Gillian jerked awake as something moved beside her. She froze when she realized there was a man in her bed. Not just any man. The Earl of Pembroke’s large naked body lay beside her, his arm stretched around her waist, his fingers curled against her skin. His long legs were tangled with hers. A faint chill trickled over her bare upper body where the blankets had fallen down to her hips. She blinked drowsily and realized with some confusion that she wasn’t even in her own bed.

What in the blazes?

She touched her head to brush her hair back and winced as a sharp pain blossomed around her right temple. A wild blur of memories from the previous night came back to her. The perils of the hellfire club, the fight, then the insanity of their escape, and…the intimacy she’d shared with James right here in this bed. She’d opened herself up to him, shared her body with him and he with her.

She had slept with James. No, Lord Pembroke. He could never be James. She was a servant, and he was a lord. He had to be kept in his position and she in hers.

I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Yet Gillian couldn’t deny how wonderful she felt. Her body was sated in a way she’d never imagined, and when she tried to slip out of James’s hold her body protested, wanting instead to sink back down in the warm bed with him. She forced herself to move, lifting his arm around her waist and setting it down at his side. He murmured something soft in his sleep and rolled onto his stomach away from her. A sigh of relief escaped her as she slipped out of the bed.

It took a few minutes to collect her things. Her gown was wrinkled and still covered with droplets of blood and white plaster dust, which she did her best to shake off.

“Lord, what a mess,” she muttered, then froze as James moved in bed, flipping his pillow before settling back.

Once she was dressed, she peeled back the curtains by the sash window. Dawn was but a faint pink line upon the trees and the tops of the houses of the London streets. She believed she had enough time to find a coach and get home before the Sheridan house awoke to find her gone. Letting Sean Hartley, her friend and footman, know what had happened was one thing, but she did not want the rest of the staff to know her grave mistake.

Biting her lips, she slipped her boots on and laced them up, then crept to the door and eased it open. She slipped into the hall and checked for servants, finding no one. Gillian knew they would be rising any moment. The cook down in the kitchens would be wrapping her apron around her waist and checking on the bread from the night before. Footmen would begin making their rounds lighting lamps, and maids would soon start opening curtains and preparing breakfast trays for James and his family. Gillian knew these routines all too well because it was her world, the world of whispered orders and bells, of tea trays and laundry. Her world was not one of luscious beds, fine gowns, and glittering balls. That was the world James belonged to.

At least I have the memories to keep me warm in the long, lonely years ahead.

Gillian crept down the stairs and reached the front door.

“Miss Beaumont?” Dr. Wilkes’s voice froze her in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder and saw the doctor emerge from a downstairs room.

“Oh, good morning, Dr. Wilkes. How are you?”

The doctor smiled. “Well. And how are you feeling? I would like to look at your head before you leave.”

“Oh, but…”

“Please,” he said. “I am a doctor, and it’s my nature to worry. It will only take a moment. I was just seeing to the dowager countess with her morning medicine. She’s in the drawing room. If you don’t mind, I prefer to keep an eye on her while we are alone.”

“Er, yes, of course.” Gillian followed him into the drawing room. An older woman was seated in a chair facing the window overlooking a lovely garden. The purple morning light set off in the bright hues of the wisteria climbing the walls around the windows. The woman’s hand was splayed on the glass, as if she yearned to touch the colorful blossoms outside.

“How is she?” Gillian asked the doctor.

Dr. Wilkes’s voice was full of compassion. “A little more distant today. She has her good days and bad days.”

Gillian’s throat tightened as she thought of James having to care for his mother on those bad days when she was barely there.

“Now, let’s have a look at you.” Dr. Wilkes brought her close to the window by James’s mother so he could examine her head. “Looks clean, but there’s a bit of swelling. It will likely bruise. How do you feel?”

“A little tender is all.”

“Any cloudiness or muddy thoughts?”

“No.” Her thoughts were scattered, but it had nothing to do with being hit in the head and everything to do with the man who had made love to her.

“Hello,” a soft feminine voice said, making Gillian tense until she realized it was James’s mother. She was watching Gillian with curious brown eyes.

