Dear God. It had been months since Marc had seen Caroline and…now he couldn’t pull his eyes from her. She was still so goddamned beautiful, just gazing at her struck him in his gut. The sun reflected off her dark blonde curls like it always did, but…well, there was a coolness to her hazel eyes that had never been there before, and quite a bit of anger, which was new as well.

She hated him.

She still hated him. That was easy enough to see.

And he still loved her. That would never change.

After a quick perusal of his person, Caroline tipped her nose in the air and headed east down Curzon Street without even a glance back over her shoulder.

Marc had been on the receiving end of the cut direct a number of times during his life, but never from her, not even when she was furious with him. That was unfortunate. It was going to make ensuring her safety more difficult, but it wouldn’t change his course. He couldn’t let it. Caroline Staveley was the only woman he’d ever truly loved, and even if she hated him for the rest of her life, her wellbeing was of the utmost importance.

But damn it all!

He never chased after anyone, not really. He always went his own way and did exactly what he wanted. And to hell with anyone else. But there he was, chasing her anyway, crossing the street and increasing his pace until he was almost upon her.

At that moment, Caroline spun on her heel and glared up at him as though he was the worst villain ever born. “Honestly! Haven’t you done enough?”

Not nearly enough. Never enough. Marc sighed. “You have a new butler,” he said instead of taking her bait. They’d get nowhere discussing his guilt or lack thereof in regard to Staveley’s death. And none of that had anything to do with her present safety.

Caroline’s brow scrunched up, and she blinked at him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your butler,” he said again. “Your former one was an old man when God created the Earth.” The fellow had to be dead these days. “But now you’ve got a new one.” And from the looks of the servant Marc had spotted just a bit ago, he was more than certain he’d already found Galloway’s man. “Where did you find him? Who recommended him?”

She shook her head, and her golden brown curls bounced against her shoulders. “Why? Are you in the market for new servants, my lord?”

Hardly. The few Marc did employ had been with him for years and were more loyal than he had a right to expect. “Well, you never know,” he said. “So, do humor me.”

Caroline heaved a sigh. “Merton should have been pensioned off years ago, but Staveley adored him and vice versa. But now…” She seemed to choke back a sob.

Marc tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “What happened to him was awful,” he said softly. Marc had never cared for Staveley, though he hadn’t hated the man. He’d just hated the fact that the fellow had married Caroline before Marc had noticed her. He hated that Staveley got to hold and touch and make love to her. But he hadn’t wished the man murdered. After all the death he’d seen in his life, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Well…there were a few exceptions to that. Galloway being one. St. George being another.

Caroline dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief and shook her head once more. “I cannot do this with you, Lord Haversham,” she stressed his title as though to keep a distance between them. “I simply cannot. Please don’t seek me out again.” And then she lifted his piece of cloth back to him.

Marc grasped her fingers under the guise of retrieving his handkerchief, but he didn’t let her go. Holding her hand made warmth course through him like it always did whenever he was fortunate enough to touch her. “You can hate me all of your days, Caroline. You can hate me with your dying breath. But you know I care for you. You know I only want your safety. Sack your butler and hire someone else. I’ll send you Simmons, even.” Which was a fairly good idea now that Marc thought about it. If he couldn’t watch over her day and night himself, he had every bit of faith in the world that Simmons would keep her safe.

“I am not letting Tindle go simply because you don’t like him for some reason.” She snatched her hand back from his grasp. “So go find some impassioned actress or revel in Bramley’s ill-gained fortune or whatever it is you do with your time. But leave me—”

“Is everything all right?” the Earl of Peasemore asked, coming to stand right behind Caroline.

She glanced over her shoulder, and the fight within her seemed to drain away as though she’d been rescued. “Oh, Lord Peasemore.”

The damned man. He might not be as stiff-assed as his cousin Carraway, but he was still a bloody nuisance. “Why don’t you mind your own affairs?” Marc grumbled.

But Peasmore just shot him a bright smile that basically said to go bugger off and then turned his full attention on the beautiful, widowed viscountess. “I am at your service should you need anything, my dear.”

My dear? Marc itched to slam the young rake up against the side of the closest townhouse and give him a proper thrashing. If damned Peasemore thought—

“I don’t suppose,” Caroline began, blinking up at the golden-haired blackguard, “I could trouble you to escort me to Carteret House?”

Carteret House? One of the last places Marc would be allowed entry, which was probably why Caroline picked it.

“It would be my honor,” Peasemore said smoothly and offered her his arm.

Marc narrowed his eyes on the stubborn beauty as she linked her arm with the earl’s and let him lead her down Curzon Street. Damn her. She was not going to make this easy on him, not that he should have been surprised by that. But if she wouldn’t listen to reason, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

“I’m terribly sorry to impose,” Caroline whispered to Lord Peasemore once they were out of Marc’s earshot. Heavens, her heart was thumping wildly. But Marc usually did have that sort of affect on her, she just generally hid that a bit better. Today, she wasn’t in any sort of state to engage in their usual battle of wills.

The earl smiled as he shook his head. “Nonsense. I’m happy to be of assistance. If you’d like I could try to blacken his eye. I’m not sure that I have the same right hook as Carraway, but for you…”

From somewhere inside Caroline, a mirthless laugh escaped her. She was too shaken for it to be a genuine one. “Oh, you are charming, aren’t you?”

Peasemore winked at her. “That is what they say.”

They said a lot more than that about the handsome earl, not all of it flattering. Or at least they had when she was in Town last. “Well, your reputation does precede you.”

He laughed that time. “I’m certainly in trouble if that’s the case.”

Caroline wondered briefly if Peasemore was still entangled in a scandalous affair with Louisa Ridgemont, not that it was any of her concern. But one would think that a charming, handsome fellow would eventually want a wife of his own, as opposed to someone else’s wife. In fact, he was exactly the sort of fellow she would have, once upon a time, felt compelled to find a match for. “You are fortunate I am not matchmaking any longer, my lord. I would have found the perfect girl for you, despite your reputation.”

The earl laughed again. “Have you retired your mantel, my lady?”

Caroline sighed. “I don’t think I have it in me any longer.” And she didn’t. How could she spend her time hoping to match the perfect pair when she felt so empty inside?

“Not to fret.” Peasemore squeezed her fingers on his arm. “I’m certain it will just take time but then you’ll be back to yourself.”

She wasn’t sure if that was possible in the least. “And if I was, you’d willingly go along with my plans without complaint?”

The earl grinned widely. “I did not say that, Lady Staveley. No self-respecting rake goes to the altar of his own accord. Though I would be curious who you’d think to thrust in my path.”

That was fair, she supposed. None of the gentlemen she’d helped find their own happy-ever-afters went along willingly, not at first anyway. That male stubbornness was exactly why they needed help. “If I was feeling like my old self, I suppose I’d ask you what sort of girl would interest you. I know a fair number, you know?”

Peasemore laughed again. “Yes, I think you’ll be just fine in no time, my lady. I have no doubt.”

“So no answer to my question, then?” she pressed lightly.

He cast her a sidelong glance. “I’m afraid if I did answer that, it would get me into a bit of trouble.”

With Louisa Ridgemont? Or from Caroline’s matchmaking reputation? That was the question, wasn’t it? If she was her old self, she would have found out rather quickly. A short conversation with Louisa would answer it in no time, but she wasn’t her old self, and she had no real desire to rekindle her friendship with Louisa. And so Caroline simply smiled at the earl. “Should you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he teased as they took a left onto Queen Street.

Carteret House was now within sight and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. She could talk the rest of the day away with Bethany Carteret, hearing tale after tale of the countess’ brood and not have to think about Marcus Gray.