Chapter Three

Lily had thought she would do anything to see her sisters happy and well-fed. But the longer Reid’s words circled her head, the more her resolve hardened. She would never steal. Her experience with Adam had taught her it was no solution. No matter the reason, it left behind a scar.

You haven’t always believed that…

The girl who had once helped Adam had been foolish, naive. She hadn’t pried beyond what she had wanted to see—the dashing, debonair man with the twinkle in his eye who cared for the veterans-turned-beggars of the London streets. She’d fancied him a Robin Hood when he’d been nothing more than a villain.

And she could not descend to his level, not even for her sisters.

Reid can collect on his debt at any time. He could send her family—or, perhaps more accurately, Mama—to debtors’ prison. At the very least, they would be left destitute, without even the meager earnings from the shop to support them.

“Find a way to pay him.” It sounded so simple when spoken aloud to the plain wood of her front door. Lily sighed and unlocked it, bracing herself for whatever new disaster awaited her.

At the very least, she must find a way to see her sisters settled and taken care of. Perhaps if they married…

She entered the house to an eerie silence. Although the hour had grown late, Lily’s sisters must be awake yet. At this hour, they often gathered in the parlor and played cards or worked on the mending. The hairs rising on the back of her neck, Lily hung her shawl and tiptoed to the room in question.

Sophie was curled in an armchair alone, a book unfolded on her lap and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose.

“Where are Mama and Willa?”

“Hmm?” Sophie blinked sluggishly as she raised her chin, slow to return from the world etched between the gossamer pages. A furrow creased her brow and she held her position in the book with one finger. “Mama is still abed from her headache. Willa is in her room, sulking.”

Lily’s stomach shriveled like a raisin. “The dinner party?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “What else? No matter how I try to explain it to her, she doesn’t understand. We haven’t the money nor the time to find Willa a suitable dress. Our acceptance would only lower our standing further.”

Although Sophie delivered the words matter-of-factly, the faint expression of yearning betrayed her feelings. Their past—when they had been, if not welcomed, then at least accepted into polite Society—haunted her, too.

Since the family’s decline following Papa’s death, they had avoided the judgmental gazes of High Society. If anyone knew the particulars of the family’s circumstances, the Bancroft sisters would become object of charity, not of admiration. Lily would find neither of her sisters husbands amid the ranks of those snakes.

However, if Willa had already met a suitor in Hyde Park…

“I won’t keep you from your book. Good night, Sophie.”

Her sister’s answer faded in her ears as she mounted the steps to the family quarters. When she reached Willa’s room, light spilled from beneath the crack in the door. She rapped on the wood, laying her ear against it to listen for whispers within.

“Willa?”

“Go away. I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Lily lifted the latch and entered.

As the darling youngest daughter of the house, Willa had the smallest of the bedchambers to herself. Perhaps not only because she was Mama’s favorite— Willa kicked in her sleep. The room was in disarray, with Willa’s dresses strewn haphazardly over every surface, ribbons spilling out of the drawer to her vanity, and her paints and sketchbook piled in one corner near the bed. Willa’s feet stuck off the end of the bed as she languished atop the quilt, her arm flung across her face to shield her eyes. The flickering candlelight drew red splotches beneath the shadow of her arm.

She’d been crying?

“Have you written an answer to Lady Breeding’s invitation?”

Willa turned her face away, her red hair spilling over the white pillowcase. “Why should I? I’ve been asking for an invitation for weeks. My friends will think I’m ungrateful.”

“I haven’t worn my wedding dress since I married.”

Willa lifted her head, her blue eyes red-rimmed as she studied Lily’s expression. She pressed her lips together, her expression a mix of hope and trepidation.

“We haven’t a prayer of adding a few inches to the hem before the party, but if you happen to have an underdress that isn’t stained black with mud, we might salvage it yet. The style is a bit out of date, but with a shawl no one may notice. The quality is fine enough for a dinner party and—”

Willa launched herself off the bed, shrieking with glee. She wrapped Lily in a hug so hard she squeezed the breath from her chest.

“Thank you, thank you!”

Lily’s ears rang.

