He tried to extricate his hand from hers, but she seemed to hold him fast. “Tell me, Mr. Smith, and know that it is a mortal sin to lie to a blind woman: have we met before?”
The strangest expression crossed Caliban’s face. Lily wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed to be sadness. “No… my lady. We’ve… never met.”
“Ah,” she said, finally letting go of his hand. “My mistake, then.”
Caliban turned to Mr. MacLeish. “I shall be… happy to show… you about the garden… such as it is… sir.” He hesitated and glanced at Lily. “I believe… you were… interested in the… garden as well… ma’am? Would… you like a… tour sometime… after luncheon? Say… three of the clock?”
Lily felt suddenly breathless, but she managed to say calmly enough, “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Smith.”
He nodded. “Then… if you’ll all… excuse us?” He gestured with one arm, rather gracefully. “This way… if you please… Mr. MacLeish.”
“Of course,” said that gentleman. “Lady Phoebe, Miss Goodfellow, a positive delight to meet you both. I do hope our paths will cross again.”
“As do I,” Lady Phoebe replied, smiling.
Lily dipped another curtsy and murmured her farewells.
Mr. MacLeish sobered as he touched his hand to his hat. “Captain Trevillion. A pleasure.”
“All mine, I assure you,” the soldier drawled, so drily he might as well have been exhaling dust.
They watched the two men stride off, Caliban already explaining his plan for the garden.
Captain Trevillion pivoted back to the ladies. “If you’re ready, my lady, I do seem to recall you had some ‘important’ shopping to accomplish this afternoon.”
urne nodded, contemplating that for a moment, or perhaps letting his throat rest. He said abruptly, “My grandfather… is dying… or so my sister informs me.”
“Then your uncle will want you dead as well,” Trevillion replied. “He made some very unwise investments in the last year and his debt has doubled just in the last five months.”
Kilbourne stared at him, frowning.
“His need has become acute, I think.” Trevillion met his gaze and once again noticed the scratches on the other man’s cheek. “Where did you get those scratches, my lord? You’re looking much the worse for wear since I saw you last.”
“Yesterday…” Kilbourne coughed, raising a hand to finger the scratches. “I nearly died… from a falling tree… that was to… be planted. There… was a new… gardener… he is… missing today.”
Trevillion pivoted to face the other man fully, leaning on his stick urgently. “You’ve been discovered, my lord. If I could follow your sister, so, too, could your uncle’s men.”
Kilbourne shook his head violently, coughing. “Accident,” he gasped.
“You don’t think that yourself or you wouldn’t have told me,” Trevillion said impatiently.
At the same time a voice called, “Hullo! Hullo! I say, can anyone tell me where Mr. Smith is?”
They both pivoted to see a red-haired young man, not more than five and twenty, blinking in the sunlight far too close to the ladies, and already being assaulted by the little dog.
“Damnation,” Trevillion muttered. It seemed their tête-à-tête was over. “Listen to me, my lord. You must leave the garden. Find some other place of hiding until we can devise a plan to find evidence against your uncle.”
Kilbourne was still shaking his head, though more slowly now, his eyes fixed toward the theater. “Can’t.”
Trevillion followed the direction of his gaze—naturally to where Miss Goodfellow was rising to meet the newcomer. “Can’t—or won’t?”
Kilbourne never took his eyes from her, but his face hardened with determination. “Doesn’t matter.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning Ariadne journeyed to the golden castle. There the king sat on a jewel-encrusted throne with, beside him, his mad queen, spinning red wool with a wooden distaff and spindle. The youth chosen with Ariadne made a low bow to the king and then turned aside. But Ariadne, remembering her mother’s warning, curtsied to the king and then the queen and inquired politely of her if there was aught she might bring her son. Without a word the queen handed her spindle to the girl…
—From The Minotaur