Ravenwood entered White’s with the memory of his wife’s hurt seared into his brain.

He had given her the poem. It had taken hours to write. Days to finalize. Even if she found it puerile and laughable, she would at least know how much it had cost him to hand it to her. How much he loved her.

But it didn’t mean she would forgive him for going back on his word.

He curled his fingers into fists and glared at the featherbrains who had ruined his night—and possibly his relationship—with their stupid obsession with seeing their faces on coins.

The problem with giving his word was that he had already given it. He was a duke. His first duty was to the Crown. To his country. That inherently meant everything and everyone had to come second. If he allowed these buffoons to ruin the economy, what kind of world he be making for his wife? For their children?

He had to do the right thing. But he’d be damned if he let it take all night.

Lord Montague rose to his feet as soon as he spotted Ravenwood striding through the door. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. As promised, the Duke of Ravenwood is here with incontrovertible proof to explain why the wisest decision, the only decision the Coinage Committee can make, is to reintroduce silver coins for denominations of forty shillings or less, establish a single gold standard for all transactions, and ensure a standard weight of all sovereigns relative to a twenty-two carat troy pound.”

The moonfaced lords stared at Montague as if he were speaking Chinese. To them, it probably was.

That was the battle he and Ravenwood had been fighting since the beginning.

A battle Ravenwood intended to win right here.

Tonight.

He grabbed an empty tray from a passing servant and collected all the full and half-full glasses and snifters crowding the private table.

Ignoring all cries of what’s the meaning of this and you’re not my headmaster, Ravenwood, he handed the full tray off to a servant with instructions that no further beverages were to be served to any member of the current party without the Duke of Ravenwood’s sole and express approbation.

Then he got to work.

For the next hour and a half, he and Montague slowly but surely turned the topic of England’s fiduciary system from minting vainglorious fripperies to taking a solid look at the state of the economy and what changes might staunch the post-war slide, rather than exacerbate it.

He had never talked so much or so loudly. At first the others were startled into silence by his vociferousness and unyielding glare. Soon, however, the idea began to dawn in even the tiniest brains that the most diverting ideas for them was far from the best path for England.

Ravenwood stood at the head of the table, his face an implacable mask of ice. “It is your responsibility, your duty, to hold this country and every person in it in high esteem. My wife, my children, deserve to live in a stable world. Where the value of a sovereign today is the same as it is tomorrow. So does your wife. So do your children. So do all of you.”

They stared back at him, mouths agape.

“We are not only accountable for safeguarding the economy from further ravages. We are in the unique position of being powerful enough to ensure its stability for centuries to come.”

They gazed at each other with a new kind of avarice.

Good. Ravenwood could use that to his advantage.

He placed both hands on the table and looked at each one in turn. “Do you want to be known as the dandies who put their faces on failing coins? Or do you want to be remembered as the peers who marshaled the resources of the House of Lords and restored England’s position as the strongest economy in the world?”

In that moment, the damage was undone and the ridiculous coinage designs forgotten. No one wanted their face protruding from a mere penny when they could be immortalized as heroes instead. They would pass a Coinage Act focused on saving the economy, not their egos.

He was back in his landau within the next quarter hour.

It wasn’t too late to attend Katherine’s opening night. With luck, he might even arrive before the first intermission.

He squinted through the darkness. The streets were rivers due to the rain, but they were still passable. Particularly since few other drivers were out risking the storm.

Jaw set, Ravenwood pointed his landau toward the theatre.

And slowed the horses the moment he recognized yet another of his carriages standing near the main entrance. Why was his old chaise here? Had Katherine not come in the coach?

He grabbed his umbrella and leapt onto the wet road just in time to see his wife dash outside without so much as a pelisse to protect her from the pouring rain.

Cursing under his breath, he ran to her, his boots sloshing in the mud.

He swung the umbrella over her head and wrapped a dry arm about her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go. We have to go,” she said, her expression wild with panic. “Hurry!”

“Go where?” He stared at her. “Is your event over early?”

She turned glassy eyes to him. “I don’t care about the gala. I have to find Aunt Havens.”

