People always said nothing ever changed. Although there were a great many things Olivia would have liked to see change, this afternoon she was glad nothing in her father’s household appeared to have changed. The family dined at half past six and the servants took their meal an hour before. At about half past five, Olivia could count on all the servants in her father’s employ to be sitting at the long table in the servants’ quarters. She’d made certain her maid had no reason to check on her. As soon as Withernsea had left with Richard—kidnapped Richard—she’d taken to her bed and hadn’t emerged again. When her maid had come into her room, Olivia pretended she was sleeping.

In reality, she’d been planning. And now she would put her plan into action. Jasper had said to go to the Draven Club if she needed help. She needed help, and St. James’s was not far. The longest distance she must traverse was that from her bed chamber to the front door.

When she heard the longcase clock chime a quarter to six, Olivia rose and slipped on her half boots and a hat. She was already dressed, having donned a spencer over her day dress before pulling the covers up to her chin and pretending to sleep. She had a few coins in her valise, so she secreted them in a pocket under her skirts and tiptoed to the bed chamber door, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. She opened the door silently, peering out to be certain the corridor was empty. She knew the servants’ whereabouts. Her father was another matter. And she couldn’t entirely rule out the chance that her father had posted a footman to guard the exits. He wouldn’t want her to run away before he could see her married to Satan.

But then who would expect her to run when her son was in the devil’s hands? No one. They thought they’d beaten her.

Withernsea didn’t know her.

He thought women were weak, little more than animals to be used as men saw fit. Her father knew her a bit better—or he had. He’d known her when she’d been nothing more than a girl. She’d been obedient then and subservient. Now she was a mother, and she’d do anything to save her son. That was the only directive she felt compelled to obey.

She crept down the stairs leading to the vestibule. Halfway down, she peered over the rail. There were no footmen at the door. All appeared deserted. She started down the next step then froze when she heard her father’s voice.

“Where is Dimsdale?” he asked.

“Dining in the servants’ quarters, my lord,” a voice replied.

Olivia let out a slow breath. She’d been right to be cautious. The footman must have been standing just out of view, near her father’s library. Now she was trapped. She could exit via the servants’ stairs, but if she were seen, the servants would inform her father immediately. She wouldn’t get far.

“Fetch him for me, Thompkins.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Olivia’s eyes widened as the footman’s steps faded. This was her chance. She couldn’t see her father’s library, but she had to hope he’d retreated back inside. She took two more steps, painfully aware that the next step would render her visible to anyone in the vestibule. Trembling, she stepped down, looking over her shoulder and half expecting to see her father glaring at her.

But the vestibule was empty.

Heart thudding in her chest, she rushed to the front door, unlocked the bolt, and pulled it open. Outside, a light drizzle fell, but now that she was free of the house, she felt as though she’d stepped into sunshine after months of imprisonment. Wasting no time, she started in the direction of St. James’s. She hated to spend the last of her coins, but she couldn’t walk to St. James’s unescorted. Custom held that ladies did not frequent St. James’s after dark. It wasn’t dark yet, but darkness wasn’t far off. She’d be one of only a very few ladies there, and she did not relish being accosted by stupid young bucks looking for an easy target.

Walking briskly to put as much distance between her and her father’s town house as possible, she finally glanced over her shoulder then lifted her hand to flag a passing hackney. It took several attempts before one stopped.

“You all by yerself?” the jarvey asked.

Olivia didn’t answer the question. “Take me to The Draven Club on King Street in St. James’s.”

“Wot’s a lady like you want with a gentleman’s club?”

“That’s not your concern. I have coin. I can pay. That’s all you need worry about.”

The jarvery shrugged. “Was just being polite, I was.”

Olivia climbed into the cab and tried not to touch anything she didn’t have to. The interior was filthy, the muddy, wet boots of other passengers having dirtied the straw and the seats. It smelled like wet dog, but she didn’t care. She was away. She was speeding toward the people who could help her save Richard.

The journey took only a few minutes. The hackney stopped and she climbed out, tossing the driver her coins.

“Want me to wait, yer ladyship?”

“No.” She had no more coin, and if she couldn’t find help here, she didn’t know where she would go.

The club was in a gray stone building, indistinguishable from any other on the street. It didn’t sport a bow window as did White’s and no men went in and out. Olivia climbed the steps and rapped on the door. It seemed an age before the door finally opened and an older gentleman with silver hair and a wooden peg for a leg stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem surprised to see a woman at the door.

“May I help you?”

“I hope so. Lord Jasper sent me. He said if I needed help to come here.”

