“Do you know why your brother hasn’t found a tutor yet? He won’t be satisfied until he’s hired Galileo, Shakespeare, and Plato, all rolled into one. I do pity you, my boy.”

Henry screwed his face into an appalled grimace. “Alex, tell her it’s not true!”

“I have certain standards,” Alex admitted, dropping his hand from Lily’s arm. “Finding a qualified tutor is taking more time than I anticipated,”

“Why don’t you let Henry choose?” Lily suggested. “You could attend to your other business while he conducts the interviews. Then he would present his choice for your approval.”

Alex snorted sardonically. “I’d like to see what kind of tutor Henry would choose.”

“I believe he would be quite responsible in his decision. Besides, it’s going to be his tutor. I think he should have some say in it.”

Henry appeared to consider the question thoughtfully. His blue eyes met Alex’s. “I’d pick a smashing one, Alex, damn me if I wouldn’t.”

The idea was unorthodox. On the other hand, the responsibility might be good for Henry. He supposed there would be no harm in trying it. “I’ll consider it,” Alex said gruffly. “But the ultimate approval will be mine.”

“Well,” Lily said in satisfaction. “It appears you can be reasonable at times.” She took the cards from the boy, shuffled them deftly, and placed the deck on the floor. “Would you care to cut, my lord?”

Alex stared at her intently. He wondered if this was how she looked in Craven’s club, her brown eyes gleaming with a mischievous invitation, her slim hand pushing back the curls that dangled on her forehead. She would never be a demure, proper wife to anyone. She would be an engaging playmate with the wiles of a courtesan, a combination of gambling sharp and hellcat…she was a hundred different things, none of which he needed. “What’s the game?” he asked.

“I’m instructing Henry on the finer points of vingt-etun.” A challenging grin appeared on her lovely face. “Do you consider yourself competent at the game, Raiford?”

Slowly he reached for the deck and cut it. “Deal.”

Chapter 5

Lily discovered with consternation that Raiford was adept at cards. More than adept. In order to beat him, it was necessary for her to cheat. She used the pretext of giving further instructions to Henry in order to peek surreptitiously at the top card of the deck. Occasionally she dealt seconds, or from the bottom. Once or twice she used special shuffling to stack the deck, something she had learned from Derek after hours of practice in front of a mirror. If Raiford was suspicious he kept his silence…that was, until the game was nearly over.

“Now this,” Lily said to Henry during the last hand, “is a two-way hand, in which the ace could either be valued at one or eleven. Your best strategy is to try for a high count. If that doesn’t work, value the ace at one.”

Following her directions, Henry flipped a card and grinned in satisfaction. “Twenty,” he said. “No one can beat that.”

“Unless,” Alex remarked dryly, “Miss Lawson somehow produces a natural.”

Warily Lily glanced at him, wondering if he had caught on to her cheating. He must have. There could be no other explanation for his resigned expression. With a few flicks of her fingers, the last card was dealt and the game concluded. “Henry wins that hand,” she said cheerfully. “Next time we’ll play for money, Henry.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Alex said.

Lily laughed. “Don’t get in a foam about it, Raiford. I only intended to wager a shilling or two, not bilk the poor boy out of his inheritance.”

Henry stood up and stretched with a faint groan. “Next time let’s play at a table, sitting on chairs,” he suggested. “This floor is bloody hard!”

Alex looked at him with immediate concern. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Henry smiled as he understood Alex’s worry. “It’s fine, Alex. Really.”

Alex nodded, but Lily noticed the same troubled expression in his pale eyes that had been there the night before. It remained even after Henry left with a rather stiff gait. “What is it?” Lily asked. “Why did you ask Henry—”

“Miss Lawson,” Alex interrupted, rising to his feet and reaching down for her. “I’ve never seen a woman cheat with such skill.”

She was momentarily diverted. “Years of practice,” she admitted modestly.

Suddenly Alex grinned, amused by her complete lack of shame. His white teeth flashed in his golden face. Taking her small hand in his, he pulled her to her feet. He slid a quick glance down her slim body. “I suppose it was necessary for you to win against a twelve-year-old boy?”

