Something was afoot.

Charles took his turn at the billiard table, aiming and taking a shot. All of his friends were in the room with him, happy, laughing about something he couldn’t begin to understand—married life. The rift was there, a widening gap between him and the rest of the League that made his stomach knot. How had it all happened so quickly? In the span of a year, he’d been cast out of their world as they all one by one settled down.

And they can’t even see it…

He tried to banish the wave of despair sweeping through him before he spoke. “What’s Em up to, eh?” he asked Godric.

Godric leaned against his cue stick. “Em? Nothing, so far as I know. Why?”

“She called on my lad Linley, and I wish to know why. Are you in need of a new valet?”

Godric snorted. “Certainly not. Jeremy does excellent work. Besides, I wouldn’t dare take your friend away, not when it’s clear he worships you.”

Charles chuckled. “He doesn’t worship me.”

Godric and Cedric shared a look between them that made Charles’s hackles rise.

“What?”

“Well…” Cedric blushed a little. “Are you certain he doesn’t…have feelings for you?”

Charles laughed. “Don’t be silly, Linley doesn’t—”

Ashton cleared his throat, a stern expression on his face. “It’s not impossible, you know. And if it were the case, perhaps you ought to find the lad a new employer, one less likely to break the boy’s heart.”

“Oh, come now. I wasn’t much different at his age around you lot. Hero worship and all that.” Charles refused to consider Linley’s behavior to be anything else. Tom was his only faithful companion left, now that his friends had married themselves off.

Besides, they were wrong. Linley had a young lad’s admiration for him, that was all. As he’d said, he’d been there himself long ago, admiring Ashton, Lucien, Godric, and even Cedric as heroic figures. They were older than him by only one or two years, but as a young man at university, those years had seemed like a lifetime.

As time went on and he grew closer to them, he realized they were men just like him. Fallible, lovable, but hardly the gods they had once seemed to be. And he was glad for the change. A man cannot be friends with a god.

That was how Tom saw him, no doubt. He had given the lad a better job, a better place to stay, and a better situation for his young sister. He’d also been witness to the kind of adventures Charles often found himself in. Hero worship was only natural from such a perspective. But it wasn’t healthy.

An idea struck him. Perhaps he could spend more time with Tom, get him to spend time with Charles the man, not Charles the savior. Show him how to carouse, drink, gamble, perhaps even help him find a lady to spend the night with. That would help the lad find his own footing and stop looking to Charles like a baby duckling that had imprinted on a dog. Yes, that was an excellent idea.

“What if you let Emily do a bit of matchmaking for you? It would solve a few of your problems,” Ashton pressed. “If Linley really admires you, seeing you settle down might make him do the same. Teach him to grow up a bit.”

Charles bristled, not liking the idea that anyone, especially Emily, would matchmake for him. He slapped his cue stick down on the table. “I’m quite done with the four of you trying to be the boy’s nanny. The lad is fine, and I’m not about to sack someone just because they admire me. And as for matchmaking, I’m resigned to living out my days as a bachelor, even if you all abandon me for it.”

“Charles—” Cedric started to speak, but Charles refused to listen.

He left the billiard room and bellowed for Tom. The lad bolted out of the servants’ quarters as if someone had fired a shot over his head.

“My lord?”

“We’re leaving.”

Tom’s face clouded with worry. “We are?” Charles punched his shoulder the way he used to with his little brother, Graham—before things had changed between them. Now the two could barely be in a room together before it came to blows.

“I’m in the mood for some sport. How about we go home and practice a bit.”

“Certainly, sir. Boxing?”

“I was thinking fencing. I have the sudden need to skewer something.”

“I have no desire to be on the end of your skewer,” Tom muttered.

Charles laughed as he and Tom left Godric’s house. The brisk London air curled around them as they waited for their horses to be brought around.

Back at his home, Charles felt even more confident about his plan to show Tom how to live on the reckless side. Ashton and the others had done the same for him when he was younger. In that sense, he’d be passing on the tradition to the next generation.

Charles and Tom entered the leisure room and he fetched two fencing foils. The blades were dulled with metal balls on the tips to prevent any actual harm.

“Catch, lad.” He tossed a foil to his valet. The boy caught it and swished it in the air with dramatic flair.

“You know your way around a fencing foil, I see?”

Tom offered him a grin. “A little, sir.” He then assumed the en garde stance. Charles removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He approached Tom and raised his own foil. He waved it slightly in a circle, trying to distract Tom. Tom frowned in concentration, and before Charles could react, the boy lunged. The attack caught him off guard, and he stumbled back a step, foil bent against his chest.

