so labored in the trappings of gambling and wealth doesn’t hold near as much interest for me as the dangers of power as described in Things as They Are.” She sighed, trailing her finger along the spine of the Godwin book. “I doubt he’ll be able to outdo that book in my eyes, but I’ll be making time to read this one as soon as may be.”

“Is that your only copy?” Lily asked the bookseller.

The lines around the man’s eyes deepened in sympathy. “If you didn’t find it on the shelf, I’m afraid it must be.”

Lily pouted, trying to imagine how Sophie would feel if denied a book she wanted. Though Sophie, unlike Miss Granby, would be reading it thanks to the circulating library, rather than owning the book herself. She had been devastated, though she hadn’t protested, when Lily had sold the books in the house in good condition.

Thrusting a calling card into the young woman’s hand, she said, “When you’re through with it, I hope you’ll write to me and tell me how it is. Without giving away the ending, of course.”

Miss Granby took the card and slipped it into her reticule. “Of course.”

When Adam laid his hand on the small of her back, Lily’s breath hitched. Without turning around, she knew precisely where he stood behind her, his heat enveloping her left side. “Did you find the book you were looking for, darling?”

This was a part of the plan. However, when they’d rehearsed it, it hadn’t felt so intimate.

She forced a quavering smile as she craned her neck to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid Mr. Cabot here has sold out of copies. Or he will have— I believe Miss…” She let the address hang in the air between them.

“Matilda Granby.”

“Miss Granby is about to purchase the only copy.” Lily frowned. “Or did I hear you were short on money?”

The young woman bristled, for the first time showing some flecks of her aristocratic heritage. “My family has enough to cover the cost, of course. I’m the daughter of Lord Granby.”

“Let’s not put him through the trouble, shall we? Any woman with such good taste in literature should be free to indulge it without asking her father. Allow me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shillings needed to purchase the books. “I trust this is enough?” he asked the bookseller.

The man counted out the shillings and nodded. “Just enough, sir.”

Lily had to wonder if the shopkeeper was lying. She hadn’t heard the tally before she’d approached.

Adam didn’t look concerned. “There you are, then.”

Miss Granby gaped. “No, I cannot let you…”

He waved his hand. “It’s already done. It was so lovely to meet you, Miss Granby.” He bowed over her hand, raising it to his lips. A blush teased at her cheekbones.

Miss Granby was every bit as susceptible to Adam’s charms as everyone else. Lily buried an unruly surge of jealousy.

“Mr. Darling, at your service. This is my wife, Lily.”

Lily inclined her head. “So good to meet you.” She leaned forward, dusting her hands over the young woman’s sleeve and lowering her voice. “You will write to me telling me of the book, won’t you?”

Baffled, the bluestocking looked from Lily to Adam and back again. She stumbled over her tongue. “Oh, of course. I’ll read it straightaway and…”

“Take your time. Savor it. Someone ought to.”

Adam threaded his fingers through hers, the gesture intimate and possessive. When he raised her hand to his lips, his eyes flared with heat. He lingered over her knuckles, teasing her sensitive skin with his lips. “If you haven’t a book to steal away your time, the more for me. I’ll fetch this one for you before I next go out on business, I promise.”

Despite the quivering in her belly, she managed a breathless answer. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You can hold me to anything you’d like.”

His low, intimate tone made it impossible for her to look away. She licked her lips, unwilling to speak and shatter the moment.

Miss Granby cleared her throat. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Darling, but I’m afraid I’m expected at home. Good day.” As the young woman turned away, her color was nearly as vivid as the covers of her books.

Lily couldn’t blame her. She felt rather scalded, herself. As Adam ushered her from the shop, businesslike, she rubbed the back of her hand where his lips had touched her. The passion he’d inspired had been buried.

But what if she wanted it—wanted him—again?

…

After Lily had awoken alone in that hotel room in Bristol, stripped of every happiness she’d planned for herself, she had shored up the chasm in her chest by devoting herself to her work with Papa. Far too soon after, the work had become necessity when he had no longer been there to do it. Four years later, she used the excuse of work to conceal the flurry of emotions she didn’t want to feel about Adam. This time, it took the form of long conversations with her sister about Godwin, conversations she memorized and parroted back to Adam in the evenings.

Less than a week later, she received the letter she had been waiting for every morning. Have you found a copy of Fleetwood for yourself? If not, I would be delighted to lend you mine. I owe you a book after how you came to my rescue.

Not an invitation, but in Lily’s mind, it was as good as one.