When Willa pulled away, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Thomas has returned to Town. I can’t call on him because he’s taken bachelor lodgings but Cindy invited him and—”

Lily clasped Willa’s shoulders, as much to silence her as to steady her spinning head. “Mr. Sanderson has returned to London?”

Although Willa had battled away suitors four years ago, Lily had always wondered if her flirtatiousness was meant to cover a deeper attachment to one particular man. Thomas Sanderson had taken an officer’s commission abroad, claiming he would prove himself head and shoulders above her other suitors if only Willa would await his return. If he’d returned at long last, why hadn’t he presented himself at the house? Unlike Lily, Willa had exchanged letters with the men in her life, the last some months ago.

“Thomas was injured. His leg. A terrible enough wound, the army sent him home.” Rather than sympathy, Willa bubbled with glee.

“You’ve met with him?”

Her enthusiasm banked. “He’s confined to his house. I can’t call on him there.”

“But he’ll be at Lady Breeding’s dinner party.”

“He will!” Willa threw her arms around Lily’s neck. “I’ll get to see him at last! It’s been so long, Lil.”

This must be the week for reunions. Lily only prayed that Willa’s would be better received than the two Lily had suffered through today. “Let’s look in my wardrobe and find you something to wear.”

Willa squealed in glee and rampaged from the room. The stir of her passing flickered the candle on her bedside. Lily fetched it and turned to follow.

She found Sophie on the top of the stairs. Her older sister narrowed her eyes. “You’re encouraging her to go to this dinner party?”

It’s our best option. If she could arrange Willa’s marriage to Sanderson, Lily would have one less person relying on her.

“Don’t fret. I’ll accompany her, as chaperone. I might only be able to do it this once, but once might be all we’ll need.” Lily was resting all her hopes on that one soiree. “Would you like to come as well? I might have something else in my wardrobe…”

Sophie shook her head, her expression shuttering. “You need not worry about me. I never believed in love or marriage.”

She retreated downstairs, leaving Lily speechless and hurt in the corridor. She swallowed hard, tasting the lie still hanging in the air between them. When had her older sister turned so jaded?

Yes, Sophie, you did.

…

As Lily followed Willa out of the hackney cab that had taken them to Mayfair, leaving payment on the seat, the first tremor of unease assaulted her. Nestled among brick and stucco buildings, with light spilling from the windows and the lamp over the door, Lady Breeding’s townhouse was twice the size of the one her family owned. It loomed over her and Willa with ominous portent, as if it knew they no longer belonged here.

Lily swallowed thickly. They’d managed to salvage Lily’s wedding dress and repurpose it to better use. No one needed to know the extent to which the family had fallen in recent years. Still, as Lily followed her sister’s clipped, excited steps to the red-painted door, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were walking into a foreign land.

I’ve been to houses akin to this one in the past. Perhaps even to Lady Breeding’s—so much time had passed that she couldn’t recall. However, she felt as if eons separated those innocent parties from this one. Lily had changed.

She adjusted the gloves shielding her hands. Hands calloused from work. Thrusting her shoulders back, she vowed that she would hide her other, less visible wounds from the prying eyes of Society. For Willa’s sake. Tonight, her sister must make a match.

The alternative was unthinkable.

A neat man opened the door before Lily’s fingers brushed the knocker. Face as still as stone, he stepped aside to let them pass. Willa did so with her head held high, as if he were no more than a piece of furniture. Lily met his inquiring eyes.

“Miss Willa Bancroft and Mrs. Lily…Darling.”

Uttering her husband’s name aloud felt like summoning the devil. She itched to look over her shoulder, half afraid to find him there. Or perhaps half hoping.

Think of Willa. Tonight, assuring her sister’s happiness was her only objective.

“May I take your shawl, miss?”

Willa tugged the lacy, off-white confection closer to her bosom. “No, thank you. It’s rather chilly this evening.” More importantly, the shawl masked the outmoded dress.

Lest he press the issue, Lily doffed hers and asked after the family. Tucking the shawl over the arm of his livery jacket, the footman gestured for her to follow. “This way, madam.”

Lily patted the front of her second-best dress, a green that dulled in comparison to Willa’s splendor. She wasn’t here to draw attention to herself. Adam said this color brings out my eyes.

Don’t think of him.

