Her husband was a fool if he thought Willa would allow him to go after Ross and the dangerous Hardesty alone. He needed her.

She ran to the wardrobe. She grabbed the first day dress she saw, a marine blue with yellow lace, and threw it over her head, right over her nightgown.

Annie knocked and came into the room. “His Grace told me to see that you are put to bed—what are you doing? ”

“I’m going after him,” Willa said, pulling up socks. She sat on the floor in front of the wardrobe. “He is not going to leave me behind. Not if he thinks to go alone.” She reached for her walking shoes, her fingers flying over the lacing.

“Your Grace, he does not want you to go. He told me to keep you here.”

Willa came to her feet, straightening her skirts. “And how will you stop me?” she challenged. “If you come between me and my husband, Annie, don’t doubt what my choice will be.”

She tugged on a pelisse against the coolness of the day and then went over to the glass to do something with her hair.

“He is the duke ,” Annie worried. “The master of the house. If he thinks it best that you stay here, you should.”

But Willa wasn’t attending to a thing Annie said. Instead, she frowned at her reflection. She didn’t have time to fidget with her hair. Matt certainly wasn’t going to wait. She grabbed her sewing basket by a chair in the corner. She pulled out scissors. Without looking at the mirror, Willa began cutting at her braid.

Annie screamed her horror. Willa didn’t care. She hacked with the scissors until Annie had the good sense to help. The braid was half gone by that point. Annie made quick work of the rest. She held the braid as if it was a weasel she had just killed.

Willa’s head felt as if it could float off her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair. It curved around her fingers in lovely curls.

“Who would have thought, Your Grace?” Annie said with a tone of wonder.

“It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Better than I feared. But it needs to be evened.”

“I don’t have time. I’ll wear a hat.” She chose a burgundy velvet cap and set it at an angle on her head. “Don’t try to stop me and don’t tell on me, Annie. I’m trusting you.” Willa walked to the door.

“Your husband will roast me alive.”

Willa opened the door. “Nonsense. He’ll be too busy fuming at me.” She pressed her finger to her lips as an additional plea for Annie’s trust, and then went out the door.

She started for the front steps but then thought differently. Matt would stop her if he could. The other servants owed their loyalty to him, not her. She could find herself locked in a closet.

Instead, she practically hurried down the back stairs. On the ground floor, she cracked open the stairway door and had a moment of confusion as she wondered which way to go next, toward the front door or out the back—then she heard Matt’s deep voice in the foyer. He was still here.

There was a sound of a chair being pushed back in the breakfast room to Willa’s right. She stepped back just in time to avoid being seen by the dowager as she exited the room. Minerva called to Matt as if just seeing him leave.

“Where are you off to?” his grandmother asked.

He answered something noncommittal. His words didn’t carry the way the dowager’s did, but Willa could tell by his voice that he was impatient to go, and that he didn’t want anyone to know what he was about.

With the duchess down the hall, Willa slid out the door and quietly moved to the rear of the house and out the very door Ross and Donel had carried her through only hours before. She moved to the front of the house, ducking behind a low wall when she saw Matt striding down the street.

Willa made up for her shorter legs with determination. She reached the street and started following Matt. He was on a mission. He walked to the end of the block to where there was more passing traffic.

She caught sight of what she should have noticed earlier. One of the footmen had been sent ahead of Matt and had hailed a hack. If she didn’t hurry, he’d leave without her, and she was not going to let that happen.

“Toomey Street,” Matt told the hack driver.

The man raised his brows as if to say that nothing good went on at Toomey Street. Matt could agree with him. However, once he handed the man coin, the driver was ready to go.

Matt climbed in. To reach their destination, the driver needed to travel in the opposite direction. He started to turn the corner but several young maids with shopping packages crossed the street in front of them. Matt settled back, annoyed at the delay—

The hack’s door opened, and a petite woman climbed in and plopped herself right next to Matt. She had to lean out to the close the door.

“All right,” Willa said. “I’m ready to go.”

As if on command, the hack started on its way before Matt prodded himself to say, “You are not going.” He leaned toward the window, ready to demand that the driver pull over, but Willa tugged him back.

“No, Matt, I am going. You can take me back to the house, but I will find another way to reach the Blue Boar.”

“Willa, it is no place for a gentlewoman.”

“I know. There is a murderer under its roof.”

“Exactly. I can’t let you risk your life.”

She frowned as if he spoke gibberish. “I can’t let you risk your life. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Willa—”

“Matt .” Her voice overrode his. She was petite and ferocious. “I will not let you do this alone. I know it is dangerous. So was being bound and gagged and thrown in a river, but we managed—together —to escape. You need me, do you understand? And I need you. If something happens to you, well, I would never forgive myself. You can appreciate that, can’t you? Would you let me go alone?”

