Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(21)

“Well,” Penelope said with wan enthusiasm. “Viscount Stamford is a gentle and thoughtful man.”

“Yes, he is,” Lily murmured. Penny, bless her, was easy to read. She was in shock at the thought that the man who had courted her so ardently was now considering marriage with her older sister. Everything was going to fall into place nicely. Glowing with satisfaction, Lily looked at Alex. “I trust you have no objections to my receiving visitors, my lord?”

“I wouldn’t dream of interfering with any matrimonial prospect that comes your way, Miss Lawson. Who knows when there might be another?”

“You’re too kind,” she replied sourly, and leaned back as a servant ventured forth to remove her empty plate.

“Miss? Miss, shall I fetch something from the kitchen? P’raps a cup o’ tea?”

There was the sound of curtains being pulled. Lily stirred and groaned, climbing up from the soft depths of sleep. The glare of daylight was in her eyes. As she turned her head, she winced at the ache of sore muscles in her neck. What a wretched sleep she’d had, filled with strange dreams, some of them about Nicole. She’d been chasing after her daughter, trying to reach her, stumbling through endless hallways in unfamiliar places.

The maid continued to pester her with tentative questions. Probably his odious lordship had sent his servants to wake her at some ungodly hour, just for spite. Cursing Raiford silently, Lily rubbed her eyes and struggled to a sitting position. “No, I don’t want any tea,” she muttered. “I just want to stay in bed and—”

Lily broke off with a gasp as she saw her surroundings. Her heart thumped in fright. She was not in bed. She wasn’t even in her room. She was…oh God, she was downstairs in the library, curled uncomfortably in one of the leather armchairs. The maid, a young woman with a wealth of red curls stuffed under a white cap, was standing in front of her, wringing her hands. Lily looked at herself, realizing she was dressed in her thin white nightgown, no robe or slippers. She had gone to sleep last night in the guest room provided for her, and somehow she had ended up here.

The problem was, she had no recollection of getting out of bed or coming down the stairs. She didn’t remember any of it.

It had happened again.

Disoriented, Lily ran her palm over her sweat-beaded forehead. She could understand the situation if she had been drinking. Oh, she’d done quite a few foolish things when she’d “bought the sack,” as Derek called it when she was tipsy. But all she’d had to drink last night was a few sips of liqueur after dinner, and that followed by a cup of strong coffee.

It had happened on two other occasions. Once, when she had gone to sleep in the bedroom of her London terrace and had awakened the next morning to find herself in the kitchen; and the time after that, Burton, the butler, had discovered her asleep in the parlor. Burton had assumed that she had been under the influence of strong drink or some other intoxicant. Lily hadn’t mustered the nerve to tell him she’d been as sober as a judge. Good Lord, she couldn’t let anyone know that she roamed the house in her sleep—that wasn’t the behavior of a sane woman, was it?

The maid was watching her, waiting for an explanation.

“I…I was feeling restless last night and…came here for a drink,” Lily said, twisting the folds of her nightgown in her fists. “H-how silly of me to fall asleep right in this chair.” The girl glanced around the room, obviously wondering about the absence of a glass. Somehow Lily manufactured a light laugh. “I sat here to think about…something…and then I went to sleep before I even got the bloody drink!”

“Yes, miss,” the maid said doubtfully.

Lily ran her fingers through her tousled curls. A headache pounded in her temples and forehead. Even her scalp was sensitive. “I believe I’ll return to my room now. Have some coffee sent up, would you?”

“Yes, miss.”

Gathering her nightgown around the front of her body, Lily crawled out of the large chair and left the library, trying not to stagger. She went through the entrance hall. There were clinking sounds of dishes and pots from the kitchen, voices of servants engaged in their early-morning tasks. She had to get to her room before she was seen by anyone else. Clutching the hem of her nightgown in her hands, she flew up the stairs, her feet a pale blur.

Just as Lily neared the top, she saw a dark, imposing figure. Her heart sank. It was Lord Raiford, going for a morning ride. He was dressed in riding clothes and gleaming black boots. Defensively Lily pulled at the front of her gown, trying to conceal herself as much as possible. Raiford’s assessing gaze seemed to shred her thin nightgown and detect every detail of her body underneath.

“What are you doing, traipsing through the house like that?” he asked curtly.

Lily was tongue-tied. On a sudden inspiration, she lifted her nose and stared up at him as haughtily as possible. “Perhaps I was consorting with one of the servants last night. Shouldn’t one expect such behavior from a woman like me?”

There was silence. Lily endured his unfathomable gaze for an eternity, then tried to look away. It was impossible. Suddenly it seemed to her that instead of icy glints, his eyes were filled with sparks of intense heat. Although she stood there motionless, she had the sensation of the world careening around the two of them. She swayed slightly and placed her hand on the banister.

When Raiford spoke, his voice was more gravelly than usual.