“No, no,” she said in a rush, “you don’t understand how it is with Derek and me—”
“Oh, I understand.” He looked at her speculatively. “So it’s necessary that you go out alone this afternoon.”
Already it had begun, the strangeness of accounting to someone for her activities. Lily hoped he wouldn’t make it necessary
for her to lie to him. “And perhaps the early part of the evening.”
“I want you to take a groom and a pair of outriders with the carriage.”
“Certainly,” she said with an agreeable smile. She wouldn’t mind riding to Craven’s in a closed carriage and a whole army of outriders. But she would have to be unaccompanied for her meeting with Giuseppe in Covent Garden. She would simply
borrow one of Derek’s mounts and sneak away alone.
Alex looked torn between pleasure and suspicion at her easy acceptance of his request. “While you’re gone,” he said, “I’m
going to call on Lord and Lady Lyon.”
“Your aunt and uncle?” Lily guessed, having heard her mother mention the names before.
He nodded ruefully. “My aunt is well respected, and experienced in matters requiring extreme diplomacy.”
“You think she’ll be able to help us avoid the appearance of scandal? After our card game at Craven’s and the scene last night
and Penny’s sudden elopement and our hasty marriage?” She made a comical face. “Don’t you think the damage has already
been done, my lord?”
“She’ll consider it a challenge.”
“A disaster, more likely,” Lily said, suddenly tickled by the idea of a society matron trying to delicately smooth over their
brazen antics. Her flurry of giggles caused a multitude of offended gazes to turn to them as the sober-faced clerks and
clients noticed the undignified behavior of the couple standing next to the gray marble column.
“Hush,” Alex said, though a grin flicked across his face. “Behave yourself. Every time we’re in public together, we cause
a scene.”
“I’ve been doing it on my own for years,” Lily said airily. “But you’re concerned for your reputation, I see. Eventually you’ll be reduced to begging me not to make scenes—”
She started with astonishment as Alex bent and kissed her right in front of the assembled crowd at the bank. The somber room resounded with quiet exclamations of disapproval and gasps of amazement. Pushing at the heavy muscles of her husband’s chest, Lily strained to escape him, feeling herself turn hot with mortified dismay. He persisted until she forgot where they were, and she gave a shiver of pleasure. Then he lifted his head and smiled down at her, his eyes glinting with challenge and enjoyment. Flustered, Lily stared at him, and suddenly she laughed in admiring surprise. “Touche,” she said, raising her hands to her flushed cheeks.
*
Lily found Derek in one of the private rooms at the gambling palace. He had pushed two tables together and piled them high
with account books, bank drafts, promissory notes, and money—piles of coins and thick wads of bills tied with white string. In
the past Lily had observed him count money with dazzling speed, his thin dark fingers rifling through notes until they were a blur. But he seemed strangely clumsy today, combing through his profits with exaggerated care. As she approached the tables, Lily caught the bittersweet smell of gin. She saw a glass of it on the table, surrounded by splashes that would ruin the fine wood. She regarded Derek in surprise. It was unlike him to drink heavily, and especially gin, the liquor of the poverty-stricken. He hated
gin. It reminded him of his past.
“Derek,” she said quietly.
He raised his head, his green eyes traveling over the yellow gown and the heightened color of her cheeks. He looked like a
jaded young sultan. The hard bitterness of his face was especially pronounced today. Lily thought objectively that he might have lost a little weight. The edges of his cheekbones were as sharp as knife blades. And he was strangely untidy. His cravat was undone, and his black hair spilled over his forehead. “Worthy hasn’t been looking after you,” Lily said. “Just a minute, I’m going to the kitchen to have them send up someth—”
“I’m not hungry,” he interrupted, pronouncing his h with mocking care. “Don’t bother. I told you I’m busy.”
“But I came to tell you something.”
“I don’t have time to talk.”
“But Derek-”
“No-”
“I married him,” Lily said bluntly. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so suddenly. She gave a sheepish, self-conscious laugh.
