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A shrill voice in the crowd broke through his thoughts, “Lydia Lawless? I told you that name had to be made up. It’s just like the heroine’s from that atrocious Scoundrel novel!”
The realization struck him like lightning. That’s where he’d heard that name before. It wasn’t a real person. It was a character from a book! The Scoundrel—the first book Lily had ever read by herself, the one she’d gushed about for weeks. How had he not seen it?
How foolish he had been to not make the connection sooner. Not that he’d thought about it for even a moment. After all, he’d only heard the name in passing. From all he knew, the people were talking about the book. If only he had paid a little more attention. If only… he had realized earlier that Lily was Lydia Lawless.
Thorn rushed to the women still discussing the disreputable character of Mrs. Lawless, each now insisting they’d been the first to spot the deception.
“You knew her then?” Thorn cut in unceremoniously.
The ladies threw him a side-eye. “Thorn, what a pleasure to see you here. Wouldn’t have guessed that you’d still be attending such scandalous events after getting betrothed,” Lady Stanhope noted.
Thorn ignored the pointed tone of her voice. “Please, tell me you know where Mrs. Lawless resides?”
“Has she stolen from you?” Lady Stanhope continued fanning herself in a bored way.
“No,” he gritted out, his patience wearing thin.
“Or perhaps you are interested in spending the night in her bed and disappointing her too?” Lady Stanhope’s blonde companion chimed in.
Thorn squinted at her. “And who are you?”
She gasped in outrage. “My name is Iris, you bastard!”
Thorn rolled his eyes and turned back to Lady Stanhope. “Mrs. Lawless—do you have her address?”
“Yes,” she said with a tight smile. Luckily, she decided not to try her luck detaining Thorn any longer and gave away the address. Thorn knew that area, not too far from Mayfair.
With a nod, he dashed toward his waiting carriage, deaf to the outraged cries of the women calling him rude and unsophisticated. But the address would prove useless—just as he reached his carriage, he spotted an unmarked black lacquered carriage pulling away from the masquerade. As it turned, a flash of familiar red hair gleamed from the window.
Chapter 16
In a swaying carriage, under the poor light of the lantern, Lydia reread the words of the pamphlet once more.
She was ruined, utterly and completely ruined.
Perhaps nobody paid any heed to the pamphlet spread by the notorious hell owner in the middle of her masquerade that floated down from the sky after dramatic fireworks…
Lydia let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course, all the attention was on the pamphlet. Good thing she fled right after. She feared a mob would form right at the ball to come and find her.
She had angered many lords and ladies on her way to notoriety as the stealthiest thief in London. She was wanted by the Crown.
And although a printed pamphlet was not proof, once investigated thoroughly, she would no doubt be thrown to the gallows.
Good thing she had her trunks all packed and ready in the carriage. She could—no, she should—leave right now and not look back.
But the weight of the ruby on her finger, the feel of his kiss that still lingered on her lips, bound her to London with invisible chains. And she needed to break out.
The rain started pitter-pattering outside the carriage window, matching her gloomy mood.
“What are you going to do?” Honoria broke the silence.
Lydia shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Leave, I suppose. Just as I have planned.” She raised her eyes to her friend. “What happened there? What made you decide to remain in London?”
Honoria averted her gaze. “My earl—I mean, the master—” She stumbled over her words. Stifling a nervous chuckle, she finally said, “I just realized that I can’t leave this life. If I leave now, I will always wonder, always regret it.”
Was she blushing? Lydia leaned forward, only for Honoria to duck, hiding her face. “Did something happen between you and the earl?”
Honoria tugged on the tips of her gloves nervously. “No. N-not really. It’s just—Please, don’t ask questions because I don’t know the answers to them, Lydia. I am just as confused. I just know that I have to stay.”
