A familiar light knock sounded, drawing her attention to the door. Jocelyn was home, the last person Lily wished to see. But the bedroom door swung open and there she was, sweeping into the room like the royalty she would one day become.

"Lily! I saw the glow of your lamp beneath the door. I am so glad you are still awake!"

Lily managed a smile. "You look radiant. Your evening with Barclay must have gone well."

Jocelyn beamed. "Lord-there are simply no words to describe it. Christopher was...he was...Passion is amazing, Lily. They try to keep us from knowing-our parents, the men we will marry. They don't want us to find out. A man can have any woman he wants, but a woman...a woman is supposed to remain chaste. It is so unfair, Lily."

Lily said nothing. Jo was right-it was unfair. And yet for Lily, there was no other man besides Royal she wanted or ever would.

Jocelyn sank onto the tapestry stool in front of the dresser. "It was fantastic, Lily. Christopher was so incredibly passionate and yet he was gentle." She looked up at Lily and grinned. "I picked the perfect man to be my first lover."

Lily swallowed, thinking she had picked exactly the wrong man to fall in love with. "What...what about Royal?"

"What about him? We are not yet wed. It is perfectly fine for him to do what he wishes until we are married-even after. Well, as far as I am concerned, it is perfectly fine for me, too."

Lily had no idea what to say. How could she criticize Jo when she and Royal had done the same thing?

"I wish I could describe it, Lily. There is this feeling that comes over you at the end...It's...it's like floating among the stars. It's like bursting into a thousand little pieces of sheer bliss. Lord, I never could have imagined."

Neither could Lily-until tonight-though she had read about it. "The French call it the little death."

Jocelyn turned, grinned. "Because it's as if you died and went to heaven."

Truly it was like heaven. But there was a price to pay for the pleasure. She had given a little part of herself to Royal, a part she would never get back.

"I just had to tell you, Lily. I was bursting to tell someone and there is no one else I trust the way I trust you."

Fresh guilt washed over her. From the moment she had left the house party, Lily had told herself what she had done was wrong. But every time she thought of Royal and the yearning she had seen in his eyes, the need that only she seemed able to fill, she couldn't make herself believe it. She refused to regret the brief moments of joy she had taken for herself.

But it was wrong, and deep down she knew it.

Jocelyn rose from the stool. "I had better get to bed. Mother thinks I went with the Stewarts to the Bergmans' ball. My maid will still be up, waiting to help me undress."

Jocelyn had lied to her parents. In order to begin her Gypsy charade, Lily had simply pled a headache and stayed upstairs in her room. As soon as the time was right, she had slipped down the backstairs and joined her uncle, who was waiting with a rented carriage in the alley behind the house.

Jo walked over and hugged her, taking Lily by surprise. "I just feel so wonderful."

Lily looked at her cousin, saw the blush in her cheeks and her brilliant white smile. "I get the feeling this isn't over. Surely you aren't going to meet him again."

Jo rolled her amazing violet eyes as if the answer were obvious. "But of course I am. I am not officially engaged. Until I am, I intend to do as I please." She grinned. "And it pleases me greatly to make love with Christopher Barclay."

Lily wished she could be so cavalier, that she could be with Royal again as they had been tonight and not feel the least bit guilty. "What...what if he gets you with child?"

Jocelyn arched a sleek dark eyebrow. "There are ways, Lily, to prevent such things. And Christopher is quite sophisticated in that regard."

Lily said nothing. Dear God, she hadn't considered until that moment, the consequences of what she and Royal had done. As far as she knew, Royal had taken no such precautions. Even now she could be carrying his babe.

Her heart lurched. Part of her was terrified of having a child out of wedlock. Another, deeper part secretly yearned to have Royal's baby.

Jocelyn walked out of the room, smiling and humming a slightly off-key tune. As the door quietly closed, Lily turned her cheek to the icy windowpane and felt the tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Royal paced the floor of the study in his town house. After a sleepless night, he was tired to the bone, his hair mussed from running his fingers through it. He glanced up at the sound of footfalls, breathed a sigh of relief as Sherry walked into the room.

Sheridan's footsteps halted a few feet inside the door. "Good God, man, you look a fright. Has something happened? I thought things went very well last night."

Even his sigh sounded weary. "The evening went exactly as planned. At least for the most part."

"And that part has you looking like something the dog dragged in?"

Under different circumstances, Royal might have smiled. "I just didn't sleep very well."

Sherry nodded sagely. "You need a woman, my friend. Why don't we pay a call at the Blue Dolphin tonight? The women there are exquisite-and extremely skillful at what they do. I promise you'll feel better in the morning."

"I don't need a woman. I've already had a woman. That is the problem."

One of Sherry's light brown eyebrows went up. He propped a hip on the edge of Royal's desk. "I am all ears."

"I've ruined her, Sherry. I don't know exactly how it happened, but the deed is well and truly done." And though he had taken her virginity, all he could think of was having her again.

