Dahlia sobbed into Simon’s cravat.

She’d hurt him so badly he had stalked out without it—and now it was the only part of him she would ever have.

It still smelled like him. Six long days had passed of her draping it over her pillow at night in order to fall asleep with his scent on her skin, yet rest continued to elude her.

When she’d first realized that their passionate kisses verged on becoming an out-and-out affair, she’d assumed a single night’s dalliance was something they both would welcome. On her end, grasping at one night for love straws had helped her grapple with the idea of being forced to wed for money or never marrying at all. On Simon’s end…

God save her. She hadn’t realized she’d be taking the man’s virginity!

Dahlia buried her face in her hands and moaned. “I’m a rake.”

The idea was both ludicrous and undeniable. She had knowingly and willfully engaged in sexual misconduct with an innocent party without inquiring into matters such as virginity, or having any intention of making an honest gentleman out of him.

It was the very definition of dishonorable behavior. She was as shameless a rakish scoundrel as any of the charming blackguards prowling the debutantes of the ton.

And she’d done it to the man she loved.

Of course she couldn’t stop thinking about him. If that had been the case before she’d robbed him of his innocence, her guilt and obsession were tenfold now.

The problem with Simon was that he was too perfect. He felt as passionately about her as he did about upholding the law. What he didn’t realize was that those two things were mutually exclusive. She loved him too much to marry him without him knowing the truth.

And if did learn the truth… he wouldn’t marry her.

Her stalwart, ethical Simon held no tolerance whatsoever for crime of any kind, regardless of motive. His calling was that of inspector. He meted justice. He upheld the law. And he’d be the most celebrated lead inspector in all of London just as soon as he locked Dahlia up for her crimes.

She wished being “good” for him was a choice. If only it were as simple as that! But no matter how carefully she minded her Ps, Qs, and petty larceny in the future, she could not undo the hard choices she’d had to make in the past.

Worse, the unvarnished truth was that she had no idea what the future held. While she certainly hoped she would never be sent to the gallows for a public execution of the Thief of Mayfair, could she truly swear that she wouldn’t steal another broach or nick a pair of cufflinks if pawning such items meant the safe return to their owners and a speck of nutrition in the bellies of hungry children?

Starving girls and boys died in London’s rookeries every single day. Dahlia refused to let her students be one of them. She couldn’t save every six-year-old chimneysweep or the pretty orphans “adopted” by brothel madams. But she could bloody well make certain the two dozen pupils in the St. Giles School for Girls never again had to contemplate such a fate.

Molly, Louisa, Beatrice… every one of the children counted on Dahlia to keep them safe. She was more than a headmistress. She was a mother figure. She was family.

And, if need be, she was Robin Hood.

She knew the risks. But the needs of one never outweighed the needs of many. If risking her future meant securing twenty-four others, then she was not sorry for having done so. Not when it was the only way to give these girls their best chance. Dahlia possessed many faults, but she believed her greatest strength was her willingness to sacrifice everything for those she loved.

Simon, on the other hand, felt differently. This was not a character defect on his part so much as a difference in philosophy. While Dahlia believed in creating the greatest amount of good for the greatest amount of people, Simon…believed in the law.

The law wasn’t bad. Dahlia liked the law. In fact, if it were upheld a little more frequently in the rookeries, none of her girls would have been in the horrible situations she’d rescued them from.

The problem with the law was the lawlessness of it. If one had a title, one could worry significantly less about the law. If one had money, the same privilege applied. If one lived in a rookery or in abject poverty, the law was unlikely to show its face. If one lived far enough away from a magistrate or a watchman, it was as if those things had never existed at all.

Simon was not blind to these failings. His belief in the law was because he needed it to start working. He knew firsthand what it was like to be beneath the law’s notice, had witnessed titles and gold bend rules past the breaking point. Those things hadn’t disillusioned him. They’d made him stronger. He’d chosen to be the change he wished to see in the world.

He was a good man. An honest inspector. A force of nature and a source of positive change in Bow Street and everywhere his horse took him. The world was very much the richer for having a man like Inspector Spaulding looking after it.

She could never tell him what she’d done. Nor could she promise to stop doing it.

Which meant they could never be together.

A knock sounded on the bedchamber door. “Dahlia? Are you ready for dance lessons?”

Faith. It was past time to tell her.

Dahlia shoved the tearstained cravat beneath her pillow and cracked open the door.

“No lessons.” She pushed her damp hair from her face. “Mr. Spaulding has resigned his position.”

Faith’s mouth fell open in shock. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Dahlia said quickly, forcing a wobbly smile. “We wanted different things.”

“That. Contemptible. Pig.” Understanding flashed across Faith’s face. She pulled Dahlia into a fierce hug.

“I’m the pig,” Dahlia mumbled into her best friend’s shoulder. “It’s not like your situation at all. He wanted to marry me. I had to say no.” The school was most important, she reminded herself to beat back the stinging in her eyes and the breaking of her heart. “He’s a good man. He’ll find someone better.”

“No one is a better person that you,” Faith said through clenched teeth. “I have never met anyone as kindhearted or loyal. I can’t imagine him finding a better match than you.”

That was likely because Faith didn’t quite realize the lines that had been crossed in order to keep the school afloat.

It might not change her assessment of Dahlia being kindhearted and loyal, but as to Simon never finding a better match… Well. Surely there was a young lady out there whose hanging wouldn’t give him a promotion.

Faith leaned back, her hands still on Dahlia’s shoulders. “Do you want me to tell the students?”

Dahlia shook her head. “I’ll go with you.”

“Not like that.” Faith’s expression contorted. “You look terrible.”

“You’re a true friend,” Dahlia muttered as she turned to look for the washbasin.

“I’ll just tell them,” Faith offered. “Your face will be splotchy for a while.”

Dahlia set down her washrag with a sigh. Faith was probably right. “Are they already in the ballroom?”

Faith’s eyes lit up. “The schoolroom. You should see how excited they get when they realize they can sound out words! What we really need are enough primers so that every girl can have her own.”

“I know.” Dahlia splashed water onto her face to hide her sigh of failure.

“Didn’t you say you were going to bring a few old books from your childhood nursery?” Faith asked. “It’s not the same as every student with the same primer, but having more than three dilapidated books in our schoolroom would make a huge difference for the girls.”

“I did say that,” Dahlia agreed without turning around. “Something came up.”

Something like rent being due and no way to pay it. She’d had to pawn every book in her childhood library along with her pearl combs and her umbrella, but she had managed to settle every one of their overdue accounts.

Until next month, anyway.

Faith patted her shoulder. “Just let me know if you find a book or two for the girls. I’ll be happy to add it to the curriculum.”

Dahlia nodded. “You’ll be the first one I tell.”

As soon as Faith left, Dahlia closed the door and slumped her shoulders against the nearest wall.

This was why she couldn’t have Simon. What she wanted was not as important as what she could do for others.

No matter how her heart might break.