“Would it help if I apologized?”
Surprise flared. Apologies from Chase were uncommon. “Do you plan to?”
“I’m not fond of the idea of it, I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t particularly care.”
Chase sighed. “All right. I apologize.”
“For what, precisely?”
Chase’s lips went flat. “Now you’re being an ass.”
“I find it is best to fight fire with fire.”
“I should have told you she was in London.”
“You’re damn right you should have. If I’d known—” He stopped. If he’d known, he would have fetched her.
He would have found her. Earlier.
It might have been different.
How?
“If I’d known, this mess might have been avoided.”
“If you’d known, this mess might have been worse.”
He cut Chase a look. “I thought you were apologizing.”
Chase grinned. “I am still learning the ins and outs of it.” The smile faded. “What of the girl?”
He imagined Mara was halfway returned to the orphanage, desperate to claim her freedom. Worse, he imagined he’d not have a reason to see her again. Which should not grate nearly as much as it did. “I let her go.”
There was no surprise in Chase’s gaze. “I see. West will be sorry, no doubt.”
Temple had forgotten the newspaperman. He’d forgotten everything once she’d looked up at him with her beautiful blue-green eyes and confessed the fear that had set this entire play in motion. “No one deserves the humiliation I had planned.”
Especially not Mara.
Not at his hands.
“So. The Killer Duke remains.”
He’d lived under the mantle of the name for twelve years. He’d proven himself stronger and more powerful than the rest of London. He’d built a fortune to rival that of the dukedom that he would not touch. And perhaps, now that he knew that she was alive, that he was not a killer, the name would sting less.
She was alive.
She should have come to him that night and told him the truth. He would have helped her. He would have kept her safe.
He would have taken her as his own.
The thought wracked him, along with the images that came with it. Mara in his arms, Mara in his bed, Mara at his table. A row of children with auburn hair and blue-green eyes. Hers.
Theirs.
Christ.
He thrust his good hand through his hair, trying to erase the wild thought. The impossible thought. He met Chase’s eyes. “The Killer Duke remains.”
With a barely-there nod, Chase’s gaze flickered over Temple’s shoulder, drawn by something across the ballroom. “Or does he?”
The words sent a thread of uncertainty through Temple, and he turned to follow his friend’s gaze.
She hadn’t left.
She stood at the far end of the ballroom, at the top of the stairs that led down into the revelers, his coat dangling from her fingers, tall and beautiful in that stunning concoction of a dress, several fat curls having escaped from her coif, now long and lovely against her pale skin. He wanted to lift those curls in his hand, run his lips across them.
But first—
He took a step toward her. “What in hell is she doing here?”
Chase stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. She’s magnificent.”
She was that. She was more.
She was his.
Temple turned back. “What have you done?”
“I swear, this is not my doing. This is all the girl.” Chase’s attention returned to Mara, a surprised smile flashing. “I wish it were my doing, honestly. She’s going to change everything.”
“I don’t want her changing anything.”
“I don’t think you can stop her.”
The orchestra’s music came to a close, and Temple’s gaze flew to the enormous clock on one side of the ballroom. It was midnight. The Duchess of Leighton was making her way up the steps toward Mara, no doubt to lead the revelers in their raucous unmasking. Mara met her halfway, whispering in the duchess’s ear, giving her pause.
The Duchess of Leighton pulled back in surprise, and asked a question. Mara replied, and the duchess asked another, all seriousness and shock. And all of London watched the exchange. Finally, the hostess nodded, satisfied, and turned to face the crowd, a smile on her lips.
And Temple knew it was happening.
“She might just be the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” Chase said, all admiration.
“I told her I didn’t want her doing it. I told her I wasn’t going to do it,” Temple said, angry. Amazed.
“It seems that she does not listen well.”
Temple didn’t reply. He was too busy pulling off his own mask, already pushing through the crowd, knowing he was too far from her.
Knowing he couldn’t stop her.
“My lords and ladies!” The duchess was calling out to the world below as she took her husband’s hand, and began the proceedings. “As you know, I am a great fan of scandal!”