“I see. Will you come in?”

She nodded, grateful to be out of the wet.

“I am Porter,” the gentleman said. “Master of the House.” He led her into a warm entryway, paneled in wood and lit by a large chandelier. On one wall stood a suit of armor. On the other two Scottish broadswords. Directly across from her hung a shield cut in half by a sword with a skull. Olivia shivered.

“You must be half frozen,” the Master of the House said. “I’ll return with hot tea.”

“Really, I just need to see one of Lord Jasper’s friends. He mentioned a Mr. Wraxall?”

The man’s brow furrowed. “I shall see what I can do. Wait here.”

Olivia would have liked to sit in one of the cushioned chairs beside the door, but she was wet and smelled of dog from her journey in the hackney. So she stood where she had been left and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Porter returned, leading a broad-shouldered man with wiry red hair behind him. Olivia didn’t know who he was, but she prayed he could help her. He had the same air of authority and command about him Jasper did.

“Lieutenant Colonel Draven,” Porter said with a bow. “I’ll be right back with refreshment.”

“That’s not necessary,” she told him, even as he walked away.

“You’re wasting your breath,” Draven said. “Porter tells me you are a friend of Lord Jasper’s.”

“He said to come here if I needed help.”

“And here you are.”

Tears began to prick her eyes, but she pressed her fingers against them, refusing to let them fall. Richard needed her. She would not give into womanly hysterics.

“Why don’t we go somewhere we can sit down?” He gestured to a panel in the wall, where she could see the outline of a door. He pushed against it, and it opened into a small room with green carpeting, a couch and two chairs, and a fire. “After you, Miss.”

Olivia hesitated, uncertain whether she could trust this man. But then what other choice did she have? Taking a deep breath, she entered the room, jumping when the door closed heavily behind her.

***

JASPER DIDN’T KNOW how long he’d been walking in the rain. The mud on the road had long since found its way into his boots and now weighed them down. His horse walked with head hung low, seemingly resigned to the rain and the dark. Why couldn’t the animal have thrown the shoe closer to a posting house? Jasper hadn’t even seen a farmhouse or a cottage where he might stop and ask for assistance. Nothing to do but walk on.

He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until one of those feet sunk deeper than the other and he found himself on the ground with a face full of mud. “What the devil?”

It didn’t take long for him to realize what had happened. There’s been a hole in the road and he’d been unable to see it in the dark. He’d stepped right into it and was fortunate he hadn’t broken his ankle.

At least he hoped he hadn’t.

He pulled himself out, testing the ankle, and relieved it only gave a mild twinge of irritation. Jasper was equally relieved the horse had not followed him into the hole and stood waiting for him on the road.

It was time Jasper faced facts. He would be no use to Olivia if he got himself killed out here in the rain and the black. As much as he felt the pressing need to return to London as quickly as possible, at this rate, he might not return at all. He would have to find shelter and wait out the storm. He could start again when it was light.

He limped off the road, leading the horse to a small group of trees. There he slid down under one and fashioned an umbrella of sorts out of his saddle bag. The horse blew out a breath, and Jasper patted his neck.

A few more hours and the sun would come up. A few more hours and he’d be back on his way to Olivia.

***

OLIVIA SAT WAITING, Lieutenant Colonel Draven’s bright blue eyes trained on her face with interest. Now that she’d finished her story, his gaze shifted to the fireplace. He was a man just shy of fifty, and as she would expect of a soldier, he didn’t speak much. He listened to her story without comment except to ask the occasional question. In the silence, the fire crackled and her tea cup clinked against the saucer.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said again, having ended her story with that phrase. “I cannot marry the Duke of Withernsea, but I would do anything for my son. I cannot lose him.”

“I understand, Miss Carlisle. Lord Jasper was right to tell you to come to me. Any of my men would help you, but I am in a unique position to do so.”

Olivia’s spirits rose. For the first time since she’d seen Withernsea in her father’s library, she felt a glimmer of hope.

“You are correct that you cannot go home. If you do, you’ll be forced to marry in the morning. I need time to put Lord Jasper’s plan into motion. The problem is where to put you in the meantime.”

“Sir, I would rather not wait to retrieve my son. If you could go with me to Withernsea’s home now—”

“As anxious as you are for your son, it would be dangerous for you to approach Withernsea right now. Surely, he will not harm his own son and heir. He needs him to control you. Don’t give up the little advantage you have now by walking straight into his net.”

Olivia swiped at an errant tear. She could only imagine how terrified Richard was in a new place and without her. They’d never been apart, not even for one night, and now he’d been dragged away by strangers and unable to see his mother.