The theatre door burst open behind them. To Ravenwood’s shock, his butler raced outside.

“Simmons?” Ravenwood’s ordered, logical brain could not think of a single sound reason for his butler to be at the theatre instead of home at his post. “What are you doing here?”

“We lost Mrs. Havens, your grace.” Simmons’ expression was grave. “I came to inform her grace. A few footmen are here with me, and the rest are out looking for Mrs. Havens.”

The words were incomprehensible. Ravenwood swung his gaze to Katherine. “But isn’t your aunt here with you?”

She stared up at him miserably. “I couldn’t bring her. She was having an…an episode. I didn’t want to risk something happening to her. I didn’t want to risk…” She gave a short, half-hysterical laugh and shoved both he and his butler out of the way. “I have to get in the carriage. I have to find her. She needs me.”

He wrapped an arm about her waist and pointed her toward his landau instead. “Come with me. We’ll go together. Simmons, you follow.”

The butler hesitated. “Where are we going?”

Ravenwood had absolutely no idea. “Where did you see her last?”

“At the house. The puppy got loose and—”

“You’ve searched for her near the estate for how long now?”

“A full hour.”

“Then she’s somewhere else.” No wonder Katherine was frantic. Ravenwood tried to regulate his racing heartbeat. “She couldn’t have gone far in the rain. It’s hard enough for me to slosh through the current in these boots, let alone an older woman with a constitution like Mrs. Havens.”

Katherine let out a hiccupy sob and bit down on her fist.

Ravenwood cursed his tongue. He hadn’t meant to upset her further. He wanted to find her aunt, and the best tool at his disposal was his ability to reason. “Are any of the other carriages missing?”

Simmons shook his head. “I’m afraid not, your grace.”

Ravenwood’s chest tightened. “Even if there were any hack drivers on the road in this rain, she wouldn’t have been able to hire one without coin to pay with.”

“She always has money,” Katherine said softly, her eyes wide with panic. “Aunt Havens says a lady should never be without pin money because a smart woman cannot always rely on someone else’s pocketbook.”

“She has money,” Ravenwood repeated. Splendid. She could be anywhere. “Where might she go?”

“Here.” Katherine’s expression was bewildered and scared. “Straight here. She wanted to come to the gala. This is the only place she would go.”

Ravenwood shot a sharp glance toward Simmons. “She’s not inside? You checked?”

Simmons shook his head. “The ushers saw no one matching her description. Nor did anyone ask for her grace until I arrived.”

Ravenwood’s muscles stiffened. Losing Mrs. Havens felt like losing his own family. His knees weakened. She was his family. The same as Katherine. Guilt twisted his stomach. He should have been there, at Mrs. Havens’ side.

Somehow they had to find her.

“She’s not at home. And she’s not here.” Which left where, in this weather? She was unlikely to have stepped out for an ice, or a promenade in the park. His fingers began to shake. They would never find her if they couldn’t figure out where to start looking.

“She wanted to come,” Katherine whispered, eyes haunted. “She wanted to come and I wouldn’t let her.”

He grabbed her hands. “Think, darling. Where else might she go?”

“The maid was watching her. I even sent two footmen to keep her safe. I made her promise to stay home.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “She probably didn’t remember.”

Ravenwood’s mind clicked into place. “What if she went to another home?”

Katherine frowned up at him. “What?”

“Your townhouse. That was your home before you moved in with me. Might she have gone there?”

“I…” Katherine’s eyes were wild. “It’s closed up. I haven’t been there in a month.”

“Does she know that?” he insisted. “Does she remember?”

“There’s no one there,” Katherine stammered. “She doesn’t have a key.”

Blast. It had been the best he could come up with. “Is there no way to get inside? To seek shelter?”

Katherine shook her head. “Nothing short of climbing up the balcony to—” Her face paled. “Hurry!”

Ravenwood nodded at Simmons and swung Katherine up into the landau. He grabbed the reins and prayed harder than he ever had in his life that logic had failed him and he was wrong.

If Mrs. Havens had tried anything as foolish as climbing a balcony in her fragile condition…

They had to make haste.