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“What do you mean, she’s lame?” Lily stroked her mare’s nose, while Uncle’s head groom stared at a spot beyond Lily’s left shoulder.

“Came upon her of a sudden this morning, miss. Sometimes the horses like to have a lie-down in the straw, then they sleep funny and wake up offish.”

A rural coaching inn often owned hundreds of horses, and Lily had never heard of an equine going lame while resting in its stall.

“Let’s see if she walks out of it,” Lily said, reaching for the latch on the stall door. “She’s a slug, but a generally sound slug.”

A large, callused hand with dirty fingernails landed atop Lily’s sleeve and was quickly withdrawn.

“Best not, miss. You can make it worse, get her all excited about an outing. Then she might never come right.”

This was balderdash, and after a fortnight of fretting, worrying, and putting up with Oscar, Lily felt a compulsion to get away from Walter Leggett’s household.

“Then saddle me another mount,” Lily said. “The sun is out for the first time in days, and I’m determined to start my morning on a quiet bridle path.”

The groom stood very tall, and such was Lily’s own lack of stature that even he had several inches of height on her.

“Sorry, miss. We have only the one mare trained to carry a rider sidesaddle.”

“Then hitch up the phaeton.” Rosecroft would find her, though the wheeled traffic used different paths than the equestrians.

“Young Mr. Leggett said he’d be needing the phaeton this morning.”

Tomorrow, Lily would celebrate her sister’s twenty-eighth birthday, though Lily had heard nothing about a wedding ceremony. Perhaps Oscar had heeded her warnings earlier in the week and actually read the settlement documents.

Lily dearly hoped Oscar had aggravated his papa with demands for independent funds, and that thwarting Lily’s plans for the day was a retaliatory display of Uncle Walter’s petty tyranny.

How had she put up with ten years of this nonsense? “Young Mr. Leggett is never out of the house before noon unless he’s accompanying me on a call. I can assure you I have not sought his escort for my morning ride.”

“Miss, please don’t ask it of me. I’ll lose my post and have not even a character to show for it.”

Doubtless the poor man was telling the truth. “My mare had best be sound tomorrow. Use every poultice, lineament, and salve you have, but bring her sound.”

The groom’s relief was pathetic, which warned Lily that trouble was afoot—more trouble than usual. No matter. She had a plan, and that plan so far had kept her sane. Today, she’d take the air in the park on foot. By tomorrow, Hessian should be back, certainly by the day after.

Lily informed her companion that they’d be enjoying the footpaths in Hyde Park. The result was several minutes of muttered protests—megrims, rheumatism, an impending catarrh, a sore ankle—followed by grudging capitulation provided Lily put off this misguided outing until later in the morning.

“One hour,” Lily said. “That’s time enough to break your fast and change into a walking dress.”

Though Miss Fotheringham invariably took a tray for her morning meal rather than brave Uncle Walter’s charming company in the breakfast parlor.

Lily hoped to avoid her uncle as well, so she changed out of her riding habit and chose a walking dress Uncle had said made her look pale. She took some care with her hair, for Uncle preferred she wear it in a simple bun.

Please, God, let the sun continue to shine.

Please let Hessian be safe.

Please let Oscar be set upon by brigands at the earliest opportunity.

Lily took a moment to inspect herself in her bedroom mirror. “I look different.” She looked… like herself. Not like Annie’s impersonator, not like a rabbit of a woman who could hear the pack in full cry on the very next hill.

“Hessian will come for me, and all will be well.” Let him come soon.

Lily had the breakfast parlor to herself, which was fortunate. In her present mood, she was tempted to start an argument with Uncle Walter, to tell him she expected to read any settlement agreements herself—not that he’d admitted his scheme to see her married to Oscar—and would send a copy to her Irish relations before signing anything.

Uncle would have an apoplexy at that declaration, and Oscar would whine endlessly. Perhaps Jacaranda had been right: Years of menial work in a coaching inn had given Lily the fortitude to handle her present situation.

“Ah, there you are.” Uncle Walter beamed at her from the doorway of the breakfast parlor.

Lily set down her fresh cup of tea untasted. “Good morning, Uncle.”

He seemed to expect her to say more—apologize for breathing, perhaps?—but she remained silent. She added extra butter to her toast, then a layer of jam.

“I’d like a word with you,” Uncle said. “In the family parlor.”

Lily saluted with her toast. “As soon as I’ve done justice to Cook’s offerings.” Because nothing Uncle had to say was worth a moment’s hurry on Lily’s part.

