Jasper was in a foul mood. He’d spent the night in the rain. The skies had not cleared until dawn, and then it had taken most of the morning to walk to a posting house, have his horse reshod, and navigate the muddy roads into London. It was afternoon by the time he climbed the steps to Carlisle’s town house and slammed the knocker down three times.

He had the license. Now all he needed was Olivia and Richard.

Dimsdale opened the door and then began to close it again as soon as he saw Jasper standing on the stoop. Jasper understood the compulsion. He hadn’t wasted time stopping home to wash and change. When Olivia and Richard were safe, he would have time for such frivolities. Now all that mattered was making her his wife and making certain Withernsea could never touch her again.

And so when the butler tried to slam the door, Jasper stuck out a boot and wedged it open. “Not so fast, Dimsdale.”

“You are not welcome here, my lord.”

“Good, because I don’t intend to return.” He wedged his shoulder against the door and shoved until it opened and Dimsdale had no choice but to admit him. “Kindly fetch Master Richard and Miss Carlisle for me. Then you’ll never have to look on me again.”

“Thomas! William!” the butler called. Thundering footsteps made the house shake before two large footmen burst through the door to the servants’ stairs. Dimsdale pointed at Jasper. “Help Lord Jasper find his way out.”

Jasper was tired, hungry, and filthy, and that meant this was the perfect time for a fight. It had been months since he’d had a good fight. And these two liveried servants, in their brass buttons and knee breeches, were no match for the likes of the criminals Jasper dealt with daily in the London rookeries. So when the dark-haired one came for him, Jasper stepped neatly aside then turned and caught the man’s flailing arm, turned it behind his back, and jerked it high until he heard the pop.

Obviously, the butler and the blond footman heard it too, though the dark-haired footman was screaming quite loudly now. That didn’t stop the blond from attacking, although he was a bit more careful. He came at Jasper with his fists raised, throwing punches. Jasper wasn’t as good in the ring as his friend Ewan, but he knew how to fight on the streets. Jasper allowed the blond to land a punch that glanced off his cheek, so Jasper could move in close enough to land a hard kick to the man’s knee.

It was underhanded and ungentlemanly.

Jasper didn’t care.

When the man faltered, Jasper grasped his throat and slammed him against a wall so hard a painting on a nearby wall collapsed to the floor.

Then he turned to the butler. The man looked as though he might run, but Jasper pointed to the floor. “If you make me chase you, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

The butler’s eyes widened with fear.

“On your knees.”

He knelt without any protest. He needn’t give any considering Carlisle had heard the noise and come to investigate.

“What the devil happened here? What do you think you are about?”

Jasper stalked toward Olivia’s father. Something in his eyes must have alerted the viscount that Jasper meant to hurt him because he stumbled to reverse his path. Jasper reached out and grasped his shoulder, pushing the man down to his knees beside the butler.

“Where is she?”

The viscount’s gaze was defiant, but the butler began to weep and cried out, “I don’t know, my lord. Please don’t kill me.”

“Do you mean to tell me Miss Carlisle is not here?” Jasper’s chest tightened.

The butler shook his head. “She ran away last night. We don’t know where she is.”

Jasper turned his attention to the viscount. Olivia would never leave Richard. If she’d run, something must have happened to the boy. Jasper leaned down to stare into her father’s eyes. “What did you do?”

“It’s not your business.”

Jasper grabbed the man by the throat and hauled him up. “I’m making it my business. What did you do?”

“Kill me if you like,” the viscount gasped out. “I won’t help you.”

“I will,” said a female voice from the stairs leading to the upper floors. Jasper glanced up and saw a woman in a long white night rail and a flowing white robe. Her gray hair was down about her shoulders, and she was so thin and frail she looked as though a summer breeze would topple her. But the resemblance between Lady Carlisle and her daughter was unmistakable.

“Caroline!” the viscount rasped. “Go back to bed! You don’t have the strength—”

“Someone must, and it’s clearly not you. You think I don’t know what goes on in this house? You think you can dose me with laudanum and keep me oblivious?”

Jasper lowered the viscount to the floor, loosening his grip on the man’s neck but keeping him within reach.

“I was only following the doctor’s orders,” Carlisle said.

“I know the doctor’s orders. Keep me comfortable. Did you think I didn’t know I was dying?” She swayed, but reached for the banister, catching it to stabilize herself. “You can keep me comfortable tomorrow. Today I will help my daughter. I should have done it a long time ago.” She looked at Lord Jasper.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, seeming to crumple. “Lord Carlisle does not know either. She’s run away. Again.” She gave her husband a chastising look. “Just when we had her back with us.”