“I don’t want to you go at all—”

“I wonder if Kate would agree? Or Alice or Jenny or Amanda? Would you be so cruel as to leave me to face their wrath if they heard that I wasn’t by your side when Hardesty did his worst?”

He started to protest again, and then realized it was useless. She perched on the seat beside him, her expressive eyes afire with sheer grit. She would find a way to follow him, a way that might be more dangerous than just accompanying him into the hellhole.

Besides, it was morning. The Blue Boar was a devil’s stew in the darkness of night, but he doubted the rakes and thieves who were its usual custom were up and out this early.

And then he noticed a change about her. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, giving her head a happy shake. “I believe it the best thing ever.”

It was. Then again, his chipper, pushy, startlingly devoted wife could have shaved her head bald and he would have thought it the best thing ever. The curls actually made her appear to have more energy.

“Come here,” he ordered. He touched her hair. It was soft and shining. How had he believed he’d ever loved Letty? She was a great beauty. But she lacked Willa’s charm, her intelligence, her loyalty. With Willa, he was more himself. The light illuminating her was an inner one.

Willa took his arm and put it around her shoulders. She stifled a yawn. “Besides,” she said, “you will keep me safe.”

Had anyone ever trusted him so completely?

And secretly? He didn’t mind having her with him on this trip to confront Ross and learn Hardesty’s secrets. He was learning that often her thinking was clearer than his.

He put his other arm around her as well and pressed a kiss on the top of her velvet cap.

“I can’t believe I cut it,” Willa confessed.

“I can believe you will do anything,” he answered. His response pleased her and she settled back in his arms.

They must have dozed, waking when the hack slowed to a stop.

Willa peered out the window. “I don’t know where we are.”

“Close to the docks,” he answered. He climbed past her to open the door. Toomey Street was relatively normal at this time of the day. At the end of the road, the street was busy with merchants and sailors, the usual bustle going on. The fusty smell of wet rope blended with that of rotting fish and cooking foods. And underlying all was the Thames—which had its own unique smell.

He had no doubt that the Blue Boar was open. Whorehouses, especially in this area, rarely closed.

Matt paid the driver and helped Willa out. She looked around. “I don’t find this threatening.”

He didn’t comment but put his arm around her waist, the way men and women commonly walked around this area.”

They hadn’t gone far before Willa whispered, “I rather like this. Are you treating me like a doxy?” He almost fell over his feet at the use of the word. Of course, she noticed and she laughed, the musical sound lighthearted.

“You are having too much fun with this,” Matt accused.

“It is nice to go wherever I wish,” she admitted, “provided I have a strong man beside me.”

He liked the description.

But in the next breath, she asked, “Do you have an inkling where the Blue Boar is?”

“A bit,” Matt answered. He nodded to a faded sign. One of the hinges was broken and all the metal was rusted with age and London’s bad air. Time had weathered the blue boar’s head, but the tusks could still be seen easily.

“Oh, dear,” Willa said.

He opened the door. She drew a deep breath and marched through it.

The ground floor was blocked off and there were no stairs up. Instead, customers had to go downstairs to the tavern and a doorway that could be easily controlled. “Stay behind me,” Matt ordered. He went down and opened a heavy door into a large tavern room that at night was packed with cardplayers and drinkers. There were several taps, and tables and chairs from one wall to the next.

This morning, the place appeared almost deserted. The air smelled of stale ale, old gin, and the odors of unwashed men. A group sat hunched over drinks and their cards. They appeared exhausted and gave Matt only a passing glance as he entered the room—until they saw Willa.

Then all heads turned. She was wise enough to wrap her arms around him. He was beginning to like her “doxy” role.

He walked up to the barman, a burly man with a grizzled growth of hair on his face and a belly as big as a sow’s. Off to the side was a thin, yellow-haired woman. She had a hard face with a sharp nose. Her features weren’t unattractive until one noticed the apron around her waist was filthy. She gave Matt a hard look over when he approached and then licked her lips.

Matt wasn’t interested in an invitation. He set a coin in front of the man. “I’m looking for an Irishman named Ross.”

“I’m not one for knowing Irishmen,” the barman answered, his own brogue quite pronounced. He didn’t make a move toward the coin.

However, the woman snatched it up. “I might be.” She looked around the room and shrugged as if there wasn’t anyone she feared present. “How do you know this Ross?”

“He has a horse for sale.”

She nodded as if he’d confirmed a piece of information. “He can’t pay what he owes me until he sells that damn nag.”

“Where is he?”