“Hello,” Gillian replied and looked to Dr. Wilkes, who offered an encouraging smile.

“Abigail, this is Miss Gillian Beaumont. She’s a friend of James’s.”

“Oh?” The woman’s face lit with a smile. “You know my James?”

“Yes.” Gillian tried to ignore the heat rising to her face.

“He’s such a good boy, always following his father about. So like my Henry.”

Gillian’s smile faltered as she realized his mother was thinking of the past as though it were the present. Gillian recovered quickly, adapting.

“What is Henry like?” she asked the older woman.

“Henry?” She smiled dreamily. “He’s a perfect gentleman. I married him when I was only seventeen. He was twenty-four and oh so handsome. All my friends were terribly jealous. I didn’t care that he was the future Earl of Pembroke, however. To me he was simply Henry. I was only a squire’s daughter, you see. I never thought he would even notice me, but, well, I was a wonderful dancer. The best men love to dance as much as we women do.”

Gillian sat down in a chair beside the dowager countess. “Oh?”

“Yes. I had tiny, quick feet back then.” She giggled. “Henry came down from London that year, and we danced at his father’s Christmas ball. He told me years later that he never regretted dancing with only me that night, though his parents were quite scandalized.”

Gillian caught a glimpse of the lovely young woman James’s mother had once been. That made her illness only more heartbreaking. She seemed like a wonderful woman, and knowing that the person she used to be was slowly fading away broke Gillian’s heart.

“Is James a good dancer?” Gillian asked.

“James?” Lady Pembroke asked, her brows knit in confusion.

“Yes, your son.”

“But I don’t have a son. I’ve only been married a year.” The older woman was now frowning at her, her hands wildly tugging at her shawl in her lap, fraying the fabric’s cloth ends. “But James is a lovely name…”

“Lady Pembroke, let me serve you some tea.” Dr. Wilkes was there in an instant, soothing her and placing a cup of tea in her hands.

“I should be going,” Gillian said. “I’m sorry I upset her.”

Dr. Wilkes shook his head. “Nonsense. You did very well. There’s not many young ladies who would have tolerated the situation as you have.”

“Tolerate? She needs compassion,” Gillian said, taken aback that anyone would be upset with the older woman.

Dr. Wilkes nodded. “That she does, but most ladies your age don’t know how to cope with caring for someone in Lady Pembroke’s condition. For most people, it reminds them far too much of their own mortality and it isn’t easy to face.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s awful. She so very sweet.”

“Isn’t she?” The doctor patted Lady Pembroke’s shoulders as the woman drank her tea and gazed out at the gardens. Gillian sincerely hoped that somewhere deep inside, Lady Pembroke had some memories, ones that she could always fall into even for the briefest of moments inside her own head.

“Thank you, Dr. Wilkes, for seeing to me last night.”

“Of course. I was happy to. Does his lordship know you are leaving? I thought you both might have some breakfast with Miss Fordyce and myself shortly.”

“No!” Gillian gasped, then calmed. “I mean no, he was still sleeping. I didn’t want to bother him, and given the scandalous nature of my arrival, I’m not certain I could face Miss Fordyce over breakfast.” Letty, James’s sister, was wonderful, but she was also protective of her older brother and had made it quite clear that she didn’t want ladies with ill intent breaking her brother’s heart. Those sentiments were understandable and very noble. James deserved a wife who would love to care not just for him, but his family. In another life, Gillian would’ve given anything to be that person, but James could not marry the bastard daughter of an earl, at least not one working as a servant.

“Good day, Dr. Wilkes.” She kissed the doctor on the cheek, feeling grateful for everything he’d done. The man blushed and bid her farewell before he returned to Lady Pembroke’s side.

As Gillian left the house, the sun finally rose over the tops of the other houses, painting the streets with pale morning light. Coaches were beginning to rumble along the cobblestones, and soon people would be taking early walks. Gillian waved down a coach and took one last look back at James’s home. Then she bid goodbye to her dreams once and for all.

