Susanah almost ran as she hurried down the street toward her house. Evan stood at the corner watching her. There was still a lavender cast to the morning mist as though the sun was still hovering at the horizon. At least no one was sweeping in front of her father’s house. Although as she went by the area steps, a couple of maids chatted while filling their coal buckets from the underground storage bin. They would be laying fires in the family’s rooms soon.

What had Evan meant when he’d offered to escort her inside?

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him. Then forced herself to look back before he could do anything to acknowledge her. In a few more steps the swirls of mist would obscure him. What if one of her neighbors was an early riser and was walking down the street? The nape of her neck tickled as if she were being scrutinized and found wanting.

She would be caught. Her stomach cramped, and she nearly dropped one of the two oranges she held. He’d pressed them into her arm as he handed her down. With the coins in one hand and the oranges cradled in the other, she couldn’t reach to take off the stupid bonnet. Or perhaps she should wait until she was inside.

Just a few more steps. Only she didn’t have a free hand for the key.

After setting down the oranges, she quickly untied the bonnet and ripped it from her head. She dropped the fruit and coins inside and held it by the ribbons. The key sounded like a cannon blast as she put it in the keyhole. As soon as the tumblers clicked, she pulled it out. She squeezed her eyes shut half expecting the door to be yanked open. She couldn’t see beyond the solid panels to know if anyone was just beyond it.

There was no hope for it. She would have to risk opening the door and hope that it was too early for a footman to be stationed in the entry hall. Her heart hammering, she cracked the door and peeked around the edge.

The hall was empty.

She swung the door open and swirled through, only to lose her grip and have the door bang into the wall behind it. Catching the edge on the recoil she shut it gently. She didn’t dare take the time to lock it again and only hoped that if one of the servants noticed they would think another one had unlocked it.

“Have a care,” called someone from the butler’s pantry behind the dining room. “Don’t wake the family.”

Susanah skittered across the entry hall to the edge of the open dining room door. She peeked through the crack. A maid was on her knees in front of the hearth removing yesterday’s ashes.

Wiping her damp palm on her skirt, Susanah measured the distance to the main stairs. It was only fifteen feet. The servants didn’t use the main stairs. They had their own enclosed stairwell.

The girl didn’t look up as Susanah rushed past the opening. Or at least Susanah hoped she hadn’t. She turned onto the stairs and ran up a few steps. The servants’ stair door opened. Her breath snagging, Susanah pressed against the wall of the curved landing. Through the balusters, she saw another maid. Her listing gait suggested that the coal bucket she carried was full.

When she was out of sight, Susanah inched up another few stairs. She grew light-headed and realized she was still holding her breath. This wouldn’t do. She stopped, held the railing, and gulped in air. Only then did she allow herself to think on Evan’s face as she’d told him that accompanying her to her house wasn’t necessary. His expression had been inscrutable. At that moment, she hadn’t registered that he was willing to lay claim to compromising her. She’d been far too worried about getting back to her bedchamber unnoticed to think about what it meant.

Evan’s offer to escort her inside meant he’d take his share of responsibility. In most cases that would mean marriage. A man who ruined an innocent girl was expected to marry her if he was at all acceptable. Evan’s birth was respectable, his family name as good as anyone’s accepted in society. He wasn’t the son-in-law her parents wanted. But surely he didn’t intend to marry her. Or only most reluctantly so. If he wanted to marry her, he could have suggested Gretna Green. Or at least asked her if she wanted to marry him.

Then again he might only want to marry her if he was assured of her dowry and inheritance. He couldn’t be certain of those gains if their marriage was clandestine. She sagged as she rounded the first-floor landing to the floor with her bedchamber.

She was nearly home and dry. Only a few more steps. On tiptoes she went up quietly, wincing as a floorboard near the stairhead creaked. No matter. She just had to make it into her room, and no one would ever know.

As she took a deep breath, she became aware of the wild sensations racing through her body. Her lips still tingled from Evan’s kisses. Her whole body felt alive, on fire. Oh heavens, his kisses. She’d marry him in a heartbeat if he’d take her away from her parents. But he wouldn’t. If he married her, he’d expect to live with them until such time the estates were hers. He was a younger son. His uncle’s generosity kept him afloat. He would want to live off her expectations if they married.

