THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, SHE'S GONE?"
D.L. stood up and threw his napkin down on the breakfast table. He glared at his butler.
Gage stood just inside the double doors of the morning room, awkwardly holding the white silk shirt—the one she'd been wearing." She's left, sir."
"Damn." He should have poured the medicine down her throat. He looked at the shirt. Or hid her clothes. He steamed for a second or two, then glanced up. "Find out if anyone saw or heard her leave. Check the entire block. Let me know immediately if you find out anything."
His butler turned to leave.
"Gage."
The man turned back. "Sir?"
"I'll take that." He nodded at the shirt. Gage looked at the shirt oddly, then handed it to him and left.
His attorney, Karl Wallis, removed his glasses, polished them with a handkerchief, then put them back on and watched him curiously.
D.L. didn't care what he was thinking. He stared down at the shirt in his hands. It carried the subtle tang of lemons.
"You need to find her, D.L."
D.L. tossed the shirt onto a nearby chair and walked across the room, where he stood at the long windows, his hands in his pockets. He watched the snow falling lightly on the street corner below. "I know."
"About the release? Yes, well, that's good."
D.L. turned. "What release?"
"You need to have her sign a document of release." Karl began shuffling through some papers on the table. "I have it here somewhere. I was going to give it to you after we finished with the details of these contracts. Here it is." He waved a paper at him. "It releases you from any liability for the carriage accident."
"I am liable."
"Good God, man, never say those words to your attorney. You pay me a fortune to make certain that no matter what, you are never liable for anything."
He turned back around. "Odd," he said quietly. "I hadn't thought she was one to run away."
"What?" Karl asked, clearly confused since he was single-mindedly stuck on him getting a release signed.
He honestly didn't care how much it cost him and shook his head. "Nothing. Just an observation."
Outside, snow drifted down on the few pedestrians who hurried along the slushy sidewalk. His mind flashed with the image of a young woman with pale skin and even paler blond hair--a fragile, angelic-looking woman who was crying because she had lost everything. A woman huddled on the street with snowflakes sticking to her shivering form, as if each one were a small increment of the burden she carried.
A woman with no one.
Some old, time-buried part of him seemed to understand the devastation of that kind of loneliness. He suddenly felt his exhaustion. He hadn't slept at all after he'd left her. Every time he'd closed his eyes he saw her expressive face looking up at him with disappointment, a look that said he had ripped the stars from her eyes.
"D.L? Have you heard anything I've said?"
"You said I need to find her.
"Yes. To get this release signed, then she can go wherever she wants. And you won't find yourself in the middle of some legal action a year or so from now. We need her signature for you to be free and clear."
"Fine," he said in a clipped tone.
"My advice would be to pay now whatever it will take to get this signed. She seemed a bit of a lost lamb, so I doubt it would cost you very much."
D.L. turned back around and strode over to the table. "Let's get these finished." He sat down but found that he listened with only half an ear to the terms of the purchase deal they were discussing. He couldn't rid himself of the niggling feeling that this woman might cost him much more than either he or Karl could imagine.
She had spent most of the day on a park bench, watching the world go by. Somehow, with all that had happened, she'd forgotten it was the Christmas season. But once the sun came up, New York City had awakened.
Horsecars decorated with Christmas greenery filled the streets and storefronts opened, festooned with lush branches of cedar and laurel. Cheery red ribbons were the color of the season, and they trimmed the greens and windows of businesses and residences alike.
Lilli had taken refuge inside a large department store, because it was warm and sheltered from the light snow. But once inside, she had been caught up in the spirit of the season—the smiling faces in the crowds, greetings of "Happy holiday