Two days later, Lionel made his way along Savile Row until he reached the small shop belonging to Mr. Mullens, Tailor. It was an unassuming space, but the window display more than made up for the simplicity. Lionel walked inside and studied the garments in the window more closely. Mr. Mullens was indeed talented.

“Good afternoon, may I be of assistance?”

Lionel turned at the sound of, presumably, the tailor’s voice. “Good afternoon.”

Mullens’s eyes widened briefly. “My lord. It’s an honor to have you in my shop.”

“After I received your invoice the other day, I had to come see your work for myself.” Lionel took in the man’s costume—a dark blue tailcoat, vivid gold waistcoat, impeccably knotted cravat, and umber-colored breeches that were so well cut, Lionel wondered how the man donned them.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Lionel strolled to a display of cloth. He removed his right glove and stroked the dark gray wool. “You’ve quite an eye for fabric. Your costume is quite striking.”

Mullens glanced down at himself, blushing slightly. “I do thank you.”

“I can only imagine how splendid Townsend’s clothing must have been. Have you any idea what happened to it?”

“I don’t.”

“What a shame. But listen to me go on about a dead man’s clothes.” Lionel winced inwardly.

Mullens gave him a considerate smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wondered the same thing. It was such a joy to make Lord Townsend’s clothing. He was a good friend.”

“Was he?” Lionel recalled Emmaline saying the tailor had been friendly with Townsend. “How did that come to be?”

Mullens’s mouth curled into a wry smile. “The story is a bit unscrupulous, I’m afraid. I’d just opened my shop but didn’t have many clients. I would loiter outside other tailors’ shops and listen for dissatisfied customers.” He smiled sheepishly. “That is how I met Lord Townsend.”

“Why is that unscrupulous? I’d say it was enterprising.”

Mullens seemed to stand taller. “I offered to make him a suit of clothing free of charge, provided he tell everyone where he got it—if he was satisfied with the outcome, of course.”

Lionel moved on to another bolt of fabric, a rich blue silk that was incredibly soft against his fingertips. “I can’t imagine you had such fine cloth at that time.”

“Oh no. I’ve worked very hard to afford having it on hand. Townsend didn’t care overly much about the fabric. In fact, his sartorial interest was fairly nonexistent when I met him. I find that to be the case with many men—until they get the right clothing. Once you wear a shirt crafted of the finest fabric with the greatest care… Then it all becomes clear.” Mullens’s tone had become wistful. It was obvious he loved his work.

Lionel had to admit he didn’t think too hard about his clothing, but that was why he had Hennings. His valet had an excellent eye for cut and color. “Well then, I suppose I must have you make me a shirt, at the very least.”

“I would be honored, sir. If you wouldn’t mind following me to the dressing area, I’ll take your measurements.” Mullens turned and strode to the back of the store while Lionel trailed him.

“You say that you and Townsend were friends. Did he confide in you?” Lionel was curious as to whether Mullens was aware of Townsend’s extreme debt as well as his extortion attempt.

“He didn’t tell me secrets, if that’s what you mean,” Mullens said.

Lionel removed his other glove and set them on a chair. He did the same with his coat and waistcoat. Then he untied his cravat and stripped away his shirt, leaving himself bare from the waist up. “His debts were so extensive. It seems as though someone should have known and perhaps stopped giving him credit.”

Mullens scribbled down numbers onto a piece of parchment. “I knew he was indebted, but I didn’t realize the depth of his losses. He liked to gamble.” He went about taking several measurements.

“Yes, I’d heard that about him.” Before he’d issued his challenge, he’d tried to learn all he could about Townsend. “I also know he was short-tempered.” He’d seen that first-hand at the house party from which Townsend had eloped with Emmaline.

Lionel tried to imagine her in love with the other man, her gorgeous sky-blue eyes turned up to him with desire. Lionel’s stomach turned.

She’d kept her distance from him yesterday, and he’d been out most of today. It would be easy for him to think he’d driven her away the other night. But how? Because he’d tried—and failed at—verbal seduction? No, she’d been struggling with some conflict, and he wasn’t sure it was something he could help her resolve.

