William spent another night at Cecelia’s, enduring her dismay at his somewhat weakened state, secretly relieved to have someone coddle him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone out so soon after being shot. Even sitting up in bed pained him. He couldn’t help but wish, as Cecelia tended him, that he could go to a different woman for care. One who would likely berate him rather than offer sympathy, but whose touch would surely soothe her harsh words.

He and Cecelia also discussed, and agreed, that Chastity must go. As William had spent two nights and much of a day with Chastity, there was no way to combat the marquess’s suspicion other than getting a new mistress. For lack of a better name, and in the hopes this would be a short-lived incarnation, they would use her choice of Valentina.

William returned to his townhouse directly following breakfast. He bathed carefully and dressed himself. Even with his wild ways, he would be hard pressed to explain a bullet wound to his valet, who would convey the information to the marquess.

Suitably attired, William retired to his office. There, he wrote a letter to Lethbridge, informing him he was turning out Chastity. He’d already met a new lover, an up and coming Italian opera singer. Valentina was only an understudy, but William found her attributes pleasing.

He informed Lethbridge new servants would be required, and a sum for Chastity, as a parting gift. He added to that a request for livery for Dodger. William meant to take the boy in, if he’d agree. The livery he requested immediately, along with letting the old servants go, with compensation.

The date for hiring new ones, William left open. Cecilia would have Dodger, hopefully, and always enjoyed a few days on her own. Servants were a strain, for any one of them could turn into a spy if they came across the right information. Making a fuss about moving Valentina in wasn’t necessary. The request alone would shore up the hole in their defenses.

Next, his thoughts grim, William wrote to Darington. He informed his friend of Lethbridge’s deceit. He knew he’d only Lanora’s slightly garbled words to go on, but they rang true. That was the reason for the burned letter in the grate. That was why the funds Darington requested hadn’t gone toward construction.

William should have realized Lethbridge’s duplicity sooner. It seemed inconceivable the man would steal, though. He had a secure position and took in a good living. Why risk that? Then, some men were slaves to ambition, and Lethbridge was a second son. They often felt slighted by life.

Those tasks complete, William unlocked the drawer containing his letters from Darington. Nearly twelve years of missives. At first, William had kept them for their details of Egypt, to be reread to bolster his memory of his subterfuge. Later, he began keeping them because Darington was his one true friend, aside from Cecelia. One could get only so close to a young woman, though, especially one’s own stepmother, and William had never admitted his greatest secret to her, that he’d never been to Egypt.

William took the most recent letters from the drawer. Contained therein was much about the women’s home. That should paint him in a favorable light. Darington also spoke of his daughter, at length, in most of his letters, extolling her virtues.

A wistful smile played across William’s mouth. Darington’s daughter. A lost dream. A kind, intelligent, accepting, loving woman. Was she even real?

He shook his head. She was, but not for him. The reality of Lanora scattered that dream. He hoped Darington’s daughter would find a good man. One she actually knew. Someone to love her.

William tucked the letters into his coat, standing. He gripped the side of the desk, grimacing in pain. Moving with a bit more care, he went to request his carriage.

He arrived at the Solworth townhouse in good spirits. He would show Lanora the letters. She would read them and see the truth. William was a good man. Her father’s partner obviously thought so. They discussed weighty and important things with candor. Among them, ways to better the lives of London’s poor. Lanora would see how nearly she and William were allied.

Perhaps then, once she could see him for who he was, he would reveal all to her. He’d lived on the streets. He was Lord Lefthook. He cared more for the fate of those same women and children she wished to help than for his own class. How his mother had died.

No, not that. He would shelter Lanora from the truth of the marquess’s evil. There would be no talk of his mother, Charles or either of his stepmothers. It was too dark to share, and the marquess still lived. While he did, Cecilia would never be safe. Resolved, William strode up the steps and knocked.

“May I help you, my lord?” asked the stern-faced butler who opened the door.

William glanced around, wondering where the cheerful maid of last time was. This man seemed much more formidable. “Lord William Greydrake for Lady Lanora.”

“Her ladyship is not at home.” The man didn’t blink.

“Not at home?”

“No, my lord. May I take your card?”

William frowned. She must be home. It wasn’t one of the days Dodger said she passed out bread as Mrs. Smith. She had no friends. From her talk of slippers, and all else he knew of her, he imagined she found shopping frivolous. “Not home, or not at home to me?”

“Precisely, my lord.”

“I see.” William took out his card and handed it over. “Please tell her I called.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He permitted the man to close the door. He wouldn’t embarrass her by telling her butler he had letters to show her. That was highly inappropriate. Nor would he make a scene in her foyer. He was in no shape to be forcing his way inside. No, he would have to resort to bribery.

Returning to his carriage, he had his driver take him around the corner. Once there, William disembarked and made his way to the back of the townhouse on foot. The day wasn’t too warm, fortunately, the sky dotted with clouds. When he reached Solworth House, the locked garden gate was no obstacle to him. Closing it behind him, he turned to find six terriers watching.

