“For three hours, miss. He claimed to be about urgent business. He stated that he would wait as long as necessary in order to see you.”

Lily’s curiosity was awakened. She glanced at the closed door of the salon, positioned between the arms of the double-sided staircase. “Urgent, hmm? I’ll see him right away. Er…send him to my upstairs sitting room. I must get out of these wet things.”

Burton nodded without expression. The sitting room, attached to Lily’s bedchamber via a small anteroom, was reserved for Lily’s closest acquaintances. Few were allowed up there, although an untold number had angled for invitations. “Yes, Miss Lawson.”

Zachary had found it no hardship to wait in Lily’s parlor. Even in his agitation, he couldn’t help noticing that something about No. 38 Grosvenor made a man feel extraordinarily comfortable. Perhaps it had something to do with the color schemes. Most women had their walls done in the fashionable pastel colors—cool blue, icy pink, or yellow, ornamented with white friezes and columns. Uncomfortable little gilt chairs with slick cushions were the mode, those and sofas with dainty legs that looked incapable of bearing any real weight. But Lily’s terrace was decorated in rich, warm colors, with solid furniture that invited a man to put his feet up. The walls were covered with hunting scenes, engravings, and a few tasteful portraits. There were frequent gatherings of writers, eccentrics, dandies, and politicians at her home, although Lily’s liquor supply was undependable—sometimes abundant, sometimes perplexingly sparse.

Apparently Lily was amply stocked this month, for one of the housemaids brought Zachary a decanter of good brandy and a glass on a silver tray. She also offered him a copy of the Times, ironed flat and stitched down the seam, and a plate of sweetened biscuits. Enjoying a feeling of well-being, Zachary asked for a pot of tea and relaxed with the paper. As he finished the last of the biscuits, Burton opened the door.

“Has she arrived?” Zachary asked eagerly, jumping to his feet.

Burton regarded him implacably. “Miss Lawson will see you upstairs. If you will allow me to show you the way, Lord Stamford…”

Zachary followed him up the curving staircase, with its intricately turned balusters and highly polished banister. He entered the sitting room, where a lively blaze cast its light from a small marble fireplace, and illuminated the green, bronze, and blue silk wall hangings. After a minute or two, Lily appeared at the doorway that connected to her bedchamber.

“Zachary!” she exclaimed, rushing forward and seizing his hands. Zachary smiled as he bent to brush her soft cheek with a perfunctory kiss. His smile froze as he realized that she was clad in a robe, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the floor-length hem. It was a circumspect robe, heavy and thick, the neck trimmed in swansdown, but it was still a garment in the category of “unmentionable.” He stepped back in a startled reflex, but not before he noticed that her hair was drying in spiky clumps, and she smelled rather…peculiar.

In spite of that, Lily was still strikingly beautiful. Her eyes were as dark as the center of a sunflower, shadowed by a thick sweep of lashes. Her skin had a pale, polished glow, and the line of her throat was delicate and pure. When she smiled as she did now, her lips had a singularly sweet curve, as if she were an angelic little girl. Her innocent appearance was deceptive. Zachary had seen her trade the subtlest of insults with rarefied dandies, then shout vulgarities at a pickpocket who had attempted to rob her.

“Lily?” he asked tentatively, and he couldn’t help wrinkling his nose as he got another whiff.

She laughed at his expression and waved at the air in front of her. “I would have bathed first, but you said your concern was urgent. Pardon me for reeking of eau de poisson—the Thames was rather fishy today.” At his uncomprehending stare, she added, “My hat was blown into the river by a gust of wind.”

“While you were still wearing it?” Zachary asked in confusion.

Lily grinned. “Not precisely. But let’s not talk about it—I’d rather hear about the matter that brought you to town.”

He gestured to her attire, or rather her lack of it, uncomfortably. “Shouldn’t you like to dress first?”

Lily gave him a fond smile. There were some things about Zachary that would never change. His soft brown eyes, his sensitive face, the neatly groomed hair, all of it reminded her of a little boy dressed for church. “Oh, don’t blush and carry on. I’m perfectly well covered. I wouldn’t have expected such modesty of you, Zachary. After all, you did ask me to marry you once.”