“I didn’t see that side of him,” Mullens said. “His temper was always quite even with me. He was a fervent and generous supporter. Generous in that he referred many clients to me. I owe my success to him.” His gaze trailed off, and there was sadness in his tone.

Lionel began to grow uncomfortable. He pulled on his shirt and tucked it into his waistband.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Mullens said. “I hope you won’t find me too forward. Did he die well?”

Oh hell. Lionel finished tying his cravat just as his hands started to shake. He quickly drew on his waistcoat and angled himself a bit away from Mullens so the tailor wouldn’t see the way his fingers quivered while he fastened the buttons.

“I wasn’t with him when he died.” Lionel struggled with the last button but finally secured it through the hole. He reached for his tailcoat and pulled it on, his entire body beginning to tremble.

Mullens nodded. “I imagine he did. He was a good man.” He looked at Lionel, his gaze laced with pity. “You must feel terrible about killing him.”

Oh God. The room tilted and Lionel fought to keep his equilibrium. He needed to leave. Now.

“It was a shame.” And I regret it. So very much.

Townsend was an ass and a liar, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Yet if he were here, Lionel would not be married to Emmaline, would not have experienced the rapture of being in her arms, would not be fighting against the pull of falling in love with her.

And he couldn’t imagine not having those things. They were, already, essential to his every breath.

“I must be on my way. Send along the shirt and your invoice when it’s ready.” Lionel’s body felt like ice, and his voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

“Happy to, my lord.” Mullens smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the turmoil slamming Lionel from the inside out.

Good.

Lionel turned and stalked from the store as quickly as possible. He moved so quickly that he nearly ran into a woman coming through the doorway.

“My goodness!” She nearly fell backward, but Lionel reached out and caught her.

His eyes focused on her face, noting the sharp beak of her nose. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he didn’t trust his mind at present. “Please excuse me.”

He made sure she was solidly on her feet before rushing past her and continuing on his way. He walked quickly, his long stride devouring the blocks to Brook Street. Less than ten minutes later, Tulk opened the door for him.

The butler immediately noticed something was amiss. “Will you be going upstairs directly, my lord?”

“Yes. If Hennings isn’t up there, please send him along.”

Tulk nodded, and Lionel ascended the stairs, intent on a warm bath and Hennings’s special toddy that would banish the ghosts haunting his mind. Hennings had begun these ministrations following Lionel’s second duel when he’d killed Addison. Devastated by what he’d done, Lionel had been nearly inconsolable. If not for Hennings’s constant care—and later the comfort of Deirdre MacBride—Lionel might still be in that dark fog. The painful irony was that if he were, he never would have committed the exact crime a second time.

As Lionel rounded the top of the staircase, he came face-to-face with Emmaline. Seeing her now, like this, made his chest tighten until he could barely breathe.

She stared at him, her gaze full of concern. “Lionel, are you well?”

“Actually, I’m feeling a bit ill. Please excuse me.” His shaking intensified, and a cold sweat had started on his neck. He prayed she didn’t notice.

He finally made his way to his chamber and was nearly undressed when Hennings arrived. “Water for your bath is on the way. Do you require a toddy?”

Lionel nodded, grateful for Hennings’s practical assistance. He saw the problem and set about fixing it, no questions necessary. Like a parent, which Hennings had sort of become after Lionel’s father’s sudden death. Though Lionel had been a grown man, he’d felt the loss so keenly, and Hennings had recognized that. Just as he knew now that Lionel was on the verge of succumbing to his demons.

“I’ll be back directly.” Hennings left, and Lionel tried to focus on something other than the darkness in his mind.

Emmaline. Think of her.

For a moment, he calmed. Closing his eyes, he pictured her beneath him, her lips parted in ecstasy. But then her expression changed. Her gaze spat fire as her lip curled with scorn.

“I’ll give you nothing save my undying hatred.”

He could almost forget she’d said that to him once. But he shouldn’t. Even if she managed to forgive him, he could never erase what he’d done.

