Unknown by Yennhi Nguyen Page A

as though he’s part of a funeral procession, and Mrs. Plunkett walks as though she’s staggering under a great weight, and—well, let’s face it, she more or less is—”
    Lily laughed, charmed.
    “—but you, m’dear, walk as though you’re in a tearing hurry to get away from something or get to something. Gideon walks rather like you; he’s a restless soul. But his footfall is a good deal heavier and his stride longer. So the question remains: Who are you? You’re already part of the way in; you may as well come closer and let me get a look at you.”
    It was an oddly cheerful and hale-sounding voice to be emanating from such a dim room, and Lily was too painfully curious now not to follow orders. She took a tentative step through the doorway.
    A white-haired gentleman was sitting up in bed. By the light of the candles pulsing in globes arranged about him, she could see that his face was soft with age, the skin beneath his jaw drooping, his eyebrows sticking out in gray tufts. He was watching her with delighted interest.
    “Ah, I see I was right! I would not have troubled to flirt with you if I hadn’t been certain you were very pretty. And oh! See how she blushes to be told she is pretty.”
    “Oh, were you flirting, sir?” Lily teased, getting into the spirit of things.
    He laughed, pleased. “Oh- ho , so she’s a bit of minx, too! I’m Lord Lindsey, m’dear, and you still haven’t told me your name. Who are you? Come closer. You’re not my nephew’s bit o‘ muslin, are you? Gideon could certainly use one.”
    The words were so friendly Lily didn’t even consider taking offense. She remained where she stood, however; she’d heard plenty about elderly lords of the manor and their propensity for friskiness. And regardless of his supine position, this one didn’t look incapacitated.
    “I’m Lily Masters, Lord Lindsey, and I am Lord Kilmartin’s cousin from Sussex.”
    Lord Lindsey laughed. “And you’re not at all taken aback by my suggestion that you might be a bit o‘ muslin. You are an unusual young lady, Lily Masters. Why are you wearing a pinned-together sack of a dress? It looks as though it may belong to Mrs. Plunkett.”
    “It does belong to Mrs. Plunkett. I was in an unfortunate coaching accident, sir. All of my clothing was ruined.”
    “Your slippers as well, Lily?”
    Lily looked down at the slippers loaned to her by Mrs. Plunkett. “How can you see my feet?” she marveled.
    “The reflection from the bureau mirror, m’dear. Come closer and chat with me. I’m a bored and sick old man, and I promise I will not bite, regardless of how tempted I might be.”
    “I would simply bite you back,” Lily retorted playfully, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. This wasn’t McBride. This was Lord Lindsey, a baron . One could not tease a baron about biting .
    But Lord Lindsey merely laughed again, altogether pleased. “And listen to that voice of yours, Miss Masters. Like a great velvet settee, it is; one could sink right into it. You are an original. Tell me you are not married so that I may feel free to fall in love with you. Do I know your parents?”
    Lily eyed him cautiously. So far, she knew only three things about who she was supposed to be: she was Kilmartin’s cousin; she’d been in an unfortunate coaching accident; she was from Sussex.
    Oh, and one more thing: she wasn’t to ramble all over the house.
    “I am unmarried, sir. And I doubt that you knew my parents. They died long ago.”
    “Ah. I see.” Sadness swept down over Lord Lindsey’s face. “I lost my sons, both of them, in the war. And their mother after that.”
    His grief was a sudden and almost palpable presence in the room; Lily was awed by the weight of it. “I am sorry for your loss, Lord Lindsey,” she told him softly.
    “And I for yours, Lily.” They shared a commiserating silence for a moment. And then he patted the bed; she moved forward and pulled a chair up next to it.
    “Why are you ill,