Viscount Medford strolled around the white salon where Lily sat in the center of the settee. “What do you mean?” Lily was barely paying attention to her friend. She’d been mentally calculating how much money it would take to live out the rest of the Season in London. Medford smiled at her, his bright hazel eyes sparkling. “Remember when you told me you wished you’d never written the pamphlet to begin with? If I recall correctly, ‘confounded’ was the word you used.” “How could I forget?” Lily answered, sipping her sugarless, creamless tea. She eyed her friend warily. What was he up to this morning? Medford pulled a paper from his coat pocket and presented it to Lily with a flourish. “Ah, but I wonder if you will change your mind once you see this.” She snatched it from his hands and held it up to the light to inspect it. “The last time we spoke, I believe you told me the pamphlet had brought you nothing but trouble,”
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