He thought of the anger he’d felt after his father’s death, of the rage that had driven him to challenge and shoot Babcock. Though he’d taken the man’s use of his arm, Lionel still wished he’d killed him. It had only seemed fair since he’d caused Lionel’s father’s death.

Lionel often wondered if he’d carried that fury with him, and if that was why he’d killed first Addison and then Townsend. He was a monster of his own making.

The shaking started once more, and he wondered if it would ever stop.

* * *

Emmaline climbed into the coach and settled herself on the cushion, arranging her skirts so they wouldn’t crease too much. A moment later, Lionel sat down beside her. She hadn’t seen him in two days, not since he’d taken ill. He hadn’t emerged from his chamber until that morning—according to Mrs. Wells—and he’d been gone most of the day.

The vehicle sprang forward as they made their way to the Clares’ town house for the orphanage benefit musicale.

Emmaline had expressed her concern to the housekeeper, but she’d told Emmaline not to worry, that his lordship suffered minor bouts like this from time to time. This had surprised Emmaline. Lionel seemed a robust and healthy sort. She wanted to ask him about it, but there was an air of discomfort between them—an awkwardness borne of the newness of their relationship.

Relationship? Was she ready for their marriage to be anything other than a formal arrangement?

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” she said. Because she couldn’t say nothing.

“I am, thank you.”

A moment passed, and Emmaline decided she didn’t want to ignore what the housekeeper had revealed. “Mrs. Wells told me this happens occasionally. Do you have an illness I should be aware of?”

He darted a glance toward her, but his gaze didn’t linger. Which was odd. He typically took every opportunity to look at her. “No.”

That was it? Emmaline was surprised at how frustrated she felt. When had she started to care so much about him?

She tried another tack. “Did I offend you the other night at dinner?”

His head arced toward her once more, but this time he didn’t look away. “No. You were clear about your desire to move slowly, and I respect that.” His gaze warmed. “Truly.”

She felt a bit better as they arrived at the Clares’ house. But then a burst of apprehension sparked through her. This was the first time she and Lionel had arrived at an event together. Would there be a reaction, or had the excitement of their marriage faded after a fortnight?

Ivy stood in the entry hall to greet people as they arrived—and to accept their donations. Lionel handed her a banknote and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Two hundred pounds?” Ivy breathed. She looked up at Lionel, smiling broadly. “Thank you so very much.”

As Lionel moved on to speak with West, Emmaline went to her friend. “Do you still want me to come to the orphanage tomorrow to help you with allocating tonight’s funds?”

“Yes, please. I know how much visiting the orphanage affected you, and I’m so glad you want to help.”

“I’m delighted to. I still need to shop for the toys and books I want to bring—Axbridge wants to come with me to deliver them.”

Ivy’s brows arched. “Indeed? Then I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he gave so much. Did you know?”

“I didn’t.” Her gaze drifted to him. He stood in profile, his handsome features only partially visible, but no less magnificent. Pride welled in her chest that she was married to such a fine man—and it wasn’t to do with how he looked.

Wait, she’d thought him a horrible person just a few short weeks ago! But that was before she’d come to know him. At least a little. There were so many things she had yet to learn. She realized she wanted to.

“He’s really quite wonderful,” Ivy said softly.

Emmaline couldn’t respond, as the line behind her was growing. She moved on to greet West, then took her husband’s arm as they made their way upstairs to where the musicale would be held.

“You were very generous,” she said as they ascended the stairs. She was intensely aware of where she touched him. And of the fact that it didn’t come close to appeasing the need he aroused in her.

“Your impassioned description of your visit the other day made quite an impact.” He glanced down at her once they reached the top of the stairs. “You possess a loving heart.”

Did she? She would’ve described her heart as a blackened shell, abused and destroyed by unrequited love and affection. First with her family and then Geoffrey. She hadn’t realized until that moment that he really hadn’t loved her. He’d said on more than one occasion that he ought to have married for wealth instead of beauty. He’d followed such statements with apologies and begged her forgiveness. In retrospect—between his words and his actions—she could see how he’d truly felt.

