In an instant, the sticky swirl of emotion that had made Malcolm feel as though he were drowning was replaced by familiar fury. He leapt up from the sofa with the energy of a man half his age and marched to Rupert.

“How do you know?” he demanded, more out of frustration for Shayles’s capacity to worm his way out of any situation than because he doubted Rupert.

“Because I told him.”

Shock lodged like a shard of iron in Malcolm’s gut as Mark Gatwick stepped into the cottage. The man was dressed for a London soiree rather than the wilds of Scotland, but where Malcolm expected him to sneer at his surroundings, Gatwick barely seemed to notice them. He wore an expression of uncharacteristic focus as he nodded a greeting to Malcolm and to Katya as she stood and walked to Malcolm’s side.

“What are you doing here?” Katya asked, suspicion warring with surprise on her face. “I thought you were in Paris.”

“I was,” Gatwick answered. “I returned as soon as I heard Shayles was in custody.”

“Returned to help the bastard go free, no doubt,” Malcolm growled. “You’re responsible for having his trial miraculously moved up, aren’t you?”

“No,” Gatwick replied, absolutely straight. “You may find it difficult to believe, but I want Shayles taken care of as much as you do.”

“I’m sure you do,” Malcolm said, enough sarcasm in his voice to hint that he meant exactly the opposite.

But there was nothing in Gatwick’s demeanor that suggested he was anything other than honest in all he said. He studied Malcolm with an unreadable expression before saying, “My reasons for wanting Shayles brought to justice go back much farther than yours.”

Malcolm wanted to challenge that statement, to remind Gatwick that he’d been Shayles’s closest friend and toady for decades. Why would a man who wanted justice cling so closely to a devil like Shayles unless they were, in fact, friends?

But before Malcolm could say anything, Katya narrowed her eyes and asked, “How did you know we were here?”

“Lady Lavinia informed me the two of you had retreated to Scotland,” Gatwick answered. “Your butler informed me you’d come here specifically.”

“I’ll wring Mackay’s neck,” Malcolm said, starting for the door.

“He had good reason to be open with me,” Gatwick said, following him.

Katya and Rupert brought up the rear. The girls were waiting outside, along with Cecelia’s old nanny, Mrs. Elkins. All four women looked anxious, and the girls seemed ready to charge off into whatever battle waited for them. Malcolm nodded to Mrs. Elkins, wishing he had more time to either thank her or berate her for enabling his daughter to get into mischief, he wasn’t sure which.

“How did Shayles manage to get his trial moved to tomorrow?” he asked as their entire group started back toward the center of town, where Malcolm’s carriage—and presumably whatever conveyance Gatwick had taken to reach them—waited.

“He has powerful friends,” Gatwick answered. “Friends who will be present at the Palace of Westminster tomorrow, even if others aren’t.”

Malcolm huffed a humorless laugh. It was exactly as he thought, even without elaboration. “Shayles is trying to pack the House of Lords full of his allies and push the trial through while his opponents are away.”

“Peter is still in Cornwall, awaiting the birth of his second child, isn’t he?” Katya asked.

“He is. And Basil is languishing in Cumbria, ignoring it all.” Malcolm swore under his breath. “At least Armand is in town. And we may be up here, but we can make it to London by tomorrow morning if we head straight to the train station,” he said, thinking aloud. “Rupert, I’ll need you to linger behind to make arrangements with Mackay to send my things and your mother’s things after us. And somebody needs to send telegrams to Peter and Basil advising them to get their arses back to London immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Rupert agreed with a nod.

“I want to come with you,” Cece insisted, rushing to Malcolm’s side.

Malcolm paused to take her hand. “There are many things I’ve allowed you to do over the years that I shouldn’t have, my darling, but this will not be one of them.”

“But it’s just a trial, Papa,” she argued, looking far more grown up than Malcolm wanted her too. “What harm could come to me by sitting in the gallery to watch?”

“With Shayles involved, far more harm than I care to contemplate.” He started walking forward again, still holding Cece’s hand. “There’s no telling what sort of muck and mire will be dredged up as part of the proceedings.”

“We should come too,” Bianca insisted as she and Natalia surged forward to flank Katya. “We’re as involved as anyone else.”

“I need you to oversee the packing of our things,” Katya said diplomatically. “You can come back to London with Rupert in a day or two.” She sent a sly look to Rupert, who nodded with maturity beyond his years.