“Oh, yes, well…” Zachary frowned. The proposal had been made and rejected so quickly that he had almost forgotten about it. “Until that day Harry was my best friend. When he jilted you in that dastardly manner, I felt the only gentlemanly thing to do was to act as his second.”

That provoked a snort of laughter. “His second? Good Gad, Zachary, it was an engagement, not a duel!”

“And you turned down my proposal,” he remembered.

“Dear boy, I would have made you miserable, the same way I made Harry miserable. That was why he left me.”

“That is no excuse for him to have behaved so dishonorably,” Zachary said stiffly.

“But I’m glad he did. If he hadn’t, I never would have traveled ’round the world with my eccentric Aunt Sally, and she never would have left me her fortune, and I would be…” Lily paused and gave a delicate shudder, “married.” She smiled and seated herself before the fire, gesturing for him to do the same. “At the time, all I could think about was my broken heart. But I do remember your proposal as one of the nicest things that ever happened to me. One of the few times a man has acted unselfishly on my behalf. The only time, actually. You were prepared to sacrifice your own happiness and marry me, just to save my wounded pride.”

“Is that why you’ve remained friends with me over the years?” Zachary asked with surprise. “With all the elegant, accomplished people you know, I’ve always wondered why you bother with me.”

“Oh, yes,” she said dryly. “Spendthrifts, wastrels, and thieves. Quite an assortment of friends I have. Obviously I don’t exclude royalty and politicians.” She smiled at him. “You’re the only decent man I’ve ever known.”

“Decency’s gotten me far, hasn’t it?” he said glumly.

Lily looked at him in surprise, wondering what had made Zachary, a perennial idealist, look so woebegone. Something must be very wrong indeed. “Zach, you have many wonderful qualities. You’re attractive—”

“But not handsome,” he said.

“Intelligent—”

“But not clever. Not a wit.”

“Cleverness is usually born of malice, which I’m glad to say you don’t have. Now stop obligating me to praise you, and tell me why you’ve come.” Her gaze sharpened. “It’s Penelope, isn’t it?”

Zachary stared into her fire-lit eyes. He frowned and gave a long sigh. “Your sister and your parents are staying with Raiford at Raiford Park, making preparations for the wedding.”

“It’s only a few weeks away,” Lily mused, warming her bare toes before the crackling blaze. “I wasn’t invited. Mother is terrified that I would make some sort of scene.” The sound of her laughter was tinged with melancholy. “Where would she get such an idea?”

“Your past doesn’t quite recommend you—” Zachary tried to explain, and she interrupted with amused impatience.

“Yes, of course I know that.”

She hadn’t been on speaking terms with her family for some time. Those ties had been cut years ago by her own careless hands. She didn’t know what had driven her to rebel against the rules of propriety her family held so dear, but it didn’t matter now. She had made mistakes for which she would never be forgiven. The Lawsons had warned her that she would never be able to come back. At the time, Lily had laughed in the face of their disapproval. Now she was well acquainted with the taste of regret. Ruefully, she smiled at Zachary. “Even I wouldn’t do something to embarrass Penny. Or heaven forbid, endanger the prospect of having a wealthy earl in the family. Mother’s fondest dream.”

“Lily, have you ever met Penelope’s fiancé?”

“Hmm…not really. Once I caught a glimpse of him in Shropshire during the opening of grouse season. Tall and taciturn, that’s how he appeared.”

“If he marries Penelope, he will make her life hell.” Zachary intended the statement to be shocking, dramatic, spurring her into immediate action.

Lily was unimpressed. Her dark, slanting brows drew together, and she contemplated him with almost scientific detachment. “First of all, Zach, there’s no ‘if’ about it. Penny is going to marry Raiford. She would never disobey my parents’ wishes. Second, it’s hardly a secret that you’re in love with her—”

“And she loves me!”

“—and therefore you may be apt to exaggerate the situation for your own purposes.” She raised her eyebrows significantly. “Hmm?”

“In this matter I couldn’t exaggerate! Raiford will be cruel to her. He doesn’t love her, whereas I would die for her.”