She dug out the long case clock key and inserted it in her bedroom door, but she couldn’t get it to turn. It always took a bit of wiggling. She shifted to use her other hand to hold the knob as she jiggled the key, but one of the bonnet string slipped. An orange fell out. It escaped, bouncing, then rolling toward the stairs, slowly stopping in front of a black skirt.

Susanah went cold as her gaze rose up to the housekeeper’s stern face. A maid she might have been able to bribe to silence, but Mrs. Green was a different story. Her knees knocked together as Mrs. Green bent and picked up the offending orange.

* * *

After ten days with no word, Evan wondered if he should hire a runner to confirm Susanah was alive and well. Since he’d announced he was leaving town, he wasn’t receiving invitations. He couldn’t check on her by attending the fashionable parties.

But scouring the newspapers had yielded no news of a murder in Mayfair. The crazy thing was he couldn’t ask after her directly—not without starting the very rumors they needed to avoid.

He half expected that she would find a way to get him a note, but how could she if she were still imprisoned in her room? So it was with reluctance he donned evening breeches and coat and headed for Almack’s on Wednesday night. After receiving his vouchers at the beginning of the season, he’d paid the exorbitant subscription, but he rarely attended the marriage mart.

For one thing, the place could be dreadfully dull. Beyond the self-important people who felt that they had to be seen, it was full of young ladies vying for husbands and men who were on the hunt for wives. Still, it was the place he was most likely to find Susanah. If she wasn’t jailed around the clock.

Even if they didn’t speak, he needed to see that she was all right. That she was being fed. He’d bought her a small box of candied almonds but had no way of getting it to her.

He stood near the wall scanning the dance floor for her dark blond hair, her lithe figure, but he didn’t spot her in the lines of dancers.

Lord Hull sidled up next to him. “Looking for your nun?”

“No,” answered Evan as congenially as he could. “I know where she is. Why are you here? Thinking of settling down?”

“One day,” answered Hull.

Through the swirl of dancers on the far side of the room, Evan saw her. He tilted waiting for a gap to be certain. Then he spied her mother seated beside her. It was most definitely Susanah. Relief washed through him. Evan released a long breath as if he’d been holding it a very long time. Almost as if she knew he was looking at her, she glanced his direction. Heat ran through his veins.

She dropped her gaze. Then with her fake smile, she turned toward the gentleman seated on her other side.

Odd that she wasn’t dancing. She always danced. He had an instant of wondering if the bottom of her feet had been caned as he’d heard that was a form of torture in the Orient. A particularly ingenious method as the results weren’t visible the way a bruise from a slap was.

“The more interesting question is why are you in town after you said you were leaving to become your uncle’s steward,” Hull said.

Evan didn’t have an answer ready. Damn, the man beside her was none other than Lord Farringate. That made his stomach churn. “I won’t be in town much longer.”

“So your cousin is sickly?” asked Hull.

Evan jerked his attention to the man. But after what his uncle had said, he couldn’t deny it. “How did you jump to that conclusion?”

Hull was staring across the room in the direction of Lady Susanah. Doubtful he could see her as the dancers were between them. “Well, he should be at college or even university by now. But no one has ever laid an eye on him.”

“Gilbert has a tutor.” Although the tutor was more of a minder than an actual tutor. His cousin could read and write after a fashion, but attending university would be beyond him. “And I’ve seen him many times.”

Hull stood beside him silently as if that were enough to satisfy him. But then he was generally affable.

Why wasn’t Susanah dancing, caned feet being unlikely? Had she decided she had to marry Farringate to be a countess? Or had part of being confined on bread and water been to make her accept the old man’s suit?

“Your uncle’s barony is by writ, is it not?”

Evan stiffened, the line of Hull’s inquiry suddenly clear to him. “It is one of the older baronies, yes.” Which really didn’t answer Hull’s question, but Hull probably already knew the answer. Because why else ask in that way?

“So his barony, or I should say his father’s barony, goes to heirs of the body, not just male heirs. If your cousin were to turn up his toes, your mother would become the next in line to inherit the barony, would she not?”

Evan didn’t bother to confirm Hull’s words.

“And you are your mother’s firstborn son?”

Baronies issued by writ passed through the direct line to females if no male was left to inherit. Assuming Gilbert never married and his uncle didn’t remarry, his uncle’s barony would go to his mother first, then to her descendants. Evan didn’t see much point in denying what Hull already had deduced. He had older half brothers by his father’s first wife, but he was his mother’s oldest son. “I am.”