Malcolm indulged in a momentary smile. Katya had raised a fine man. Cece had excellent judgment in setting her cap for him. Malcolm was confident that the young man would delay the girls in Scotland as long as he could to keep them out of trouble. That meant that he and Katya could focus on the trial without distraction.

Gatwick had a carriage waiting once they returned to Gretna Green. There was ample space for the seven of them to pile in for the ride back to Strathaven Glen. Malcolm reminded himself to find out how Rupert and Cece had traveled to Gretna Green without stealing any of his carriages later. For the time being, he had bigger fish to fry.

The journey back to Strathaven Glen wasn’t a silent one, however.

“So?” Bianca asked as the carriage sped on. She and Natalia sat facing Malcolm and Katya in Malcolm’s carriage. Rupert and Cece had chosen to drive with Gatwick.

“Would you care to elaborate on that brief syllable?” Katya raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

Bianca huffed and exchanged an eye-roll with Natalia. “Was our plan a success?” she asked, sounding irritated that asking was necessary.

“Yes, are you madly in love and engaged to be married now, as you should be?” Natalia followed, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Katya glanced to Malcolm, her expression flat. At least, it likely appeared flat to anyone who hadn’t known her and loved her for nearly two decades. What her silence said to Malcolm was that she intended to make the children suffer for the trick they’d played. Even if the outcome had been a positive one. Although if he were honest, Malcolm wasn’t entirely sure what the outcome was.

Katya glanced back to her daughters. “My discussion in the cottage with Lord Malcolm is none of your business,” she said, her brow knitting into a slight frown.

“But, Mama—”

“That’s not fair—”

Both girls spoke at once, going on to claim to have a right to know and to call Katya cruel for not telling them everything.

Malcolm would have liked an answer himself. He wasn’t sure where he stood anymore, with Katya or with himself. Her revelations had struck him deeply. He’d had no idea what her life was like before they’d met, no idea that Robert had been so cruel to her. Of course, he’d known Robert somewhat. The man would never have dreamed his treatment of Katya could be deemed cruelty. He would have thought his attitude of permissiveness was generous. Which shed a whole new light on the way he’d turned a blind eye to Malcolm’s original affair with Katya. Malcolm had assumed the man was an ignorant cuckold, which had been the source of his own, crushing guilt. Chances were that Robert had known all along.

But it was everything else Katya had said, everything about her conquests—or the lack thereof—that had turned his world upside down. He’d never dreamed a woman could ruin her reputation in order to make a new one. He’d always assumed Katya simply enjoyed sex. She’d always enjoyed it with him, to a creative degree that made him blush to think about. It changed everything to know that, after the first few years as a widow, she’d been secretly faithful to him. That revelation was a seismic shift to his world.

“Something must have happened,” Natalia said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re far too quiet for it to be otherwise.”

“Yes,” Bianca agreed. “You have an odd look on your face, Lord Malcolm.”

“My digestion is upset,” Malcolm grumbled, snapping himself out of his difficult thoughts. “You might want to open the window, just in case.”

“Lord Malcolm,” Bianca scolded him, crossing her arms and slumping in her seat.

“He’s teasing us,” Natalia concluded. “They both are. Just look at Mama.”

Malcolm shifted to peek at her. Katya was struggling to hide a laugh. But what caused a hitch in his chest and made him want to take her hand in spite of the meddling young women sitting across from them was the sparkle in her eyes. That was the Katya he knew and loved. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the vivacious, sometimes wicked, always clever woman he’d fallen in love with over the last few weeks. With that woman back and by his side, he was confident they could find a way to bring Shayles to justice.

The journey back to London was a whirlwind that left Katya feeling as though she didn’t know which way was up. They spent less than an hour at Strathaven Glen after the trip from Gretna Green. Lord Gatwick didn’t even get out of his carriage. He let Rupert and Cece out, then continued on without a word.

“I don’t think that man is on our side,” Malcolm said as he and Katya paused to watch Gatwick’s carriage roll away.

“I don’t think he’s on Shayles’s side either,” Katya said. She never would have believed she’d hear herself say those words, but she stood by them.

“Did he say anything on the way here?” Malcolm asked Rupert as the lot of them hurried inside the house.

