It was overcast and cloudy as Lily walked beside Jack and Molly to the cab stand. They waited until she was able to hail a hansom then waved goodbye as the carriage rolled away.

She was headed back to her millinery shop, where she had been working most days, though the shop wouldn't be officially open till Monday. She kept several versions of her Gypsy garb there and she needed to change before making the trip to the small house in Piccadilly that had been rented for Tsaya.

She was climbing the stairs to the small apartment on the second floor when she heard a knock on the door to the shop. Hoping it was a customer, she hurried down then came to a sudden halt at the sight of the tall blond man on the opposite side of the mullioned panes.

Her heart took a leap and started thrumming. Lily took a deep breath, unlocked and opened the door.

"What's happened?" she asked, and though she didn't invite him inside, he brushed past her into the shop. "Is it Loomis? Has something gone wrong?"

"I don't want you going to Tsaya's house, not when McGrew will likely show up there."

"I have to go. I have to make it look real."

He blew out a breath, shoved a hand through his hair. "I never wanted you involved in this, Lily. If I'd truly understood the risks you would be taking, I never would have started this."

"But you did start, Royal. And we've gone too far to stop." She looked up at him, saw the worry in his eyes. "I won't be alone when I'm there. Dottie Hobbs will be there. She is staying in the house until this is over."

"I don't want you getting hurt, Lily, and I'm afraid that's going to happen."

In truth, she was already hurting, but it had nothing to do with their confidence scheme.

"I'll be fine. So far everything has gone exactly as we've planned. As long as we do what needs to be done, that isn't going to change."

Those golden eyes ran over her face. "Everything in my life has changed," he said softly. "It changed the day I met you." And then he reached for her and drew her into his arms, bent his head and very softly kissed her. "I'm tired of fighting what I feel for you, Lily. I need you so much."

Lily's eyes slid closed and she swayed against him. She knew what they were doing was wrong and yet it felt so good to be held by him, to feel the warmth of his lips, the solid strength of his body. Deep, seductive kisses had her clinging to his shoulders, ravishing, mind-numbing kisses made her forget all the reasons they should stop.

Instead, when he lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs, Lily slid her arms around his neck and let him carry her up to her apartment.

The door was partially open. Royal nudged it wide with the toe of his boot and strode across the tiny living room into the bedroom. When he set her on her feet and started kissing her again, the last fleeting thoughts of protest died away.

Royal kissed her as if he couldn't get enough of her, as if he wanted to absorb her into his very skin. Hot, wet kisses rained over her neck and behind her ears. Tiny shivers moved over her skin as he drew an earlobe into his mouth and nibbled gently. Ripples of pleasure poured through her. Heat and need rose up, and burning desire for the man she loved.

The front of her gown tipped forward and she realized he had unbuttoned her dress. His mouth scorched a path across her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts above her corset. He dispatched the gown and petticoats with a skill that made her a little uneasy, but as he unlaced her corset and slid her drawers down over her hips, the thought melted away.

She stood before him naked except for her blue satin garters and white silk stockings, and his gaze fixed for an instant on the pale, downy curls above her sex.

"I've imagined this," he said between soft, coaxing kisses. "Imagined seeing you in nothing at all. Imagined making love to you slowly and completely as I should have done the first time."

She trembled as he knelt in front of her, untied her satin garters and began to roll down her stockings. A gasp escaped as he cupped her bottom and pressed his mouth against the sensitive bud at the entrance to her sex.

"I've dreamt of tasting you, giving you pleasure this way." And then, shockingly, his tongue found its way through her curls, and even as she tried to push him away, pleasure swept through her, so fierce and hot she thought she might faint.

A whimper escaped. "Royal..."

He steadied her, but didn't stop, just settled his mouth over the swollen bud, laved and tasted until the pleasure was so intense, so incredibly sweet, she cried out his name. Her body drew as taut as a bowstring. She felt as if she were breaking apart as a shattering climax hit her, pulsed out through her limbs. Dear God, she had never felt anything like it.

She was limp and pliant in his arms as he carried her over to the bed and settled her on the mattress, left her for a moment to strip off his clothes. She roused herself enough to watch him walk toward her, felt a renewed hum of excitement at the width of his powerful shoulders, the way they veed to a narrow waist and slim hips.

A light furring of golden hair covered a chest that was solidly muscled. Long, sinewy legs carried him to the bed, a heavy erection riding against his flat belly.

He was big and hard, and just thinking of having him inside her made her squirm on the mattress. Royal came up over her, bent his head and captured her lips.

"Lily..." he whispered between fierce, plundering kisses that heated her body and scorched through her blood. All she could think of was Royal and how much he wanted her and how much she wanted him.

"It won't hurt this time," he promised as he bent to her breasts and began to suckle the fullness. His teeth grazed the crest, turning her nipples diamond hard, and her skin seemed to burn.