The fear slicing through Jasper lessened slightly at her words. Withernsea didn’t have her. He knew where she’d go if she ran. To the Draven Club. At least, he hoped to God she’d listened when he told her to go there if she needed help while he was away.

“Why did she run?” he asked. “She must have had a reason to take her son and flee.”

Carlisle put a hand on his neck, as though worried Jasper would grab him again.

“You’ll have to ask him.” Lady Carlisle pointed to her husband. “I assume it has something to do with Withernsea’s visit yesterday.”

Jasper took a step toward Carlisle. “What did you do?” He’d never wanted to hurt a man so much. He shook with the effort of holding his anger in check. This was Olivia’s father and Richard’s grandfather. He was an old man. Hurting him was unforgivable.

“I didn’t have any choice,” Carlisle said, retreating until his back thumped against the wall. “He would have ruined us if I didn’t agree.”

“Agree to what? Marriage? To that monster?”

The viscount winced. “And it was only for a little while, to give me time to find a way around him...”

“Richard, no.” The viscountess covered her face.

He stared up at her. “I was doing it for you. To keep you from being thrust out on the street!”

“I’d rather that than lose my child. I thought I’d never see her again, and now...now...”

Jasper raised a hand. “I know where she is. She should be safe enough. Calm yourself, Lady Carlisle.” He looked at the viscount. “You should have come to me for help. If you think I’ll allow Withernsea to destroy her or you, think again. Although, maybe you’re not worth saving.”

He turned to go. He couldn’t reach the Draven Club quickly enough.

“Withernsea has Master Richard.” Carlisle’s words were like ice on bare skin. Jasper froze.

“What did you say?” Jasper turned slowly. He advanced on the viscount until the man lifted his hands before him in a protective gesture.

“The duke took the child. What could I do?”

“And you call yourself a father, a grandfather.” Jasper started for the door. It seemed the Draven Club would be his second stop.

“And what do you propose to do about it?” the viscount called after him. “If you marry her, Withernsea will ruin me and you.”

“Withernsea can’t ruin me,” Jasper called over his shoulder before opening the door. “I’m already ruined.”

And Jasper would ruin the duke first.

***

SLIPPING INSIDE THE duke’s large house in Grosvernor Square was a simple matter. Jasper had slinked behind the heavily guarded and fortified lines of the French dozens of times, but it was the deadly alleys and sewers of the London rookeries where he’d honed his skills. If he could bypass the cutthroats and thieves of London’s underground, he could avoid detection by a handful of footmen and maids.

He entered through the servants’ kitchen door on the ground floor while the servants were having supper. He caught snatches of their conversation and quickly learned the duke was dining at his club and would then attend a ball. Consequently, some of the staff had been given the night off. That made Jasper’s task even easier.

He made his way to the family quarters on the second floor without seeing another servant. He had no illusions wherever Richard was being kept would be unguarded. But that worked in his favor as well. He wouldn’t have to search every bed chamber. Richard would be held in the one with a footman outside.

When Jasper emerged onto the floor from the servants’ stairs, he peered down the corridor, immediately spotting a man sitting outside a door. The man was bent over a plate, shoveling potatoes into his mouth. He grumbled to himself, and Jasper imagined he groused about having to sit up here while his friends dined together below.

If Jasper moved down the corridor, he’d be spotted immediately. A man in a mask was always suspicious, especially here, where he did not belong. Jasper reached into his pocket and found a pair of dice. He usually had a pair. They were good for passing the time or running his fingers over when he was thinking. He withdrew them silently, mentally measuring the distance between himself and the other end of the corridor. If he could slide the die silently along the carpet until it pinged against the wall on the far side, the footman might rise to investigate it. That would be enough of a distraction for Jasper to incapacitate him. But he had to throw the die without the footman seeing it roll past and with enough strength so it made it all the way to the other end of the corridor, no small distance.

Jasper knew how to toss the dice, but he’d never faced this much pressure. One yell, one holler, and Jasper would be discovered. That didn’t mean he’d leave without Richard, but he’d have to hurt a lot of people to do so.

Crouching low, Jasper hefted a die in his hand. He’d have to send it rolling under the footman’s chair and far enough past him to encourage him to rise and turn his back to Jasper to investigate. Jasper rubbed his hands over the die quickly, then balanced it on one finger and flicked it hard with his thumb.