The last time she had attended a party in Mayfair, her family had been at the height of success, and Adam had escorted her. Despite the far more intimate atmosphere this evening, compared to that lavish, long-ago ball, Lily couldn’t help but imagine him walking into the corridor from one of the many closed doors. Though she had endeavored to forget him, she couldn’t fall asleep without the memory of his arms around her. He haunted her.

Not tonight.

Ahead, chatter spilled into the corridor along with the light of a parlor. Lily gathered her wits as the footman announced them. Silence swelled as all eyes turned to them. Lily entered first, imitating the serenity of her older, absent sister. Whispers circulated as Willa stepped up next to her.

Unlike Lily, her younger sister didn’t appear to hear the indecipherable gossip. Willa vibrated like a tuning fork as she scanned the dozen people in the room in search of the man she most craved. As she spotted him sitting near the hearth with his foot propped on a stool, her face flushed with color. Lily grabbed her by the elbow as she started forward, stopping her in place.

Mr. Sanderson had aged since she’d last seen him. He’d been a happy-go-lucky fellow, quick to smile and laugh, the perfect complement to Willa. Tonight, his expression was dark and brooding. He stared into a tumbler of amber liquid, not contributing to the conversation around him. His dark hair was neat and pulled back from his face, and he struck a commanding figure in his red uniform. But the misery etched into every line of his body spoke volumes.

If Willa noticed his foul mood, it didn’t lessen her enthusiasm. With a tight grip on her sister’s arm, Lily led the way to the hosts. “We must greet Lord and Lady Breeding first.”

Something akin to pain flittered across Willa’s expression, buried the second after it was released. “Quickly,” she bit off.

Didn’t she notice how he had changed? Lily swallowed hard, struggling to hide her unease.

Lord and Lady Breeding stood by the window, playing the gracious hosts. The couple had twenty years between them, the lord gray and fat next to his thin, youthful wife. Despite the late hour, the drapes were drawn to show the street beyond, and Lady Breeding snuck a glance outside. Was she waiting for someone of import? When Lily and Willa approached within speaking distance, the austere woman greeted them solemnly. “Mrs. Darling, Miss Bancroft. How good of you to come.”

Lily dipped in a shallow curtsy, just deep enough to be polite. When Willa remained rigid at her side, half turned to stare over her shoulder, Lily elbowed her in the ribs. Willa gasped and sank into a far less graceful curtsy. She ruined the gesture by glaring at Lily afterward.

Thankfully, Lady Breeding didn’t appear to be paying the least bit of attention to Willa. Her focus was divided between the window and Lily.

“Thank you for the invitation. It’s our pleasure to attend.”

A dainty furrow formed in Lady Breeding’s forehead. “Yes, well, I was astonished to hear that it would only be the two of you. Was your husband not at his leisure to accept?”

Lily had known she was rubbing salt into her wound by openly coming here as a married chaperone. Although everyone undoubtedly recalled that she was married, if she did not point to the fact, they often forgot that her husband existed. After all, for all intents and purposes, he hadn’t existed for the past four years. From the moment he’d walked out of her life, she had been on her own. And with her family to care for, no less.

She swallowed thickly as the excuse she gave everyone bubbled to her lips. “I’m afraid he had business. He sends his regrets.”

Adam Darling did not regret what he did to her nearly as much as he ought to. Anger burned beneath her skin like buried embers, but Lily held herself in check. Tonight was not about Adam. It was not about her. It was about Willa.

“Miss Bancroft, I see you’re eager to speak with Cindy. Don’t be shy. I’ll speak with your sister a moment longer.”

Willa didn’t hear the edge of danger in the hostess’s voice, but Lily did. She stiffened like a shield, ready to rebuff whatever the older woman had in store for her.

With a bright smile, Willa gave a far more graceful curtsy before she hurried off.

Lily’s nerves cracked like a chestnut shell. She clasped her hands hard in front of her stomach, fighting the tumult that swept through her. Nothing a peer could do to her could possibly be worse than the hardships she faced every day.

Lady Breeding fixed her attention on Lily with a hawkish, predatory expression. “Your dear sister has been joining us in Hyde Park often, of late.”

“Willa has delighted in these visits. I believe she’s grown very close to your daughter. I appreciate you taking her under your wing. It’s very kind of you.”

