“Looks like Covent Garden, if I ’ad to say, sir.”

And, like that, he knew what she was doing.

It wasn’t Stanhope she was going after. It was Hawkins.

Derek made me feel loved.

The memory of her story, of the way the pompous ass had manipulated her with his pretty promises, sent a thread of rage through him. The rage was followed by fear, which came with a second, possibly worse memory. A memory of Hawkins offering to take her to mistress. Of Alec leaning over the pompous git in the dimly lit back room at Eversley House, looking over his shoulder at a wide-eyed Lily and asking her if she wanted him.

No.

She’d said the word, but Alec hadn’t believed her. He’d heard the doubt in it. The uncertainty. He’d asked her to say it again.

Pushed her to do it.

She had, but perhaps she hadn’t meant it. Perhaps she did want him. Why else would she be here at—

“They’ve stopped, m’lord.”

He pulled up on the reins, gaze focusing on the carriage several dozen yards ahead in front of a nondescript row house tucked behind Bow Street. The door to the hack opened and Lily descended in her ridiculous outfit—trousers and shirt that billowed around her, clearly lifted from a wardrobe belonging to a much larger man—hat pulled low over her eyes, hair tucked up beneath.

She tossed a coin up to the driver and the hack moved, heading quickly out of sight in search of a new fare. She hadn’t asked him to wait. Which meant she was planning for a long stay.

Did she not think she would be missed at home?

Home.

The word unsettled him. It wasn’t as though the damn Dog House was his home. It certainly didn’t feel anything like his home in Scotland. And somehow, he wanted Lily to feel it was home. He wanted her to feel safe there. To believe that there was something good there for her.

Something a damn sight better than whatever was inside the building she was skulking around.

He passed the driver an exorbitant amount of coin. “The rest when I return. Wait for me.”

The driver did not hesitate, leaning back on the block and tipping the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Alec was in the shadows within seconds, moving toward her as she paused outside the door and extracted something from her pocket. A key? She had a key to this place, quiet and dark and close enough to the Hawkins Theater for Alec to be certain of what was inside. Of who was inside.

She slipped through the door, letting it swing shut behind her. The lock clicked as he drew close, and he cursed in the darkness.

He was going to have to break in.

Chapter 14

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WARDS

As a man with a powerful sense of self-worth and a minuscule amount of actual worth, Derek Hawkins spent the majority of his time in full view of Society, trying to convince the aristocracy that the former was as well-founded as the latter was a travesty.

Consequently, he was never at home in the evenings.

No doubt, on that particular evening, he was at a club, or a dinner, or revealing his outrageous pomposity to a group of simpering women, each more desperate than the last to win the attention of the great Derek Hawkins, if for only a moment.

Not that Lily did not understand that desperation.

She had, after all, basked in its glow for long enough to be summarily ruined.

Lily had no doubt that if he weren’t so obsessed with the world’s perception of him and his genius, he wouldn’t have so summarily ruined her. Certainly, he wouldn’t have paraded the woman in his already famed painting in front of all the world, without hesitation.

Without consent.

But no one had ever been important enough to Derek Hawkins to inspire him to act with honor. She knew that now. Was grateful for it, even, as she found she had no qualms entering his home, uninvited, when she knew he was not home.

If he did not want her there, he should have asked her to return her key, no?

Locking the door carefully behind her, she turned, ready to climb the stairs to her destination quickly, eager to avoid the housekeeper, who doubled as cook, and the butler, who doubled as valet.

She had not expected to find the house so dark, however, and eerily quiet. She’d hoped for fires in the hearths along the way, some dim light to reveal her path, but there was nothing. She found a candle on the table near the door, and scrambled to light it.

When that was done, she should have immediately headed for her destination—but something about the emptiness of light and sound made her curious. She ducked into the front room, which had, when she had played the role of Derek’s muse, been filled with elaborate gilded furniture.

It stood empty now.

The discovery sent her further into the bowels of the house, toward the kitchens, where a fire was always lit. The two aging servants were rarely far from the warmth of the room. Tonight, however, they were nowhere to be found. The hearth was dark. And there was a pile of dishware next to the large sink that was unexpected.

Someone was living here. Alone.

Returning to the front of the house, she peeked into other rooms, finding each one empty of its contents. A stray chair here and there, but no room ready to receive. Her heart in her throat, she crept up the stairs. Was it possible he no longer lived here? The thought spurred her forward, fast and full of nerves.

What if it wasn’t here?

She opened the door to his bedchamber, immediately grateful for the sweet scent of his preferred perfume assaulting her. He lived here. Which meant the painting was here. She crossed the room, putting her hand to the door that adjoined his most precious space, the room he called his Room of Genius. She tried the handle, only to find it locked.

Of course.

Setting the candle on the low table between the bed and the door to his studio, Lily opened a drawer to search for the key. It had to be there. She’d come too far for it not to be there.

And that’s when she heard the sound, soft and nearly silent from beyond the room itself. There was someone there.

Heart threatening to beat from her chest, Lily turned left and right, desperately seeking an exit. She was on the third floor of the house, so escaping via the window was not an option. There was a massive cupboard on the other side of the room, large enough for two people, if she had to guess, but far too close to the door to the hallways beyond to consider it as a hiding place.

The noise came again, and her gaze flew to the door, convinced that she could hear the handle turning.

Derek was here.