Sheridan shrugged. "So move up the wedding. If your heir comes a month early, no one will really care."

Royal made a sound of exasperation. "It wasn't Jocelyn, Sherry. It happened with Lily."

"Oh, dear."

"Quite."

"I suppose I should have known. You have fancied the girl from the start."

Royal raked a hand through his hair. "What the devil am I going to do? She might even now be carrying my child and there is no way I can marry her."

"I gather you took no precautions."

"None whatsoever. I was half out of my mind with lust. I don't know what came over me."

"I think that is fairly obvious. You didn't force her, did you?"

He was appalled. "Of course not! We have always shared a certain...attraction. Last night it got out of hand." Now, there was an understatement. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Lily. And when he had been inside her, her sweetness had filled him, touched him in a way he had never been touched before.

Sherry sighed. "Yes, well, sometimes these things happen. What we must decide now is how best to take care of Lily."

"She is completely innocent in all of this. Somehow I have to make things right."

Sherry slid down off the desk and paced over to the window. The garden was still barren, and not in the best condition. The grass was in need of clipping and wet leaves covered the gravel paths, but a weak sun slipped down through the naked branches, foretelling the coming of spring.

Sherry turned. "As you say, you must make things right and so there is only one thing to be done. You will simply have to find her a husband."

Royal's chest constricted. "How can I possibly do that? She has no money and I don't have enough to provide her any sort of decent dowry."

"No, but you will. As soon as you are married, you will have money to burn, more than enough to insure Lily marries well."

His stomach rolled. He couldn't imagine another man in Lily's bed, another man making love to her.

He hadn't realized Sherry had moved till he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. "I can see this isn't what you want. I know you have feelings for the girl. Perhaps the money isn't so important. Perhaps you should marry her yourself."

Until that moment, he hadn't realized how badly he wanted to do just that.

He simply shook his head. "I can't. I made a vow. I promised my father and I won't break my word."

Sherry squeezed his shoulder. "Then we had best get started. We'll need to find someone suitable who will be willing-for a price-to overlook the fact that his bride is no longer a virgin."

Royal just nodded. His mouth felt dry. His heart pumped dully. He would come up with a list of suitable candidates and then go over the list with Lily. Whatever it took, he would make certain she got whichever man she wanted.

It was the least he could do.

Lily worked all week getting her millinery shop ready to open. She cleaned and rearranged, swept and organized, anything to keep her mind off Royal and what had happened at the Nightingales' soiree. For months, she had been fashioning hats, creating new styles, working till late into the evenings to make enough merchandise for the store she planned to open, enough to satisfy old customers and attract new clientele.

She glanced round the shop, pleased with the work she had done. The store was arranged to her satisfaction, the hats sitting in neat little rows: wide-brimmed bonnets, some with feathers, others trimmed with lace and ribbon, a cabriolet bonnet with false roses, lace caps in a dozen colors and several coal shuttle bonnets.

Proceeding to the desk behind the counter, she began the task of addressing notes to the ladies who had previously purchased merchandise, informing them of the location of her shop and the date it would officially open.

Her back was aching by the time she finished. She stretched and rose from her chair, glanced at the clock and saw that the afternoon had slipped away.

She couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to go back to Meadowbrook and make preparations for the evening ahead. Tonight Madam Tsaya was attending a ball given by Lord March's widowed sister, Lady Annabelle Townsend. The invitations made note of special entertainment in the form of Madam Tsaya, and apparently Preston Loomis had replied his intention to attend.

Jocelyn was invited and Lily meant to accompany her. As the evening progressed, she would slip away long enough to change into her Gypsy clothes then return downstairs as Madam Tsaya. She would appear briefly, make a few predictions to Royal's friends, then go up and change back into her ball gown for the balance of the evening.

Lily sighed. If only Royal weren't going to be there. If only she didn't have to see him and especially not with Jo. Her moment of madness was over. Both of them knew it could never happen again. Still, instead of regretting what had occurred as Royal did, Lily treasured the memory of the incredible moments they had shared.

Satisfied that all was in order in the shop, she locked the door, walked to the corner and hailed a hansom. She arrived at Meadowbrook to find Jocelyn taking her afternoon nap. Lily wished she could lose herself in sleep, but the moment she closed her eyes, Royal's handsome face appeared, along with burning memories of their passionate encounter upstairs at the soiree.

Instead of napping, Lily surveyed her wardrobe, which grew each time Jocelyn tossed aside a gown. She chose one she had altered but never worn, a sea foam-green taffeta the color of her eyes.

At the ball tonight, Uncle Jack would arrive with her Gypsy costume. She would meet him in the garden behind the house, then take the clothes upstairs to change.