She was gone. When James woke a few hours after dawn, the realization had been like a knife to his chest. The woman he’d shared the most intimate night with had abandoned him. Rather than James running out like a heartless rogue, she was the one who had fled. It was as though the world had turned upside down on him.

James hunched over on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor where his clothes lay in a crumpled heap. He was completely naked, which wasn’t unusual, but for once he felt exposed. He’d never taken mistresses, had only bedded one other woman in his life before last night, but damned if he didn’t feel as though he had lost his virginity rather than Gillian losing hers.

“My lord?” Dr. Wilkes’s voice came through the closed door.

“Yes, Dr. Wilkes. Give me a moment.” He scrambled out of bed and hastily threw on his clothes. When he opened the door, Dr. Wilkes was standing there, frowning.

“I wished to check on you. It’s not like you to—” Dr. Wilkes’s eyes strayed to the bed and the blood spotting that James had forgotten to cover in his haste to answer the door.

Damn, the man would surely know what had happened.

Dr. Wilkes cleared his throat. “Miss Beaumont has left. When you missed breakfast, I grew worried.” Dr. Wilkes, ever the professional, did not mention what he clearly understood had happened last night.

“Is there any food left?” he asked.

“The cook kept a few kippers, herring, and eggs in some chafing dishes on the sideboard. They should still be hot.”

“Thank you.” James knew he should wash and dress in fresh clothes, but his stomach ached. He hadn’t had much in the way of dinner before he’d gone off to Coventry’s Wicked Earls’ Club.

“How is my mother today?” he asked as the doctor kept pace with him.

“Well enough. Miss Beaumont had the opportunity to meet your mother while I examined her wound before she left.”

James froze. Gillian had met his mother? No wonder she had fled the house. Being compassionate with words was easier than being compassionate by deed. No doubt she’d been overwhelmed by his mother’s deteriorating condition and fled.

“Was Miss Beaumont very unsettled by my mother?” He tried to keep emotion out of his voice.

“Not at all.” Dr. Wilkes and James descended the stairs and headed to the drawing room. “She had a pleasant conversation with her and got her to talk much more than I’ve been able to in days.”

James’s heart gave a little start. It was not what he had expected to hear.

“Truly? She was talking to Gillian?”

The doctor eyed him for a moment, perhaps noting that he’d called Gillian by her first name, then answered. “Yes, she spoke about your father and how they met. Always a charming story.” Dr. Wilkes’s eyes were soft, and it made James proud that he’d found one of the few physicians in London who didn’t let science alone rule his head. It was the reason James had hired him. He needed a man who had a heart to care for his mother.

“And Gillian, how is she? I didn’t get to see her before she left this morning.”

“She seems fine. That woman has a strong, sturdy skull, thank heavens.”

As he and Dr. Wilkes entered into the dining room, James collected a plate and helped himself to kippers and eggs and coffee before he took a seat facing the gardens. Dr. Wilkes walked to the window and stared at the view.

“Is my mother resting?” James asked.

“Yes.” The doctor turned toward James, still frowning. “My lord, she’s beginning to lose control of her limbs, and she’s been trying to walk about without the servants to watch for her. I’m worried that if she falls, we won’t…” The man’s words faded into the silence of the room.

James set his fork down, his stomach knotting painfully. “What do you propose we do?”

The heavy solemnity of the doctor’s voice terrified James. “We should think about moving her to the Pembroke estate. I know you wish to stay close to her, but she will need to live in a place without stairs. The manor house has rooms on the first floor.”

Dr. Wilkes was right. The estate would be better for her with fewer stairs, but that would mean he would not see her as often. Much of his family’s investments kept him busy in London. He thought it over for a long moment. His mother had made so many sacrifices, as all mothers do, and losing their father had been the hardest on her. James wanted to do what was best for her. He owed her the best care for her steadfast love for him and Letty all these years, despite her illness. His throat tightened as he met Dr. Wilkes’s eyes.

“Go ahead and make the necessary preparations. I shall arrange things here so that I can retire to the country for the rest of the Season.”

Dr. Wilkes pulled out a chair, sat, and cleared his throat.