“A hit, sir,” Tom said, trying to hide a smile.

“So, is that how you wish to play?” Charles recovered his footing and danced to the left, parrying the next blow from Tom’s foil.

“The only way to play is to win, sir.”

Charles grinned. “Quite right.”

The next few exchanges were straight out of a textbook, as if each were studying the other to learn what they knew, so they could exploit a weakness later.

“Who taught you how to fight?” Charles asked between parries.

Tom countered Charles’s next thrust, falling back a little. “My uncle, sir. He died before my parents, but they say he never lost a match.”

Their foils and arms crossed as they crushed into each other, each staring the other down only inches apart. There was a brief pause and a silent look between the two.

“Very well then,” said Charles. “Let’s see if you can do him proud.”

And then they began to fight in earnest.

For almost half an hour, the two fought as though the devil were on their heels until they were both on the verge of collapse. Tom seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Charles recognized the gleam in his eyes. He’d carried it himself whenever he’d entered a ring and wasn’t quite sure he could defeat his opponent, but was dying to find out.

They had scored two hits apiece thus far, and neither wanted to give up a third. But he could see that Tom was growing tired, and it was only a matter of time before his guard would drop.

Tom was falling back now, strictly on the defensive. The fight had taken them close to a window, near a table and vase. As they passed it by, an errant swing from Tom tipped the vase over toward Charles, who, instinctively, tried to keep it from shattering on the ground by providing his foot as a cushion.

It worked. The vase gave his toes a nasty sting and clattered safely onto the wood, and Tom landed a third blow directly onto Charles’s chest.

“That’s three, sir,” Tom panted heavily. “Sorry about the vase.”

Charles started to catch his own breath. “An accident, was it?”

“I was getting tired, sir. I’m afraid I was a bit careless.”

Or clever, thought Charles. “You got me. Well done, Tom. Well done indeed. Now show me a bit of mercy and let me fetch us some water.”

Tom stepped back, setting the foil down, and he braced his hands on his hips, breathing hard. Charles pointed to a chair by the window facing the garden.

“Sit. I’ll be back.” When Tom didn’t immediately move, Charles swatted his backside with his foil. “Now.”

With a mutinous glare, Tom stomped over to the chair and plopped down. It was a relief to see Tom let go of his usual more rigid demeanor. Whoever had been his previous master had clearly damaged the boy’s trust. It’d taken ages for Charles to convince Tom he wouldn’t have his ears boxed just for making a simple mistake.

Charles left the leisure room and hurried to the kitchens, where he found Mrs. Farrow and the scullery maid preparing for dinner.

“My lord.” The cook wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt. I simply wanted a pitcher of water and some glasses.”

The scullery maid rushed to fetch the pitcher and blushed as she handed it to him. The cook gave him two water goblets.

“Thank you.” He started to leave, but the cook cleared her throat, grabbing his attention.

“My lord…if I may…”

“Yes?” Charles noticed a blush on Mrs. Farrow’s cheeks as she spoke.

“The staff, we been meaning to speak to you…about Mr. Linley’s little sister.”

“Katherine?”

The cook and her maid exchanged glances. “You see, sir, the baby isn’t so much a baby anymore, and, well, we were thinking that she might need more looking after soon.”

He cocked his head. “Looking after?”

“Yes. We, the staff, have been taking turns the last year during our work shifts to keep an eye on the baby, but it’s time we had a little help. Could we hire someone to watch over her? It won’t be long before she needs schooling. Mr. Linley I’m sure could do it, but he spends much of his time with you, and the little one misses him something fierce. I’ve had to put the lass to bed more than once, and she keeps calling for her mama.”

Charles tried to ignore the rush of guilt he felt, knowing he kept Tom from his sister so often. He’d been keeping Tom away from the only family he had left, just to entertain him when he was indulging in a fit of the blue devils. How utterly selfish of him.

“Mrs. Farrow, you’re quite right. And Katherine’s not the only one. I’ve been meaning to do something for Davis’s situation as well. Now that his Mary is gone, God rest her soul, he’s been needing help with young Oliver. I’ll start the hunt for a nurse straightaway. She can help look after them both. And perhaps I’ll hire one who can double as a governess, I know that’s a bit unusual, but I believe in educating all children no matter their station.”

The cook smiled in open relief. “Thank you, my lord. Davis and Tom will both appreciate it.”

He nodded and ducked out of the kitchens, returning to the leisure room. Tom was lounging like a tomcat on the chair, one leg thrown over the arm. He bolted upright when Charles entered.

