She nodded. “I see.”
He tried to extricate his hand from hers, but she seemed to hold him fast. “Tell me, Mr. Smith, and know that it is a mortal sin to lie to a blind woman: have we met before?”
The strangest expression crossed Caliban’s face. Lily wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed to be sadness. “No… my lady. We’ve… never met.”
“Ah,” she said, finally letting go of his hand. “My mistake, then.”
Caliban turned to Mr. MacLeish. “I shall be… happy to show… you about the garden… such as it is… sir.” He hesitated and glanced at Lily. “I believe… you were… interested in the… garden as well… ma’am? Would… you like a… tour sometime… after luncheon? Say… three of the clock?”
Lily felt suddenly breathless, but she managed to say calmly enough, “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Smith.”
He nodded. “Then… if you’ll all… excuse us?” He gestured with one arm, rather gracefully. “This way… if you please… Mr. MacLeish.”
“Of course,” said that gentleman. “Lady Phoebe, Miss Goodfellow, a positive delight to meet you both. I do hope our paths will cross again.”
“As do I,” Lady Phoebe replied, smiling.
Lily dipped another curtsy and murmured her farewells.
Mr. MacLeish sobered as he touched his hand to his hat. “Captain Trevillion. A pleasure.”
“All mine, I assure you,” the soldier drawled, so drily he might as well have been exhaling dust.
They watched the two men stride off, Caliban already explaining his plan for the garden.
Captain Trevillion pivoted back to the ladies. “If you’re ready, my lady, I do seem to recall you had some ‘important’ shopping to accomplish this afternoon.”
“Shopping is always quite important, Captain,” Lady Phoebe replied in a very serious tone. “But Miss Goodfellow has been so kind as to consent to give me the secret to her jam tartlets.”
“Has she.” The soldier’s tone was flat, with only a very small hint of disbelief.
Lady Phoebe smiled cheerily. “She has. Please be so kind as to wander a ways off so that we may consult on the matter. I’m sure the place you chose to speak with Mr. Smith was far enough away that you might not be overheard. Perhaps you can wait there.”
Captain Trevillion bowed woodenly. “My lady.”
He limped away and for a moment Lily felt almost sorry for the man. He was so very proud and it was obvious that Lady Phoebe used him a trifle hard sometimes.
But then the lady herself leaned close to her and whispered, “Is he far enough away?”
Lily glanced to the soldier’s back, now a distance away. “I think so, my lady.”
“Do be sure,” Lady Phoebe muttered. “I swear the man has the hearing of a dog.” She crinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound quite right. Anyway, the hearing of some animal that has very good hearing. Terribly annoying.”
Lily felt her lips twitch. “Yes, my lady.”
“Now tell me quickly before he comes back and sticks his long nose in: what does Mr. Smith look like?”
Lily blinked in surprise, her own voice lowering instinctively. “He’s very big—over six feet, with wide shoulders and large hands. He has brown eyes and brown hair worn long. He’s not handsome.”
Lady Phoebe frowned thoughtfully. “Does he have any mark about him?”
“I don’t think so, unless you consider an especially large nose a mark?” Lily shrugged helplessly.
“What do you know of him? His family? His friends?”
“Nothing,” Lily whispered quite truthfully, dread filling her heart. “Nothing at all.”
“Blast,” said Lady Phoebe.
“What is it?” Lily asked, afraid of the answer. “Who do you think he is?”
“Oh, no one.” Lady Phoebe waved an impatient hand. “It’s just that the captain is so mysterious. I vow he does it simply to vex me. Is he still watching?”
Lily glanced up to see that the captain was indeed staring at them. “Yes, my lady.”
“Of course he is,” Lady Phoebe muttered. “Well, might as well wave him over. I thank you, Miss Goodfellow, for a most enjoyable morning. I hope I may call on you again someday?”
“I’d be honored,” Lily replied as Captain Trevillion again joined them.
“If you’re quite ready, my lady,” he said.
“Oh, all right,” Lady Phoebe replied, getting to her feet.
Captain Trevillion moved adroitly to place his arm just where her hand would land when she rose. “I, too, shall bid you farewell, Miss Goodfellow.”
“Sir. My lady,” Lily murmured.
The captain tipped his hat and she watched as they left.
But the feeling of dread stayed with her. Who had Lady Phoebe thought Caliban was? For despite her disavowal, Lily couldn’t help but think the other woman had had someone particular in mind when she’d asked her questions.
Lily glanced down at the remains of their tea. The question was this: how dangerous was it for her to become involved with Caliban when she didn’t know who he was?
DESPITE MAKEPEACE’S IRE, MacLeish wasn’t a bad sort, Apollo thought late that afternoon—although he was very young to be designing and building independently. But he did seem to at least understand the concepts of architecture. The proof, Apollo supposed, would come when the architect showed them his designs for the theater and opera house and whatever else the duke wanted and was willing to pay to have built in the garden. Until then Apollo decided to give the lad the benefit of the doubt.
Now, though, he found his steps quickening as he walked to the theater. He wanted to see Lily again—without inquisitive strangers or odd architects turning up and, if at all possible, even without her scamp of a son and her disapproving maidservant. He’d forgotten, in those long years in Bedlam, through fear and grief and pain, what it was like to simply be with a pretty woman. To tease and flirt and yes, perhaps steal a kiss.
He didn’t know how she felt about that kiss—or if she’d let him kiss her again, but he was certainly going to try. He had lost time to make up—much of life itself to live. He’d spent four years in limbo, simply existing, while others found lovers and friends, even started families.
He wanted to live again.
But as he neared the theater he heard first the sound of voices raised—and then a male voice shouting.