William strode up to the door of Lethbridge’s building, relying on the dark to obscure him from casual observation. He cast a look up and down the street, finding it empty. He would have preferred gaining entry via the window, clad as Lefthook, but when it came to the wealthier parts of town, future marquess was a better disguise than vigilante of the poor. If it came down to it, he could pretend inebriation to explain his presence where he didn’t belong. His title would take care of the rest.

Not that he was in any shape for climbing in windows, which had impeded evading the marquess’s surveillance. He’d done well enough for a man who’d hardly been able to climb the servants’ stairs the night before. In truth, the most difficult task of his day thus far had been convincing Cecilia he was fit enough to go out. If she had her way, he would have remained in bed

William would have given in to his stepmother’s coddling, but he needed to find out what was going on with the home for women. He knew, in view of his reputation, Lanora would think the worst about his absence at the theater. He wanted something to show for it before he saw her again, to make it up to her.

Assured the street was empty, William dug out a set of lock picks and let himself in. The door to Lethbridge’s office was a similarly surmountable barrier. He closed it softly behind him.

Once inside, William used memory to reach the fireplace, and stirred up the coals for light. He went from the reception room into Lethbridge’s office, finding that door open. Oddly, so was the narrow door at the back of the room, the one protecting Lethbridge’s records. In all his visits to the attorney’s office, he had never seen that door open. Intrigued, he checked that the curtains were closed and coaxed a larger flame from the grate. Assured the room was secure from escaping light, he pulled out several candle stubs and lit them.

Something slid softly across the floor in the reception room. There was a rustle of fabric. Quiet footsteps sounded. They seemed to be moving away from him, but it was hard to tell from the faint sounds. Hand on his pistol, William whirled.

“Lady Lanora?” he blurted, stunned.

She turned, appearing equally shocked. Her hair, showing lingering evidence of powder, was half down. Now that William thought to look for them, he noted several bent hairpins on the desk. She held a single page clutched in her hand. Her expression made a rapid switch from shock to cold anger.

“Lord William.” She strode toward him, shoulders back and chin up. “Perhaps you can explain this.” She slapped the page down on Lethbridge’s desk.

What in God’s name was Lady Lanora Hadler, dressed in her lowly widow’s costume and looking thoroughly disheveled, doing in Lethbridge’s office? Hot rage shot through William as he took in the details of her wrinkled gown and disarrayed tresses. He recalled her mention of hairpins.

“What are you doing here? What is the meaning of these?” He pointed to the hairpins.

She spared them a glance. “I was attempting to release the catch and let myself out.”

Let herself out? “Nothing more dire or…scandalous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sounded as angry as he was. “Now you tell me, what is this?” She tapped the page.

William dropped his gaze, trying to rein in his emotions. Shouting was unlikely the best course. She certainly appeared unharmed. She still tapped the page she’d slapped down on the desk. He focused on it. The marquess’s list of potential wives for William. With his signature at the bottom. She had the damn list.

Composing himself, he strove for something resembling his easy, usual manner. He leaned a hip against the desk, suppressing a wince of pain. The stitched-up hole in his side gave a bloody good impression of a knife stab. “That’s an interesting ensemble, my lady.”

“How I choose to dress is none of your concern, my lord. Nor will it ever be.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. It was a shame to abuse them so, denying their lushness. “Now explain yourself.”

William rubbed the back of his neck. Was there any way to distract her? “Explain myself? Does it occur to you that you’re in an attorney’s office, alone, in the dark?” He grinned and looked her up and down. “Well, not alone anymore.”

Her eyes grew as narrowed as her lips. She took up the page and shoved it in front of his face. “Explain this.”

No, there would be no distracting her. William grimaced. “It’s a list.” He plucked the page from her fingers and placed it behind him.

“I can see it’s a list. What is it a list of?” She put a hand to her head. “If you say names, I shall retrieve another pin and stab you.”

“The marquess has bid me marry. He had Lethbridge draw up a list of suitable candidates.”

She paled, hand dropping. “I see. So, all your talk of watching me from afar, that was a lie.”

“It most certainly was not. No man could help but admire your beauty.”

“And your talk of not truly being a rake, not carrying on with your mistress. Lies.” She’d gone so cold as to appear emotionless.

“Nothing I’ve said to you is a lie. I omitted my reason for pursuing you now, at this time. That doesn’t mean I don’t esteem you. The timing has nothing to do with my feelings for you.”

A thread of desperation snaked through him. Now that he knew her, Lady Lanora was the only possible choice. He couldn’t let her refuse him. Even his daydreams of Darington’s daughter waned in comparison to the reality of Lanora. He would not select another name. No other would ever do.

“Of all the names on that list, yours is the only one that ever interested me. I swear.”

She was so pale, even her lips lacked color. “And if my name did not appear on that list, would you have pursued me?”

He went still. How could he answer that? She was the one woman he’d avoided above all others.

“I read your answer in your face, my lord. I think we are done here.”

She turned on her heels, regal even in her dowdy garb. She was walking away from him. Leaving. William felt a surge of panic. He blinked rapidly, confused by such a foreign emotion.

“Stop.” That single word, harsher and louder than he intended, stood alone in the space between them. She turned back. His heart started beating again.

“Why?” She folded her arms across her chest.

She’s hurt, he realized. The pain of betrayal shown in her green eyes. If she was hurt, she must care for him. “Because I love you.” The words, pulled from him in desperation, rang exultantly true.

Her mouth dropped open. She stared at him for a lifetime. William locked his gaze with hers, willing her to see the truth of his declaration.

“You… What did you say?” she asked, the question breathless.