Her pulse fluttering in her throat, Lily rapped on the door to a towering townhouse. It was located in Mayfair, a short walk from Hyde Park, on an avenue that made her feel as if she didn’t belong.

Even when the world had seemed to be spread out at her feet, a privilege she hadn’t realized could be removed with the revolution of the earth, the residents of Mayfair had turned up their noses at her. If they knew she worked for a living, they would slam their doors in her face.

If they knew she had come to steal, they would drag her to Bow Street in the boots of their carriages.

Gritting her teeth, Lily forced a demure smile as the door opened to reveal a sharp-eyed, middle-aged man. “I’m here to see Miss Granby, if she’s in. I’m Mrs. Darling, a friend.”

Lily clung to the name, the persona that felt easier to don with every repetition.

“Wait here, please,” the manservant requested as he stepped aside.

Lily entered the foyer, nodding and pulling off her gloves one finger at a time as he retreated into the bowels of the house. The dark walls, portraits of long-dead ancestors glaring down at her, seemed to close in around her. She breathed in short, quick breaths and reassured herself that her persona was intact.

She was Lily Darling, scholar of Egyptian antiquities and an admirer of William Godwin’s novels. She had practiced for this.

By the time the footman returned, she had composed herself. He took her shawl and led her through the house toward a room overburdened with potted plants. Nestled between the foliage were small, delicate works of art. Hand-sized portraits of various angles of the house, presumably the garden out back, and figures including Miss Granby, young and more mature.

Lily sat on the plain sofa, spreading her skirts. She accepted a steaming cup of tea and a plate of seedcake from a maidservant without looking at her, too enthralled with the jungle surrounding her. When she roused herself to attend the vittles, she found her tea tepid. How long should she wait?

Fortunately, not much longer. When Miss Granby sailed into the room, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright behind her spectacles. She was half dressed, her dressing gown pulled on over a placket-front dress and her hair loose around her shoulders. Lily frowned at her.

“Forgive me. If I had known you would not be up at this hour…” She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the grandmother clock in the corner. It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon.

“It’s no fault of yours. I got caught up in my books and didn’t notice when I splashed ink on myself. Repeatedly. I had to wash. So sorry to keep you waiting, I hope you don’t mind my state of undress.”

“Not at all,” Lily lied. The woman’s youthful disarray made Lily think of her as one of her sisters. A dangerous notion. She had enough misgivings regarding this course of action without growing fond of the victim. She swallowed a mouthful of cold tea to wet her throat. “Your letter indicated that you finished Fleetwood?”

Miss Granby brightened as she dropped into the seat opposite. Without asking, she helped herself to the seedcake Lily had left unfinished. “Oh yes, I’ll have Geoffrey fetch the volume for you.” She raised her hand, and someone—presumably a footman waiting in the corridor—retreated.

“Smashing. After the way you sang the book’s praises in your note, I’m looking forward to reading it. It promises to be a book worth remembering.”

Miss Granby held her hand over her mouth as she swallowed. “Oh, yes. I was up all night finishing it. I couldn’t put it down.”

“What of your other purchases? Have they been neglected?”

“Actually, I’ve become rather fascinated with New Holland of late. In fact, I was just copying out some passages from Prodromus Entomology for a friend. It’s a fascinating look at the insects in New South Wales. Oh, how I wish to visit someday. I have both volumes of Novae Hollandiae Plantarum Specimen as well. Do you have any interest in the colony? It sounds terribly exciting to be so far from home. I’ll have Geoffrey fetch the volumes to show you some of the renderings.”

Lily wasn’t squeamish, but neither did she want to spend her afternoon discussing insects. However, for the next hour, she found herself doing precisely that, gritting her teeth and nodding at the tirade of words that constantly spilled from Miss Granby’s mouth. She’d moved to the settee next to Lily, the better to share the book between them. With her finger poised over the illustration of a particularly grotesque moth, the young woman turned a frightening shade of plum.

She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’ve been talking too much. I’m terribly sorry. I start on a tangent and I forget others in the room.” Chagrined, she shut the book and laid it reverently atop the stack sitting next to Lily’s teacup. Looking down, the young woman smoothed her skirts. “Please, Mrs. Darling, do tell me what you’re reading. I’d love to hear it.”

On any other day, Lily might have fumbled for an answer. For once, she was grateful for the copious amounts of research she had been doing. “I’m currently reading a book of Egyptian myths. Their pantheon is rather fantastical. Are you familiar with it?”

Miss Granby’s lips parted on an inhale, but the look in her eyes dulled. She tucked her hair behind her ear and straightened her books, the most close-lipped she’d been since Lily had arrived. “I see. Yes, I am familiar.”

