Page 16 of Gone with the Rake

The bed creaked and groaned as Art moved. Then silence. Lydia could practically hear the confusion in the room. The bed creaked again.

Did he look out from behind the draperies?

“What the devil?” he whispered in a hoarse voice. Then, “Fuck! Where is it?”

The bed shook violently, as he had crawled to the other side.

The bedside table! He was going to light the candle.

As quietly as Lydia could, she rose from the floor, and while Art fumbled with the candle, his back turned to her, she silently made a dash for the window.

Chapter 6

Lydia rode down the quiet park path at dawn, contemplating her predicament. Her failure last night was not only indicative of her inability to think straight when she was faced with her past lover, but it also brought up too many feelings she thought were forgotten.

She’d need to devise another plan to get the jewel because stealing into his bedroom every night—no matter how attractive the prospect seemed to her—was not a wise idea at all. She needed to stay as far away from Art as she could.

If it was just her livelihood at stake, she might have had the luxury of prolonging the inevitable moment of leaving Art forever, but this wasn’t the case.

Honoria depended on her. Either way, she’d seen him yesterday, she’d said her goodbye, and now it was time to get his jewel and leave.

Other than saving her friend, she also risked angering the notorious hell owner, Miss Melissande Monroe.

Everyone knew Miss Monroe. She was well known for her scandalous behavior—after all, what proper lady would ever run a hell? But she was also known for her iron fist, with which she ruled her little empire. Everyone knew that it was better not to cross her, or the circumstances would be dire.

Lydia stopped as she noticed a solitary figure feeding ducks by the Serpentine. Lydia smiled, dismounted, and tied her horse to the tree before approaching the woman.

Honoria turned around, her dark cloak swishing around her ankles. Her face lit up, her lips spreading into a smile. “Lydia!”

Dressed in all black clothing as if in mourning, a piece of bread still cradled in the palm of her hand, Honoria moved to embrace Lydia.

She always dressed in dark shades to avoid notice, and her hair was always gathered in a tight chignon. Usually, it was a dirty brown color, but now blond streaks glinted through her darker locks. She must not have had time to reapply the dye before leaving for London—the situation must have been truly urgent.

Lydia embraced Honoria, feeling warmth and peace for the first time in weeks. Honoria always had that effect on her. She was the light in her shadowy existence. “Good morning, dear. I am so happy to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

Honoria pulled away and held Lydia at arm’s length as she studied her features. “I’ve missed you, too. You… you haven’t changed at all. You look lovely.”

Lydia’s smile grew. “Thank you. You, too.” She studied her friend’s face. Honoria hadn’t changed much either. But something about her was different—her cheeks were rosier, although it could have been the fresh air, and her eyes were almost glowing. “Except you did change. You look… dare I say happier?”

Honoria’s smile dimmed at those words. “I am happy. I like the family I live with. The children are all so bright and intelligent. I shall truly miss not seeing Robbie grow up into a fine gentleman and not guiding Elise during her courtship. And Rosie…” Honoria swallowed, unable to finish her sentence.

Lydia bit on her lip and looked away. There was a brief pause.

Finally, Honoria cleared her throat. “Can I assume your reserved demeanor to mean that the Hades’ night wasn’t successful?”

Hugging her arms around her middle, Lydia stepped away and let out a deep sigh. “Actually it was a success.”

“It was?” Honoria’s eyes lit in excitement, and Lydia felt guilty for giving her false hope.

“Yes. But it turns out that particular job was just a test.”

Honoria’s brows drew low over her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Lydia took a piece of bread from Honoria’s slack fingers, ripped a tiny piece, and threw it as far as she could into the lake. “Miss Melissande Monroe. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

A hoarse chuckle left Honoria’s lips. “To me and everyone who can read or has ears. Yes.”

“Well, turns out she was the one who concocted the entire thing.”