His smile was smug. “Suit yourself. I’ll await you in the parlor.”

The lame horse who wasn’t lame, a hale companion unwilling to take a short stroll, and now, Uncle Walter smiling and telling Lily to suit herself.

Hessian, I need you. I need you desperately.

“You’re too late.” Worth handed Hessian a brandy, then poured a measure for himself.

“How can I be too late? I’ve been gone exactly fourteen days, and Lily’s ostensible birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

Fatigue weighed on Hessian like a shroud, but he’d done the impossible—traveled hundreds of miles in mere days, despite endless rain, lame horses, a coachman complaining of a putrid sore throat, a lovesick footman, two encounters with highwaymen—which had been settled to the satisfaction of Hessian and his coaching pistols—and other factors too numerous and frustrating for human endurance.

Worth took his drink to the window and stared out at a foggy London night. “I’m sorry, Hess. The ceremony was today at Walter Leggett’s home, and a special license means the location was permissible.” 

Hessian could not afford the luxury of cursing, but made himself tarry in Worth’s study for a few more moments. “You’re sure?”

“Lily did what she could. She insisted on reading the agreements word for word, then she insisted on sending for Rosecroft and his lady to stand up with her. The wedding breakfast included only family, the clergyman, and the Earl and Countess of Rosecroft. I’m sorry, Hessian. We tried. We followed your plan to the letter, and it was a good plan.”

“Not good enough, if Lily has been married to her cousin.” Though Hessian himself had tried to warn her of that possibility.

Damn the rain, the roads, and damn Walter Leggett to the blackest pit.

“The hour grows late,” Worth said, stroking the hound sitting at his side. “I’ll bring Daisy home to you tomorrow. She would not allow me to buy her a pony. She said that was for you to do, because you’d know the best one for her.”

“I’ll be somewhat occupied first thing in the morning,” Hessian said, setting his untouched drink on the sideboard. “If you could divert Daisy with another outing to the park and a stroll past Tattersalls, I’d be obliged. I’ll meet you thereafter.”

“You have to be exhausted,” Worth said, turning away from the darkness. “And you haven’t told me what transpired in Scotland. There are also a few developments you should be aware of regarding Roberta Braithwaite, whose companion I had occasion to meet. Let me put you up here for the night, and—”

Hessian marched for the door. “Roberta Braithwaite is the least of my concerns. I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Meet me in the park with Daisy, and I’ll be eternally in your debt.”

“Where in the hell are you going at this hour? The law frowns on wife-stealing, Hessian.”

“Bugger the bedamned law.”

“You are an earl,” Worth retorted. “A peer of the realm and my only brother. You cannot bugger the law. Buggery is illegal. Housebreaking is illegal. Coming between a man and his lawfully wedded wife is very illegal, also stupid and bound to get you called out. Hessian, for God’s sake—”

Hessian was already out the door and barreling down the front steps. “Meet me in the park. If I’m not there, tell Daisy I love her and please buy her a perfect damned pony.”

Hessian, I need you.

Lily had dithered and dawdled and delayed from the moment she’d spied an unfamiliar clergyman alighting from his gig outside the breakfast parlor window, to the moment when Uncle had explained to her—in patient detail—that her time was up.

She either meekly participated in a wedding ceremony with Oscar and signed the appropriate documents, or she’d be immured behind high walls in the countryside from whence she’d sprung.

“I got rid of your sister,” Uncle had said. “I can get rid of you too.”

That pronouncement had settled Lily’s nerves, oddly enough. Hessian had told her how to proceed, so she’d signed the agreements slowly and carefully. When Uncle had towed her by the wrist across the corridor into the library, she’d found a beaming clergyman and a fidgety Oscar waiting.

Lily had put on a show, demanding that they wait for Lady Rosecroft, whom Lily claimed had “agreed” to stand up with her. Uncle had silently fumed at this subterfuge, while the clergyman had apparently been unwilling to offend a countess, and the countess had conveniently taken a good while to appear.

Her ladyship had also brought her earl along with her, but neither Uncle nor Oscar allowed Rosecroft within ten feet of Lily.

I got rid of your sister. Would Uncle get rid of the earl? Of Lily herself?

She spoke her vows slowly. She sipped her wine at the wedding breakfast slowly. Rosecroft had kept his distance, engaging the clergyman in a discussion of coaching horses, but her ladyship had whispered to Lily in parting that her door was open to Lily at any hour, no matter what.

Lily had taken the longest bath in the history of bathing, and as darkness had fallen, she’d locked her door and wedged a chair beneath it, then packed a few items of clothing into a bundle. She tossed the bundle from her window, though she didn’t dare sneak across the garden while light still shone from the library below.

