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For a moment, Lily hesitated. The old Lily might have blushed and stammered. But the new Lily, Lady Filminster, could not afford apologies.

No, she would attack. With words.

“Oh, do you mean the scandalous night I spent with Lord Filminster while his father was being bludgeoned to death?” she asked lightly, turning and reaching for Brendan’s arm. He responded without hesitation, stepping smoothly through the door and shutting it behind him with an elegant flick of the wrist before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Or do you mean when I stepped forward to speak to the coroner in order to clear Lord Filminster’s name of those dreadful accusations of murder?”

Lady Slight and her friend had drawn back, their expressions frozen in masks of wide-eyed horror.

“Or perhaps,” Lily continued sweetly, “you mean our hasty marriage to protect my reputation?” She paused, arching a brow, but no response came.

“Perhaps you mean when our footman attempted to abduct me and my husband bravely offered to take my place? Before our butler shot the man dead, of course.” Lily tapped a finger to her lip as if thinking. She tilted her head, eyes dancing with mischief. “But no, I think you must mean all of it.”

With a sweeping gesture, she settled the matter. “If I think about it, I must confess that I am. I am scandalous. Scandalously happy, that is!”

Lady Slight’s jaw had dropped unceremoniously. It appeared the widow had not anticipated being battered with the full brunt of Lily’s irrepressible candor. Lily, after all, was not famed for subtle manners.

Beside her, Brendan raised a gloved hand to his mouth, his eyes glittering with barely restrained laughter.

Lily managed to keep her face composed, but her heart fluttered with delight as she watched both women visibly wilt under the weight of her unapologetic truth.

Turning toward her husband, she reached up and gently cupped the side of his neck. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she smiled as Brendan lowered his head to meet her. His mouth met hers in a kiss that was warm, firm, and reverent —an unmistakable public declaration. He wrapped his arm around her, steadying her, drawing her close. The embrace was secure and full of promise. Her breath caught from sheer happiness.

From behind her, Lady Slight gasped at the public display. It was not fashionable to like one’s husband, nor to be seen enjoying his company, certainly not in broad daylight on Piccadilly. But Lily did not care a fig for what society considered appropriate. Let the gossips wag their tongues until they dropped from their jaws. She was deliriously joyful, and the entire world could go hang if they wished to complain.

Her dreams had come true, and she would not apologize for them.

Dropping back onto her heels, she drew a tremulous breath in an attempt to calm the riot of her pulse. Then, with composed dignity, she turned back to the widow.

“Whomever it was that my husband was with before me,” she said softly, “I am ever so grateful that they set him free … so that I could catch him.”

Lily tilted her chin upward in challenge, daring the viscountess to speak.

But Lady Slight could only gape, opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for air. The deflation in her eyes, the flicker of exposed hurt, pierced Lily unexpectedly. Just for a moment, her heart twinged.

The widow must be a very unhappy woman deep down.

Her life seemed a hollow one. Married off to a decrepit lord who had died shortly after the vows were spoken, she had borne no children. Now she floated through drawing rooms and musicales, changing paramours as frequently as Lily changed her stays. These were not the actions of a contented soul.

General Tzu, she recalled, would advise mercy to the fallen foe.

Letting Brendan go, Lily stepped forward. With slow grace, she reached out and touched the back of Lady Slight’s hand. The woman flinched as though scorched.

“I wish you the boundless joy of truly connecting with another person,” Lily said, her voice clear and gentle. “Of opening your heart to another, and finding that you care more for them than for your own self. I wish you a strong young husband and healthy children. And I wish you a long and full life filled with laughter, Lady Slight.”

There was no mockery in her tone. Only sincerity.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and returned to Brendan, slipping her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. Together, they strolled toward their waiting carriage, the wheels rattling softly on the cobbles as their driver readied the horses.

Brendan lowered his hand to rest over hers and smiled down at her with blazing, affectionate eyes. Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear, his breath brushing the curl at her temple.

“I choose you, Lily Ridley. Every kind, fiery, honorable inch of you.”

She looked up at him and smiled, her chest glowing with contentment. “And I choose you, Brendan Ridley.”

Epilogue

“Knowledge of the disposition of the enemy can only be obtained from other men.”