Lily matched her frown. “Do you not care for mythology?”

“No, I do…”

“Then you object to the subject. Does Egypt bore you?”

The young woman plucked at her skirts as she subtly shuffled away. “No, it’s perfectly fascinating. It’s just…” When she looked up, pain pinched her mouth. “You’re the woman from Lord Ednam’s soirée, aren’t you? Papa extolled your virtues for days afterward. You identified the mummy as a forgery.”

Lily opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Your father has been talking about me?”

Glumly, the young woman said, “He has. He was impressed with your discovery, when Lord Ednam—who likes to think of himself as Mayfair’s expert on Egypt, despite Papa’s opinion to the contrary—had been duped by the seller. Lord Ednam, as I understand it, has been rather close-lipped about the ordeal as he calls in experts to check the veracity of your claim, but Papa thinks he’s simply too embarrassed to admit that you were correct.”

“I…see.” The silence lengthened between them, laden with an uncomfortable awareness. Lily felt as though a hundred eyes bored into her, eager for her persona to slip. Miss Granby, studying the tips of her house slippers as she kicked them along the rug, belonged to none of them. “I may not be. Correct, that is. I surmised based on the state of the jewelry I discovered. It’s possible the jewelry might have been stolen and replaced.”

Miss Granby said nothing at all, her mouth in a hard line.

Desperate to reawaken the woman’s animation, Lily grappled for another topic. “You have a lovely home, Miss Granby. These portraits are spectacular. Are you the artist?”

The young woman shook her head. “My mother.”

“She’s very talented. I don’t suppose there are more such portraits throughout the house? I’d love to see them?”

Miss Granby’s mouth pressed into the thinnest of lines. “I know why you’re here.”

Lily looked down at the Godwin book teetering off the edge of the table.

Miss Granby glowered. “You want to look at Papa’s artifacts. He has the most famed collection of Egyptian artifacts in London. I thought…” She pressed her lips together so tightly that a white ribbon formed around them.

Lily wanted to do more than that. What would Miss Granby think of her if she knew of Lily’s true goal? She bit the inside of her cheek hard to mask the twinge of emotion pricking her conscience.

When the young woman lifted her head, her hair framing her face and making her look younger, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re wasting your time, Mrs. Darling. You will be unable to see Papa’s collection today. He only brings it out during the exclusive dinner parties he hosts, as it gives him particular pride.” Her tongue curled around the phrase with disdain. With a look of pain, she nodded at the book between them. “Do you truly intend to read that?”

Lily snatched it off the table and held it to her chest. “I do.” The spine dug into her hand. For any other book, she wouldn’t have cared, but a foolish part of her didn’t want Miss Granby to think their interactions were a lie. No matter that it was the truth.

Not to mention, Sophie would delight in reading it. Perhaps she would even forgive Lily her secrets.

Miss Granby adjusted her spectacles higher on her nose. “You will? You aren’t only interested in antiquities?”

“Of course not. Are you only interested in British novels? We all have varied interests.”

Color infused the young woman’s cheeks. She looked away again. “You’re right. Of course you are. I feel like a heel.” She rubbed her hands over her eyes, beneath her spectacles. When she removed them, a glint had entered her eyes. “If you’re still interested in examining Papa’s collection, I can ensure you are invited to the next dinner party. He has one every month.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. After the way Miss Granby had railed at her, this felt too easily accomplished. Not to mention, Lily recognized that look in the bluestocking’s eyes. Adam had worn that look when they’d first met.

“What would you like from me in return?”

Miss Granby smiled. “It’s simple. If a scholarly woman like you can marry a man as handsome as your husband, then you should be able to do this for me without trouble. I’d like you to teach me how to flirt.”

Lily laughed, the sound ringing in the silence as the woman next to her stared intently. Her mirth shrank as she realized that Miss Granby was not jesting. “You want me to teach you how to flirt?”

“Yes. I want to know how to catch a man’s eye and you are precisely the woman to show me how to do it.”

To this day, Lily wasn’t certain what had drawn Adam to her. When at Society events, she had adopted a demure persona that most people overlooked. Not Adam. Somehow, he had seen through her mask to the person beneath.

He had always seen her, always appreciated her.

But if this was what Miss Granby wanted, Lily would give it to her without question. It shouldn’t be too difficult to teach. After all, Lily had a lifetime of watching her sisters snare the eyes of every man with a pulse.

“Very well. Would you like to start now or shall I return another day?”

“Now, please,” Miss Granby answered with a decisive nod. “I don’t think we have a moment to lose.”