“That wasn’t my purpose. You were the one I wanted to beat.”

“Why?”

That was a good question. It shouldn’t have mattered whether she won or lost a game with him. Uncomfortably Lily returned his silvery stare, heartily wishing she could stay indifferent to him. “It just seemed the thing to do.”

“It might be interesting to try an honest game someday,” he remarked. “If you’re capable of it.”

“Let’s play at honesty right now, my lord. The loser must answer any question the winner poses.” Deftly she cast two cards on the floor, one coming to rest faceup at his feet. A seven. The other card settled in front of her. A queen.

Alex surveyed Lily’s down-bent head as she glanced at the cards. She was standing close to him. Suddenly he imagined clasping her head in his hands, dipping his face down to crush his mouth and nose into her sable curls, breathing in her perfume, her skin…he imagined sinking to his knees, pulling her h*ps forward until he was lost in the warmth of her body. Feeling himself begin to flush and tauten, he tried to banish the forbidden image from his mind. He struggled for self-discipline. When she looked up at him, he was certain she would be able to recognize the shameful turn of his thoughts. Strangely, she seemed to notice nothing.

“Another?” Lily asked. He nodded. She took the top card from the deck with exaggerated care and dropped it to the floor. A ten.

“Stay,” he said.

With a flourish Lily drew the next card for herself, and grinned as she saw it was a nine. “I win, Raiford. Now tell me why you looked so worried for Henry just now—no, tell me why you brought him home from school. Was it his marks? Is he having—”

“That’s three questions so far,” Alex interrupted sardonically. “And before I answer, I want to know why you’re so interested.”

“I like the boy,” Lily replied with dignity. “I’m asking out of sincere concern.”

He considered that. It was possible she was telling the truth. She and Henry did seem to get along well together. “It wasn’t his marks,” he said brusquely. “Henry was in some trouble. Tardiness, mischief, the usual things. The headmaster ‘disciplined’ him…” Alex’s jaw hardened.

“Flogging?” Lily stared at his averted face. His features were especially harsh at that angle, giving him the appearance of a golden satyr. “That’s why he walks so stiffly at times. It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was bad.” His voice was gruff. “I wanted to kill Thornwait. I still do.”

“The headmaster?” In spite of her loathing of anyone who could commit such cruelty against a child, Lily almost pitied the man. She suspected Thornwait would not get off lightly for what he’d done.

“Henry retaliated by lighting a pile of gunpowder underneath Thornwait’s front door,” Alex continued.

Lily laughed at that. “I would have expected no less of him!” Her amusement died quickly as she studied Alex’s implacable face. “But you’re disturbed about something else…it must be…that Henry didn’t tell you about what had been happening?” She read the answer in his silence.

All at once she understood. Alex, with his unreasonable sense of responsibility for everyone and everything, would take all the blame upon himself. Obviously he doted on the boy. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to twist the knife and make him feel worse than he already did. Instead she found herself trying to ease his guilt.

“I’m not surprised,” she said matter-of-factly. “Most boys of Henry’s age are extremely proud, you know. Don’t try to claim that you weren’t when you were young. Of course Henry would try to handle things himself. He wouldn’t want to run to you like a child. From what I’ve observed, that is the way boys think.”

“What would you know about boys?” he muttered.

She gave him a chiding glance. “It’s not your fault, Raiford, much as you’d like to shoulder the blame. You have too much of a conscience—it nearly matches the size of your ego.”

“What I need is a lecture from you about conscience,” he said caustically. But he looked at her without the usual animosity, and the pale gray depths of his eyes caused a strange feeling to ripple through her. “Miss Lawson…” He gestured to the deck she held. “Would you care to play another hand of truth?”

“Why?” Smiling, Lily flipped another couple of cards to the floor. “What question would you like to ask, my lord?”

He continued to stare at her. Lily had the startling feeling that even though they were standing apart, he was touching her. He wasn’t, of course, but still she had the suffocated sensation that plucked notes of warning in her memory…yes, she had felt this way with Giuseppe…threatened…dominated.

Alex ignored the pretext of the cards, the game, and watched her intently. “Why do you hate men?”

