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one he sought, he hailed a carriage. Reaching his house, he poured himself a glass of brandy and relaxed before the fire. He wasn't all that fond of spending an afternoon wandering the halls of a museum, but its location had ensured his presence. Perhaps Eleanor was wrong about this, at least. As long as there was the slightest possibility that Lilly might return to the streets around the opera house, he wasn't going to miss out on a chance to see her again.

Chapter Four
     
    Lilly was smiling despite the ache in her legs. She'd sold most of her bouquets, pleased at the compliments she'd received that told her the extra small touches paid for the trouble. "Thank you, sir," she said as she handed a mixed bunch of flowers to a gentleman. "I hope your wife enjoys them."
    "I'm sure she shall," he said, pressing a coin into her hand. "She not only loves flowers, her favorite color is pink."
    Lilly waited until he moved back towards his carriage before she slid her fingers into the bodice of her dress, tucking the coin into the pocket she'd sewn onto her shift. The robbery of her entire day's wages had taught her well. She carried no bag, whose clink of the coins inside would draw the eyes of every thief. They'd have to drag her down to the ground to get her money and she'd be sure to kick and scream, scratch, bite and fight to keep that from ever happening again. Choosing one of the remaining bouquets from her basket, she adjusted the ribbons, knowing those were the pink the man had referred to. Though they cost her a portion of her profits, she knew she made the money back with each sale.
    "Flowers, buy some pretty flowers for your love," she called. Turning in a circle, she searched for a likely customer. Her words froze mid-spiel as she saw a team of horses coming towards her. It took another moment before she was positive that they were the same two she'd seen at the house as the crest on the door became clearer. Turning, she hurried towards the corner, ducking around it before the carriage pulled to a stop.
    "Damnation," she cursed. "Why are you here?" The matinee at the opera house would be over in just a moment and she'd lose her chance to encourage another man to surprise his wife or his love with a sweet smelling bunch of flowers. Slowly sticking her head out just far enough to see, she was grateful she'd seen this carriage from across the street the other evening. She was even more grateful when the occupants disembarked and entered the museum. When the carriage moved away, she knew the three were mostly likely going to be occupied inside for at least an hour or two.
    Still, she remained hidden until the sounds of voices told of the opera's ending. Plastering a smile on her face, she returned to her spot and began her call. She gave her thanks without thinking as her basket emptied and her coins were tucked safely away. If anyone had asked what her last customers had looked like, she'd have been unable to answer. Working by rote, she'd kept her eyes on the museum doors, ready to bolt again if any of the three had exited earlier than expected.
    She didn't take a deep breath until she had left not only the corner, but the entire block behind. Ducking into another alley, she dug out a few coins then continued to finish her day with a bit of shopping. Her customers had been generous and she had more than enough to buy a few necessities, as well as new bar of soap.
    "Thank you, Jimmy," she said as he placed her purchases into a bag. "How is Matilda feeling?"
    "You know her. Always telling me she's fine even when I can see how tired she is. I am insisting she take a nap every day."
    "I can imagine she's grateful for a husband who cares."
    Jimmy laughed. "She hates napping as she feels certain she is going to miss something. But she is always sleeping like a baby when I check on her."
    "Well, the baby should be here before too long. Give her my best—"
    "Wait, I almost forgot. What about some ribbon? I've put aside the ends of