“Or elsewhat, Lillian?”
She wiggled in his light embrace, and he stroked his thumb up and down her arms to soothe her. Did it help? He couldn’t tell.
“Or else what?” he repeated.
She did a little dance as she lifted her gaze to his. “Or else I can’t help them.”
Huh. Not what he’d expected. “Them?”
“The debutantes. The wallflowers.” Her chin dropped to her chest. “The invisible ones.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him, her eyes so brown he could drown in them but, in doing so, find life, not death, air, not suffocation. “I found a way not to be invisible, to face my fears and find my own way to happiness. I want to help other girls like me. Those who are dissatisfied with the position handed to them by theton.”
“Why?”
“Because no matter what a girl wishes to do—marry well or… or make a name for herself in some other way, she can’t do it if no oneseesher.” She laughed, a brittle sounding thing. “We’re taught to be passive and silent, but in the end, those ladies who command attention, not those who sink into the background, win the day. I want to help others win the lives they want. Lady Abigail, for instance. She’s an intellectual.”
“Lady who?”
“The lady in my library yesterday. You remember. You called her a goddess.”
Devon called most women goddesses. It was their due, their right, and who was he to deny them the pleasure of admiration. But all he could remember from yesterday’s visit to the library was Lillian, looking cozy and kissable. And, oh yes, another woman.
“I remember a girl, yes,” Devon said.
“Most people don’t see her, or they see her wrong. If I can make thetonsee me in the right light, with all my faults, then I can help these girls find ways to make others see them.”
“My head is swimming with a lake of ‘see’ and ‘seeing’ and ‘unseen,’ Lil Bean.” He cocked his head to the side. “That’s the one. Lil Bean. Combines your name and the coffee bean comparison. I like it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to divulge the contents of my heart to you.”
“Sorry. I’ll focus.”
She sighed. “No. I’m done. That’s it. A goal I’ll never accomplish now.”
They had that in common, then. Marrying him tarnished a reputation she’d never quite gleamed to a high shine, anyway. And marrying her meant he’d never fully release himself from his dependency on others. They were a sorry pair.
He felt sorrier for her than he did for himself, though. She had an altruistic goal. Just being seen with him could ruin it.
Lillian peeked out from behind the shelves. “He’s gone, I think. Or elsewhere in the shop. We can risk it.” She smiled at him, a sad smile that turned her coffee brown eyes to deep wells of pity. “I’m to attend the Johnstone ball tomorrow evening. I’ll speak with him there and get everything out in the open. I’m sorry. Today should have been a celebratory one.”
“Marriages are often cause for celebration.” Just not their marriage.
“Not because of that. Your invention! You, Lord Devon Pennworthy, have improved coffee!”
Joy sparked in his chest but quickly faded. “Youdid that. It is your improvement that will make the thing finally work.”
“I made a suggestion that you are at liberty to take or not. You conceived the idea and saw it through to the end.” She patted his chest. “I’m proud of you. Oh!” She turned and ran from him.
He chased after her and found her atop a ladder, reaching high.
“Catch!” She dropped a book.
He caught it and read the cover with a smile. “Lavoisier.”
She descended the ladder and jumped over the final few steps to the ground.
His heart shot to his throat, and his hands reached to her waist, dropping the book, and for what? To catch her? She stood safe and whole before him, a glimmer in her eye. He dropped his hands from her waist and knelt to retrieve the book. He studied it once more.
“You already have this,” he said.