“May I be frank with you, my lord?”

“Of course. You may always speak honestly,” James assured him. He had employed the doctor five years ago, and in that time, he’d grown to see the man as a friend.

“I admire the nobility of your heart, of wanting to stay with her even when her world is growing dark inside her mind.” Dr. Wilkes’s voice roughened, and he paused as if he needed a moment to master his emotions. “But you risk losing yourself, my lord. Your own life is frozen, but the rest of the world is moving on without you. You deserve a life too, one of joy, of marriage and children. Your mother would not want you to be without your own life for the sake of hers.” Dr. Wilkes looked away as he finished, his face red with embarrassment.

For a moment, James pondered his friend’s words. It was true. He wanted a life. He had let his fears for his mother trap him in a place where he’d become afraid to move forward. But he couldn’t simply send her off to become someone else’s concern.

Dr. Wilkes spoke up. “I daresay that the change of environment might even help her condition in some manner. I assure you I will do all that is required to keep her mind active. And when time allows, then you should join her. But not before.”

“I—you may be right. I will stay in London, then, but if she needs me for anything, you must send for me at once.”

“Of course,” Dr. Wilkes vowed.

James’s mind was flooded with the chaotic panic of sending his mother away mixed with the fear he’d never see Gillian again. Dr. Wilkes was right. He had to move forward, had to find happiness, and that meant finding Gillian Beaumont. He was going to start by heading to Viscount Sheridan’s townhouse and seek her out there. Audrey Sheridan had to know where Gillian was.

He left the dining room and walked to his study, where he kept the most up-to-date copy of Debrett’s. He searched page by page, looking for the name Beaumont. If she was connected to any peer, she would be here. With a little cry of triumph, he found the Beaumont name and then frowned. The Earl of Morrey was named Adam Beaumont, and he had one sister, Caroline, just as Wainthorpe had told him.

Perhaps Gillian was a distant cousin? Someone not titled and only distantly related? She would not be included in Debrett’s if that was the case. He closed the book and slipped it back in between other gilded titles, then headed for his chambers. In a few hours, he would pay a call on Audrey Sheridan.

Or perhaps he should say, Lady Society.

“I think you’ve gone mad,” Gillian informed her mistress.

Audrey lay on her stomach on the bed, penning her next column for the Quizzing Glass Gazette. A sleek black cat pawed at the quill pen each time Audrey frowned and crossed a line and rewrote something in its place.

“Hmm?” Audrey murmured, clearly not listening.

Gillian rolled her eyes. She folded the red silk gown Audrey had worn the previous night, though it was perhaps beyond repair. It was tattered, and its stitching was ripped in a few places, no doubt caused when Audrey had scaled the window.

“I said I think you’ve gone mad, my lady.”

Audrey’s eyes flicked up from the paper, and she stared at Gillian.

“Mad because I’m writing an exposé on the Unholy Sinners of Hell, or mad that I brought home Archimedes?” She glanced toward the handsome black cat on the bed beside her.

“Both, I should think.” Gillian stared at the black cat. The Unholy Sinners had claimed he was the devil. Gillian was not fool enough to believe such nonsense, but the cat had an eerie way of watching her. She could feel its gaze when she turned her back.

“Nonsense. We unmasked nearly all the men during the fight last night, and it’s time we let the ton know who among them are not in fact gentlemen.”

Gillian grunted in disagreement. “And what does Mittens think of Archimedes?”

“Mittens? Oh, she sulked a bit at first, but I believe she’ll come around.” Audrey eyed the cat critically. “He’s a bit like Muff, don’t you think?”

“Muff looked sweet,” Gillian said, thinking of Mittens’s littermate. The two ancient cats had been in the household since they were kittens. They had become a welcome presence over the years, but last fall someone had killed Muff as a message, to hurt and warn Audrey’s brother. After Muff’s death, Mittens had wandered around the house, crying for him to come back. She’d finally given up and settled back into her old routines, but she hadn’t been the same.

“Archimedes is sweet,” Audrey said.

“I highly doubt that,” Gillian replied as she picked up Audrey’s boots and set them in the hall. Sean would collect them soon, and they would be polished.