“You must be strong, Miss Carlisle. I promise it will not be long before you have your son back.”

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Would you consent to stay at my lodgings tonight? I have a spare room, though that still won’t make it proper, not in the least. But I can assure you neither your father or Withernsea will ever think to look for you there.”

And yet, if Lord Jasper returned to London and found out she’d run from her father’s house, he would know she’d go to the Draven Club and be able to trace her to Draven’s lodgings.

“I would very much appreciate that,” she said.

“I’m an old bachelor, and I don’t employ any maidservants, but I do have a scullery maid. I could see if she’d be willing to attend you.”

Olivia waved a hand. “I promise you, sir, I can attend to myself.”

“Then it’s settled. With any luck, Lord Jasper will return by morning and we can have you married and safe from Withernsea. Then all we need do is retrieve your son,” Draven said, pulling the cord to summon a servant. “If Lord Jasper could run into a burning building to save a man while the enemy attacked all around him, he can rescue your son from the town house of a spoiled duke.”

She nodded and choked back the other tears threatening to fall.

Porter entered and Draven ordered a hackney. When Porter was gone, Olivia said, “Is that how Lord Jasper received his scar? He ran into a burning building?”

Draven gave her a long look. “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s told me bits and pieces.”

“Then it’s not my place to say more. But I will say this—Lord Jasper is a hero. He won’t admit it. In fact, he blames himself for not doing enough, but he is one of the bravest, most honorable men I know.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is that and more.”

The hackney ride was not long. Olivia barely paid attention to where the driver took them, and when the conveyance stopped, she climbed out dutifully. Draven had an umbrella, and he used it to shelter her from the rain, which had turned from a drizzle into a downpour while she’d been inside the club. Now, as he ushered her to the front door of his building, Olivia noticed how dark it had become. She wondered if she had been missed yet. Surely her maid had come to dress her for dinner and reported Olivia was gone. What had her father done? Had he sent word to Withernsea? Had he gone out to search for her himself?

Draven led her into a hallway, pausing at the door to shake out the umbrella and then stowing it in a stand that held several others. “My rooms are on this floor,” he said, leading her down the hallway and pausing in front of a door. Olivia could see how what had once been a grand town house had been remodeled into living quarters for several families.

He withdrew a key and unlocked his door, pushing it open and gesturing for her to enter. “After you.”

She stepped into a small receiving room with doors on either side that most likely led to the more private living quarters. The room was small and sparsely furnished. There were no pictures on the wall or decorative touches. But everything looked clean and comfortable. The only thing that struck her as odd was a valise that had been left in the middle of the room. Had Draven been planning to go away?

“Ward?” Draven called, walking to the valise and tapping it with his toe. “Ward, where are you? What is this?”

The door on the right opened, but it wasn’t a butler. Instead, a woman with long, dark hair down about her shoulders and large brown eyes stood in the doorway. She wore a dress in the style of the day, but something about her did not look English. Her eyes roved over Olivia and then flashed fire.

“Catarina?” Draven said, his tone incredulous. Olivia looked from the lieutenant colonel to the woman and back again. He obviously had not been expecting her. Was it her valise then? “What are you doing here?”

“Interrupting, apparently,” she said, her accent definitely not British. Olivia couldn’t place it, but then she’d never been out of England. “I will leave you and your whore.” She marched to the valise and lifted it.

“Catarina—no. I...” He trailed off, looking completely stunned and at a loss for words.

Catarina put her hands on her hips. “I won’t stay if she is here.” Her gaze landed on Olivia again.

Olivia wished she could creep back out the door and away from those accusing eyes.

“Do you know how I know you are not his wife?”

Olivia shook her head.

“Because I am his wife!”

Olivia frowned. Hadn’t Draven said he was a bachelor? “Mrs. Draven,” she said, “I think you misunderstand.”

“Oh, I understand!” She looked at her husband. “I understand I should never have come.” She grasped her valise and stormed out, slamming the door in her wake. Draven and Olivia stood in shocked silence for a moment. Then Olivia looked at him.

“Well?” she said.

He didn’t speak for several seconds. Finally, he seemed to find his voice. “I apologize. I had no idea—that is to say, I haven’t seen her in years. I—”

She shook her head. She didn’t want an explanation. “Aren’t you going after her?”

He stared at her, clearly bewildered. Then, as though galvanized by some unseen force, he all but ran for the door and was gone. Olivia gave a long sigh, fighting exhaustion and fear. She prayed Richard was well. She prayed Jasper would come. She prayed Draven could help her.