She grinned. Her teeth were crooked and brown, and he knew what she waited for. He put another coin out. She answered, “He is upstairs with the other man who was asking after him.”

“Another man?” Could it be Hardesty?

“Aye. It is a popular horse. Four legs and some hair. I don’t understand.” She nodded toward the back of the main room. There was another set of stairs with a door that he’d wager led to a hallway of doors. “You’ll find Ross up there.”

“Which room?”

“The first on the right,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “If you wait for me, I’m the first room on the left.”

“I just need Ross.”

The men at the gaming table were now openly watching, their expressions assessing. Matt put his arm around Willa and started for the stairs.

“It will cost you if you pork that girl under my roof,” the woman called.

Matt ignored her.

“She won’t be as much fun as I am,” the woman called. That earned comment from the cardplayers.

“Aye, Sally is a good one.”

“So you say, Sal.”

“I’d take what he has on his arm already.” This was said by a greasy-haired character of indeterminate age.

“Well, they’d best keep quiet. You know my girls don’t like to have their beauty sleep disturbed this time of the morning.”

Everyone cackled at that.

Willa inched closer to Matt. “Why is it women are always offering themselves to you?” She sounded cranky. “And what did she mean by saying ‘pork’?” Willa asked.

Matt grinned. “Treating you like my wife.”

“Like your wife—? Oh.”

The stairs were rickety. Matt felt them shake with every step. However, if Ross could walk up them, he was certain he could.

“Did you find that woman attractive?” Willa asked.

Matt stopped. “What woman?”

“The one down there.”

“Willa, of course not.” He opened the door and was relieved when he could finally close it behind them.

There was a short, narrow hallway with four doors to either side and a window on the far end. Blinding sunshine bounced off the dirty panes of glass. All was very quiet as if the occupants were sleeping after a hard night’s work. There certainly wasn’t the sound of two men talking. Could Hardesty have left already and the barmaid not told him? She had appeared perverse enough to be humored by such a trick.

Matt wasn’t certain that Willa understood completely where they were, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Before looking for Ross’s room, Matt walked to the window, wanting to know where he was. They were on the ground floor, but the window faced the wall of another building. There was a narrow space of perhaps a foot between the two buildings.

He started to turn, ready to take on Ross, when he heard a smart rap on Ross’s door. Willa had taken it upon herself to knock. He hurried to her. “Could you wait for me? And why bother knocking?”

“I was being polite.” There was a clip to her tone.

Matt frowned. “Are you angry?”

“No, why should I be?” More clipped tones. She stared at the door as if she could bore a hole through it with her eyes; her chin was set at that angle women adopted when they were spitting mad.

“You are angry.”

She didn’t bother to answer, but knocked again.

Matt leaned against the door frame, puzzled. “I have sisters. I know when women are angry with me.”

Willa faced him. “I’m tired of your sisters. ‘I have sisters,’ ” she mimicked. “I am not one of them. I have my own emotions.”

“Such as jealousy?” The thought rather pleased him. It meant she cared.

She rounded on him as if he’d pinched her. Her chin lifted. “I’m not jealous. However, I’m tired of women always making over you. They are bothersome. No, worse, they are rude.”

“You don’t need to be jealous. Especially over that creature downstairs.” He paused and added, “Or any other woman, Willa. Those lads were making comments about you.”

“Apparently it didn’t bother you.”

“You were with me, and I know you have better taste than what they could offer.”

“You are always so sure about things.”

He frowned at her. “Do I need to be worried?” What was she saying?

Her glance met his eye and then shifted away. “We aren’t a love match.”

He might argue that point but before he could, she said, “Or truly man and wife.

Matt forgot about Ross and Hardesty and everything else in the world. “Are you telling me you are ready?”

“For you to pork me?”

Her use of the word made him grin. She was both bold and innocent. A fascinating combination.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted, without waiting for his response. “I’ve thought about our conversation yesterday.”

“And about last night?”

Her brows came together. “I want to trust you.”

“You can—”

The door across the hall cracked open. “Pipe it down out there,” a woman croaked out at them. The door slammed shut.

Willa gaped at the door that had opened, speculation in her eye.

“They sleep during the day,” Matt explained.

“That really was a whore?” Her eyes widened as if she was scandalized but then she laughed, covering her mouth at the last minute to stifle the sound.

“I’m also done waiting for Ross,” Matt said. He reached for the door handle. It wasn’t locked. He pushed it open, ready to charge into the room—but then drew back immediately.

He thought to cover Willa’s eyes, but he was too late. She was right behind him and had a good look at the Irishman in the bed, his throat cut and the sheets stained with blood. On the floor beside the bed was the body of a woman.

Willa’s scream would have woken the dead.

Certainly, it woke the whores.