West tented his fingers beneath his chin. “He seems not to care a bit about all that.”
Mara shook her head. “But I do! London does! He’ll never return to his rightful place as Duke of Lamont if he’s saddled with the woman who is responsible for all the black marks around the edges of his reputation.”
“Reputation,” West scoffed.
Her eyes went wide. “You make your living on it.”
He grinned. “All that means is that I understand precisely how arbitrary it all is.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“I think you have been away from Society for too long,” he said. “You forget that dukes—with or without scandalous wives—are forgiven everything as quickly as possible. They are, after all, the only people who can beget dukes. The aristocracy needs them, lest civilization crumble around us.”
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Temple could weather the storm of scandal that would no doubt come with her reveal to all of London.
But would he ever be able to forget what it was she had done to him?
She shook her head. “Do you have everything you require from me, Mr. West?”
Duncan West knew the end of a conversation when he reached one. “I do.”
“And you shan’t tell him I was here?”
“Not until after the story runs.”
“Which will be?”
He consulted his calendar. “Three days.”
Her chest constricted at the words. Three days to leave London. To get as far and fast and secret as she could. Three days to give him his freedom. And then, she would have to start forgetting him.
For both their sakes.
She left West’s offices, careful to pull her cloak tightly around her and bring her hood low over her face before exiting to the street, where a cold, wet mist settled over London—the worst of English winter weather. She was instantly freezing, wishing for warmer boots. For a warmer cloak. For a warmer clime.
For Temple, who was always warm. Like a fireplace.
She longed for him. Ached for him.
She walked for a half mile, maybe more, before she realized that a carriage was following her, nearly at her shoulder, moving at her pace—fast when she sped up, slow when she slowed down. She stopped, turning to the great black conveyance, devoid of crests or any identifying marks.
It stopped, too.
The outrider leapt down from the back and opened the door, lowering the steps before he offered her a hand to help her inside. She shook her head. “I’m not going in there.”
The young man looked confused, until a fall of violet silk peeped out at the doorway. “Do hurry, Miss Lowe,” called a familiar female voice from inside, and Mara could not help but move closer. “The heat is all going out of the carriage.”
Mara poked her head into the doorway.
Anna—the woman she’d befriended at the Angel—was inside. Mara’s eyes went wide. “You!”
Anna smiled. “Me, indeed. I shan’t hurt you, but I would prefer a warm conversation over a cool one.”
Mara hesitated. “You are not here to return me to Temple.”
The other woman shook her head. “Not unless you decide you would like to be returned to him.”
“I shan’t decide that.”
“That’s that, then.” She wrapped her cloak about her and shivered, obviously. “Now please, come in and close the door.”
She did, the warming bricks on the floor of the coach too welcome to ignore. Anna tapped the roof of the carriage, and the great black conveyance began to trundle down the street.
“How did you know where to find me?” Mara started with the most obvious question first.
The other woman’s lips curved in a lovely smile. “I didn’t. But Temple did.”
“You followed him.”
“He may know you better, but I know women better.” She paused, “Also, I doubt any woman would pass up a chance to spend the morning with Duncan West.”
Mara shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Anna rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Any woman who is not madly in love with Temple.”
“I’m not—” she started, but stopped before the protest could fully form. She was, after all, madly in love with Temple.
“I know you are,” Anna said. “Which is why I am here.” Mara’s brow furrowed, and Anna waved a hand broadly. “Someone has got to set you straight. We thought Temple would do it himself, but he seems too all-consumed to think intelligently.”
Mara waited, quite desperate for whatever words might come out of this woman’s mouth. She didn’t know what she was expecting, honestly, but she did know that she was not expecting her to say, “You didn’t ruin Temple’s life.”
She was growing tired of having a collection of strangers tell her that she was wrong. “I suppose you are an expert in the subject of ruin?”
Anna’s lips twitched. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
“You weren’t there.”