"Please..." she whispered, urging him to take her, desperate to feel his powerful erection moving inside her.

Royal kissed her again and parted her legs, forming a cradle for himself, positioning his shaft at the entrance to her passage. She was wet and ready, slick and welcoming, and as he promised, when he thrust deeply, this time there was no pain, only delicious sensation, overwhelming heat and a need so fierce she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

His hips moved, setting up an erotic rhythm that had her whole body tingling. The heavy thrust and drag of his shaft seemed to have no end, stirring the pleasure, making each second more intense. Lily wrapped her legs around his muscular calves and arched upward to receive each of his penetrating thrusts.

His taking was relentless, driving harder and faster until Lily reached the pinnacle and soared out over the edge. Her body tightened around him, urging him to follow, and Royal's muscles clenched. At the last instant, he withdrew from her body as he reached a powerful release.

For seconds they lay together, their hearts beating in unison. Then Royal lifted himself away and lay down beside her, curled Lily spoon fashion against him. He kissed the top of her head, then tucked her securely beneath his chin, and Lily wished they could stay this way forever.

They must have slept for a time, for she awakened to the brush of his mouth against her shoulder, the press of his arousal against her thigh. They made love slowly this time, and there was a sort of desperate sadness about it. Their affair couldn't continue. This had to be the end. But the thoughts burned away in the incredible heat, and when she reached release, it was as powerful as before.

They slept again and by the time she awakened it was dark outside. Dear Lord, she had to get back to Meadowbrook. She still lived with the Caulfields and they would begin to be concerned.

Her cousin's image rose into her mind, along with a shot of guilt. Lily slipped from the bed only to discover Royal sitting in a chair across the room fully clothed. She grabbed her silk wrapper from the foot of the bed and hurriedly pulled it on, trying not to think of the intimate things they had done. But a warm blush rose into her cheeks.

"I-I have to get home. I'll go to Tsaya's tomorrow."

He came toward her like a lion on the prowl. "I don't want you going there at all. I want to keep you safe. I have been thinking on this a great deal, Lily." He looked down at her, his gaze on her face. "Once I am...financially settled, I intend to see you well cared for. I'll make certain you have everything you want."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Royal reached for her, drew her into his arms. "This thing between us, Lily, it isn't going to go away. I'll find a place where we can be together. I'll take care of you, sweetheart. You won't have to worry about a thing."

She struggled to make her mind work, to make sense of what he was saying. The fog slowly cleared and anger rose in its place.

Lily stepped out of Royal's embrace. "Are you...are...you saying you wish me to become your mistress? You are going to marry Jocelyn and I am to be the other woman?"

"That's not how it is between us and you know it. My marriage was arranged before my father died. Jocelyn gets the title she wants and I get the money I need to rebuild my family's fortune. You've known that from the start. I am trying to find a way for us to be together."

Her eyes welled. She had known. The plan had been set the day she had first seen him kneeling beside her in the snow. And yet she hadn't been able to keep herself from falling in love with him.

She swallowed past the bitter lump in her throat. "I have a life, Royal. I told you that before. I wanted you and I am not sorry for what we have shared. But I won't become your paid-for woman. I won't walk around ashamed of who I am."

He reached for her. "Sweetheart, please..."

Lily backed away. "What happened today is what we both wanted. But this has to be the end of it, Royal."

"Lily..." There was something in his face, something deep and yearning.

Lily struggled to ignore it. "Give Jocelyn a chance," she said, having to force out the words. "Perhaps you will discover a way for the two of you to make your marriage work."

He glanced toward the window, seemed to be fighting for control. When he turned back, his jaw was set in a determined line she had begun to recognize. "I am sending a man to the house in Piccadilly, someone who can look out for you if there is trouble. He can be Tsaya's butler or footman, or whatever it is you wish to call him."

"I told you, I don't need-"

"He'll be there tomorrow. Let Mrs. Hobbs know he is coming." With a last glance her way, he turned and strode out of the apartment.

Lily heard his footsteps on the stairs leading down to the shop. "Lock the door behind me," he called over his shoulder and then he was gone.

Tears blurred her vision. She told herself she would not cry, but the wetness seeped down her cheeks.

Barton McGrew knocked on the door of the small house in Piccadilly where Madam Tsaya lived. He could hear footsteps inside the house, then muttering on the other side of the door. When it swung open, a heavyset woman wearing a mobcap and carrying a broom stood in the entry.

"May I help you?"

"Heard tell there was a woman here could predict the future. I was hoping she could help me."

The stout woman looked up at him, moving a strand of mouse-brown hair streaked with gray that had slipped from beneath her cap.

"That'd be my employer, Madam Tsaya. I'm her housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbs. But Tsaya don't tell fortunes-she just sees things sometimes. If she sees something good, she lets the person know."

