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Her spirits plummeted in disappointment. “You are not staying in with me?”

Aidan caught her hand in a coaxing manner as he smiled down at her. His cravat was too impeccably tied for a quiet night at home, and the gleam in his eye spoke of mischief and freedom. Lily cursed her height. Her brother towered over her, and all she could do was stand about with the appearance of a child, barely clearing five feet in her satin slippers. If she displayed any anger at being abandoned for the evening, she would simply appear to be throwing a tantrum.

“You do not mind, do you, Lily Billy? It is just that my friends have invited me to enjoy a game of whist at our club, and all the titled nobs are occupied with the coronation, so we will have the run of the place.”

“I was looking forward to catching up, Aidan! You have barely spent a moment with me since you returned to London. I am going to be dragged to the country soon for a house party, and Mama will be throwing titled gentlemen at me with every step I take.”

“I swear I will stay in tomorrow, but tonight is too unprecedented to pass up. You would not want me to miss out, would you? Not after I distracted Mother from her ideas about Lord Ashby?”

“I did not know that would be an excuse to abandon me!”

“It is not abandonment. It is merely a postponement.”

Lily relented. Aidan was clearly committed to his plans, and she did not wish to stand in the way of his fun. She wished she could go with him, to slip past the paneled threshold and out into the lamplit night, where laughter echoed down club-lined streets and gentlemen smoked cheroots beneath the glow of gaslight. But she was a young unwed lady and not permitted to do anything interesting. The rules penned for her gender hemmed her in like the boning in her stays.

If only she could find a gentleman whom she wished to marry. As a married woman, her whole world would open up—an independence of schedule, of conversation, of freedom. But she was unwilling to compromise her standards by settling for an old or inferior gentleman.

“Oh, very well! But I expect you to regale me with stories of your travels tomorrow night.”

Aidan lifted a hand to chuck her on the chin. “We will spend the entire evening together in the library, Lily Billy. Thank you for this. You are a dashed fine sister!”

Lily sighed, smiling as she watched him draw on his gloves. The supple leather gleamed softly as he tugged them over his fingers.

“I am holding you to that, Aidan. No begging off tomorrow night.”

Once he departed, the house grew still, the echo of the front door fading down the tiled corridor. Lily requested her supper tray be brought to the front drawing room, which overlooked the houses across the street and offered an oblique view of the square. The fire had been lit earlier, and the gentle crackle added warmth to the hushed space. She would feel silly eating alone at the dining table, and the window seat in the drawing room was her favorite reading spot. Cushioned and curved into the bay, it offered a view of flickering streetlamps and the distant glow of lamps in the neighboring houses.

She could not help reflecting that she had been doing far too much reading this past year. It was better than fending off elderly lords at a ball, but still. After three years, it was time she met a genuinely eligible man so she could enter a courtship, but that seemed as likely as sprouting a tail, after her third Season of no success.

Where were the truly intriguing gentlemen? Not on the marriage mart, it would seem.

Chapter

Two

“Carefully study the welfare of your men and do not overload them. Focus your energy and build up your strength. Keep your army constantly on the move and make unfathomable plans.”

Sun Tzu, L’Art de la Guerre (The Art of War)

Lily had called for Nancy, her father’s former nursemaid, to sit with her while she worked on her embroidery. The dear woman was advanced in years. She was also as deaf as a post, which suited Lily because she could chatter her private thoughts to the servant without any concern for them being heard—or remembered. This was infinitely preferable to being alone or, heaven forfend, chattering to herself like a madwoman. With Sophia gone, Lily had fallen into the habit of jabbering to Nancy far too frequently.

Dash it! She was in desperate need of a suitable gentleman. No debutante was meant to wander the social events for this long.

“It is all rather trying, Nancy. I have discovered that chattering to the gentlemen who are unsuitable has chased them away, as I had planned. The problem is now I babble more than I ever have, so when I meet a gentleman who might be interesting, I become nervous and over-talk more than I would under normal circumstances.”

“I thought you already attend formal dances, Miss Lily?” Nancy had looked up from her sewing, confusion on her wizened old face and her mobcap askew in her white hair, which gave her the appearance of having just risen from bed.

Lily hesitated, running her words back through her head before suppressing a giggle. “NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, not formal dances.”

The old woman nodded without comprehension before lowering her head to continue darning with arthritic fingers. Papa had many times attempted to pension off his beloved childhood servant, but Nancy was adamant that she wanted to remain working in their household, and he had not the heart to reject her wishes. Her duties were minimal, mostly darning and companionship to Lily when she was wont.

“Lord Ashby was scared off, but then later that night, I met his son, Mr. Ashby. The gentleman was quite fine, and I was excited to share a dance with him. But instead of getting to know each other, I babbled like a fool about the flavor of the orgeat, which I thought was exceptional, until Mr. Ashby’s eyes glazed over. He hurried me back to Mama and ran off as if his father’s hounds were chasing him. How am I to make a meaningful connection when my nerves trip me up so? It was all very disappointing!”

“Mr. Ashby was pointing? Innit rude?” Nancy’s raspy voice interjected.

Lily blinked, staring down at her needlework for a second while she tried to think what Nancy thought she had heard. “DISAPPOINTING. MY BABBLING … is disappointing.”

Nancy shrugged. “Yes, miss.”