Michael was still awake when dawn snaked between the curtains of his bedchamber. He hadn’t been able to sleep. Hadn’t been able to turn off his churning mind for even a moment.

All he could think about was how perfect things had been with Lady X… until he’d ruined it. Not by something he had done, but by someone he had been. Long before he’d ever met her.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. Had he feared his scandalous reputation might frighten Lady X away? Try having a past lover recognize him while in flagrante delicto. Because of a strawberry-shaped birthmark on his arse.

His spine curved in guilt and chagrin. He was no longer the careless rake he once was. He didn’t want meaningless encounters with temporary lovers. He wanted to make a lifelong commitment. His chest grew tight. If Lady X would still have him.

She must have been as embarrassed as he was by the unexpected turn of events. More so. He rubbed the back of his neck in desperation. She’d made the monumental decision to gift him her virginity, and then all of a sudden—

His stomach soured. Their perfect moment could not possibly have gone worse.

Now that he realized the magnitude of her decision to make love to him, he could not imagine how embarrassed, confused, and furious she must be. He would not be surprised if Lady X believed he considered her nothing more than just another conquest.

She could not be more wrong.

Lady X wasn’t the conquest. He was. She held his heart in her hands. Nothing would give him more pleasure than being able to court her openly, in the manner in which she deserved. He longed to make their connection a true courtship.

If only he knew who she was. The real her.

He wanted more than her name. He wanted her to look into his eyes and see the truth shining back when he told her he loved her. That whoever she was, whatever her background, there could be no more perfect countess than having her share his life.

But how? He had already asked Lambley her identity. The duke either did not know, or refused to say. Which left what?

Fairfax.

Hope expanded Michael’s chest. Anthony Fairfax was the doorkeeper at the Duke of Lambley’s masquerade balls. He would have to know the identity of Lady X!

Michael leapt from his bed and rang for a bath. The last thing he wished to do was postpone his chat with the doorkeeper, but if there was any chance of meeting Lady X face-to-face this very day, he would need to be presentable. More than presentable—marriageable.

He hid his impatience as much as possible as he suffered through an abbreviated version of his valet’s primping, then had his driver take him straight to Fairfax’s residence.

The doorkeeper was not at home. He and his new wife were promenading in Hyde Park.

Blast.

Michael would never be able to find them whilst ambling slowly along in his stately coach, so he requested his driver take him to the mews instead, where Michael forwent the ponderous carriage in favor of his fastest black steed.

As soon as he had mounted, he raced the stallion through the streets of Mayfair and into the cavalcade of Hyde Park. In haste, he nudged his horse between this landau and that curricle until at last he spied a shiny black barouche with Fairfax and his wife at the reins.

Michael dashed forward on his stallion. “Fairfax!”

“Wainwright.” The doorkeeper’s hallmark smile was even brighter with his wife at his side. “Heading to a ride on Rotten Row?”

“I no longer care about such distractions.” Michael waved away the idea. He didn’t have time for such nonsense. All he cared about was finding Lady X. “You must tell me who the divine creature was in the emerald dress. The one in the scarlet-plumed mask with the diamond eyeholes. I am desperate.”

Immediate recognition flashed in Fairfax’s eyes, but he shook his head firmly. “I am afraid I cannot help. Privacy is paramount.” He hesitated, as if sensing Michael’s pain. “If you need to contact a partygoer, you could consider speaking to the party’s host.”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “He won’t tell me. He said you wouldn’t either, but I had to try.”

Fairfax’s gaze was sympathetic, but his stance did not change.

Michael steered his black steed toward the park exit and rode hell for leather toward the Cloven Hoof.

Not because he thought anyone inside would know Lady X’s identity. But because he didn’t have anywhere else left to go.

He tied his stallion at one of the metal horse posts lining the cobbled street and stalked into the gaming den. This time, Lord Hawkridge did not appear to be present.

Good. Michael could only imagine what the morning caricatures looked like after last’s night debacle. Losing the wager, however, paled against losing Lady X. Now he had nothing.

Nothing but one more sordid scandal for the papers.

Michael propped his elbows against the bar and glared at the festive rows of sun-faded caricatures overhead.

Gideon selected a bottle of brandy. “Interesting night?”

“You heard.” Michael turned toward the counter with a grimace. “How bad are the scandal columns?”

“Devoid of your name. For now.” Gideon pushed a glass of brandy across the bar. “But I run a vice parlor. People have been known to talk.”

Michael was less surprised that the owner of a gaming hell had overheard whispers about the events of the masquerade, and more shocked that it wasn’t already common knowledge amongst the ton.

Mrs. Epworth must have kept her promise not to breathe a word about the incident. The widow possibly presumed that by having ruined Michael’s chances with Lady X—yet taking care not to ruin his chances of winning his wager—Michael might agree to sample more of her charms. He would have to disabuse her of that notion.

In fact… perhaps it was past time to dispel several pernicious rumors at once. He drained the rest of his brandy. This plan would require courage. Or at least the brandy-laced equivalent.

He furrowed his brow. “You say my name wasn’t in the papers?”

“Not this morning.” Gideon arched a dark brow in question.

Michael sighed. “It will be.”

He donned his beaver hat and turned toward the door, head held high with determination. He might be on a fool’s mission, but there was nothing left to try. He was a man in love. Lady X ought to know.

She was about to find out.