“No,” Rupert said with a frown. “He didn’t say a word.”

“Not a single word,” Cece confirmed. “It was odd.” She rubbed her arms as if the time she’d spent cloistered with Gatwick had left her with a chill.

“Still,” Katya argued, “he alerted us to the change in the trial.”

“Could he be lying?” Cece asked.

Katya wondered the same thing, but the question was answered moments later as Mackay came forward with a telegram he had received from Alex Croydon mere minutes after Gatwick had arrived on Strathaven Glen’s doorstep. There was no time to waste.

They were fortunate to catch a train heading south shortly after arriving at the station in Glasgow. Katya said a prayer of thanks for the rail service, then spent the next several hours cursing it in every way as she writhed and squirmed through the night, trying to find a comfortable way to sleep. Even first-class cabins left much to be desired when it came to journeys as long and as sudden as the one she and Malcolm took.

By the time they arrived in London early in the morning, Katya was sore, the clothes she had worn for nearly twenty-four hours were wrinkled and uncomfortable, and her head pulsed with a dull throb from lack of sleep. But to her and Malcolm’s surprise, Alex was waiting for them at the station.

“Rupert telegraphed that you were on your way,” he said, gathering Katya and Malcolm up and ushering them out to his waiting carriage. “We’ve no time to lose.”

“How the devil did Shayles manage to get his trial moved up so drastically?” Malcolm asked as they dodged their way through dozy morning passengers, on their way to or from work.

“Gatwick says he has friends in the courts,” Katya added.

Alex nearly skidded to a stop. “Gatwick?”

“He was the one who informed us of the change in the trial,” Katya said. “He showed up on Malcolm’s doorstep to tell us before your telegram arrived.” She left out the complicated bit about Gretna Green in the middle. There would be plenty of time to recount that story to their friends later. Katya herself wasn’t certain what the effect of the children’s prank would be herself. It was easier to focus on Shayles.

“Gatwick went all the way to Scotland to warn you the trial was today?” Alex asked, his tone incredulous.

“I don’t trust him,” Malcolm said as they continued on, out of the station and to Alex’s waiting carriage. “But I’m beginning to believe he’s not as staunch an ally to Shayles as we’ve previously believed.”

“Lavinia swears he’s turned over a new leaf,” Alex said, pausing to tell his driver to move on once they were all settled. “She insists he’s good.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Katya said. “But there’s definitely more to him than any of us suspected.”

“Forget about Gatwick for a moment,” Malcolm said, leaning toward Alex, who sat opposite him and Katya. “Is the case against Shayles strong enough as it is? Has Craig gathered enough proof of his villainy for a court to convict him? And for God’s sake, have Peter and Basil arrived in town yet?”

“Peter arrived after midnight. Basil is having a harder time getting here. I don’t know about the rest, though,” Alex answered honestly and gravely. “All I know is that Craig wasn’t able to get even half of the evidence he wanted, as the club burned too quickly.”

“He wanted photographs, documents from the club, testimonies from patrons,” Malcolm said, sitting back and rubbing his face. He hadn’t shaved the day before, and was close to sporting a beard now.

“He obtained a few documents,” Alex said, “but there was no time for photographs. And as I understand it, there hasn’t been enough time to coerce significant witnesses to testify under oath.”

“That must be why Shayles has pushed for a quick trial,” Malcolm said, fury radiating from him. “He must believe that if he can stand before the House of Lords and challenge the scant evidence Craig has gathered, and if Craig hasn’t had a chance to instill fear in Shayles’s patrons, he’ll get away with it.” He paused, then hissed, “Dammit, half the men in Lords are Shayles’s patrons. They won’t convict him unless Craig’s case is rock-solid.”

“We won’t let him get away with it,” Katya said, reaching for Malcolm’s hand.

He took it, but didn’t smile. The look he wore was closer to one a man might wear before charging into battle. She felt rather like she was about to enter the decisive battle of a long war herself, which meant that she would need reinforcements.

“Can you take me home?” she asked Alex as they turned a corner into Mayfair.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. “The trial could begin within an hour.”

“Which is why it’s even more important that I go home first,” Katya said.

Malcolm turned to her with a frown. “What are you plotting?” he asked.

“The same thing I’ve been plotting for the past ten years,” she answered. “To bring Shayles down by means he would never expect and has taken for granted all these years.”