Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(65)

She shuddered and cried out against his lips as the sensations raged through her in a devastating torrent. His words melted into a long purr, and he held himself deep inside her. Compulsively her body tightened around him, and he gave himself over to a cl**ax that burst through him in fiery plenitude. He was left breathless and weary and filled with a satisfaction that sank into the very marrow of his bones.

As he held her, she fell asleep with the suddenness of a tired child, her small head resting heavily on his shoulder. Alex stroked her neck and back, unable to stop touching her. He was afraid to trust the feeling of happiness that brimmed and spilled inside him. But it seemed he had no choice. From the very first, she’d been able to find the chinks in his armor.

He was a realist, scoring to believe in things foreordained. But it seemed that Lily’s sudden appearance in his life had been a gift of fate. Until then, he had allowed his grief for Caroline to overshadow everything. It had been pure stubbornness, his refusal to let go. He’d wanted to remain in bitter isolation and use Penelope as a safeguard for his solitude. Only Lily, with her twisted, tricky, haphazard charm, could have stopped it from happening.

Lily murmured in her sleep, her fingers twitching slightly against his chest. Alex hushed her with a comforting murmur and kissed her forehead. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked softly, wishing there was some way he could hold back tomorrow.

The first inkling Lily had of London’s reaction to what was rapidly becoming known as “The Scandal” was at Monique Lafleur’s shop on Bond Street. A dress designer who imported all the daring styles from Paris and cleverly adapted them for London tastes, Monique was always the first to know the latest gossip. Something about her lilting accent and cheerful blue eyes encouraged confidences from washwomen to duchesses, and everyone in between.

She was an attractive, dark-haired woman in her forties, kind-hearted and generous, unable to hold a grudge against anyone for longer than ten minutes or so. Her presence was so cheerfully inquisitive, her conversation filled with such understanding charm, that she had amassed a large and devoted clientele. Women trusted her to keep their secrets and dress them beautifully, knowing that Monique was that rare kind of female who never competed with those of her own sex. She never allowed herself to succumb to cattiness or jealousy.

“Why should I mind if one woman has a handsome lover, or another has great beauty?” she had once exclaimed to Lily. “I have a kind husband, my own shop, many friends, and all the gossip I can fill my ears with! It is a pleasant life, and it keeps me far too busy to covet that which others have.”

As Lily entered the shop with her usual brisk stride, she was greeted by one of Monique’s assistants, Cora. The girl paused with an armful of silk and muslin swatches and stared at her strangely. “Miss Lawson!…Wait, I shall tell Madame Lafleur you are here. She’ll want to know at once.”

“Thank you,” Lily said slowly, wondering at Cora’s unusual animation. It couldn’t be that they had already heard about her wager with Alex. Not even a day had passed, for heaven’s sake!

But as soon as Monique burst through the curtains that separated the front of the shop from the work area in back, Lily was certain. Monique knew.

“Lily, cherie!” the designer exclaimed, embracing her fervently. “Once I heard what had happened, I knew you would come here as soon as possible. There is so much work to be done—with your new status, you will need many new gowns, n’est-ce pas?”

“How did you find out so soon?” Lily asked dazedly.

“Lady Wilton was just here. She told me all about it. Her husband was at Craven’s last night. My dear, I am so pleased for you! What a brilliantly clever move! A magnificent coup! They say Lord Raiford appeared to be completely besotted with you. And what’s more, every man in London will surpass himself to be the next. You’ve been sought after for years. Now that it’s known you’re available, you can name any price, and any one of them will pay gladly to be your protector. No woman has ever had such a luxury of selection! Oh, think of the jewels, the carriages and houses, the riches that will be yours! If you play your cards right—no pun intended, cherie—you could be one of the wealthiest women in London!” She pushed Lily into a cushioned chair and dropped a pile of sketches into her lap, as well as a copy of La Belle Assemblée, a book containing pictures of the latest fashions. “Maintenant, perhaps you would like to glance at these while we talk. I want to hear every delicious detail. Trains are coming back, if you’ll notice. Somewhat inconvenient, having them drag across the floor, but so picturesque. Cora? Cora, put down those samples and bring Miss Lawson some café at once.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Lily said in a strangled voice, sinking lower into the chair, fixing her eyes on the top sketch.

Monique gave her a speculative but friendly glance. “Don’t be modest, dear. This is a great triumph. You’re the envy of many. It was quite sensible of you to accept Mr. Craven’s protection for a while—after all, he is rich enough that one can manage to overlook his commonness—but it was high time for you to make a change. And Lord Raiford is an extraordinary choice. So well-bred, so handsome and influential, so authentic. He descends from a true ancient landed family, not like these dandies with easily gotten titles and questionable fortunes. Have you already made an arrangement with him, my dear? If you like, I could recommend an excellent lawyer to represent you—he negotiated the ‘understanding’ between Viola Miller and Lord Fontmere…”