He was young and melodramatic, but it was clear he was sincere. “Oh, Zach.” Lily felt a surge of compassion for him. Sooner or later everyone was driven to love someone they could never have. Fortunately, once had been enough for her to learn that particular lesson. “You will remember, I advised you long before now to coax Penny to elope with you,” she said. “Either that or dishonor her so that my parents would have to consent to the match. But it’s too late now. They’ve found a fatter pigeon than you to pluck.”

“Lord Raiford is no pigeon,” Zachary said darkly. “He’s more like a lion—a cold, savage creature who will make your sister miserable for the rest of her days. He isn’t capable of love. Penelope is terrified of him. Ask some of your friends about him. Ask anyone. They’ll all tell you the same thing—he doesn’t have a heart.”

Well. A heartless man. She had met her share of those. Lily sighed. “Zachary, I have no advice to offer,” she said regretfully. “I love my sister, and naturally it would delight me to see her happy. But there’s nothing I can do for either of you.”

“You could talk to your family,” he begged. “You could plead my cause.”

“Zachary, you know I’m an outcast from the family. My words carry no weight with them. I haven’t been in their good graces for years.”

“Please. You’re my last hope. Please.”

Lily stared into Zachary’s anguished face and shook her head helplessly. She didn’t want to be the source of anyone’s hope. He own small supply had been exhausted. Unable to remain sitting, she sprang up and paced around the room, while he remained deathly still in his chair.

Zachary spoke as if he feared that one ill-chosen word would be his ruin. “Lily, think of how your sister feels. Try to imagine what it is like for a woman without your strength and freedom. Frightened, dependent on others, helpless…oh, I know that is a feeling utterly foreign to someone like you, but—”

He was interrupted by a caustic laugh. Lily had stopped pacing and was standing near the heavily draped window. She rested her back against the wall, one leg bent until the point of her knee showed through the thick ivory robe. Regarding him with bright, mocking eyes, she gave him a smile shadowed with irony. “Utterly foreign,” she repeated.

“But Penelope and I are both lost…we need someone to help us, guide us to the path we were meant to walk together—”

“Dear, how poetic.”

“Oh God, Lily, don’t you know what it is to love? Don’t you believe in it?”

Lily turned away, pulling at a few strands of her short, matted hair. She rubbed her forehead wearily. “No, not that kind of love,” she said in a distracted manner. His question troubled her. Suddenly she wished he would go, and take his desperate gaze with him. “I believe in the love a mother has for her child. And the love between brothers and sisters. I believe in friendship. But I’ve never seen a romantic match that lasts. They’re all destined to end out of jealousy, anger, indifference…” She steeled herself to look at him coolly. “Be like every other man, my dear. Marry advantageously, then take a mistress who will supply all the love you need for as long as you’re willing to keep her.”

Zachary flinched as if she had slapped him. He stared at her as he never had before, his soft eyes accusing. “For the first time,” he said unsteadily, “I can believe some of the things that others say about you. F-forgive me for coming here. I thought you could provide some help. Or at least comfort.”

“Damnation!” Lily exploded, using her favorite curse. Zachary winced but remained in his chair. In astonishment, Lily realized that his need was that great, his hope that stubborn. And she, of all people, should understand the hell it was to be separated from the one you loved. Slowly she went to him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair back as if he were a little boy. “Forgive me,” she muttered remorsefully. “I’m a selfish wretch.”

“No,” he said in confusion. “No, you’re—”

“I am, I’m impossible. Of course I’ll help you, Zachary. I always repay my debts, and this has been long outstanding.” Suddenly she leapt away and strode around the room with renewed energy, chewing on her knuckles as if she were a cat frantically grooming itself. “Now let me think…let me think…”

Dazed by her swift change of mood, Zachary sat there and watched silently.

“I’ll have to meet Raiford,” she finally said. “I’ll assess the situation for myself.”

“But I’ve already told you what he’s like.”

“I must form my own impression of him. If I find that Raiford is neither as cruel nor as horrid as you paint him, I’ll have to let the matter alone.” Her small fingers laced together and she flexed them up and down, as if making them more limber before seizing the reins of a palfrey and charging off on a hunting course. “Go back to the country, Zach, and I will notify you when I’ve made a decision.”

“What if you discover that I’m right about him? What then?”

“Then,” she said pragmatically, “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get Penny.”