His magnetic, half-hooded glance, light touch and lazy smile were an invitation she couldn’t resist. “Home, please.”
• • •
Sylvia called on Lily at the hotel the very next day and was directed upstairs by a helpful, if misguided, staff member. Having no choice but to accept her visitor, Lily showed her to the sitting room that was part of their hotel suite. The sooner Lily was in her own home, the happier she’d be. With a butler who’d tell unwanted visitors she was not at home.
Sylvia’s eyes were on stalks as she entered the lush apartment. “I must say, you’ve done very well for yourself, Lily. This place is positively—”
“What do you want, Sylvia?”
“Oh, sorry.” She settled herself in a chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve been thinking over what you told me yesterday and though I find it impossible to believe my cousin could do such a thing, treat you with such cruel incivility—”
“Sylvia, I don’t want to talk about it any—”
She held up a hand. “No, let me finish—please. It is impossible for me to believe, but I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Lily, not about such an important thing, and so I must believe it. I’m so very sorry I doubted you, and if I was rude—”
“You were.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. To apologize.” She eyed Lily anxiously. “I really am truly sorry, Lily.” From the bag she was carrying she produced a large, flat box, wrapped in paper emblazoned with the name of a well-known shop. She offered it to Lily, and when Lily didn’t take it, Sylvia put it on a side table.
Lily recognized the wrapping. Sweetmeats, the finest you could buy. She sighed. She really didn’t want to make things up with Sylvia. She felt sorry for her, but she’d never much liked her. And there was a limit to how much she’d put up with.
But she hated to be cruel.
The silence stretched, and Sylvia’s lower lip began to quiver. She stretched out a hand in appeal. “Please say you forgive me, Lily. You’re my only friend—my only true friend—in London, and I could cut out my tongue for the things I said to you yesterday.” She produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. She scrunched it up. Tears glistened on her lashes.
Where was Rose when you needed her? She wouldn’t care about a few tears. But Lily wasn’t her sister, and she couldn’t stay angry for very long. She said with obvious reluctance, “Very well, I forgive you, Sylvia.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Lily.” Sylvia jumped up and embraced her. “So are we friends again?”
Lily nodded.
“Then you must let me take you out to tea.”
“No, I don’t think that’s nec—”
“Oh, but I insist. To show you there are no hard feelings.”
She really was the limit. Lily was the one entitled to the hard feelings. But if she did this—it was just a tea, after all—it would be worth it to get Sylvia off her back. “Very well. When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon? Now, where—oh, I know!—there’s a new tea shop just opened and it has the most divine cakes. Now, we’ll need to go in a carriage, and”—she gave Lily an apologetic look—“I’m afraid my husband won’t let me have the carriage, so perhaps you could pick me up in yours, and I’ll direct your driver. Will that be all right?”
“Yes, fine,” Lily said wearily. Already she was regretting it.
Sylvia stood. “Lovely. Then I’ll see you at two. Don’t be late now.”
• • •
The tea shop was very pretty, situated in a street of elegant shops, opposite a large hotel called the Excelsior. It was a convenient location for people who’d been shopping to stop for tea and cakes and other refreshments. With gleaming tiled floors in a checkerboard pattern, a large, elegant bay window facing into the street and charming wrought-iron tables and chairs, it looked very appealing. If their cakes lived up to the rest of the place, she was sure the new business would succeed.
They ordered tea and cakes, which came quickly and were delicious. They drank, ate cakes and chatted. Lily was in the middle of telling Sylvia a story about the refurbishment of Galbraith House—every day a fresh discovery—when she realized that Sylvia wasn’t listening. She was staring over Lily’s shoulder at something out in the street.
“I don’t believe it,” Sylvia muttered as if to herself.
Lily, her back to the window, turned curiously.
“No, no, don’t look!” Sylvia exclaimed, putting out her hand to stop Lily. “It’s nothing, really nothing. Sorry, Lily, I was distracted for a minute. Tell me, what did the workmen do to the screen again?” She leaned forward with a look of interest so patently false, Lily couldn’t stop herself. She turned and looked out the window.
There was nothing of note, just a few people walking along the street. “What is it?”
“Nothing, no one. Turn away, Lily. I don’t want you to be cross with me again. Here, have a cake.”
But Lily’s curiosity was well and truly hooked. She turned and examined the people in the street again. Most were hurrying along purposefully, in twos or threes. The only single person was a plump, very pretty young woman in a crimson coat, lingering on the other side of the road. She seemed to be waiting for someone.
“I didn’t know she’d be there, I promise you, Lily.” Sylvia moaned.
“Who is she?”
“Your husband’s—the one they say is your husband’s—oh, no!” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.
Edward was walking briskly along the road, approaching the hotel from the opposite direction. As he neared the hotel entrance, the young woman brightened and began to walk toward him.
As Lily watched she said something to Edward and held out her hand. In dull disbelief, she saw her husband take the woman’s hand. She swayed toward him, and he slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her tenderly up the steps