“Rest easy, Tom. You’ve earned it.” Charles offered him a goblet and poured him a glass. Tom took it and drank quickly, looking away as though he was embarrassed about the situation. Oddly, Charles felt uncomfortable as well. He was used to being admired by women, but he’d never had anyone worship him as a hero before. It was unsettling. He was not a man one should try to be like. There were far better gentleman out there, like the Earl of Pembroke for one. James was a bloody saint compared to Charles.

“Tom, we need to talk.”

“We do, sir?” Tom’s eyes widened, and Charles couldn’t bring himself to ask what he ought to. Men didn’t simply go around discussing such delicate things like feelings. So he chose to broach the subject of Katherine instead.

“It has come to my attention that Katherine is in need of a nurse. Given how much time you spend in my company, I’ve been remiss in providing for her, and I think—”

“Oh, no, sir. You don’t need to provide for her. She’s my sister. She’s not your concern.” Tom leapt from the chair, but Charles gripped his shoulder and forced him back down.

“Easy, boy, you’re doing a damned fine job caring for her, but it’s my fault you see so little of her. As of today, you will get more nights off to be with her. And I will be seeking out a nurse tomorrow to help with your sister and Davis’s boy. Kat’s growing older, and she needs looking after. Soon she’ll be running about the gardens on her own, dirtying her pinafore and climbing trees. You can’t be there every minute. She will need a proper governess in a few years.”

Tom’s eyes shimmered, and he wiped at his nose with his sleeve. The display of emotion from the usually closed-off young man made Charles feel like a villain. He hadn’t meant to upset Tom, but he seemed to be doing a damned fine job of it.

“Buck up, lad. I told you, you’re doing well. Far better than I did at your age.”

Tom looked up at him with a hope and vulnerability that cut Charles to the core. It reminded him of himself when he’d been younger and had lost so much. “What do you mean?”

“My father died when I was eighteen. My brother, Graham, was three years younger, and my sister was just a few years older than your Katherine. My mother was devastated by my father’s death. For years I was holding my family together by a thread. Ella fell into my care, and I had no idea what to do with the girl.” He hated to think of the past; there was so much pain there waiting for him.

Tom seemed more curious now. “What did you do?”

“I did what I could, and the first step was admitting that I was only human. I hired a nurse to help my mother and a governess for Ella, and she has turned out splendid.”

“But I cannot afford—”

“Oh come now, Tom. Davis needs help as well, and I decided to treat Kat like my goddaughter when I took you on. I should take some responsibility for her.”

More than once, he’d wondered if he hadn’t crossed paths with Tom’s mother at some point. The babe did favor him in looks in quite an eerie way. But Tom was so close-lipped about his past that Charles didn’t even know the woman’s name. He didn’t even know she’d had an uncle until half an hour ago. Was it possible he had bedded the woman once and fathered a child he hadn’t known about?

But if that were the case, what he didn’t understand was why Tom’s mother had not come forward. Most women did when the father was titled and well-off. Charles was willing to own up to the idea of being a father, but without knowing more about Tom’s mother, it was hard to suggest the possibility.

Or perhaps he was letting his worries about being a lifelong bachelor get to him. Kat might have been his daughter—in another life, with a woman he loved. The thought teased him with dreams of what might have been, and it made him unusually somber.

“But why?” Tom asked. “Our children are not your responsibility, and you pay us well already.”

“I had someone look after me when I needed it most. The least I can do is help someone else.” Actually, there had been four someones to look after him that night Hugo tried to murder him. He shivered and buried the memory but not the gratitude he felt. Godric, Lucien, Cedric, and Ashton had saved him from more than just the river that night. They had saved his soul.

And he had repaid them by being boorish and rude, walking out on them today. He had behaved like a foolish, stubborn child.

“Are you all right, my lord?” Tom asked, his brows drawn together in concern. Lord, Tom really was so young. It would be good when manhood caught up with him and his shoulders filled out and his features hardened a little. Charles had been small once himself and knew the hardships one could face. The boy would run the risk of being bullied if he worked at any other house.

“I’m just woolgathering, Tom. Finish your water. I’ll be out tonight, so you may have the night off. Tomorrow we shall interview some nursemaids for Kat and Oliver.”

Tom climbed off the chair and finished his goblet before he left. Charles threw himself into the chair Tom had vacated, and before he realized it, he was daydreaming about the blonde-haired angel he’d rescued from the tunnels, wishing he’d stolen another kiss beneath the rain before she’d vanished.

I have to find her again. I have to know who she is…

Lily crept into the servants’ quarters and found Katherine sitting on Davis’s lap. He was letting the baby play with a bit of blue ribbon, which she clearly found fascinating.