Three long strides brought him to her. “I love you, Lanora. I didn’t mean to. I picked your name off the list because of your father, I admit that. Because he knows Darington, and that interested me.” With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up toward his. “I won’t lie. If I don’t marry by the marquess’s deadline, he will sign his fortune over to my sister, a girl of sixteen. I can’t let that happen. Not for my sake, but for hers, and that of so many others. I have plans for the marquess’s money. The shelter Darington is funding is only the start. I want to help people, Lanora.”

“The shelter for women?” She looked dazed. “Lethbridge took the money. I overheard him, but I couldn’t find anything. No letters from Darington, at all.” She shook her head, taking a half step back. “You’re using me to secure your father’s fortune? I suppose you wouldn’t mind having mine as well.”

“No.” He closed the distance between them again. “That isn’t the way of it.”

She kept shaking her head. “I don’t believe you. You’re a rake.”

Never had William regretted his reputation more. “I’m not. I swear. I can prove it.” He could. He would. “I correspond with Darington. He’s one of two people in this world who knows who I really am.” Revealing Cecelia was not his right. He wouldn’t put her in danger, even if it broke his heart. “I’ll bring you his letters. You’ll see what sort of man he finds me to be. Surely, you’d take his word? He’s your father’s partner.”

“No. Perhaps.” She looked up at him, features taut with despair. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“Believe this.” He covered her lips with his, needing to feel the heat they’d shared in the park, to rekindle it.

Her response was instant. Her lips pliant, soft. He crushed her to him, ignoring the pain that shot out from his side. She wrapped her arms about his neck. He raked his fingers through her hair, sent the remaining pins flying. Dark locks tumbled free. He buried a hand in their silkiness and cupped her neck, pressing her closer.

She slid her palms down his chest, then between them. A sudden push, one hand braced over the bandages she didn’t know were there. William stumbled back. Pain at the loss of her proximity and esteem mixed with the physical agony her shove woke in his side.

“No.” Her breath came in ragged gasps. “I won’t…you can’t kiss me. You don’t love me and we will never marry.” She turned and ran.

William started after her, grimacing in pain. He shook his head, unsure which hurt more, her declaration or the bullet wound.

Lanora disappeared through the door at the base of the stairs as he started down. On the street, she ran to the end. William gritted his teeth, lengthening his stride. Each step jarred the gunshot wound. Pain stabbed through him. He followed her around a corner, watched her climb into a hired hackney. It pulled away.

He retreated back around the corner and leaned against the wall. She would get home safe. The drivers in the area were respectable.

“You need help, your lordship?” a piping voice asked.

William looked down to find Dodger, face smudged with dirt. “You followed me from Chastity’s?”

“A sight better than that other bloke. Don’t worry, you lost him a ways back.” The boy crinkled his face in thought. “Is Chastity your pretty lady friend who lives in the house? You never did say her name, which isn’t good manners, your lordship.”

William closed his eyes. He hoped he hadn’t errored in trusting Dodger with the location of Cecelia’s home. “Yes, and you’re never to speak of her. To anyone. Her life is forfeit should she be found.”

“Who’d hurt a pretty lady like that? She was like an angel, all lovely like and kind. She gave me food, you know, after we was done stitching you up. You’re Lord William Greydrake, aren’t you, lordship?”

William sighed. He pushed himself off the wall and started back toward Lethbridge’s. Dodger trotted along beside him. Lethbridge’s office needed to be put right. William doubted there was any point to searching for Darington’s letters about the home for women. Lanora’s words, coupled with the remnants he recalled seeing in the grate, made finding them unlikely.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re Lefthook, lordship. Not a soul,” Dodger said as they climbed the steps back to Lethbridge’s office. “You can count on me.”

William looked about the room, eyes drawn to the strewn hairpins. Through the second door, he could see closed curtains, his candle stubs burned low. The slightly wrinkled page still lay on the desk, silently accusing. His evening had not gone as planned.

“I believe I can count on you, Dodger. Would you help me complete a few tasks here before we lock up? I don’t mean to harp on my good deed, but I daresay chasing after a lady wasn’t the best kind of wound treatment.”

“Right away, your lordship.” The boy didn’t move, but watched him.

“What is it, Dodger? You can ask. I won’t be angry.”

Dodger looked about the room. “It’s just, that lady who ran out, she looked a lot like Mrs. Smith. We all like her. You like her. You said she’s a good sort.”

“That’s true.” If only she liked him, life would be perfect.

“She ran off awful upset, looking a sight.” Dodger looked down. “You didn’t, that is, you didn’t hurt Mrs. Smith in any way, did you, your lordship?” The boy looked up, eyes wide. “Only, I’ll still keep your secrets, I swear it, but I won’t be helping you if you hurt that lady.”

William smiled, though the expression felt pained. Dodger was a good sort, too. “I did no physical harm to the lady. I’m afraid I may have done some to her heart, though, and mine.”

Dodger looked confused. “Her heart? Like, love and such?”

“Exactly like love and such. You see, I love the lady. I believe she may care for me, but, at the moment, she’s very cross with me.”

Dodger made a vague gesture around the room. “Them’s a lot of hairpins for a broken heart, your lordship.”

William chuckled, then winced. “Yes, well, we may have kissed, but I assure you, that was all. I would never harm that lady. I mean to marry her.”

“You intend to marry the Widow Smith?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes, I mean to. If she’ll have me.”

“If you say so, lordship.” Dodger shook his head, looking doubtful.

“Will you help me?”

“Yes, your lordship. I don’t think you’re the type would hurt a lady, anyhow. I wouldn’t have asked had she not looked so distressed.”

William nodded. “You’re a good lad, Dodger.”

With the boy’s help, he set to work.