“Why did you name him Archimedes? I should think Lucifer would be more appropriate.”

Audrey leaned over and covered the cat’s ears, as though muffling anything he might hear.

“Just because he was presiding over a devil’s feast doesn’t mean he’s a wicked cat. He might’ve been lured there as we were, under false pretenses.”

At this Gillian couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Lured under false pretenses? He’s a cat. They probably snatched him from some alley in the street.”

“Nonsense.” Audrey sat up and cuddled the feline to her chest, nuzzling her face against his fur. “Cats never go anywhere they don’t choose to. During the fight, he attacked one of the men, Lord Augersley, before I grabbed him from the table. Yet he didn’t fight me at all, did you?” Audrey asked the cat. The cat blinked.

“Good Lord.” Gillian groaned and headed for the door. She had no desire to listen to Audrey sing the praises of a devil cat.

Even I have limitations as to what I can endure.

“Are we really not going to talk about it?” Audrey’s soft tone stilled Gillian as she reached the door. Her hand rested on the brass handle, and she drew in a slow breath.

She closed hers eyes a moment and prayed her mistress would not ask her about James. “About?”

“Last night. Jonathan brought me home, but you didn’t come back until early this morning. The messenger who brought the note said you’d been injured and that James had taken you to his townhouse.”

Gillian flinched when she recalled Lord Pembroke’s note to the Sheridan house.

“Gillian,” Audrey said even more gently. “I know you have a tendre for him. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“Isn’t it?” The words felt acidic on her tongue as she faced Audrey. “I’m not now and never will be suitable for someone like him. I’m a maid, my lady. He is an earl. I’d be lucky to be his mistress.”

“James has never taken any mistresses. None that I know of, anyway. And don’t forget who I am.” Audrey waved her quill as she slid off her bed and shooed Archimedes away from her letter. Gillian swore she saw the cat reading the paper. That was how badly she knew she’d struck her head. Cats did not read.

“Gilly, we must talk about you and James.”

“Having or not having mistresses is beside the point. He and I could never—” She shut her mouth, hating that her eyes were suddenly beginning to water.

Audrey walked over and gently embraced Gillian in a hug. Then Gillian burst fully into tears.

“Have a good cry. I always feel better afterward. Men simply don’t understand the power of a good cry.”

Gillian sniffed and let out a worried giggle. “There are far too many things men don’t understand.”

“That is certainly the truth.” Audrey chuckled and let go of Gillian, but her face sobered again. “Let me ask you something, and I want an honest answer, even if it pains you greatly.”

Gillian nodded. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for Audrey. Their loyalty to each other was almost like that of sisters.

“If you were a lady and James was an ordinary gentleman and there was no issue of risk of social standing and such nonsense, would you want to be with him?”

Gillian fought the instant denial and the need to hide her feelings and emotions. As the illegitimate daughter of a peer, she’d learned quickly that her feelings and thoughts would only lead to sorrow. But Audrey had demanded honesty, and she had promised to give it.

“Yes.”

Audrey’s eyes twinkled. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She spun, her pink gown fluttering as she sat back down on the bed and reached for her Lady Society column.

“You aren’t planning on interfering?” Gillian tried to phrase the question carefully, but it still sounded accusatory.

“Interfere? Heavens no.” Audrey sighed as she read over the paper. Then stopped. “I simply needed to know where you stand so that I might best deal with this matter should it come up in the future. I understand your fears. Loath though I am to say it, an earl and a lady’s maid would be quite an impossible situation. But I do not wish to see hearts broken, either. So forewarned is forearmed, as they say. Rest assured, I will deal with the matter appropriately should it ever come up.”

Gillian didn’t trust that statement in the slightest. “Interference” might as well have been Audrey’s second name rather than Helen, the one her parents had given her.

“Why do I not believe that?” Gillian muttered under her breath.

“You look a bit peaky, dear. Why don’t you go down to the kitchens, have a little rest and some tea. I’ll be here working on my article, and I won’t need you.” Audrey wasn’t looking at her now, but Gillian knew her mistress’s quick dismissal meant she was up to something. Gillian debated on staying to supervise her mistress, but she finally relented.