Hessian, where are you?

A soft tap on her door was followed by Oscar’s singsong voice. “Lily? Darling wife?” He jiggled the handle. “Have you fallen asleep?”

“Give me a moment.” She moved the chair so she could retrieve one last item to stuff into the pocket of her cloak. The slim packet of letters from her mother was hidden in the bottom of a hatbox that was kept on the top shelf of her wardrobe. Oscar could keep his purloined seventy-eight pounds, as long as Lily had Mama’s letters.

She’d no sooner retrieved the letters and was carrying the chair back to the door when it swung open.

“You spend your wedding night moving furniture,” Oscar said, stashing some sort of metal pick into the pocket of his dressing gown. “Interesting. Why are you still dressed?”

Because I will leap out that window rather than endure the conjugal act with you. “I’m nervous.”

“You’re reluctant,” Oscar said, closing and locking the door. “That’s to be expected, but for God’s sake, Lily. You aren’t an ignorant fifteen-year-old. Sooner or later, a wedding night befalls all women of means. If you don’t give me any trouble, I’ll be as considerate as I can. Get your clothes off and get in the bed.”

She had never been an ignorant fifteen-year-old. “Your notions of consideration leave me less than impressed, Oscar.”

He unbelted his dressing gown, revealing a voluminous nightshirt—thank heavens.

“I know what I’m about when it comes to bedsport, and you know nothing. You have no choice but to trust me on this. And if you think non-consummation will get you out of this marriage, you are sadly in error. Papa says that’s not the law, in any case. Why aren’t you undressing?”

He’d taken off his slippers, and the sight of his pale, bare feet made real to Lily that he was in her bedroom, expecting to exercise conjugal rights because Lily had no choice.

She did have a choice. Maybe at fourteen, she hadn’t had a choice, maybe not at nineteen, maybe not at twenty-two, but now, she did have a choice. Lily gathered up her cloak as if to return it to the wardrobe and, at the last instant, tossed it through the window and braced herself to climb over the sill.

Oscar, alas, looked up from unbuttoning his nightshirt at the wrong moment and was across the room in four strides. He was stronger than he looked and had six hands to go with his four arms.

“Are you daft? For God’s sake, cease your damned—” He fell silent while Lily struggled on.

She would not do this, could not do this. If she had to face incarceration in an asylum or in Newgate itself, she would never, ever— 

“I have a choice, damn you,” she panted, tromping hard on Oscar’s bare foot. “I am not your chattel, I am not your wife.”

He howled, but his grip on her grew only tighter. “You spoke vows, you agreed, you knew jolly well exactly what—damn you!”

She’d resorted to the serving maid’s best weapon, a knee to the stones, but she hadn’t been able to get good purchase, and her blow had gone wide of the mark.

Oscar picked Lily up and made as if to hurl her onto the bed, when the window banged open, and a cold voice cut through Oscar’s cursing.

“Leggett, if you do not unhand that woman this instant, I will blow your head off and enjoy doing it.”

A pistol cocked—the sweetest sound Lily had ever heard, after Hessian Kettering promising doom in the nick of time.

One thought stayed the temptation to hurl Oscar Leggett out the window head first: Hessian had been in time to prevent the worst from befalling Lily.

Not too late. By a handful of minutes, not too late.

Leggett turned loose of Lily as if she’d sprouted snakes for hair. “She’s unharmed. She nearly killed me, but she’s unharmed.”

“Lily?”

“I’m well enough.”

“You will soon be in much better spirits, as will I. Leggett get on the bed.” Hessian waved the pistol, which was very bad of him when the deuced thing wasn’t loaded. Bad of him, and… fun. “Lily, we will need several silk scarves. Shall you hold the pistol while I bind your cousin, or would you prefer to tie him up?”

She withdrew three colorful scarves from the bottom of her clothes press. “I’ll take the gun, lest I fashion a noose for yonder noddypoop by accident.”

Leggett moaned, then showed a modicum of sense by remaining passive as Hessian bound him snugly hand and foot, and used the last scarf to gag him as well.

“The staff won’t dare intrude on a wedding night,” Hessian said, giving the bindings a final tug. “Though I suspect there was no wedding.”

“I spoke vows,” Lily said in the same tones she would have admitted to finding horse manure stuck to her boots. “Uncle promised me a dire fate if I refused.”