“Have you told her?” Hull nodded across the room in Lady Susanah’s direction.

Evan pressed his lips together. There were a lot of ifs—though none likely to come to fruition. Most likely he would end up with the barony one distant day. But it could be decades away. And it wasn’t his secret to spill. Although, the only secret about his situation was Gilbert’s condition. “It is hardly a prepossessing title.”

Hull continued, his voice a singsong. “They are placing bets at Brooks that Lord Farringate will be married before the season is out.” He cast a sly glance in Evan’s direction. “I bet against it.”

“You’ll lose.” Knowing what he should do, Evan clenched his hand at his side. He should encourage Hull to court Susanah, but he never wanted to do anything less. “Unless you’re planning on marrying her. You really should consider it.”

“Bored with her already?” Hull asked.

Evan was anything but bored, which was surprising. “No, but if you’d marry her, I could have an affair with her next season.”

“Now is that any way to treat a friend?” Hull laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t know how you managed to coax such a paragon of virtue to be wicked. Really never thought there was much to the girl.”

“Still waters run deep.” Evan gave up trying to dissuade Lord Hull that Lady Susanah had attended the masquerade. “Go ask her to dance. Her mother won’t turn you away. And for pity’s sake don’t say anything about her shoes, or masks, or being out when she shouldn’t. There isn’t any reason to torture her.”

“You’re turned away?”

Evan shrugged. “Do you really think the Marquess would let his only child marry a steward with only the ghost of a chance of becoming something more?”

Marriage? When had he started thinking he wanted to marry her? Perhaps when he’d offered to take her inside and own up to his part in their excursions. But she’d dismissed his veiled offer without so much as a flicker of interest.

“I see,” said Hull. “But surely it is more than a ghost of a chance?”

Evan turned toward Hull assessing the man. The viscount was a drinker, a gambler, and he enjoyed his fun with ladies of questionable virtue. But he was good-natured and would probably treat Susanah kindly. “I’d far prefer she marry you than that old roué.”

“Not good for the health of his wives, is he?” said Hull. “I suppose I can partner one milk and water miss through a dance. Joining us in the set, are you?”

Hull was brighter than he acted.

Now, Evan just had to find a suitable dance partner.

* * *

Over the last week and a half, Susanah had been looking for Evan at every ball, but he never made an appearance. It was as though he’d left her. After she’d allowed him to see more of her than she allowed anyone to see, he was gone. Of course, he likely wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Except the kisses confused her. Oh heavens, his kisses. She would think of them at the oddest times, and it was everything she could do to keep from flushing. His kisses and the odd offer to escort her inside.

Then, as if she knew exactly when to look, she saw him cross behind the dancers and take up a position on the far side of the room. Her chest grew tight. He was here. She was trapped between her mother and Lord Farringate. Everywhere they went Lord Farringate showed up, making it impossible for her to encourage other suitors. Not that a great many suitable candidates were vying for the position. But how could she put into practice what Evan was teaching her if Lord Farringate was pinned to her side?

He’d said something and was waiting for a response.

“That is so very interesting,” she said, hoping he hadn’t asked a question.

The only good thing she could say was that Lord Farringate seemed to like to hear himself talk. He’d been droning on about his castle and the first holdfast being built when William the Conqueror granted his ancestor the lands. There had been significant damage in some war or other and it had nearly been razed during Cromwell’s reign.

She was aware of Evan across the room. Every fiber of her being was at attention. Although there were dancers between them, she caught glimpses of him between the movements. She tried very hard not to look in his direction, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Do you enjoy watching the dancers?” asked Lord Farringate.

“I am finding it enjoyable to watch,” she answered. She concentrated her gaze on movement far away from where Evan was standing. If her mother caught her looking in his direction, she’d be put back on bread and water. “I’ve seldom had this perspective.”

But his eyes were narrowed when she looked back at him.

“I am also finding the history of your castle quite fascinating,” Susanah said with as much of a smile as she could manage. “Living in a bona fide castle must be lovely.”

“Not always,” said Lord Farringate. “History isn’t always comfortable.”

Something her mother said distracted him and relieved Susanah of needing to converse with the man she wished would leave her side. How could she hope to encourage anyone else if Lord Farringate had all but stuck a flag in her marking her as his territory? How would she ever get word to Evan about meeting again, when she had not only her parents fulfilling the role of guard dogs, but now Lord Farringate was too?