“I married Lord Raiford this morning.”
Derek’s face went blank. He was very quiet, taking his time about finishing his drink. His fingers exerted unnecessary pressure
on the glass. His face was unreadable as he spoke in a flat voice. “Did you tell ‘im about Nicole?”
Lily’s smile vanished. “No.”
“What do you expect ow ‘im when ‘e finds out you ‘as a bastard daughter?”
She lowered her head. “I expect he’ll seek an annulment or divorce. I wouldn’t blame him for hating me when he discovers how I’ve deceived him. Derek, don’t be angry. I know it seems a foolish thing for me to have done, but really it makes sense—”
“I’m not angry.”
“With Alex’s wealth, I’ll be able to bargain with Giuseppe—” She gasped with surprise as Derek moved suddenly, scooping up
a handful of coins and scattering them at her feet. Frozen amid the gleaming puddle of coins, she stared at him with wide eyes.
“You didn’t do it for that,” he said, his voice gentle and cool. “It wasn’t for money. Tell me the truf, gypsy—it’s all we’ve
ewer ‘ad, you an’ me.”
“The truth is that I want my daughter back,” she said defensively. “That’s the only reason I married him.”
He raised an unsteady hand and pointed to the door. “If you wants to lie to me, then leave my club.”
Lily looked down at her feet and swallowed hard. “All right,” she mumbled. “I’ll admit it. I care for him. Is that what you
want me to say?”
Derek nodded, seeming to calm down. “Yes.”
“He’s good for me,” Lily continued with difficulty, twisting her hands together. “I didn’t believe someone like him could exist,
a man without a trace of malice or dishonor. He says he doesn’t want to change me. When I’m with him, there are moments
when I know what it’s like to be happy. I’ve never known such a feeling before. Is it wrong to want that, even for a little while?”
“No,” he said softly.
“You and I can still be friends, can’t we?”
He nodded. Lily sighed and smiled in relief.
Derek’s face was strangely blank. “I ‘as to say somefing. You—” He stopped and made a careful effort to speak in the way
that pleased her. “You needs—need—a man like Wolverton, and you’ll be a bloody fool if you loses him. The life you’ve been
at would of brought you low gypsy. It was making you hard. He’ll keep you respectable, and take care of you. Don’t tell him
about your bastard babe. There may be no need.”
“He’ll have to know eventually, when I find Nicole.”
“You may newer—never—find her.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “Yes, I will. Don’t be petty and horrid, Derek, just because I’ve done something that’s displeased you.”
“It’s been two years.” The quiet urgency of his voice unnerved her more than mockery would have. “Not me or your bloody
Learie man ‘as been able to find her, and I’ve had my people look in ewery flash-house and gin shop, question ewery fence in Fleet Market and Covent Garden …” He paused as he saw the color drain from her face, and then he continued resolutely.
“I’ve had them
look in prisons, inn yards, workhouses, at the docks … she was dead or sold away from London, gypsy, a long time ago. Or…” His jaw tensed. “It’s too late to save ‘er from what she’s become. I know what they do to chiwdren, things
they make them do … I know, gypsy, because … some ow it was done to me. You’d rather ‘ave ‘er dead.” The cold green
of his eyes seemed to glitter with the remnant of some long-ago torment.
“Why are you doing this?” Lily asked hoarsely. “Why are you saying this to me?”
“You deserves a fair chance wi’ Wolverton. You ‘as to leave your past behind, or it will bring the future tumbling down
around you.”
“You’re wrong,” she said in a thin, shivering voice. “Nicole is still alive. She’s somewhere in the city. Don’t you think I would
know if she were dead? I would feel it, something inside would tell me … you’re wrong!”
“Gypsy-”
“I won’t discuss it anymore. Not another word, Derek, or our friendship is over for good. I’m going to get my daughter back,
and someday I’ll watch in pleasure as you eat your words. Now, I’d like to borrow a horse from you, just for an hour or two.”
“You’re going to give that Italian bastard the five thousand,” Derek said grimly. “I should follow you an’ kill ‘im.”