The hours slipped past. Lily was nervous by the time Jocelyn had finally finished dressing in a plum velvet gown, and the two of them were ready to leave. Though Matilda Caulfield would be acting as chaperone for the night, Lily didn't think her brief disappearance would be noted. Neither Matilda nor her daughter paid much attention to Lily once they were caught up in the gaiety of the affair.

And tonight there would be entertainment in the form of Madam Tsaya. Lily couldn't stop a smile at the thought of what her cousin would think of the Gypsy woman who would be present at the ball tonight.

"Did the mark show up?" Jack asked. It was nearly ten o'clock, the night pitch-dark and windy. Her uncle stood in the alley next to the simple carriage the duke had rented for their use.

"Loomis is here. I saw him a little bit earlier."

"He's curious. By tonight, you'll have him hooked." Jack held out a small cloth bag that held her costume, and Lily took it from his long-boned hand. "You got my message? You know what you're to do?"

"I got your message." Pleading a stomach ailment, she had avoided the weekly meeting at the Red Rooster. She simply hadn't had the courage to face Royal so soon.

"Just toss Loomis a bone or two," Jack told her. "Don't give him too much. Make him come to you."

She nodded. She knew how to handle a mark. Once she had started playing the game again, it hadn't taken long for her unorthodox education to come flooding back to her. She knew about Loomis's mother and that she used tarot cards and told fortunes, knew about the man's fascination with Madam Medela. She knew what to do to capture his interest.

She leaned over and kissed her uncle's whiskery cheek. "I have to go. I don't want to be missed."

Jack just smiled. "Good luck, luv."

But Jack Moran had taught her it wasn't a matter of luck. It was a matter of skill, and she had learned from a very good teacher, a friend of Jack's, an old con woman named Sadie Burgess who had a weak spot for children and especially a lonely little girl.

Lily waved goodbye, turned and hurried back to the house, slipped inside and headed up the backstairs. A few minutes later, she was garbed as a Gypsy in bright, fluttery silk skirts and on her way back down to the drawing room.

Lord March's sister, Lady Annabelle Townsend, stood waiting-the slender woman with the honey-brown hair she had seen at the Nightingales' affair. She was even prettier up close, with fine-boned features, a slim, straight nose and blue eyes.

"Are you ready?" Lady Annabelle asked, and the gleam in her eyes said she knew exactly what was going on. Lady Nightingale hadn't been informed of the scheme in which her husband was involved, but clearly this young woman knew. No shrinking violet, Annabelle Townsend seemed excited at the prospect.

For an instant, Lily broke the rules and came out of character. "Thank you for helping us, my lady."

"I am just Anna to my friends and since you are a friend of the duke's, I am more than happy to help. Come along...Madam Tsaya."

"I vill follow wherever you lead," Lily said with a smile, back in character again.

They made their way along the hall into the large, ornate ballroom, which was crowded with the social elite. Lily spotted Jocelyn across the way and next to her the man she would marry. Tall and golden-haired, the Duke of Bransford was magnificent, a fact proclaimed by the sideways glances cast by half the women in the room.

Caught in his spell, Lily stumbled, and embarrassed color flooded her cheeks.

"Are you all right?" Lady Annabelle asked.

Lily managed a smile. "I am fine. A misstep, is all."

Ignoring the duke, whose gaze was now locked on Lily, she followed March's pretty sister toward the stage where the orchestra was playing.

"Since we haven't much time," her hostess said, "I'll just jump right in." Annabelle climbed the steps to the stage, leading Lily by the hand. The musicians stopped playing and the room fell silent.

"Good evening, one and all." Annabelle smiled, waited for the last of the guests to quiet. "As you all know, we have a special guest in our presence tonight. I should like to introduce Madam Tsaya. If you are lucky, perhaps you will be one of those she chooses. Perhaps you will be the lucky one to have good fortune."

A round of applause went up.

"It is my pleasure to be here tonight," Lily said. Her glance strayed to Jocelyn, slid over to Royal, and some little demon sparked to life inside her.

She surveyed the crowd, taking her time, letting the interest build. Then she fixed her attention on the duke. "Congratulations, Your Grace, on your upcoming nuptials."

The crowd murmured then erupted. Everyone turned toward Royal, saw him standing next to one of the wealthiest young women in London and began noisily speculating on whether or not the Gypsy could be right.

Even from a distance, Lily could see Royal's jaw go tight. Jocelyn just grinned, thrilled to be the center of attention and with the bets that would be made as to whether or not she would become the next Duchess of Bransford. Jo tossed a triumphant glance at her archrival, Serafina Maitlin, whose sleek red eyebrows drew almost together.

"Well, isn't that something," Lady Annabelle said to the excited throng. "Already we have a prediction for good fortune. Perhaps, if we are lucky, others will also receive good news." Reaching over, she caught Lily's hand and led her back down off the stage. The orchestra resumed its playing, but the buzz continued in the ballroom.

"That was extremely well done of you," whispered Lady Annabelle.

"I am not sure His Grace would agree."