“What’s wrong?” Lionel’s sudden question indicated she’d done something to reflect her inner disquiet.

She forced a smile. It seemed they weren’t to the point where they shared personal things, such as whatever had plagued him. Besides, this wasn’t the place. “Nothing. Shall we go in?”

He guided her into the large drawing room. It took up a good portion of the entire floor. Chairs were set up in front of a dais where the opera singer would entertain them. A couple dozen people were already in attendance, and they took notice of the new arrivals. It wasn’t the same as the reaction at the Colne ball, but it was notable.

Aquilla and her husband, Lord Sutton, as well as Lucy and her husband, Lord Dartford, rushed over to greet them.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Aquilla gushed.

Dartford looked over at Emmaline. “Do you mind if we steal your husband? We need a bit of fortification in the way of whiskey if we’re to make it through the evening.”

Lucy swatted his arm. “She’s a lovely singer.”

Dartford made a face. “You know how I feel about opera.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Indeed I do. Behave yourselves.”

With a chuckle, Dartford led the men off to who-knew-where.

“How are things going?” Lucy asked in hushed tones as they gravitated toward the edge of the room where they could speak more privately.

“They are…progressing.”

Lucy’s eyes lit. “Indeed? That’s splendid.”

Aquilla nodded. “I’m quite hopeful you will find a way to be happy with Axbridge. I know things didn’t start in the best way—” She winced. “Never mind.”

Emmaline was about to reassure her friend when the Viscountess Dunn, a petite woman in her sixties with sharp brown eyes, hobbled toward them.

Lady Dunn stopped before them, leaning on her cane. “Ah, I knew I would find you ladies here—it’s why I gave my companion the evening off.”

Lucy and Aquilla greeted her warmly. “You know Lady Axbridge, do you not?” Lucy asked.

“I knew her as Miss Forth-Hodges.” Lady Dunn sized Emmaline up and gave a nod, as if she approved of what she saw. “I’ve yet to make the acquaintance of Lady Axbridge.” Her gaze sparkled with levity. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Emmaline tried to recall the last time she’d spoken with Lady Dunn, and came to the conclusion that it was some time ago. Indeed, she had been Miss Forth-Hodges—that was the house party where she’d met Geoffrey. “Good evening, Lady Dunn. It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was sorry to hear of your loss, but delighted to see that you have found happiness once more. At least, I hope you are truly happy.” She moved closer and peered purposefully at Emmaline. “The gossip is that it’s a marriage of convenience, which makes no sense to me. Who would even start such a rumor?”

Emmaline looked at her friends, whose faces bore a mixture of shock and agreement. Indeed, who had started that rumor? Emmaline had only confided to her friends, and they wouldn’t have said anything. Had Lionel shared something? She rather doubted that. He likely would’ve wanted a real marriage from the start and wouldn’t have told people otherwise.

Lady Dunn continued, “Why on earth would you marry Axbridge of all people—given what he’d done?” She shook her head. “I much prefer the original gossip, that you fell madly in love in spite of what happened between Axbridge and Townsend.”

Emmaline wasn’t sure how to respond. The viscountess hadn’t actually asked a question, so perhaps she could simply nod and smile.

“Well, which is it, gel?” Lady Dunn asked.

Emmaline blinked as panic seeped through her. How on earth could she answer that?

Lady Dunn laughed. “I’m jesting with you, dear. My apologies if I caused discomfort. As I said, I do hope it’s a happy union. Both of you deserve that. I knew Axbridge’s parents quite well, and they were both lovely. He’s a good boy.”

Exhaling in relief, Emmaline said, “Thank you for your kind sentiments. It’s nice to hear about his parents. I know he was very close to them.”

“His father’s death was such a tragedy.”

Emmaline nodded. “Yes, to be taken so suddenly…”

“And in such dramatic fashion.” Lady Dunn clucked her tongue. “It provoked the reputation that earned your husband the name the Duke of Danger, of course. Though it’s important to credit Axbridge with being a man of excessive honor, even if he’s been involved in unfortunate events.”

Emmaline’s interest piqued. She turned more directly toward Lady Dunn. “How did it provoke his reputation?”