“Then we have proof of coercion, should we need to reference it in the annulment proceedings. Rosecroft chatted up the parson and got his direction, also the amount of the bribe your uncle paid the man to perform an irregular ceremony. More on that topic later. We must away, Lily.”

On the bed, Leggett squealed.

“You will be captive for one night,” Lily said, “certain of rescue in the morning. Imagine what it felt like for me to be a captive for years, Oscar. No safety, no privacy, no allies, no respect from the people who should have been my refuge.”

Oscar closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Lily stood for a moment by the bed, as if she’d say more. Hessian touched her shoulder. She took one final look about the room.

“Take me away from here, my lord. I never want to see this place again.”

Hessian boosted her over the windowsill, then silently closed the window and got Lily down to the garden. Her bundle and cloak were where he’d stashed them on a bench, a fat marmalade cat sitting atop the lot.

“Hannibal.” Lily conveyed a wealth of affection and regret in the beast’s name. “You have been my friend.”

“Then he comes with us,” Hessian said, passing Lily her cat. The dratted creature weighed a ton and started up a mighty purring as Lily took him in her arms. “We can send for your personal effects later.”

He draped Lily’s cloak about her shoulders, gathered up her bundle, and led the way to the coach waiting for them in the mews. When he’d handed Lily up and taken the place beside her, Hessian put an arm around her.

She rested her head on his shoulder, the cat purred, and finally, Hessian Kettering was home.

“There’s a proper breakfast waiting downstairs,” the maid said, “but you aren’t to go down unless you please to, miss. His lordship’s orders.”

She set a tray on the counterpane, the aromas of toast and bacon bringing Lily more fully awake.

“Is his lordship breaking his fast at table?” Lily lifted the lid of the teapot, and fragrant steam wafted up. No reusing the leaves in this household, no serving Lily on the chipped every day plates, no forgetting to bring her a tray in the morning until she realized that breakfast with Uncle was the only breakfast she’d get.

She had so much to be angry about, and so much to be grateful for.

“His lordship is yet abed,” the maid said, pushing back the window curtains. “Traveling to Scotland and back has nigh worn him out. We’re to wake him on the hour, and later today Miss Daisy will be back with us again.”

The chambermaid was a solid woman with an honest face and a kind smile. She also sounded as if she’d been raised in the north.

“You’re from the staff at Grampion Hall?”

“That I am,” she replied, peering into a vase of irises. “Cumbrian to my bones. Shall I come back to help you dress?”

This good cheer from the staff, neither presuming nor patronizing, was another revelation. “I have only the one—” A pretty blue day dress had been laid out over a chair. “Is that for me?”

“Aye. His lordship thought you might want a change from yesterday’s outfit.”

“I never want to see the dress I wore here again. You may have it to do with as you please.” And didn’t that feel marvelous, to give away something of value? For too many years, Lily had been denied even the pleasure of consigning her old clothing to the maids.

“I am waking up.” Though, when would she see Hessian? He’d been silent on the ride over from Uncle’s town house and parted from Lily with a kiss to her forehead outside her bedroom door. She’d been turned over to the care of the housekeeper, who’d soon had her tucked up in an enormous fluffy bed.

An enormous, fluffy, lonely bed.

The maid took a whiff of the irises. “It’s a lovely day, miss. The bell-pull is in the dressing closet, and if you need anything, I’m Hanford. I’ll wish you good day.”

She bobbed a curtsey and left, closing the door silently.

Lily sipped strong, hot tea and mentally enumerated differences: no sense of being spied on, nobody resenting the need to bring her a bucket of coal, no waking up in a bedroom that would never see morning sunshine, no dreading to leave the limited sanctuary of her chamber, no peeking out the window in hopes of seeing Uncle headed off to his club. No listening—always listening—for his voice or his footsteps.

But no Hessian either, though he doubtless deserved days of rest.

Lily made herself eat a leisurely breakfast, dressed—the bodice buttoned up the front—and did her hair. The vanity was equipped with brushes, combs, a hand mirror, and hairpins, and the slippers Lily found with the dress fit her as if made for her.

A tap on her door suggested she was dawdling, though for very different reasons than she’d dawdled for the past ten years.

“Come in.”

Hessian opened the door, and left it open, taking only two steps into Lily’s room. “Good morning.” He looked tired and impossibly dear, also delectable in his morning attire.

Lily remained at the vanity. “My lord. I owe you enormous thanks.”

“At the risk of disagreeing with a lady, that is utter balderdash. You had to go through a ceremony with the noddypoop, as Lady Rosecroft calls him. How did your name appear on the license, Lily?”