“No. You know that if anything happens to him, my only chance of finding Nicole will be gone.”
He nodded with a sullen scowl. “Worvy will arrange for the horse. An’ after this, I ‘ope to God Wolverton can find a way to
keep you ‘ome at nights.”
*
Lily reached the meeting place at twilight. A light rain had begun to fall, temporarily washing away the smell of garbage, rotten food, and manure that always permeated Covent Garden. She was surprised to see that Giuseppe was already there.
Approaching Giuseppe slowly, she noticed that his usual cocksure manner was absent. There was an edginess to his posture.
The dark, well-cut clothes he wore seemed shabby. She wondered why, with all the money she had given him, he had not
invested in new garments. As he saw her, his swarthy face turned eager.
“Hai il denaro?”
“Si, I’ho,” Lily answered, but instead of placing the satchel in his outstretched hands she held it to her midriff, her arms
wrapped around it.
His full-lipped mouth curved downward as he surveyed the wet darkness. The rain had quickly dissipated into a cool mist.
“Come piove,” he remarked sullenly. “Always the rain, always the gray sky. I loathe this England!”
“Why don’t you leave?” Lily asked, staring at him without blinking.
Giuseppe shrugged moodily. “The choice is not mine. I stay because they want me ‘ere.” He shrugged. “E cosi,”
“That’s how it is,” Lily translated softly. “Who are ‘they,’ Giuseppe? Do ‘they’ have something to do with Nicole and this
extortion?”
He looked annoyed, as if he had said more than he should have. “Give the money to me.’
“I won’t do this anymore,” Lily said stiffly, her white face framed by the hood of her dark cloak, her eyes bright with strain.
“I can’t, Giuseppe. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I came to London when you told me to. I’ve given you everything
I have, without one shred of proof that Nicole is alive. The only thing you’ve ever given me is the little dress she was wearing when you took her.”
“You doubt I still ‘ave Nicoletta?” Giuseppe asked silkily.
“Yes, I doubt it.” Lily swallowed painfully. “I think she may be dead.”
“You ‘ave my word she is not.”
“Well.” Lily gave a contemptuous laugh. “Forgive me if I don’t find your word all that reliable.”
“You are wrong to say this to me, cam,” Giuseppe said with an insufferably smug expression. “Some’ow I t’ink to myself
tonight, I should bring with me proof that Nicoletta is safe. I do not wish you to doubt me. I t’ink maybe I show you somet’ing,
that make you believe my word.” He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the twisted maze of alleys.
Puzzled, Lily followed his gaze. He called out something in Italian, using a dialect so obscure that even she, with all her fluency
in the language, couldn’t follow it. Gradually a dark, shrouded shape appeared several yards away, seeming to materialize from nothing. Lily stared at the strange apparition, her lips parting in wonder. “E lei,” Giuseppe said complacently. “What do you ‘ave to say now, caro?”
Lily’s body quaked as she realized the distant figure was a man, holding up a small, doll-like form. His hands were hooked underneath the child’s arms. He raised her a little higher, and the little girl’s black hair glowed like polished onyx against the lavender-gray sky. “No,” Lily croaked, her heart pounding in a frantic drumbeat.
The child stared at Giuseppe and called out in a tiny, questioning voice. “Papa? Siete voi, Papa?”
It was her daughter. It was Nicole. Lily dropped her satchel and staggered forward. Giuseppe caught her hard against him, clamping his hand over her mouth to smother her agonized scream. She fought wildly, flailing against his restraining arm, her
eyes flooding. Whimpering behind his hand, she blinked to clear the tears that blurred her vision. Giuseppe’s voice was a quiet
hiss in her ear. “Si, that is Nicoletta, our baby. E molto carina, yes? Such a pretty child.”
At Giuseppe’s nod, the man disappeared with the child, melting into the darkness. Giuseppe waited for half a minute before releasing Lily, until all chance of following her daughter through the convoluted streets and alleys was gone. His arms
withdrew from around her.