The roll was perfect. The die sailed low over the carpet, rolling under the footman’s chair and coming to rest a few feet past the servant. On the carpet. Silently.

Jasper swore under his breath. Not only had the die not rolled far enough, he knew he couldn’t roll it further, not with any accuracy. He’d have to throw the other so that it curved at the end and clattered against the wall. It was not so different from billiards. And Jasper excelled at billiards. He rubbed the die again, positioned it on his thumb, and with a small prayer, flicked it. This time it hit the carpet before the chair, but it rolled underneath and then clinked against the wall on the other side. The footman was immediately alert. He rose and peered down the corridor, facing away from Jasper.

“What was that?” he muttered.

In a moment, Jasper was behind him. A well-placed thud on the back of the head and the man went down. Jasper searched his pockets, found the key, and opened the bed chamber door. The room was dark but warm from the fire in the hearth. As soon as he stepped inside, Jasper heard whimpering. “Richard,” he said quietly. “It’s Jasper.”

“Jasper?”

Suddenly a form raced out of the darkness and slammed into Jasper, almost knocking him over. He lifted the boy and held him tightly, ignoring the sting of tears that pricked behind his eyes. The room was dusty. That had to be it.

“You’re safe. I’m taking you out of here.” He ran his hands all along the boy, checking for bumps or breaks. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

“No. He didn’t hurt me. Where’s Mama?”

“She’s safe. You’ll see her soon. We’re leaving, but you must be very quiet. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Carrying the boy the entire time, Jasper took him out the same way he’d come in. The servants still sat at their table, no one aware that upstairs one of their own lay unconscious.

Once outside, Jasper didn’t hesitate. He knew where to take the boy. Neil Wraxall had been his commander in Draven’s troop, and he’d married a woman who ran an orphanage for boys. They were building a new orphanage, but in the meantime, the boys as well as Neil and his wife lived in the Earl St. Maur’s town house. That wasn’t far from here.

Jasper might have put the boy down as he made his way there, but he didn’t mind holding him. In fact, he rather liked the feel of the boy’s arms about his neck and his head resting on his shoulder. Jasper swore that if he had anything to say about it, Richard would never spend another night frightened again.

They arrived at the Earl St. Maur’s town house a quarter hour later just as the family had sat down to supper. The family, by the sound of it, was a hundred boys and a crying baby. The butler hadn’t said a word upon seeing Jasper and Richard. He’d merely held up a finger, indicating he would return in a moment. If he’d spoken, Jasper wouldn’t have heard him at any rate.

“What is this place?” Richard had whispered.

“My friend and his wife live here with about a dozen orphans. I thought you might stay here until I can bring your mother.”

“But I want to see her now.”

“I know.” Jasper squeezed the boy. “I’ll bring her as soon as I can. In the meantime, there will be other children to play with.”

Richard looked somewhat interested at that prospect.

Neil stepped into the vestibule, his hair rumpled and aggravation on his features. But his expression changed to bemusement when he saw Jasper. “This is a picture I never thought I’d see.”

Jasper didn’t set Richard down. “It’s a long story, but I need you to keep him safe for me for a few hours.”

“We always have room for one more. Is he yours?”

Jasper looked at Richard, and the boy looked back at him.

“He will be,” Jasper said. The look in Richard’s eyes was like the warmth of the sun on his face. Jasper had never felt such love.

“I’ll keep him safe,” Neil said, “but I’ll want the story.”

“Later,” Jasper said. “Over a brandy. Or three.”

Neil nodded. Finally, Jasper set Richard down. Neil went on one knee and held out his hand. “Major Wraxall. Who are you?”

Richard looked at Jasper, who nodded. “Richard,” the boy said quietly.

“Richard, do you want to have supper with my wife and the other boys? Afterward you can play. We have dozens of toys.”

Richard looked at the floor then reached out for Jasper’s leg and pulled himself behind it.

“Richard, you’ll be safe here,” Jasper told him, trying without success to dislodge the boy. “I’ll bring your Mama as soon as I can. Go.”

Neil held up a hand to still Jasper. “Have you ever petted a rat, Richard?”

Richard stopped trying to curl up behind Jasper. “Rats bite,” he said.

“Not these. These love to be petted and will eat right from your fingers.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course. We have three. You can pet them and tell me which is the softest—Matthew, Mark, or Luke.”