"I'd sure like to meet her. What time do you think she'll be back?"

She shrugged her plump shoulders. "You never know with Tsaya. She's real independent. Comes and goes as she pleases."

"You think I might wait a while, see if she comes home?"

"What's your name?"

"Bart McGrew. Me mother's took sick. I'm real worried about her. I thought the lady might be able to tell me if me mum is gonna get well."

He tried to look worried. He figured the mention of his mother might soften the old bag up. From the way she seemed to be thinking it over, he thought it just might work. The Hobbs woman scrunched up her nose as she surveyed the cut of his clothes: the expensive tailored trousers, dark brown tailcoat and matching waistcoat that Dick had bought for him. The boss took real good care of him. And he took real good care of the boss.

'Course, he had learned to call him Preston, the way he liked, but deep down, Bart would always think of him as his boyhood friend from Southwark, Dicky Flynn, who'd taught him how to survive in the streets.

"I suppose I could make ye a cup of tea," the stout woman said. "But ye can't stay long. I've got to get back to work."

The old gal wanted company. He'd figured that right off. And he wanted some answers. Be interesting to see what he could learn.

They went into the kitchen and he sat down at a small round table while she set the teakettle on the stove.

"If she can tell fortunes, how come no one's heard of her till now?"

"I told you, she can't tell fortunes. She just sees things sometimes. And she only just got to London two months ago. Afore that, she lived in France." The teakettle whistled and the woman poured the boiling water into a china teapot.

"Where's her husband now?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Poor man died a few years back. Left her enough to take care of herself, but I guess she wanted to come back here where she'd lived as a girl." She poured the tea into two cups, added a lump of sugar to each one, carried them over and set them down on the table and sat down across from him.

He wasn't that good at making conversation, so he just sipped his tea, wishing she'd put in a second lump of sugar, and let her rattle on. She talked about the weather, said her big toe was aching, a sure sign of a storm. She chattered about the chambermaid who was working upstairs and about the cook who hadn't shown up that morning.

"I thought Tsaya would be back by now," she finally said, "but like I told ye, the lady's real independent-natured so you never know." She got up and carried her cup over to the counter, came back and took his before he was quite finished.

"You'll have to come back, Mr. McGrew. I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work."

He heaved himself up from his chair. He'd found out what he'd come to learn. "My thanks for the tea, Mrs. Hobbs. But I don't think I'll be coming back."

She smiled with approval. "Best just to hold good thoughts for yer mum and take real good care of her."

Bart just nodded. His mum was a whore, same as Dicky's. But at five years old, she'd run off and left him to fend for himself. If it hadn't been for Dicky and his mother, he would have been dead afore the end of the year.

Bart buried thoughts of the mother he'd never known and left the house, happy with the job he had done, always eager to please his friend.

Royal glanced up from the Swansdowne Brewery ledgers in front of him to see Sheridan Knowles strolling into the study as if he were the one who owned the house. He walked behind Royal's chair and looked down at the leather-bound book sitting open on the desk.

"You might want to turn it round if you actually intend to read it."

A flush rose beneath the bones in his cheeks. He'd been staring at the pages for the past half hour, but he couldn't seem to focus on the finely scrolled numbers his accountant had penned there. "I was just getting to it."

He turned the heavy volume to face him, hoping the afternoon would prove more worthwhile than the morning. Sherry ambled over to a nearby chair and threw himself down, tossing one long leg over the padded leather arm.

"Still having female trouble, I gather." His friend eyed him with the keen instincts that served him well and made Royal want to hit him.

"Let's just say that although your idea of making Lily my mistress had a goodly amount of merit, Lily didn't see it that way."

Sherry chuckled. "I don't see any scars."

At least none that showed, Royal thought. And yet all morning he had been thinking of the way it had felt when he'd made love to her, as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, as if there were no better place on earth.

"I take it your brother went back to school," said Sherry.

Royal nodded. "Rule left a few days after Lady Severn's affair."

"I got news from the country. Thought you would be interested."

"What is it?"

"That band of outlaws struck again, a carriage belonging to Lord Denby this time. His wife was inside, scared the bloody wits out of her. Took her jewelry and the coin in her purse, but did her no physical harm."

"That's something, I guess. Dammit, we need to stop them."

Sherry sighed. "I daresay I wish we were there. We'd deal with the rotters ourselves, get rid of them once and for all."

"I can't leave-not in the middle of this thing with Loomis."

"I know. I just hope no one gets hurt while we're busy playing cat and mouse here in the city."

Royal got up from behind his desk and walked over to the hearth, turning his back to the flames to warm himself against the cold that had slipped in with the fog that morning.

"This thing with Loomis..." he said. "I've been thinking about calling it off."