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law. She wasn’t about to admit that she had felt feverish in Lord
Lyon’s presence, but she doubted very much it had anything to do with an
ailment. Her heart sank a little to her knees. Inwardly she chastised herself
for being foolish. It was just a kiss…
    “If you wish for me not to allow his suit, then it is
done.” Lily inclined her head. “May I retire now?”
    “Of course, run along.” He waved her away with the hand
gripping the drink, amber liquid sloshed onto the thick navy carpet. “I’ll be
going out as soon as the hackney arrives.”
    “Tonight, Father?”
    “Don’t question me, gel,” he grumbled and his eyes
narrowed as if trying to focus.
    Lily walked forward feeling as if her steps led her to
the executioner, instead of her father. She kissed him on the cheek, then left
him to his thoughts. The further down the hall she treaded the more
disappointed she felt. Agitated by her own behavior she strode as ladylike as
her mood would allow, straight to her room.
    There was no reason to be upset. It wasn’t as if Lord
Lyon had made a formal request for her hand. He did parade you possessively in
front of the ton.
    He’d only suggested if there were a scandal he’d do the
right thing. Hardly terms for considering giving someone your heart. Even if he
had pressed suit Lily would have to deny him on principle. She would not be
saddled to a rake like her mother had been, left alone for nights on end while
he was out gallivanting about the ton, warming the beds of other women.
    Rumors of Richard’s prowess tumbled in her mind. Lily’s
body heated as she recalled his wicked exploits. She’d overheard a matron
whispering to one of the dowagers about how Richard’s cock had nearly split her
asunder because of its astounding size. With that thought, heat filled her
stomach and lower still, to her feminine juncture.
    She frowned at her own response. Surely the woman had
been exaggerating. Lily waved her hand, dismissing the whole thing as nonsense.
In the end it did not matter, for she and Richard were over before they’d
actually begun.
    Lord Lyon had made his intentions clear to everyone at
the ball, and ton-nish people rarely forgot such overt acts. Indeed, they
seemed to notice every detail of every indiscretion quite vividly, much to Lily’s
chagrin. Well she’d have to make it clear to the grand dames that Richard’s
intentions were not her own. It was the only manner left for her to save face.
    She’d go along with her father’s idea of her being
feverish that evening, therefore not in her right mind. It chafed Lily to no
end to have to profess such a thing, but the circumstances called for a strong
response. It wouldn’t do to attract any more of the ton’s attention.
    Once the uproar died down, she would find herself a
biddable husband who wanted nothing more than hearth and home, a man who would
accept her substantial dowry as recompense for any undesirable murmurings
coming from the ton about her father’s gambling and drinking habits. This of
course didn’t bode well for Lord Martins. She had no intention of changing her
mind about him.
    As for Richard, she didn’t need tingles or passionate
kisses. Lily sniffed. They were passing fancies that in time would falter.
Worse came to worst, she’d retire to the country and lead a quiet life, like
she’d always dreamt about. She had enough money to live comfortably outside
society’s reach.
    Dealing with Lord Lyon would be much more difficult
from here on out. Lily would have to keep him at arms length, prevent him from
addling her wits. There would be no more walks or dances. And absolutely no
more kissing allowed. She had no idea what she would say or do the next time
she encountered him. But there was no doubt in her mind there would be a next
time.
     
    * * * * *
    Richard arrived at Josephine’s a little after two-thirty
in the morning. He couldn’t seem to keep the silly grin off his face. Tonight
he’d kissed Lily and it had