He couldn’t stop himself from asking. The curiosity had built with every word he had heard her speak, every wary glance she had given him, her father, even Zachary. She kept a distance between herself and every man that came near. With Henry, however, Lily was different. Alex could only surmise that Henry was too young for Lily to consider a threat. His instincts told him that Lily had been taken advantage of in the past, often enough that she had come to regard men as enemies to be used and manipulated.

“Why do I…” Lily’s voice drifted into shocked silence. Only Derek had ever been able to disarm her so completely with a few words. Why would he ask such a thing? Certainly he had no personal interest in her feelings. He must have asked because he had sensed somehow that it would hurt her, the bastard.

And he was right…she did hate men, although she had never before put it into words, spoken or otherwise. What should she find so frigging wonderful about them? Her father had ignored her, her fiancé had jilted her, Giuseppe had abused her hard-won trust. Men had taken her child. Even her friendship with Derek, such as it was, had started as blackmail. Devil take the lot of them!

“I’ve had enough of games this afternoon,” she said, and dropped the deck, letting it scatter. Turning quickly, she left the gallery. She heard Alex’s footsteps behind her. He reached her in three long strides.

“Miss Lawson—” He caught at her arm.

She whirled around, violently flinging off his hand. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “Don’t ever touch me again!”

“All right,” he said quietly. “Calm yourself. I had no right to ask.”

“Is that some sort of apology?” Her chest heaved with the force of her anger.

“Yes.” Alex hadn’t expected to hit a raw nerve with his question. Even now Lily was struggling to control herself. Usually she was so brashly confident. For the first time she seemed fragile to him, a volatile woman living with some terrible strain. “It was uncalled for.”

“Bloody right about that!” Lily raked her hand through her hair until the curls fell in a wild tangle over her forehead. Her searing eyes locked onto his unreadable face. She couldn’t seem to hold back a tumble of accusing words. “But here’s your damned answer. I have yet to meet a man worthy of trust. I’ve never known a so-called gentleman with the slightest understanding of honesty or compassion. You all like to bray about your honor, when the truth is—” Abruptly she closed her mouth.

“When the truth is…” Alex repeated, wanting her to finish. He wanted to know at least this one small part of the complexity. God, it would take at least a lifetime to understand her.

Lily gave a small, determined shake of her head. The forceful emotions seemed to drain away magically, by a self-will that Alex suddenly understood was an equal match for his own. She regarded him with an insolent smile. “Bugger off, my lord,” she said lightly, and left him there in the gallery strewn with scattered cards.

Something about that morning started a piercing ache in Lily’s head that wouldn’t go away. She spent the day in Totty and Penelope’s company, half-listening to their ladylike conversation. In the evening she excused herself from supper and nibbled on cold beef and bread from a tray in her room. After downing two glasses of red wine, she changed for bed and lay down to rest. The silk damask bedhangings draped down from a circle overhead, shrouding her in shadow. Restlessly she changed position, shifting to her stomach and curving her arms around the pillow beneath her. Loneliness filled her chest with a cold, heavy weight.

She wanted someone to talk to. She wanted to unburden herself. She needed Aunt Sally, the only one who had known about Nicole. With her salty wisdom and unorthodox sense of humor, Sally had been able to handle any predicament. She had assisted the midwife at Nicole’s birth and had taken care of Lily as tenderly as a mother.

“Sally, I want my baby,” Lily whispered. “If only you were here, you’d help me figure out what to do. The money’s all gone. I have no one. I’m becoming desperate. What am I going to do? What?”

She remembered going to Sally and confessing in a storm of misery and shame that she had taken a lover, and from that one night of illicit passion a child had been conceived. At the time she had thought that was the worst that could happen to her. Sally had comforted her with common sense. “Have you considered giving the babe away?” Sally had asked. “Paying someone else to rear it?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” Lily had replied tearfully. “The baby is innocent. He—or she—doesn’t deserve to pay for my sins.”

“Then if you plan to keep the child, we’ll live quietly together in Italy,” Sally’s eyes had been bright with anticipation. “We’ll be a family.”