Chapter One
Thirteen months later
Lillian sat alone at the dining room table in her
dishabille, enjoying a cup of cocoa and the Morning Post.
"Bravo, Mr. Redford," she whispered to the empty room.
There it was, the notice that she had been searching for
during the past few months.
Mister Nicholas Redford
Enquiry Agency
15 Girard Square, London
Established 1811
She had followed his illustrious career in the papers with
the apt attention of a woman in thrall. Although slightly
mortified by her fascination, no one knew of it except her
dear friend Fanny, who would never tell a soul, so she saw
little harm. In fact, the man was fodder for her most
sensational flights of fancy, and Lillian was not about to
give up her favorite escape. There were nights when she
excused herself from festivities simply to enjoy the
company of his deliciously imagined kisses.
Often the dashing police officer was a crusader saving her
from a marauding infidel, or from a ruf- fian come to
steal her away. She schooled herself to recognize that
these were girlish fantasies and not in any way related to
the lead performer himself. She wondered if she would ever
encounter the handsome Mr. Redford again.
The only excuse she could have for seeing him was to
retain his services, something she could not quite imagine
doing. What excuse could she have to retain an enquiry
agent? The possibility of hunting down her natural father
flitted through her mind, but she instantly dismissed it.
Beyond having caused her mother infinite heartbreak, the
dastard had deserted the poor lady when she had been with
child. Such an unfeeling blackguard did not deserve to be
found.
So Redford would remain a deliciously decadent player in
her imaginary fantasies; her own private champion. Looking
around to ensure that no one was near, she folded the
newspaper along the lines of the advertisement and gently
tore along the edge.
"Happy birthday, darling," Dillon yawned, ambling into the
room.
The paper ripped across the wording with a loud
tear. "Blast," she muttered, flipping over the broadsheet
and pushing it aside before he could see.
"You woke early for me?" she asked. He was the picture of
a young boy roused from sleep, with his tousled blond hair
and air of lethargy. She smiled up at him
affectionately. "Now I know that I rank." "Of course you
do, darling," he intoned, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. "I
wanted to be the first to thank you for being born." He
bussed her on the lips, and his clove-scented breath
reminded her of an escapade long ago.
"Do you recall our first kiss?"
"How could I forget?" He grinned. "The butler found us in
the pantry."
"How is crotchety Mr. Jenkins?"
"Still scaring the cook and chasing the maids, I'm afraid.
But father will not let him go. Says he keeps everyone out
of his hair, and he will not give that up." He sat down
beside her. "Speaking of which ..." Reaching into his gown
pocket, he pulled out a velvet-covered box and set it on
the table. "For you."
"I do not need gifts, Dillon. You have given me so much
already."
"Father insisted."
She bit her lip, knowing that this gift came with unstated
terms. Opening the lid, she gasped. Diamonds glittered
like a circle of stars on black velvet. "It is far too
indulgent," she avowed quietly.
Lifting the bracelet, he draped it across her
wrist. "Nonsense, you are worth every gem."
It felt like a manacle, heavy with its demands made with
luminous insistence. She yanked her sleeve down,
extinguishing the glare. "It is a beautiful gesture,
Dillon. But it will not make me change my mind."
"Do not be so cynical. It is a gift for your birthday."
"Dillon ... "
He shrugged. "So what if we want you to stay when the year
is out? It is encouragement only, nothing more."
"I will not be a puppet dancing on your father's strings --
"
"But you will destroy me, instead." He crossed his arms,
anger infusing his handsome features.
"Stop being dramatic." Carefully, she placed the dazzling
bracelet back in the case and closed it with a snap. "My
plans are not subject to debate, by either you or your
father."
"I can give you all the money that you need -- "
"The waters might flow between you and your father, but
there are expectations involved and you know it."
"He has been more than reasonable -- "
"Which is why I endeavor to deal plainly with you both. I
told you from the onset of this arrangement that it is
only until my four-and-twentieth birthday."
"How can you deny him his happiness when he has done so
much for you?"
She stood, frustrated. They had been over this ground
before. Granted, they only seemed to discuss it on or
around her birthday, almost as if Dillon discarded the
thought until then, but they had agreed. "His efforts were
not completely selfless, but more importantly, it is about
my happiness, not his. I will stand on my own two feet
when I am able and not rely on the generosity of others."
"It was never a handout between us." Dillon frowned with
injury. "We have been friends since birth, and I would
never turn my back on you."
His accusation hung in the air, but she was not about to
let him make her feel guilty. She moved to the window,
staring out at the enclosed rear garden. "Will you be
joining us today at Mr. Wigley's Great Room?"
"I have already seen the Panoramic View of St. Petersburg."
"Fanny has not. Besides, I, at least, was unable to absorb
the entire scene in one viewing. I have examined it twice
already and continue to be pleasantly surprised." She
glanced at him, hoping for a truce. "Please join us for my
birthday outing."