Flirtation, this was not. “As my sister’s name. Is she…?” Lily rose and stood immediately before Hessian. He’s said nothing of Annie the previous night, and Lily hadn’t had the courage to ask. “Tell me the truth, please. Is she dead?”

“Not unless she expired between last evening and this morning. I left her and her spouse at a hotel off Grosvenor Square, where they insisted on staying rather than crowd me here. I do believe they were trying to leave us privacy, or prepare themselves for a difficult encounter with you. I’ve arranged for you to bide with Lady Rosecroft after today.”

The old Lily, the Lily who feared to call attention to herself or risk her uncle’s disapproval, would have thanked Hessian again.

“Am I not welcome here?”

“You are very welcome, but circumstances…” Hessian cradled Lily’s cheek against his palm. “If I were to close this door, you’d be on that bed in the next half minute. I’m a peer of the realm and, more to the point, a gentleman. Your good name must be protected, now more than ever, and certain topics must be resolved between us. We’re to meet your sister in the park in about an hour.”

Meet your sister… They were wonderful words, also unsettling. “Stay with me, Hessian. Don’t abandon me to her company, please. Annie is my sister, but there’s much I don’t understand.”

He dropped his hand. “I was more intent on getting her to London than sorting out ancient history. Then too, her husband is formidably protective. I think you’ll like Mr. Delmar.”

Hessian liked him. Lily took heart from that. She also took a kiss for herself.

“For courage,” she said. “Where is our dear Daisy? I have delighted in watching her blossom, though she missed you terribly and made certain all and sundry knew it.” I missed you terribly too.

Hessian tucked his hands behind his back. “We will rendezvous with her in the park as well, after you and your sister have had a chance to renew your acquaintance. Mrs. Delmar chose that dress for you.”

“This is hers?”

“No. She said you’d spent too long wearing her shoes, and you should never be made to wear her dresses. She’s almost as fierce as you are.”

Lily crossed the room, the better to keep her hands to herself. “Then why leave me to Uncle’s tender mercies for years on end? Why not come back to London, claim her fortune, and claim me as family?”

Why had Hessian had to fetch Annie the length of the realm? Why hadn’t she at least written? Why hadn’t Tippy said anything, ever?

Hessian abandoned his post by the door and joined Lily near the window. “Worth and I didn’t speak to each other for years. We had our reasons and would probably make the same mistakes again, given the same circumstances. I hope you and your sister can go forward without estrangement. I also hope that between the two of you, you can hold Walter Leggett accountable for stealing a fortune.”

These words were comforting, but only comforting. Hessian was being gentlemanly again, damn him.

“Is the money all gone?” Though in truth Lily cared more about ten years spent fearing exposure, fearing Uncle’s wrath, fearing prison.

“Likely not, but Leggett has much to answer for. Shall we share a pot of tea before we leave?”

“I’d rather share the bed.”

Hessian’s smile was fleeting, a will-o’-the-wisp of yearning and passionate memories. “If you choose to again join me in a bed, Lily Ferguson, you will do so after being put in full possession of the facts regarding your situation and my own, and in possession of whatever wealth is rightfully yours. Do you suppose anybody has freed Oscar yet?”

“I hope not. I hope he waits until Domesday for rescue. Am I married to him?”

“The marriage is not valid, by virtue of duress and by virtue of the license being inaccurate. At best, the noddypoop might have attempted to form a bigamous union with your sister, which is both felonious and invalid.”

Lily accepted Hessian’s arm, for if she dragged him to the bed, they’d miss their appointment in the park—they’d miss all their appointments for the next month.

“I said my vows before witnesses, Hessian.”

“True, but Rosecroft also reports that the clergyman made no effort to speak with you privately, despite the irregularity of the circumstances. At no point were those present asked if they knew of an impediment to the union. Worth hasn’t much contact with the ecclesiastical courts, but he knows the Bishop of London. If you are married today, you won’t be by this time next week.”

In the middle of the corridor, Lily stopped and wrapped her arms around Hessian. “I was so frightened.”

Slowly, his arms came around her. “You’re safe, Lily. You’re safe at last.”

She went a little to pieces, because she had needed for somebody to say those words to her, somebody she could trust. Hessian led her to an alcove and sat with her on a small sofa, his arm around her, his scent soothing her frayed nerves.

“I’m furious, Hessian.”

“You have every right to be.”

She was also, in a corner of her heart, still afraid. Hessian had said that when she knew her own circumstances—and his—then she might again join him in a bed. Was he keeping secrets, and if so, were they the kinds of secrets that could prevent Lily from marrying him?