Lily smiled at the young man as she took her daughter from him. “Thank you, Davis.”

“Anytime, Tom. I know his lordship keeps you busy, and I don’t mind looking after her when time allows. After I lost Mary, it was damned hard to care for Oliver on my own. I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Farrow and the rest of the staff. We must help each other, right?” Davis tapped Katherine’s nose with the tip of his finger. She squealed and clapped her chubby hands together. Davis laughed. Kat rested one of her hands on Davis’s wooden hand, unbothered by the strangeness of it.

“You know I’m always happy to look after Oliver when time allows,” said Lily.

“Thank you, the wee lad runs circles around Mrs. Farrow now that he’s older.” Davis winced as he moved his wooden hand. His wrist often ached in the winter cold where it connected to his wooden hand. It made it difficult for certain tasks but he was still able to perform his duties. At least she might be able to help him there.

“If you bring me the boots you need to polish, I can do them for you,” Lily offered. Davis was surprisingly capable with only one hand, but Lily was deeply indebted to the footman and wanted to make sure he knew how grateful she was. When Davis turned his back on her to stoke the fire, she buried her face in Kat’s golden hair and breathed in her sweet baby scent. It didn’t matter that Katherine came from a dark moment in her life; all that mattered was that Katherine was hers.

“Did Mrs. Farrow speak to his lordship about hiring someone to help with the children?” Davis asked. “We’d been discussing it earlier since I could use some help with Oliver.”

Lily nodded and kissed the crown of Katherine’s hair in a brotherly fashion. “He said he’s going to interview nurses tomorrow. Please thank Mrs. Farrow for me.” They both knew how unusual it was for a lord to hire a nurse for the children of servants, but that was how Charles was. His staff felt comfortable enough to ask for help and he gave it to them instantly.

She had been hurt at first when Charles had brought it up, but he was right. She had been barely there for Katherine of late, and the rest of the staff could not keep swapping duties to care for a child who wasn’t theirs. As always, Charles surprised her with his open warmth and generosity. He was truly a good man. She swallowed down the rise of bile in her throat as she remembered where all this would lead someday.

Don’t think of it as betraying him. You have to put your child first.

She closed her eyes, holding her daughter tight. Katherine was still now, as if she sensed Lily’s distress but didn’t understand. Her tiny hands grasped Lily’s cheek, and she tilted her head up.

“Looks like she needs a nap,” Davis mused. Lily tensed. She hadn’t even realized he was still there. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts again, such a dangerous thing. She could not afford to let her guard down, not even for one second, especially around friends.

“I think you are right. I’ll tuck her in her crib.”

“She’ll be too big for that before you know it,” said Davis. “I’ll have to build her a proper bed soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” Lily stood and started toward her room. As she heard Davis’s footfalls fading away, the tension inside her began to recede. She set Katherine down on her bed.

“Mama,” Katherine whispered.

“Yes, love, but you mustn’t call me that. Remember?” She knelt in front of her daughter, trying to smile.

“Why?” the baby whispered. At only three she was intelligent. Too intelligent. She had her father’s cunning, which filled Lily with a sense of dread, but she believed Katherine had her heart, one of love, not hate.

“It’s a very important secret. You like it here, don’t you?”

Katherine gave an exaggerated nod, making her curls bounce.

“Then we have to keep the secret. If anyone knows I’m your mama, then we will be sent away. No more ribbons.” She toyed with the strip of blue silk still coiled in her child’s hands. “No more biscuits from the kitchens, no more warm nights by the fire.” Lily didn’t want to frighten her, but Kat had to understand the importance of the secret.

Katherine’s cornflower-blue eyes grew wide. “No more Unca Charles?”

“No more Uncle Charles,” Lily agreed. “Remember, our secret is very important. You must call me Tom, not Mama.”

“Toma!”

“No, silly. Tom.”

She pulled the baby into her arms again, relishing the simple joy of just holding her. Spending most of her day away from Katherine was difficult, and the ache in her chest to cuddle her close and pretend she was her old self, Lily, was overpowering.

“Why don’t we take a little nap?” She laid the child out on the bed and stretched out beside her. Katherine snuggled in close and fell asleep almost at once. Lily’s muscles still ached from the vigorous fencing match, and she was relieved to have a moment’s rest.

Charles would have beaten her if she hadn’t knocked over that vase. She knew she shouldn’t have done it, but she was expected to seize upon any advantage she found and exploit it. Charles, on the other hand, believed in fair play, even when fighting down in the Lewis Street tunnels. It was his weakness, one that Hugo knew all too well.

You have too big a heart, my lord, far too big of a heart. I’m so sorry.