Her hair was a dark red now. It had once been a rich deep brown. Her doctors were amazed at the fact that somehow her eye and hair color had been permanently changed.
She was different. Her looks were different. Something inside her was different. There was something that didn’t seem quite right about the life she was living now, and the woman she remembered being.
“Darling, are you all right?” Angelica’s voice came through the thin walls of the dressing room. Lilly could hear the concern, the confusion in her mother’s voice. But she also heard the forced patience and edge of irritation.
“I’m fine, Mother. I’ll just be a moment,” Lilly told her.
“Desmond is going to be utterly upset if you return to the house in jeans.” There was a note of amused affection in her mother’s voice when she spoke of her husband that had Lilly almost cringing in distaste. There was a warning there as well. “He may even fuss at you, dear.”
Lilly stared at the denim, the boots, and the blouse. She stared back at herself in the mirror, then turned away. She loved it. She could move in this clothing. She could run, she could fight
. . . who?
Dark flashes surged through her mind, electric images of gunfire, blood and death flashed like vibrant lies amid a midnight landscape.
Hurriedly stripping the new clothes from her body, Lilly pulled the dress back on, slid her feet into the heels that she knew she could never run in, then gathered up the articles she had tried on.
Stepping from the dressing room, she gave her mother a careful, cool smile in response to the frown on Angelica’s face. She knew better than to upset her mother. At least, she had known better six years ago. There was a part of her now that balked at giving into another’s dictates or the threat of the consequences.
“I’ll take these.” She handed the clothing to the saleslady, while trying to ignore the irritation in her mother’s eyes. Perhaps it was best that she remain the daughter Angelica thought she was, but another part of her demanded that she be something else, something more, and that she be prepared.
She had to maintain the illusion, she thought. Survival depended upon blending into this life she was living now. Even the smartest prey understood the value of playing dumb. And a killer well understood the hunt.
Lilly almost came to an abrupt halt at the thought. Shock was a bitter taste in her mouth as she fought not to sink into the shadows and the memories that were just out of reach.
She wasn’t a killer! She was a social butterfly; a scheming little debutante, her father had once accused affectionately. She knew well how to blend into this life, she had learned at an early age. She wasn’t a killer. But the blood in her dreams indicated otherwise.
She resisted the urge to stare at her hands, a part of her desperate to ensure no blood stained them.
Who the hell was she and why did the memories of the past six years seem so elusive while the nightmares seemed more real?
She was indeed Victoria Harrington. DNA had proven it. Her blood was a perfect match for the DNA that had been taken from the Harrington children a decade ago to ensure they could always be identified, no matter the circumstances.
She knew who she was, yet she felt like an imposter. Whatever had happened in the past six years she had lost had changed her in ways she couldn’t explain. It had ensured she no longer fit in with her family, her friends, where once before she had blended into this life seamlessly.
She had memories of her life up until the night before the car crash that had killed her father and left her struggling for life six years ago. The memories of the past six years eluded her, though.
And why was she searching for a face in the crowd, anticipation surging through her at the thought of one brief glimpse of a man she didn’t know? A man who felt more familiar to her than her own face. The man she had caught watching her earlier.
“You’re acting very strange, Victoria.” Angelica sighed as they left the shop and moved back to the tree-shaded sidewalk and the shops that Angelica insisted on visiting.
Lilly could hear the edge of anger in her mother’s tone and she knew she should be wary of it. Angelica Harrington had a hard, sharp edge when angry. One that cut with brutal strength.
And she had no problem slicing into one of her children if she felt the need.
“I’m well, Mother.” She watched the crowd intently, careful to keep her mother’s body shielded as they continued the impromptu shopping spree they had decided on that morning.
She couldn’t understand why she was doing that. Why did she suddenly know how to protect her mother, and what was she trying to protect her from?
“I didn’t ask if you were well,” her mother said, exasperated. “I said you’re acting strange.”
“So, I look strange and I feel strange, as well.” Lilly snorted. “And could you please just call me Lilly?”
They both stopped.
Lilly tried to look everywhere but at her mother, before she was finally forced to meet Angelica’s dark brown gaze. The anger was still there, but also a hint of fearful confusion.
Lilly well understood. Perhaps Angelica truly had lost her daughter.
“Lilly,” Angelica finally said softly then, staring back at her as though she saw more than even Lilly could guess at. “That’s what your grandmother called you, you know.”
No, she hadn’t known that. Her grandmother had died when Lilly was no more than a child.
As though by silent accord they turned and began moving down the sidewalk again. There was a silence between them now that wasn’t exactly comfortable.
“I don’t remember her calling me Lilly,” she said, trying to calm her racing heart and to ease the tension.
“You were very young,” her mother said. “It doesn’t surprise me that when you disappeared you chose that name to use. Your grandmother always claimed you were more a Lilly than a Victoria. But your father insisted on Victoria.”
She had been Victoria six years before. She had been the belle of every ball. She had been powerful in her own right. She had had lunch with the Queen more than once, she’d known the Prime Minister, she had danced with many members of Parliament. She had conspired—
The memory slammed shut, just that quickly. It was there, then gone as though it had never been. Frustration ate at her. The memories were there, just out of reach, haunting her, daring her to do what, she wasn’t certain.