“Of course,” the lady said, drawing out the two words with venom. “I could not fathom acting in any other way. I was so taken aback to discover her walking there unchaperoned the first time. Why, if my daughter and I had not been there, who knows what ill might have befallen her.”

The accusation sank its hooks beneath Lily’s skin and threatened to pull away the cool mask she had in place. Willa was a woman grown. She ought to have thought of her own reputation before leaving the house. Not to mention her safety.

I speak with men alone every day.

As an artisan, a shopkeeper. Lily’s gender and marital status mattered less when le bon ton wasn’t looming in the shadows. Men of the rich families and of the peerage thought themselves entitled to take liberties, as though it were their due. Lily had always abhorred the devil-may-care demeanors they presented, hiding the monsters within.

Adam had hated them, too, which was why he’d had no qualms about targeting their families. Or had he only used their behaviors as an excuse to justify his own? He might even be one of them, for all Lily knew. He had been able to blend among High Society as though born to it, a chameleon lying in wait for his prey.

Lily pushed Adam from her mind and focused on the viper attacking her family name. Through gritted teeth, she managed, “We thank you for saving her from such a horrendous fate.”

No matter what, Lily couldn’t make excuses. The ton knew of the family business, of course. However, knowing the family made jewelry and openly admitting that her time was monopolized by the shop were two very different things. Lady Breeding needed no further fodder to turn them into a spectacle. Lily’s chest ached as she realized that Sophie had been correct. Willa had been invited tonight as entertainment.

Her sister deserved better.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I should return to my sister. As you know, she does have the tendency to wander off.”

Lady Breeding, who had clearly delighted in the conversation, nodded a sour-faced dismissal. Her husband, on the other hand, wasn’t as easily swayed. Although Lily hadn’t thought him attendant upon the conversation, as she rose from her curtsy and turned to leave, he caught her by the hand. Despite his infirm appearance, his grip was tight. Towing her closer, he enclosed their conjoined hands with his free one, effectively trapping her.

Thank heavens for gloves.

Lord Breeding wasn’t much taller than she, but she was altogether too aware of his bulk when standing so near. She reflexively curled her fingers and tested his grasp, to no avail. The whispers eddying around her seemed to isolate her further. If she didn’t extricate herself from him soon, his wife might notice and bring her censure down upon both Bancroft women. The rumors, should she draw attention to herself, were every bit as likely to ruin them.

Willa relied upon her. However, with the bitter Madeira on Lord Breeding’s breath, Lily couldn’t think straight. When coupled with the gleam in his eye as his gaze followed the curve of her neck to her décolletage, she battled outright revulsion. Surely she was misreading the situation. Zeus, his wife stood next to them!

“So good for you to come tonight, Mrs. Darling. Will you allow me the honor of escorting you to dinner?”

Her breath whistled through her teeth. That dubious honor was reserved for the highest in rank at the dinner party. Lily was so far from that woman that they might have lived a continent apart. “You flatter me, my lord. What would Lady Perry think if you were to spurn her company?” The edges of Lily’s mouth quivered with the effort of maintaining her smile. The palm of her glove dampened with her sweat.

Lord Breeding harrumphed. “That old biddy? If you can call her company. If it were up to me, she would not have been invited.”

Lily nearly gasped in relief as he released her hand in order to wag his finger.

“You save your hand for me at dinner.”

The arrogant finality of his tone brooked no argument. Free, Lily curtsied again, this time out of arm’s reach. Praying that he was going senile and would soon forget the conversation, she acquiesced with a mumbled promise.

If Lady Breeding noticed, she was too far absorbed in squinting through the window pane to intervene.

Lily escaped without another word. The thick oriental rugs muffled her footsteps as she navigated the modest gathering, skirting along the panoramic wallpaper encircling the room as she searched for her sister. As she walked the perimeter, she seemed to walk the world— Here, the hosts had arranged tribal masks from Africa; here, delicate painted china; here, small ivory statues of elephants with their trunks raised. It was all arranged to effect, not a flaw in the polished shelves housing their treasures, not a stain on the rich furniture. As far as Lily could tell, Lady Breeding might have purchased the entire room on a whim before holding the dinner party. However extravagant the cost.