“Very well.” She left the bedchamber and met Sean in the hall as he picked up the boots she’d set out to polish earlier.

“I’m fetching tea and a bit of rest. Would you mind watching over her?”

The handsome footman grinned. “Up to her old tricks, is she?”

“Afraid so. She knows I’m cross with her for running off last night to that dreadful club. She wasn’t supposed to go, especially not alone.”

“Aye, she’s a reckless lass.” Sean’s Irish accent always softened his criticisms. The two liked each other very much, and Gillian knew he was worried about Audrey. Just as he worried about Gillian. Sean was the elder brother she’d never had.

“I was rather hoping she would settle down. She was so eager for Mr. St. Laurent before, but now she won’t even entertain him when he comes to call.”

“That’s true,” said Sean. “They returned here after one in the morning, looking quite tousled, both of them. Thankfully, his lordship and Lady Sheridan were both asleep. But when Mr. St. Laurent returned midday to pay a call, she refused him entirely.”

That surprised Gillian. She’d come home from James’s house and had been put straight to bed, where she’d rested until after lunch. She had missed the drama of Jonathan St. Laurent being turned away. And after such a daring rescue?

“I think if it was me pining after her, I would kidnap her and take her to Gretna Green. Leave nothing to chance. She needs to marry that man, but for some reason she’s now set her mind against him.”

Gillian sighed. “Sean, I fear you read too many Gothic novels if you believe that is the answer to my lady’s problems.” She was going to go grow old and gray far too soon if she continued to worry about her mistress like this. But perhaps Sean had a point. If left to her own devices, she could picture Audrey coming up with no end of protests and excuses to deny him.

“Let’s get you some tea.” Sean escorted her down the stairs, Audrey’s dainty boots tucked under one of his arms as he opened the door that led to the kitchens.

The sudden tap of the knocker on the front door made them both freeze.

“Wait here, and I’ll see who it is.” Sean set the boots down and headed for the door. Gillian saw the bright sunlight cut through the hall as Sean opened the door. A tall silhouetted figure stood there, his hat tucked under one arm.

“My name is James Fordyce. I’d like to pay a visit to Miss Sheridan. Is she at home?”

James! Gillian ducked halfway into the hall that went down to the kitchens and peered around the door in time to see James enter the foyer.

“I’ll see if Miss Sheridan is accepting visitors,” Sean said.

He hastily ascended the stairs. Gillian couldn’t help but study James from her hidden vantage point, remembering him as he’d been the night before. It was as though it had been some sort of wonderful dream. The hazy darkness, the sliding of limbs, the moans and sighs, the building pleasure that had blinded her for moments before she came down from it all, shaking and weak. Had they really made love? Or had it been a feverish dream she believed to be real only because she wished it to be so?

James glanced about the hall, not seeing her in her hiding place. The tan trousers he wore clung to his athletic legs, legs that had pressed against hers in bed. His broad shoulders filled out his maroon jacket. A gold waistcoat accented the white shirt beneath, a shirt much like the one she had pulled off him last night. A flush crept over her cheeks as she tried to dispel memories from the previous evening.

Heaven help me. It hadn’t been a dream, and she would never be able to pretend that it had been. It was burned into her heart.

Audrey came down the stairs a moment later and greeted James with an embrace. Gillian flinched. She knew her mistress was affectionate by nature, but she couldn’t ignore the flash of green across her eyes as she watched them touch. She knew there was nothing between them, of course, but she was the one who wanted to be hugging James like that.

“James! Do come into the drawing room. I’ll send for tea.”

Gillian flattened herself against the wall close to the back stairs that led up to the servants’ quarters as they passed, holding her breath as she listened to James’s voice slowly fade as he moved farther and farther away.

I had one glorious, wonderful night. It’s more than most women ever have. I should be thankful for what I have. A safe place to lay my head, an employer who protects me, and friends.

But after sharing a bed with the Earl of Pembroke, she knew that her life would never be the same.