Lily relaxed slowly, still crying. “My God,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around her middle, her shoulders hunched like
an old woman’s.
“I tell you I ‘ave her,” Giuseppe said, picking up the satchel of money, lifting the flap to view the contents. He sighed in satisfaction.
“Sh-she spoke in Italian,” Lily gulped, staring at the place where her daughter had been.
“She speak in English too.”
“Are there other Italians where you’re keeping her?” she asked unevenly. “Is that why she still knows the language?”
He regarded her with a gleaming black stare. “You make me angry if you try again to look for ‘er.”
“Giuseppe, we could make an arrangement, you and I. There must be an amount that would satisfy you enough to …” Lily’s voice wavered dangerously. She fought to keep it under control. “To give her back to me. You know this can’t go on forever. You s-seem to care about Nicole. In your heart you must know she would be better off with me. That man who held her … is he a partner of yours? Are there more like him? You wouldn’t have come here alone from Italy, without some cadre or group to associate with. I think …” She reached out a beseeching hand to him. “I think you’re involved in some underworld gang, or conspiracy, whatever you wish to call it. That’s the only conclusion that makes sense. The money I’ve given you … they’ve taken a great deal of it, haven’t they? If anything I’ve heard about these gangs is true, then you’re in a dangerous situation, Giuseppe, and you can’t wish to expose Nicole to harm—”
“You see for yourself that I ‘ave kept ‘er safe,” Giuseppe exclaimed sharply.
“Yes. But for how long? How safe are you, Giuseppe? Perhaps you should consider making an arrangement with me, for
your own sake as well as hers.” Her hatred of him was thick in her throat, nearly choking her, but she managed to keep it from showing. Seeing the interest in his eyes, she continued quietly. “We could agree on an amount that would satisfy your needs.
The three of us would be better off—you, me, and most importantly our daughter. Please, Giuseppe.” The word was bitter on
/> her tongue, but she repeated it softly. “Please.”
He did not reply for a long time, his avid gaze wandering over her. “For the first time you ask me somet’ing like a woman,”
he commented. “So soft, so sweet. Per’aps you ‘ave learn this in Lord Raiford’s bed, no?”
Lily froze. “You know about that?” she whispered painfully.
“I know you ‘ave become Raiford’s whore,” he murmured, his voice silky. “Maybe you change since our time together.
Maybe now you ‘ave something to give a man.”
Her soul revolted against the note in his voice. “How did you find out?”
“I know everyt’ing you do, caro. Every place you go.” He touched her face, sliding his hot fingers beneath her chin.
Passively she accepted his caress, but inside she shrank with revulsion. The brush of his fingers on her skin was sickening.
She suppressed a shiver of disgust. “Would you consider what I’ve said?” she asked unsteadily.
“Per’aps.”
“Then let’ talk about the amount you require.”
He chuckled at her bluntness and shook his head. “Later.”
“When? When will we meet again?”
“Fra poco. I send you a note to say.” “No.” Lily reached for him as he drew apart from her. “I must know right away. Let’s agree on something now—”
“Patience.” he drawled, evading her hand, and grinned tauntingly. “A piu tardi, Lily.” With a gesture of farewell, he left quickly.
“It’s been a real pleasure,” she said, bitterly wiping away her welling tears. She felt like falling to the ground, screaming and
kicking in furious grief. Instead she stood like a statue, her fists clenched. Beneath her bleak despair, there was a flicker of exhilaration. She had seen her daughter, and there was no doubt it had been Nicole. Hungrily she remembered the beautiful
little face, the doll-like fragility of her child. “God, keep her safe, keep her safe,” she whispered.
She walked back to the small Arabian gelding Derek had loaned to her, and stroked the horse’s shining chestnut hide. Her mind raced with frenzied thoughts. Blindly she swung onto the mount and arranged her skirts and cloak. On impulse she walked the horse along the route Giuseppe had taken, deeper into the no-man’s land where police never dared to patrol, night or day. The
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