Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(99)

“But we shouldn’t talk to men about politicians such as Mr. Bentham,” Gwyneth said, puzzled. “That’s what they have their friends for.”

“It seems I’ve made yet another faux pas,” Lily said with a laugh, pretending to cross the subject off an invisible list. “No more improper discussions of politicians.”

“Lily, don’t change a thing,” Elizabeth hastened to tell her, her eyes twinkling. “It’s clear Lord Raiford likes things just as they are. Perhaps I should ask my husband his opinions of beeswax and Mr. Bentham!”

Smiling, Lily let her gaze wander over the crowd in the foyer once more. She was startled by a glimpse of inky black hair, a flash of familiar features. A shudder of uneasiness went through her. Blinking hard, she searched again for the vision, but it was gone. She felt a soft hand on her arm.

“Lily?” Penelope questioned. “Is something wrong?”

Chapter 12

Lily continued to stare absently at the crowd. Recovering herself, she pasted a smile on her face and shook her head. It couldn’t have been Giuseppe. Over the course of the past years he had become too seedy to mingle in a gathering such as this. Aristocratic bloodlines or not, he wouldn’t be allowed to associate with the guests in here, only with the lower classes outside. “No, Penny, it’s nothing. I thought I saw a familiar face.”

She managed to dispel the dark feeling enough to enjoy the rest of the performance, but she was definitely relieved when it was over. Reading the expression on her face, Alex refused several invitations to gather with friends after the play, and he took Lily back to Swans’ Court.

Lily stared hard at Burton as he welcomed them inside and took Alex’s gloves and hat. It was the same look she gave him whenever she asked if a particular message had arrived for her that day. In response to her silent question, Burton shook his head slightly. The negative motion sent her heart plummeting. She didn’t know how much more she could take, how many more silent nights of waiting for news of her daughter.

Although Lily made an effort to chat lightly about the play, Alex sensed her bleak mood. She asked for brandy, but he told the maid to bring up a glass of hot milk instead. Lily frowned at him but didn’t argue. After downing the milk, she undressed and climbed into bed, nestling in Alex’s arms. He kissed her, and she pressed against him willingly, but for the first time she couldn’t respond when he made love to her. Gently he asked what was wrong, but she shook her head. “I’m tired,” she whispered apologetically. “Please just hold me.” Alex relented with a sigh, and she rested her head on his shoulder, desperately willing sleep to come.

The image of her daughter floated around her, dancing before her in darkness and mist. Lily cried out her name and reached for her, but she was always a few steps away, just out of her grasp. Eerie laughter echoed around her, and she recoiled from an evil, mocking whisper. “You’ll never have her…never…never…”

“Nicole,” she called out in despair. She ran faster, her arms outstretched, she stumbled and fought against vines that crept around her legs, pulling her down, keeping her from moving. Sobbing with anger, she screamed out for her daughter, and then she heard a child’s frightened wail.

“Mama…”

“Lily.” A calm, quiet voice cut through the mist and darkness. She swayed dizzily, flailing with her arms. Suddenly Alex was there, holding her steady. She relaxed and leaned against him, breathing unevenly. It had been a nightmare. Pressing her ear against his solid chest, she listened to the strong beat of his heart. As she blinked and wakened fully, she realized they weren’t in bed. They were standing by the wrought-iron balustrade at the top of a long flight of stairs. She exclaimed softly, her brow furrowing. She had been sleepwalking again.

Alex tilted her head back with his hand. His face was remote, his voice almost detached. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he said flatly. “I found you at the top of the stairs. You almost fell. What were you dreaming about?”

It wasn’t fair of him, asking questions when he knew she was disoriented. Lily tried to dispel the grogginess that still clung to her. “I was trying to reach something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she said unhappily.

“I can’t help you if you won’t trust me,” he said with quiet intensity. “I can’t protect you from shadows, or keep you safe from dreams.”

“I’ve told you everything…I…I don’t know.”

There was a long silence. “Have I ever mentioned,” he said coldly, “how much I hate being lied to?”

She averted her gaze, looking at the carpet, the wall, the door, anywhere but his face. “I’m sorry.” She wanted him to hold and cuddle her as he always did after her bad dreams. She wanted him to make love to her, so that for a little while she could forget everything but the powerful warmth of him inside her. “Alex, take me back to bed.”

With impersonal gentleness, he eased her away and turned her in the direction of the bedroom. “Go on. I’m going to stay up for a while.”

She was surprised by his refusal. “And do what?” she asked in a small voice.

“Read. Drink. I don’t know yet.” He went downstairs without looking back at her.

Lily wandered to the bedroom and crawled beneath the rumpled covers, feeling guilty and annoyed and worried. She buried her head in a pillow, making a new discovery about herself. “You may hate being lied to, my lord,” she muttered, “but not half as much as I hate going to bed alone!”