In the far corner of the room, Miss Breeding entertained a circle of two men and three women, all fawning over her words as she related a droll tale. Although she resembled the delicacy of her mother, she shared Willa’s vibrancy.

Not, unfortunately, Willa’s company. No, despite her excuse to the hostess, Willa had crossed directly to the stool in front of Mr. Sanderson, where she perched next to his ankle. Both wore expressions of pain, his directed at the wall.

Stepping past two older women twittering behind their fans and eyeing Willa with disdain, Lily clenched her fists. Her chest burned, though with anger or embarrassment she couldn’t decide. Most of all, she wanted to cry at the look on her sister’s face.

More so when she stepped within earshot.

“You have my answer, Miss Bancroft. I cannot keep your company any longer.”

Willa wrapped one arm around her waist as though she were about to turn out her lunch. She pressed the other to her lips, turning her face down. Although Lily’s imagination conjured immeasurable pain in her sister’s posture, Mr. Sanderson’s emotions were etched entirely too vividly on his face. Not a shred of warm feeling lived in his expression. He looked as though he would rather be in the middle of the battlefield than speaking to Willa at that moment.

“Why? Because of your injury? I don’t give a—”

“Because you’re a standing joke,” he bit out.

Willa recoiled as if slapped. She sat rigidly still, not even the rise and fall of her shoulders betraying her breaths.

Mr. Sanderson grimaced. “Don’t paint me to be the villain, Willa. We never had an understanding. I left to make my place in the world and you lost yours. That’s all there is to it, and I’ve higher prospects now.”

Willa jumped to her feet, balling her fists. “What prospects? No one wants to speak with a miser like you.” She turned, her eyes glimmering with tears that threatened to spill from her eyelashes. Lily intercepted her before she took two steps.

She should have known. They hovered a kiss away from poverty. She should have known that Mr. Sanderson would learn of their circumstance and spurn her sister. He hadn’t offered for her years ago because he hadn’t had the blunt to give her the life she deserved. And now, she had nothing to supplement his income.

If not him, who would take Willa to the altar? No one. No one would deliver them from the fate haunting their doorstep.

No one but Lily. Reid had offered her an impossible proposal. Now, she had no choice but to do his bidding.

The notion sickened her. Shoving aside her moral quandaries, she clasped Willa’s shoulders in her hands instead. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave.”

Willa recoiled, wiping her damp cheek. “No. I will not give him the satisfaction. Give me a moment in the withdrawing room to recover. I’ll survive the evening with my head held high.”

Lily heart twisted in her chest like a wrung rag. When had Willa grown so strong? She used to turn into a watering pot at the least slight. Lily held out her hand with a proud smile. “Come.” Heedless to the whispers she roused, she whisked her sister from the parlor.

At the door to the withdrawing room, Willa urged her to leave with the flutter of her hands. “Please, Lily. I’d prefer to be alone. If you stay, I’ll start to cry and—” She sucked an audible breath and stepped backward into the room, shutting the door with force.

Lily wasn’t the only one with tears blurring her vision. She breathed in the choking scent of potpourri and rested her back against the door. How could he? If Sanderson had ever loved her sister, how could that vile man rip out her heart in front of the entire room? He was hailed a war hero, but there was nothing heroic in him. In fact, the only person she abhorred more was Adam.

At least he had had the decency to break her heart without witnesses.

Lily wanted nothing more than to wring Mr. Sanderson’s neck and demand he make recompense. However, her sister wanted to face this rejection with dignity, and Lily…

Hell and damnation. With Willa’s marriage prospect turning tail, Lily had no recourse but to descend to Adam’s level. As of this moment, she must begin planning the heist of an item she could not care less for, in order to deliver it to a man who had become little better than a stranger. If it saved her sisters… As Machiavelli had said, the ends justified the means, didn’t they? Lily wiped her hands on her dress and braced herself to return to the gathering.

Someone attending tonight must be mad for Egyptian antiquities. Once she found them, it was Lily’s duty to charm herself into their good graces. That—and a healthy dollop of research—had always been Adam’s first step.

If she’d gained nothing else from their association, at least Lily had learned from the best.

And now she had work to accomplish.