“No John?” Jasper asked.

“We don’t talk about John,” Neil said. Then he looked back at Richard and held out a hand. “What do you say? We feed them after supper.”

Richard looked from Jasper to Neil then back again. “You will bring Mama?”

“As soon as I can.”

The little boy nodded and put his hand in Neil’s. Neil rose and led him back toward the dining room.

“Thank you.” His throat tightened as he watched Richard led away. “Neil,” he said, voice husky. “One more thing.”

Neil raised a brow in question.

“Do you have something I might borrow to wear to a ball?”

***

THE DRESS WAS TOO LONG and large, and the pins holding the bodice in place pricked her skin. But Olivia held her head high. It was a small inconvenience. The fact that Draven had found her a dress, ensuring she looked presentable for a ball, was no small miracle. If she made it through the evening, it would be a huge miracle. There had been times tonight when she thought she might collapse into tears.

She did not want to face Withernsea.

But she’d do it. Richard needed her. Thoughts of Richard made her brave. Thoughts of Jasper too. Draven told her now that the rain had passed Jasper would return any hour. She just needed to get through this confrontation. She had to show the world what Withernsea was. If all she succeeded in doing was making a scandal of herself, she didn’t care. Jasper would come for her. He would help her get Richard back.

She and Draven had arrived at the ball on time, a thing that was not done. Most people preferred to make an entrance. But since so few guests had arrived, it gave Olivia and Draven time to plan where she would confront Withernsea. It must be near enough to the dance floor so that Prinny could overhear but secluded enough that they would not be interrupted. They’d walked the ballroom several times before they found a suitable location. In each corner of the ballroom, small rounded alcoves held Greek- or Roman-inspired statues. The areas seemed to replicate small ancient temples. But one alcove was missing its statue. Perhaps it had been taken for repair or moved to another area of the house. Instead a set of chairs had been placed inside, and currently two older ladies sat sipping tea and chatting quietly.

“That’s it,” Draven said.

Olivia nodded. “I believe I can tug at the blue material draping the alcove so it partially shields us.”

“It’s most likely held by a cord. When those ladies leave, make your way there and investigate.”

But the ladies sat in the alcove for the next several hours. Olivia exchanged more than one look with Draven, fearful she would have to find a new location. And when Withernsea arrived at the ball, just after eleven, her anxiety increased. She tried to make conversation with the few acquaintances who still spoke to her, but she had difficulty keeping her mind on any one topic.

And then at quarter to twelve, two things happened. The prince regent arrived with much fanfare and Draven interrupted her, pretending to claim a dance. As he spun her around the dance floor, he nodded to the now-empty alcove. “This is your chance.”

Her entire body felt cold. “Where’s Withernsea?” she asked. Her teeth threatened to chatter from fear, and her lips felt numb.

”Just over there. You know what to do, Miss Carlisle, and you can do this. You’ve been waiting five years to tell him how you feel. Now is your chance.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think I can do it. I won’t be able to speak. I’ll break into tears—”

Draven gave her a hard look, the kind she imagined he’d given to countless soldiers under his command. “Carlisle, failure is not an option. You won’t accept it, and neither will I.”

He was right. She couldn’t fail. Richard needed her.

“Do you know what my men used to say before they went into battle?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t thought of this like a battle, but in many ways, it was. It had been her private battle for a long time. She was making it public.

“They would say, I have on my dancing shoes.”

“Why?”

“Because they knew that every mission might be their last. They fully expected to find themselves dancing with the devil in hell before the day was out. Miss Carlisle, you have your dancing shoes on. I know because I bought them.”

She gave him a wan smile.

“You can do this.”

“Yes, I can.” She took Draven’s proffered arm, and he led her off the dance floor. Then he escorted her close to Withernsea before pausing to engage a man he knew in conversation. Olivia listened politely, or at least pretended to, for several moments, all the while her gaze on Withernsea. The duke watched her too, the anger in his expression not difficult to read. So he hadn’t liked being left at the proverbial altar a second time. She’d use his anger against him.

Olivia excused herself from Draven and made her way to Withernsea. His eyes widened slightly at her approach, but he also stepped away from those with whom he conversed.

“Might we speak in private?” she asked.

“I’ll call for my carriage.”

“No.” Panic rose in her at the thought of being alone in a carriage with him. She spotted Draven speaking to the prince, and she knew the lieutenant colonel would lead the prince toward the alcove as soon as she was inside with Withernsea. “Let’s speak here.” She pointed to the alcove, which was still, mercifully, empty.

