Unknown by Yennhi Nguyen Page B

Lord Lindsey?”
    He turned to her, his eyes wide with surprise, and was silent for so long that Lily grew a little anxious. Perhaps young “ladies” were not supposed to ask direct questions of barons, no matter how friendly they might be.
    “Nobody knows, Lily, nobody knows,” Lord Lindsey finally answered wistfully. “And nobody even asks me those sorts of questions anymore. The doctor arrives, he takes my pulse, he gives me a simple of some sort to drink, and yet I am always the same.”
    “When did you fall ill, sir?”
    “It must have been… oh, let me see. After the war. I took to my bed and I’ve scarcely moved from it since.”
    Ah. He’d been ill since he’d lost his sons. It was grief, no doubt. Lily understood the impulse to let the darkness of it wash over you like a dreamless sleep; she had known the temptation to surrender to it, especially after Mama had died. But she’d always had Alice to care for; Alice had given her a purpose. She wondered if Lord Lindsey felt any sort of purpose. Perhaps after taking to his bed out of grief many years ago, he was now unable to get out of it from sheer habit.
    “Do you ache? In your belly or head? Can you walk?”
    “Good God, child. You do ask rather a lot of blunt questions.”
    Oh no . Now Gideon would haul her off to Newgate for offending his uncle. And she’d only been trying to help. “It’s just…” Lily stammered. “It’s just that I know an apothecary in St. Giles who can cure most anything at all. Particularly the pox.”
    Lord Lindsey barked a startled laugh. “The po— My God , Miss Masters, but you’re a caution. Unfortunately, my problem is not quite that simple. And I’ve a fine physician of my own.”
    “But he hasn’t yet cured you, has he, Lord Lindsey?”
    At this bold statement, Lord Lindsey inhaled sharply and drew himself up to his full sitting height. He studied Lily, his blue eyes glittering and inscrutable, as if she were an interesting specimen he intended to shoot and stuff and mount.
    In the silence that followed, Lily could hear a clock somberly ticking away seconds.
    “No, he hasn’t yet cured me, Miss Masters,” Lord Lindsey said at last. “Though I suspect you may be able to.” He smiled rakishly then, and Lily’s heart gave a strange kick; even at his advanced age, Lord Lindsey’s smile was remarkably similar to Gideon’s. And Gideon’s smile was… a weapon .
    “Would you join me in a game of cards, Lily? Entertain a bored old man?”
    “Well, certainly, Lord Lindsey. But we cannot see our cards properly in such dim light. I’ll just open the curt—”
    “No, Lily! It would—”
    But Lily had already briskly pushed aside the heavy draperies. Light flooded violently into the room, sending the dust in the air into a swirling frenzy. Lord Lindsey threw his arm over his eyes.
    A moment later, he cautiously lowered it again. And then he smiled, blinking sheepishly, as though someone had caught him in the midst of playing a prank.
    “Lord, but I’ve forgotten what tyrants women can be. Very well, Lily. We’ll have cards and sunlight. I may call you Lily?”
    “Certainly, Lord Lindsey. But I should warn you—I am a very good card player.”
    “As am I, Lily. As am I. I hope you are in a betting frame of mind.”
    “And I hope you do not mind losing.”
    Lord Lindsey laughed.
    * * *
    Gideon was halfway down the hall to his uncle’s bedroom when a sound stopped him in his tracks: the unmistakable “pop” of a card being dealt from a faro box.
    It was followed, to his burgeoning horror, by a throaty giggle.
    What in the name of Lucifer —
    He was in his uncle’s room in two long swift strides.
    “ Aarrgh !” The brightness of the room attacked him. Gideon covered his eyes in defense. Since when had the sun been permitted into his uncle’s domain?
    He was not the least bit pleased to hear more giggles mingling with a rusty chuckle.
    Gideon lowered his arm again, blinking to accustom himself to