“Because he challenged the awful man. What was his name?” Lady Dunn looked off to the side, her mouth forming a slight frown. “Oh, I can’t recall, but he accused Lord Axbridge—your husband’s father—of cheating at cards. The poor marquess suffered an apoplectic fit and dropped dead. Axbridge—your husband—called the man out.”

Heart pounding, Emmaline tried not to reveal that she knew nothing of this. She suddenly wanted everyone to believe that her marriage was indeed real, and that she knew her husband far better than she actually did. “It’s a ridiculous nickname. He should be called the Duke of Honor.”

Aquilla and Lucy exchanged a meaningful look. Then both seemed to wince.

Lady Dunn gazed at Emmaline with approval. “Perhaps you are right. I’m quite glad he found you, dear. I’m sure it saved his reputation. Despite his honor, many people would fault him for what he’s done. I do think he would’ve been ostracized if not for you.”

Emmaline scanned the increasing crowd for her husband but didn’t see him. Her heart ached for the man whose father had died in such a fashion. He had to have been devastated. And now she knew why he didn’t discuss it.

“Is that true?” Aquilla asked. “I can’t imagine anyone ostracizing an Untouchable.”

“Oh, it happens, my dear,” Lady Dunn said. “You’re perhaps too young to remember the Duke of Rockcliffe. He was exiled from Society for…well, it hardly matters now. Just know that it can and does happen. I’m glad you’ve saved Axbridge from a similar fate. I daresay he’ll need to avoid any future duels.” Her gaze trailed off. “Oh, there’s Lady Meacham. Please excuse me.” She flashed a bright smile as if she hadn’t just said Lionel was one duel away from being a total outcast.

Emmaline turned to Aquilla and Lucy as the viscountess limped away. “Is what she said true? Did I save Axbridge’s reputation?”

Lucy lifted a shoulder. “Don’t ask me. I don’t pay much attention to gossip. Aquilla is far better at that.”

Aquilla pursed her lips. “Not on purpose. People talk to me. They find me friendlier than you.”

Lucy laughed. “That is true.”

Emmaline looked at Aquilla. “If you heard something, I should like to know.”

A shadow of discomfort stole into Aquilla’s eyes. “It’s just gossip. You mustn’t pay any heed.”

“Still, I want to know.” She needed to know. How could she protect him if she didn’t know what people were saying?

Now she wanted to protect him? Yes, because he’d told her he cared what people think. He’d be hurt to think he was nearly cast out. Particularly when all he’d tried to do was live by a strict code of honor. She longed to know what that meant to him. What had provoked him to duel, and more than once? In the first instance, it seemed clear. He’d fought to defend his father’s honor after his father could not. Again, her heart squeezed.

“I only heard someone advise that it was best to find a way onto his good side. To find oneself opposing him would be to court danger. To borrow from his nickname,” she hastily added, her voice diminishing in volume.

Emmaline touched her friend’s arm. “I’m sorry, Aquilla. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. I don’t blame you for hearing gossip.”

Lucy edged closer, lowering her voice. “And we owe you a huge apology. I’m afraid his nickname is because of us. We’re the ones who started giving nicknames to the Untouchables.”

Emmaline’s mouth ticked up in a faint smile. “Ah yes, I recall Ivy telling me about that.” When they’d first met at that house party. The same one where she’d met Geoffrey. “You mustn’t blame yourselves. And it isn’t all bad. Axbridge told me some find his epithet alluring.”

Their conversation was interrupted by people beginning to take their seats. Apparently, the musicale was about to begin.

Emmaline looked over the crowd and this time located her husband. He was taller than most, and with his bright blond hair, he was easy to find. He cut straight toward her, flanked by Dartford and Sutton.

He offered his arm to Emmaline. “Shall we take our seats?”

She clutched at him, eager to touch him, to show him she was there for him, that she would protect him. “Yes, please.” She sidled close to him, closer than ever before when they were out together.

He looked down at her, his gaze tinged with surprise.

Yes, she was here for him, and later she’d let him know how much.