“You seem to forget, Miss Carlisle,” Withernsea said, leaning down so that his broad lips were close to her face, “I hold all the cards.”

“There you are wrong. You cannot force me to marry you. If you want me to agree, then humor me for a few moments.” She gestured to the alcove and started toward it. She wasn’t certain whether Withernsea would follow or not, but she didn’t look back. And when she stepped inside, he was right behind her. Her skin crawled and her belly roiled. She wanted to vomit, but she refused to give into her fear and dread.

Hands shaking, she tugged the blue drapery closed. It did not cover the entire entry, but it was enough to shield them from onlookers—and anyone standing on the other side from Withernsea.

“Well,” Withernsea crossed his arms over his chest. “This is cozy.”

“I wanted to have an intimate conversation about what happened before.”

Withernsea sighed. “Are you still on about that? I did not rape you. Everyone knows you cannot conceive a child from rape. And there’s no question that boy is mine.”

“Actually, there is a question,” she said. “You see, after I ran away from London, I found myself alone and destitute. I’m afraid I had to rely on the generosity of quite a few men. Richard might be the child of any one of those.” This was a lie, but Draven had been right to suggest it. Withernsea’s face went from pink to red with anger.

“You little slut. And to think how you carried on when I took your virginity. I knew you wanted me.”

“I carried on because I did not want you,” she said loudly, hoping Draven was on the other side of the drapery. “I told you no. I fought you.”

“Oh, but that only makes it more fun. I like it when they scream and cry. I like a challenge.”

Anger coursed through her, and her hands shook not with fear but rage. “So you admit you raped me?”

“I don’t need to admit anything. You and I know the truth. You wanted what I gave you.”

“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.”

His lip curled in a snarl. “But I will have you. You won’t see your bastard again if you don’t marry me. You won’t run away without him. I knew I’d see you again.”

“And what happens when we marry?”

He chuckled long and low, and she actually felt the bile rise in her throat.

“You will call what happened all those years ago a blessing. You’ll come to believe rape was the least of your worries.”

She should have been terrified, but her heart pounded because she knew she had him. She’d seen movement on the other side of the curtain. Now she needed Withernsea to admit what he’d done.

“I’ll agree to marry you, but you have to admit the truth to me.”

“What truth?”

“You raped me five years ago. I was a virgin. I told you no. You forced yourself on me.”

“Fine.” He reached for her, but she snatched her wrist away.

“Say it. Tell the truth here and now.”

He gave her an impatient growl. “Very well, yes, I raped you. Yes, you said no, no, no! Stop! Please!” He mocked her cries in a high tone. “I forced you, and I liked it. You liked it too.”

“No.” She grasped the drapery and pulled it back, praying someone would be on the other side. “I did not.”

Withernsea turned toward the drapery and balked as the forms of the prince, Draven, and a dozen others stood on the other side. At some point the orchestra had ceased playing, and their voices had carried enough to attract a crowd.

At the sight of the regent, Olivia curtsied. “Your Highness.”

The prince barely acknowledged her. “Your Grace,” he said as the duke made a perfunctory bow. “I’m afraid what I heard just now is quite distressing. It’s always been rumored you were a rapist and a sadist. But to hear it from your own lips.” He shook his head with disgust. “I want this man removed from my presence.”

“Your Highness,” Withernsea said quickly, “she lies. She trapped me. I didn’t touch her.”

“I heard the words from your own lips. You admitted you raped a lady, a gentlewoman.”

“Gentlewoman.” Withernsea scoffed. “She’s a whore. She’s had a dozen lovers. Everyone knows women lie.”

“I am not lying,” Olivia said, her gaze on the faces in the crowd. Plenty looked down their nose at her, but there were a few with sympathy written on their faces. “He hurt me. I said no, and he forced himself on me.”

“She was alone with me. She let me kiss her,” Withernsea argued. “She led me on. It’s her own fault. She should have stayed with her chaperone.”

There were a few murmurs of assent, and Olivia’s face felt warm. So this was the way it would be. She would be vilified and her rapist exonerated.

“That makes no difference,” Draven said. “Rape is rape.”

The prince hesitated, sending the crowd was not on his side.

“He did it to me too,” a voice called from the crowd.

Olivia’s eyes widened. Was another woman coming to her aid?