They were keeping a close watch, although she didn’t think they knew about her late night excursions. If they did, why would they let her punishment end as scheduled? Then again, they seemed to have decided her time to find her own suitor was done. Lord Farringate would be her husband whether she wanted to marry him or not.

Her thoughts returned to that moment when she’d thought she was as good as dead when the housekeeper had bent and scooped up her orange. She’d stepped forward. Susanah had stood there quaking not knowing what to do.

The older woman handed the orange to Susanah, pulled up her ring of keys, inserted one in the lock, and opened the door. Susanah had nearly dropped the orange again. It had crossed her mind to beg the housekeeper to not tattle on her, but that wouldn’t be dignified. It wouldn’t be at all proper to plead with the staff. So she said nothing.

As soon as Susanah had crossed the threshold, the housekeeper’d said, “I imagine you are quite famished.”

Susanah had been trying to puzzle out what that meant when the door was shut and locked. Not knowing what else to do, she washed, changed into a morning gown, arranged her hair, and then sat waiting for her mother to appear. She waited all day. And nothing happened.

Nothing beyond the usual delivery of her slice of bread and jug of water. Nothing except a nightmare where she’d been summoned to the drawing room only to find a guillotine. The strange thing was in her dream, she kept telling everyone that there was no point in chopping off her head, as she was already dead. She’d woken in terror just as she was being laid on the platform.

Lord Hull was approaching and Susanah stiffened. What would he say? Had he finally decided it had been her he’d seen at the masquerade?

Worse, Evan had moved to talk to a young lady with dark hair. Her emotions knotted, and she didn’t want him talking to anyone else. She concentrated on keeping her expression neutral. She couldn’t betray her fear and anger. It wasn’t as though she could stop Evan from speaking to other women.

Lord Hull bowed in front of her. “Lady Susanah, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

Relief almost made her dizzy. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on dancing to give her a break from her mother. “I would—”

“Sir, can you not see that Lady Susanah is engaged in conversation at the present?” said Lord Farringate.

Lord Hull’s face screwed up. He leaned back, then rocked forward as if he couldn’t decide what to do. “My apologies, my lord. But it did look as though you were speaking with Lady Weatdon. What are we talking about that is so engrossing?”

“Castles,” supplied Susanah, when it seemed Lord Farringate wouldn’t volunteer an answer. She cast a look to her mother for guidance, but then she decided she couldn’t risk being thought rude to Lord Hull a second time. Although she’d probably be in trouble for being rude to Lord Farringate. “I would love to dance, my lord.” She rose from her seat. “And I do believe I owe you an apology for what I said during your visit.”

Lord Hull looked puzzled. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

She turned back toward Lord Farringate. “We have many hours left in the evening to resume our conversation, do we not?” She almost stumbled at the dark look he gave her. But she’d had so many years of practice stuffing down her emotions behind a wall of propriety that she pasted on her routine smile. “I am so looking forward to hearing more about your home.”

She took Lord Hull’s arm and almost wanted to run as far and as fast as was possible. Instead, they walked slowly and sedately past one forming set and then past another. She didn’t demur. The farther they were away from her mother and Lord Farringate’s censuring looks the better.

She should say something to Lord Hull, encourage him in some way. He was a pleasant affable man. Perfectly acceptable husband material. Although he didn’t make her breath quicken. Evan would tell her to relax and not be so guarded. “I should thank you for rescuing me.”

“Don’t thank me. Cooper told me to dance with you.”

Her heart jumped. Was Evan trying to steer acceptable men in her direction? “Do you always do as he asks?”

“No. But I’d hate for him to leave town on a sour note. We were at school together. I’ve always considered him a friend.”

“Oh,” she almost squeaked. “I didn’t know he was leaving town.”

Lord Hull looked at her with a tilted head as if he wasn’t certain whether he believed she didn’t know. “He took his leave of everyone more than a week ago.”

Not her. He hadn’t told her he was leaving town.

Lord Hull found a set that pleased him, and he swung her into position in the same set that contained Evan and the dark-haired woman. Not even looking at Susanah, Evan smiled at his partner.

Something black crawled inside her and began eating away, leaving hollow gaps that felt soul-deep. He was leaving town and he hadn’t even told her.