Page 44

I shifted my weight, making my presence known. Adeline glanced up first, ever perceptive.

“She’s still in one piece, if that’s what you’re here to check,” she said dryly.

Lily smirked into her tea. “You say that like I’m some wild animal you’re babysitting.”

Adeline leaned back. “If you were, I’d have locked the door.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, but I smoothed the expression before it could form. Lily was watching me now, head tilted slightly as if trying to read something on my face. I didn’t like it.

“I assume you didn’t give her any trouble,” I said, stepping fully into the room.

“Oh, I gave her plenty.” Lily’s tone was bright, her defiance casual.

I looked her over despite myself. She'd changed into one of the dresses I'd given her—a deep aubergine. The color turned her skin to ivory and her hair to flame—too flattering. I forced my gaze away. None of it mattered.

But the ease in her posture did. She wasn’t afraid anymore. And that should have bothered me more than it did.

“Well,” Adeline said, standing, “if you’re going to be glaring at each other, I have better things to do.”

“Running off already?” Lily asked. “I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Hardly.” Adeline paused beside me, murmuring, “She’s cleverer than you think, and more honest than she means to be. Don’t waste it.” Then she left me with the echo of that warning.

Lily set down her teacup with deliberate care. “So. Are you here to interrogate me about what Adeline and I discussed? Or just to glower disapprovingly at my posture?”

“Your posture is abysmal,” I said, moving to the sideboard to pour myself a drink. “But no. I trust Adeline's assessment.”

“How refreshing. Trust.” She uncurled from the chair, standing with unnatural grace that no amount of training could quite tame. “Does that mean I've graduated from prisoner to. . . what? Tolerated houseguest?”

“It means you've survived your first day without causing a diplomatic incident.” I took a sip of brandy. “Though encountering Constance was certainly a near miss.”

“She doesn't like me much.”

“She doesn't like anyone she perceives as competition.”

“And am I competition?”

“You're a complication,” I said finally. “Which is worse.”

“Worse for whom?”

Both of us, I thought. But I didn't say it.

“You must be hungry,” I said instead, too briskly.

“Is that your way of asking me out?”

“It’s my way of establishing propriety. If you’re to pass as Adeline’s cousin, you need to be seen behaving appropriately. Dinner at a reputable establishment. No gossip.”

“How romantic,” she murmured. “A strategic dinner.”

“Everything about this arrangement is strategic, Miss Whitmore.”

For a heartbeat her expression flickered—hurt or irritation, I couldn’t tell. “Of course. Strategy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Get your cloak,” I said. “And try to look as if you’re enjoying my company.”

“Oh, I enjoy your company immensely.” Her smile was all teeth. “It’s the constant reminder that I’m a prisoner in silk that spoils the fun.”