Draven returned a short while later, alone and unwilling to speak about what had happened. He had his man show her to a guest chamber, where she sank onto the bed and fell asleep without even undressing. Sometime later—she had no idea how long she’d been sleeping—a tap on the door awakened her. Rubbing her eyes, she called out. “Who is it?”

“Draven,” came the succinct answer. “Will you come to the parlor? I have something to discuss with you.”

She took only a moment to straighten her hair and skirts before making her way to the parlor. The flat was not large, and she had no trouble finding the square room with walls papered in a pretty blue rose pattern. Draven stood by the fireplace, and she noted immediately he was wet and probably cold. But whatever he had to say obviously could not wait for his comfort—or for daylight, as the clock in the room gave the time as half past four in the morning.

“You’ve been out,” she said.

“The weather is atrocious. Please sit.” He indicated a blue-and-white striped chair. She took it, aware her legs wobbled with anxiety.

“I apologize for being the cause of you having to go out in such weather.”

He waved a hand. “The weather was only an impediment so far as it made finding the Regent difficult. It seemed I’d reach one event and he’d have already left for the next. It took me until after midnight to catch him. But I did catch him, and I did speak with him.”

“About me?”

“Yes, but more specifically about Withernsea. Once I mentioned that I had information about Withernsea, the prince gave me his full attention. I know Lord Jasper made you aware of how much the prince dislikes Withernsea. Not only has Withernsea denied the prince personal loans, he’s spoken out against the Regent’s largesse in the Lords. The duke has been a thorn in the Regent’s side for some time. He’d like to pluck it out, and you provide the perfect implement.”

“The Regent will help us then?”

Draven shrugged. “If he is able. He won’t stick his neck out. He’s a coward at heart. You understand that?”

She nodded. “So we need to make it easy for him.”

“As Lord Jasper suggested, you must expose Withernsea for what he is. There can be no doubt. This can’t be seen as political maneuvering by the prince. Withernsea has too many allies.”

“The extent of the duke’s abuse must be clear.”

“Crystal clear. Do you think you can manage to pry a confession from him?”

Olivia considered. The duke was careful. She’d thought back a thousand times to the night he’d raped her. Withernsea had planned it perfectly so as to make certain he was not caught, and if she accused him, she would be the one held at fault. But the duke was also a proud man, and undoubtedly when he arrived at her father’s house in the morning, ready to wed, only to find his bride had bolted, his pride would be nicked. Could she use that to her advantage? Did she have any choice?

“Well?” Draven asked.

“I have to do it,” she said. “For Richard’s sake.”

“Will you be able to face the duke? To stand up to him and to the censure you will receive if he admits what he’s done? It certainly isn’t fair, but Society almost always blames women as much, if not more, than men. They will say you lie or seduced him or said yes and then changed your mind and cried rape.”

“I know what they will say. All the matters to me is Richard.” And Jasper. But he knew the truth, and he wanted her anyway. Jasper believed her.

Draven gave her a long look. “I see Lord Jasper chose well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s obvious he cares for you, and I see why.”

Her cheeks flushed warmly.

“You’re braver than you look. What is that line from Shakespeare? And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“I will protect my son.”

“And I will help you. Now, we’ll need paper and pen.” He crossed to a small desk and began rummaging through a drawer. “I’m no wordsmith, but together I believe we can craft a letter that will anger Withernsea just enough to cause him to act.”

“You want me to write to Withernsea?”

“We’ll have to decide on the exact words, but the gist of it shall be that if he wants to marry you, he must meet you and discuss your terms.” He laid a sheet of foolscap on the desk and motioned to her. “I’ll have one of my servants hire a boy to deliver it. The duke won’t know where you are hiding. We’ll time the delivery for just after he returns home from your father’s town house.”

Olivia felt her belly roll. “He won’t like that.”

“Good. The angrier he is, the less likely he will be to think before he speaks. But where to have you meet?”

“If the prince must overhear, then we must be where he is.”

“The Ashmont ball tomorrow then. The prince always attends. I’ll see about securing an invitation for us. But first, the letter for Withernsea.”

Olivia moved to the chair at the desk and dipped her quill in ink. “How shall I begin? To His Grace the Duke of Withernsea?”

“Oh, no. You will have pricked his pride by bolting from the wedding. Now we tweak his nose. My dearest Withernsea...”

Olivia raised a brow, but she put the pen to paper and wrote the words. She knew she played with fire, and she could only hope she would not be the one to be burned.