As she had told her secrets?
She met Tremley’s gaze, saw the humor there, as though he read her thoughts. “There is my proof,” he crowed. “You care for him. You care for him, and he hasn’t told you, has he?” His tone turned falsely sympathetic. “Poor girl.”
She feigned disinterest, ignoring his words. “If he had secrets worth knowing, the club would know them.”
He met her gaze. “Shall I tell you? Would you like to know who your love is? Really?”
She ignored the questions, the way they baited her.
The way they made her want to scream, Yes.
He leaned forward and whispered, “I shall give you a hint. He’s a criminal.”
Her gaze flew to his. “We are all criminals in one way or another.”
He smiled. “Yes, but you have no illusions about me.” He stood. “I think you should ask him yourself. Ask him about Suffolk. Ask him about the grey stallion. Ask him about the girl he kidnapped.” He paused. “Ask him his real name. Ask him about the boy from whom he stole it.”
Her heart pounded at the words, as she struggled to believe them. As she struggled not to believe them. As she fought the twin emotions of feeling that she was betraying Duncan by even listening to the earl, and feeling as though Duncan had betrayed her bitterly by not telling her his truths before he tempted her into his arms and his life and his damn swimming pool.
Before he made her love him.
Who was he?
“Get out,” she said to the earl, low and quiet and full of threat.
“You think I won’t hurt him? You think I wouldn’t wreck him? He means nothing to me . . . but he seems to mean quite a bit to you. Are you sure you want me to leave? Without giving me what I ask?”
“I am sure that I do not wish to breathe your air ever again.”
He smirked. “Shouldn’t you end that sentence with ‘my lord’? You really are too comfortable with your betters, aren’t you?”
She looked to Asriel. “Get him out. He is no longer welcome here.”
“I shall give you three days,” the earl said. “Three days to confirm that everything I have said is true.”
She shook her head, turning away. She did not need three days. She knew it was true.
She did not even know his real name.
She knew about secrets. Had built a life on them.
Who was he? Why hadn’t he told her?
Why didn’t he trust her?
What is your relationship with Tremley?
What is your relationship with Chase?
The irony of her questions was not lost on her. They held too many secrets between them.
It was best, likely. Honesty made one dream.
“Anna.” She turned back to look at the earl from the open doorway as he repeated, “Three days to decide where your loyalty lies . . . with Chase, or with West.”
Chapter 19
. . . Lady G— was a vision in white at the R— Ball, it makes one wonder: If she is so beautiful at a workaday event, how will she stun at an event devoted entirely to her? It will be a lucky man who gets the closest look . . .
. . . Known as perhaps the Rogue Extraordinaire of Society’s rakes, Lord B— appears to be at risk of losing his rakish title. He was spotted climbing the steps to the home he now shares with his Lady and their three children, arms loaded with parcels and packages and something that looked suspiciously like a Christmas pudding—in April! . . .
Pearls & Pelisses Ladies Magazine, late-May 1833
Duncan stood in the dark gardens of Ralston House, the annual Ralston Ball beautiful and raucous behind him, waiting for Georgiana to appear.
He wanted to see her. Quite desperately.
He had meant to find her the previous day, after he’d resolved to get her out from under Chase’s thumb, but it wasn’t easy to find a woman who played two vastly different, secret roles in Society. Lady Georgiana had not been at Leighton House when West had seen Caroline home, and West no longer had access to The Fallen Angel to search for Anna, as his membership had been rescinded.
So, he’d spent the evening making arrangements for his return salvo in his war with Chase, a war that would decide any number of futures—Georgiana’s, Caroline’s, his sister’s, his own.
But he was no fool, and if all went well, his carefully laid plans would deliver him and Cynthia safety, and Georgiana and Caroline everything they wished. She would keep her secrets and get her husband. She would get the life she desired.
She’d danced every dance tonight, been partnered by some of the best and brightest in Britain. War heroes, earls, a duke known for his impressive work in the House of Lords. Every one would be a good match.
His papers—and he—had secured her a future. Secured her daughter a future. Georgiana would marry well—someone with a clean history, an unsullied title.
Perhaps even someone she could love.