LITMIR.BIZ

      “Miss Lilly, may I go look at the gewgaws? I’d like to find some little trinket to send my sister. I shall be right behind you.”

      Lilly glanced at her rosy-cheeked, plump maid, Nancy, then down the row of stalls at Covent Garden and nodded. “I shall be looking at the ribbons. Mama asked me to find some greens and lavenders. Stay within calling distance.”

      Nancy nodded and disappeared into a stall selling fairings and Lilly continued down the row, feeling wilted in the late-afternoon heat. Even Mama had decided to stay at home to supervise the packing and sent Nancy to the fitting as her escort instead. It was just as well. Her fitting had taken more time than she’d planned. It seemed she’d lost weight since the first measurements had been taken—enough weight to warrant alterations to the nearly finished wedding gown.

      She hated the garment. It was heavy with the frills, flounces, lace and bows reminiscent of court gowns of old, and made her look like a parody of a bride. Olney’s parents had chosen the pattern, saying it was the only design befitting their wealth and consequence.

      In fact, she had not been allowed to choose anything for her wedding. The duchess had decreed that, since the O’Rourkes were new to town, they would not have the slightest idea about who should be invited, what to do or how to proceed. The duchess had handled it all. Mama had been relieved. Lilly, however, was growing very tired of their interference and the constant harping on their consequence in society and wondered if she was cut out to be a marchioness, let alone a duchess.

      But it was too late to turn back now. Her future in-laws would just have to accept her as she was. She was committed to her course and nothing could change that. She had remained resolute in the whirlwind of the past three weeks because of Mama’s delight in such a good match and the thought that Gina would have her pick of men. That was all she cared about.

      Of course, she could find happiness with Olney.

      She blew a drooping strand of hair away from her face as she looked down to inspect a row of rainbow-colored ribbons. She found the exact shade of lavender her mother wanted and asked the merchant to cut a length. The green she found was near to Mama’s shade, but a bit lighter. Still, rather than shopping in the heat, she ordered a length of that, too. The merchant announced, “Sixpence, if you please. Three for each.”

      When she opened the drawstrings of her silk reticule, she was confounded. She could have sworn she had taken a one-pound banknote before she left the house. “Sir, if you will hold those ribbons for me, I shall return with payment.”

      The man narrowed his eyes as if he suspected trickery. “Tryin’ to cheat an old man, are ye?” he asked in a loud voice.

      “No!” The heat of a deep blush stole up Lilly’s cheeks. “I promise I will be back. I must find my maid. She will lend me what I need.”

      “Yer maid? She’s got money when you don’t? The ribbon is cut, Miss Hoity-toity. Ye’ll pay fer it or I’ll call the charleys.”

      “I will advance her the money,” a voice from behind her offered.

      She turned and was both dismayed and relieved to find the man from Olney’s garden. “Thank you, Mr…. ah, but I cannot accept. I barely know you, and it wouldn’t be proper.”

      “It is only a length of ribbon, Miss O’Rourke. ’Twill not bankrupt me. I warrant you are good for it.”

      The merchant crowded forward and put his hand out.

      “But I do not even know your name, sir.”

      “Devlin.” And he gave her that crooked devil-may-care smile she had not been able to forget.

      “Mr. Devlin? Very well. I am indebted to you.”

      With her nod, the man dropped sixpence into the merchant’s palm. She stuffed the ribbons into her reticule and stepped away from the stall, anxious to disassociate herself from the scene.

      “Thank you so much, Mr. Devlin. I fear that man was about to turn me over to the police. I cannot even begin to imagine what my mother would have done. Or Olney.”

      He laughed and she had to smile, too. The very thought of Olney trying to explain that the woman he was going to marry in three days’ time had been arrested for theft was completely absurd. He would be certain to cancel the wedding.

      “Alas, we shall never know,” he said. “And I swear I shall never breathe a word of this to anyone. Now, tell me. Is your maid really about? And will she stand you the sixpence?”

      “She is, sir. She is trying to find a trinket for her sister. She should be along any moment.”

      He reached out and brushed the loosened curl back from her face. The gesture was innocent, but somehow so intimate that it left her breathless, and she could not think of anything to say.

      “I am not worried over my sixpence, Miss O’Rourke. I was merely wondering if you were trying to stall the merchant.”

      “It is true, sir. If Mama had not asked for ribbons, I would be home now.”

      “Ah, they are for your mother? I thought the green to be a perfect shade for you.” He took her arm. “Come, let’s stroll along until your maid comes. I’d prefer to be away from that man’s stall.”

      “Yes!” She breathed a sigh of relief and did not even glance back as they left the merchant behind. “I promise you, I have never had anything like that happen to me before. I was certain I had a banknote in my reticule. I must have forgotten to put it in before I left the house.”

      “Or you put it in and some enterprising street urchin relieved you of it.”

      The thought of such a thing made her indignant. “Oh, that cannot be. My reticule has been over my wrist the whole time.”

      “Allow me.” He slipped behind her and loosened the drawstrings with a touch so light she couldn’t feel it. In a fluid movement, he dipped two fingers in, withdrew a glove and turned away, all without a single sign that he had violated her property.

      She was astonished. “How did you do that?”

      “Years and years of experience, Miss O’Rourke. Accomplished thieves are not heavy-handed. Nor do the good ones have to resort to being a cutpurse.”

      “You are a thief?”

      “Was, Miss O’Rourke, in my misspent youth. I am reformed now.” He tucked the glove back in her reticule and gave her an impudent smile. “Well, from thieving, anyway.”

      A thief? Did Olney really invite such people to his fetes? “Then what do you do now?”

      “Oh, a number of things. Look after my investments. Manage my employees. Look for new opportunities. But I am a dull subject, Miss O’Rourke. I am more interested, instead, about why you are wandering London streets without a groom or male servant in view of the Queenite disturbances yesterday.”

      She shrugged. “Perhaps I am a Queenite.”

      He laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. “Now that would surprise me. No respectable young miss with an eye to her reputation and standing in society would admit to being a supporter of the queen. Risk the displeasure of the king? No.”

      “You have made the rather sweeping assumption that I am respectable, Mr. Devlin. Perhaps I am not.”

      “If

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