“Who said that?” the prince demanded. At first no one moved, then the crowd parted and a woman with pale blond hair and a yellow dress made her way through. Olivia didn’t know her, but she heard whispers of “The Countess of Rockwell.”

“I said it, and it’s true.” The countess raised her chin. “Withernsea tried to rape me. I managed to scratch him and get away, but if I hadn’t, my fate would have been the same as Miss Carlisle’s.”

“That’s simply not true,” Withernsea argued. “I never touched you.”

“Will you argue you never touched me?” another woman demanded, stepping forward. She wore jewels and a dress that must have come from Paris. “I was not as fortunate as Lady Rockwell. Withernsea violated me, even after I said no and fought him off.”

“Ha!” Withernsea said, scoffing. “Everyone knows she’s a whore. The baron has been cuckolded a hundred times over. You can’t rape a whore.”

But apparently the regent had heard enough. “And you, sir, are no gentleman. I want you out of my sight. Out of my presence.”

“I quite agree, Your Highness,” Lord Ashmont, the ball’s host, said, appearing by the prince’s side. He motioned to two footmen. “Escort this man out, and make sure he is not admitted again.”

“You are throwing me out?” Withernsea screeched. “Throw her out!” He pointed to Olivia. “She’s the trash. She has a bastard. She doesn’t even know who the father is.”

“Furthermore,” the regent went on, ignoring the duke, “I want it known that I will not be in the same room, nay the same building, as that man. He shall attend no events I attend, and consider your membership to White’s revoked, Withernsea.”

“You can’t do that!”

The footmen grabbed Withernsea’s arms and began to drag him away. “Get your hands off me. You’ll pay for this, Olivia. You will never see your son again!”

Olivia felt the lump in her throat rise. This was what she’d feared he would say. Draven had assured her he would find a way to get the boy back, but what if Withernsea went home and took his anger out on Richard? What if he hurt her son or killed him?

“I think you’re the one who will never see the boy again,” came a familiar voice.

Olivia spun around and watched as Jasper stepped out of the crowd. She had no idea how long he’d been there, but she wanted to weep with joy at seeing him.

Jasper’s gaze met Olivia’s. “I have your son. He’s safe, and Withernsea will never touch him again.”

Her knees buckled, and Jasper moved quickly to catch her. Above the ringing in her ears, she heard the shouts of Withernsea as he was tossed into the street. Jasper grasped her arms and pulled her against his chest, and she rested her head against him, grateful he’d come for her. She needed his strength now. She needed his love.

“Richard is safe?” she whispered.

“Safe and well. He’s unhurt and when I left him, he was laughing and playing. I imagine he’s sleeping peacefully now.”

She looked up at him and his smile was beautiful and reassuring. There was something different about him tonight. He seemed more confident, more himself.

“I have the license,” he said.

“Then we can marry?”

“As soon as we like. Tonight even.”

“I’d like to wait until—”

“We talk to Richard about it?” He laughed. “Of course. Then if you won’t become my wife tonight, will you at least do me the honor of dancing a waltz?”

The music had started again, and the crowd around them had thinned. But there were still plenty of curious onlookers. People who stared at her and Jasper with blatant curiosity. She took Jasper’s hand, and he led her to the center of the dance floor. Taking her into his arms, he led her around the floor with a skill that left her breathless. It was only then she realized what was different about him.

He did not wear his mask.

“You aren’t wearing your mask!” she cried.

“It doesn’t match this coat,” he said casually.

“But you never go out without it.” She looked about her. It was clear to see everyone at the ball was watching them and almost certainly whispering about Jasper, whose face had not been seen by any but his close family since he’d left for the war. “Aren’t you afraid people are looking at you? Talking about you?”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m done hiding. Are you?”

She scanned the room, noting the men and women who sneered at her, those who smiled, and the place where Withernsea had been dragged away. She might never be accepted into Society again. This might very well be her last ball. But Jasper was correct. She was through hiding.

“Yes,” she said. “I am. Thank you.”

His brows rose. “For what?”

“For loving me.” She gave him an expectant look. “You do love me, don’t you?” Her heart caught in her throat.

“I love you, Olivia.”

Her heart warmed in her chest and thudded hard.

“You made it impossible not to.” He smiled.

“I didn’t want to love you either.”

“But my good looks won you over.”

She laughed.

“My charm then.”

“Your kindness. Your gentleness. Your patience.”

“Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”

“Mine is already ruined.”

“Then we have nothing to lose.” And he kissed her in the middle of the ballroom before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her away.