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Her gown, selected by Signora Ricci with tasteful precision, offered her an elegance she was not accustomed to. Aware of the impression she had made, Lily could only hope that the woman Brendan saw before him was compelling enough to cast shadows over his past infatuation.

But is it enough to make him forget the voluptuous Lady Slight?

Brendan escorted Miss Ab—his bride—to a drawing room just down the hall. It was a modest sitting area overlooking the garden and the mews at the rear of the property, a space he had always preferred to the grander one upstairs. The light was better in this room, his chief reason for favoring it over the more stately chamber above. That, and the room’s quietude, which he found soothing.

Lily stood framed in the early afternoon light, the sun painting faint gold across the polished floorboards. The transformation in her appearance—her gown, her coiffure, the quiet assurance in her bearing—had unveiled not a stranger, but a revelation. A lovely young woman had emerged from behind the girlish veneer, and she had lingered in his thoughts from the moment he had glimpsed her in church that morning.

She might be petite, yes, but she possessed an ethereal beauty that drew his attention again and again. That such musings, monumental ones at that, should occupy his mind was a turn of events for which he had not been prepared.

Burn my buttons! Was there truth to this matchmaking notion, this idea that one might be steered, gently and with good sense, toward an appropriate companion?

His only previous attempt at joining the marriage mart had been swiftly and unpleasantly curtailed, due to the baron’s interference, delivered by way of the Royal Mail. The memory still left a sour taste. Disillusioned, he had drifted into the company of merry widows, embracing a life of careless charm and consequence-free gallantries.

But recent days had revealed the cracks in that carefree philosophy. When he had most needed a companion—not a mistress, not a distraction, but a partner, it had been Lily who had appeared, unexpected and steadfast.

He had admired his friends’ matches from afar—Philip with his luminous duchess, Richard with his gentle yet iron-willed countess—and thought himself unfit for such a connection. Yet somehow, despite his checkered path and impulsive decisions, he now stood beside a wife of his own, one whose presence was beginning to stir thoughts of permanence.

However, the weight of responsibilities was a new burden to bear, and before he could begin to build a life with his bride, he needed to secure her safety. Lily was a virtuous and kind-hearted woman, one who may very well have saved his neck from the hangman’s noose. He must do everything in his power to ensure a long and peaceful future for her.

“I have some news to impart, I am afraid. It is our wedding day, and I wish to focus on the celebration of it, but there is a … situation … that I must inform you of. For your safety.”

Lily sat, somewhat engulfed by the red timeworn settee. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze trained on him with such directness that it pulled him taut. Brendan remained standing, shifting his weight as he studied the polish on his boots, momentarily seeking the right words.

How to broach the subject? His bride had already risked much on his behalf, and now he must tell her that further shadows lingered beyond the door?

His gaze lifted and caught upon her, her face earnest, her posture attentive, her hands folded with quiet resolve. The sunlight softened the edges of her features, and in that moment, she looked so entirely unlike the girl he had once dismissed. She was no longer simply a brave young lady in unfortunate gowns. She was a fully-grown woman. His wife.

Deuce it, she scarcely resembled the childish figure from their earlier encounters. Her complexion glowed with health, her eyes shone with intelligence and sincerity, and her gown, chosen with such care, seemed to underscore the grace that had always been within her, now revealed to the world.

“What is it? Is there something wrong? Are the duke and Richard aware?”

Her voice broke into his reverie, and Brendan jolted back into focus, realizing with embarrassment that he had been lost in admiration. Pull yourself together, man, he silently rebuked himself. He was not some green youth dazzled by his first dance partner.

How could she affect him so strongly? There was a quiet fortitude in her that stirred something he had long dismissed, a belief that beauty could exist alongside goodness.

“It is regarding the matter of the baron’s murder. Halmesbury and Richard are well informed. We have discussed the matter, along with the countess, and I do not wish to alarm you, but I feel it is imperative you know what has happened, so you might be alert and take measures to protect yourself.”

Lily’s eyes rounded slightly, but she maintained her composure, her calmness belying the gravity of their conversation. Brendan hesitated. Before he could stop himself, the question tumbling around in his mind escaped.

“Exactly how old are you, Miss Ab—Lily?”

When he had first encountered her, she had seemed no more than seventeen, perhaps due to the demure gowns and youthful styling so often imposed upon debutantes. Later, he had recalled a vague memory of seeing her at a previous Season’s ball, which placed her a little older. But now, attired as a married woman with graceful poise and a quiet confidence, she seemed altogether more grown, and the disparity between his earlier assumptions and present reality unsettled him.

She leaned back, her brow lifting in surprise. Ladies did not often declare their ages, and he knew full well he could have consulted Debrett’s Peerage or asked Lady Saunton discreetly. Yet here he was, married, and only now realizing how little he knew of his bride’s particulars.

At last, she grinned, and the expression transformed her features. The soft curve of her smile, paired with the sparkle of amusement in her large, expressive eyes, caught him utterly off guard. Her playfulness and warmth had a disarming quality, one he had not expected, but welcomed all the same.

By Jingo, what spell is this?

“I am older than I appear, twenty years of age, and this was my third Season. Another Season or two and I would have been on the shelf, so I suppose this was a strange but fortuitous turn of events.” She paused, her mirth giving way to alarm. Her hand rose to her cheek as color flooded her face. “Oh, no! I swear I was not attempting to take advantage of your situation to trap you!”

Brendan shook his head, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck in rueful embarrassment. Yet inwardly, he was reassured. She was just seven years his junior, far closer in age than he had feared, and with far more candor than he was accustomed to from society beauties.

“I am still deeply embarrassed about that accusation,” he said honestly. “Lady Saunton made the quality of your character clear to me, and Richard certainly seconded her opinion.”

Lily’s shoulders relaxed as the flush receded from her cheeks. Her expression softened with profound relief, and in that moment, Brendan was struck anew by the sincerity in her eyes. Eyes that held both courage and kindness.

“What is the concern regarding my safety?” she asked gently.