Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(2)

The river closed over her, a wave smoothing over the place where she had been. Some of the women screamed. Anxiously the men scanned the rippling water. “My God,” one of them exclaimed, but the rest were too astonished to speak. Even the king, informed of the goings-on by his grooms-in-waiting, waddled forth to take a look, pressing his massive bulk against the railing. Lady Conyngham, a large, handsome woman of fifty-four who had become his latest mistress, joined him with an astonished exclamation. “You know I’ve said it before—that woman is mad! Heaven help us all!”

Lily stayed underwater a moment longer than was necessary. At first the coldness was a shock, paralyzing her limbs, making her blood turn to ice. Her skirts turned heavy, pulling her down into the mysterious cold darkness. It wouldn’t be difficult to let it happen, she thought numbly…just drift downward, let the darkness overtake her…but a pang of fear impelled her hands to make a finning motion, propelling her to the dim light above. On the way up, she grasped the lump of sodden velvet that brushed her wrist. She broke the surface of the water, blinking the stinging salt from her eyes, licking it from her lips. Needles of intense cold stabbed through her. Her teeth chattered violently, and she regarded the shocked assemblage on the yacht with a shivering grin.

“I’ve got it!” she chirped, and held the hat aloft in triumph.

A few minutes later, Lily was pulled from the river by several pairs of willing hands. She emerged with her wet gown clinging to every curve of her body, revealing a slim, delectable figure. A collective gasp went through the crowd on the yacht. Women watched her with a mixture of envy and dislike, for no other female in London was so admired by men. Other women who behaved just as disgracefully were regarded with pity and contempt, whereas Lily…

“She can do anything, no matter how abominable, and men adore her all the more for it!” Lady Conyngham complained out loud. “She attracts scandal just as honey draws flies. If she were any other woman, she would have been ruined a dozen times over. Even my darling George won’t abide any criticism of her. How does she manage it?”

“It’s because she behaves like a man,” Lady Wilton replied sourly. “Gambling, hunting, swearing, and politicking…they’re charmed by the novelty of a woman with such masculine ways.”

“She doesn’t look very masculine,” Lady Conyngham grumbled, observing the dainty form sheathed in wet fabric.

Assured of Lily’s safety, the men crowded around her erupted into laughter and applause at her daring. Pushing the sodden curls back from her eyes, Lily grinned and gave a dripping curtsey. “Well, it was my favorite hat,” she said, regarding the ruined clump of material in her hands.

“Good Gad,” one of the observers exclaimed in admiration, “you’re absolutely fearless, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” she said, causing them to chuckle. Rivulets of water ran down her neck and shoulders. Lily wiped at them with her hands and turned away to shake her wet head vigorously. “Would one of you dear, dear gentlemen fetch me a length of towel and perhaps a bracing drink before I catch my death of…” Her voice trailed away as she caught sight of a still figure through the curtain of wet tendrils.

There was movement around her as the men scattered to find towels, hot drinks, anything to serve her comfort. But the one standing several feet away did not move. Slowly Lily straightened and pushed her hair back, returning his bold stare. He was a stranger. She didn’t know why he stared at her that way. She was accustomed to men’s admiring gazes…but his eyes were cold, emotionless…and his mouth was taut with contempt. Lily stood without moving, her slender body shivering.

She had never seen immaculate golden blondness combined with such satyric features. The breeze blew the locks of hair back from his forehead, revealing the intriguing point of a widow’s peak. His hawklike, aristocratic face was strikingly hard and stubborn. In his eyes, so brilliantly pale, there was a bleakness that Lily knew would haunt her for a long time afterward. Only someone who had experienced such bitter despair would be able to recognize it in another.

Profoundly disturbed by the stranger’s gaze, Lily turned her back to him and beamed at her approaching admirers, who were laden with towels, cloaks, and steaming hot drinks. She banished all thoughts of the unknown man from her mind. Who gave a damn about some stuffy aristocrat’s opinion of her?

“Miss Lawson,” Lord Bennington remarked with a concerned expression, “I’m afraid you’ll catch a chill. If you wish, I would be honored to row you ashore.”

Discovering that her teeth were chattering against the rim of a glass, making it impossible for her to drink, Lily nodded gratefully. She reached her blue-tinged hand toward his arm and tugged in order to make him lower his head. Her icy lips came near his ear. “Hurry, pl-please,” she whispered. “I th-think I may have been a little t-too imp-pulsive. But don’t t-tell anyone I s-said so.”

Alex, Lord Raiford, a man known for his self-discipline and remoteness, was battling an inexplicable anger. Ridiculous woman…risking her health, even her life, in order to make a spectacle of herself. She had to be a courtesan, one known in a few select circles. No one with a shred of a reputation to preserve would behave like that. Alex unclenched his hands and rubbed his palms on his coat. His chest felt tight and banded. Her high-spirited laughter, her lively gaze, her dark hair…dear God, she reminded him of Caroline.