Taking care of his side, he dropped to one knee on the stone walk, holding out his hands. “Come here, you lot. You remember me.”

They trotted nearer, only the Skye Terrier lingered out of reach. He watched for a long moment, assessing, as William petted the others. Finally, he turned and meandered away, plopping down in the shade of a bush.

“So, I may pass?” William asked. He took the lolling tongues as a yes, and stood.

Peering around a line of hedges, he sighted a round-faced kitchen maid seated in the sun, shucking peas. He was in luck. Maids were generally quite willing to part with information for a few spare coins.

Adopting an expression that proclaimed he was wealthy enough to walk where he wished, William strode around the corner. Several of the pups followed. “Good afternoon.”

The young woman looked up with a start. She set the bowl aside, standing. “You don’t belong here.”

William was a bit taken aback by the hard edge to her country lilt. Obviously, a show of rank was needed. Being country bred, she likely didn’t recognize the quality of his clothing, or attitude. Perhaps he should have gone with charm instead of command, but he was loath to flirt with any woman who wasn’t Lanora.

“I beg your pardon? Have you any notion to whom you speak?”

She tipped her head to the side, looking him up and down. Her eyes went wide. “Are you Lord William, then?”

“I am.”

The young woman stepped forward and slapped him.

The force of the blow turned his head. Country bred, indeed. William rubbed his jaw. “Have we met?”

“How dare you kiss Lanora and then stand her up? What game are you playing? Do you know how hard her aunt and I have worked to convince her to even consider the notion of wedding?”

William felt he was missing something. He considered her for a long moment. A common kitchen maid. That’s what she appeared to be. Yet… “Grace?”

Table turned, she gave him a look of surprise. “I am.”

“Lanora’s dearest friend, who suggested she kiss me?”

Grace blushed. “Before I learned about your bloody awful list of names.”

Lanora’s dearest companion was a kitchen maid? She truly didn’t have any friends. No wonder she didn’t wish them to meet. She was likely embarrassed, just as she would be of William if he ever told her the whole truth. Fear snaked through him. She would find out eventually. If he won her now, would she leave him then? He didn’t care. He couldn’t give her up.

“I have an explanation for the list.”

“That you need a wealthy bride to secure your fortune. So I heard.”

“That is not the whole of it,” William snapped, angered Lanora had shared so much. Grace must truly be her dear friend. Had Lanora told her everything?

“Oh, she said you tried to explain it all away. I’m sure you can be very convincing, my lord, especially when you’re kissing a girl.”

“She told you about our second kiss, then?” Her betrayal cut, angered him. “I suppose you had a good laugh over my declaration of love?”

Her jaw went slack. She looked almost as flabbergasted as Lanora had. “Your what?” she squeaked.

William rocked back on his heels, reining in his hurt. He pushed a hand through his hair. “My declaration of love.”

Grace shook her head. She sank back down onto the bench. A terrier jumped up beside her. Absently, she patted the shaggy head. “No wonder she was so upset. I haven’t seen Lanora cry like that since she realized her father was never going to let her join him in Egypt.”

The image of a young Lanora, dreams of salvaging what little family remained to her shattered, lodged in his heart. The sting of her betrayal disappeared.

Grace shot him a suspicious glance. “At first, I thought you’d done more to her than kiss her. I was ready to hunt you down, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Not at all. I’m happy to know someone would have.” He meant it. At least someone cared what happened to Lanora, aside from him. “May I?” he added, seating himself on the other side of the bowl of peas. A dog plopped down by his feet.

“You love her?” Grace repeated, scrutinizing him.

William eased back against the bench, mindful of his bandaged side. “I do.”

“You only just met her.”

He shook his head. “So she’s repeated often enough.”

“Are you certain you love her? I gather you’re more accustomed to easy conquests. It could simply be the novelty of a woman who says no.”

“I am positive that I love her, nor have I ever had such illusions before. She is the first.” Aside from Darington’s daughter, but that was love of a dream. He stretched his legs out before him. “She is all elegance and beauty, but inside she has spirit. She pretends to be above everyone, even other nobles, but she dresses as a widow and feeds the poor in the worst slum of London. Apparently, she also breaks into attorney’s offices. What is there not to love about a woman like that?”

Grace eyed him for a long moment. “Lady Edith says you’re a good man. She says it’s a wonder how much of your mother she sees in you, since you only knew her until you were four.”

William looked down at his hands. “Lady Edith compliments me. My mother was a wonderful woman.”

“She went mad, or so people say.”

He clenched his jaw over a rejoinder. He drew in a steadying breath. “People say much that isn’t true.”

“Aye. They do, at that.” She nodded, as if making up her mind. “You’re here to see Lanora.”

“I am. I wasn’t permitted in. I came around back to attempt bribing a servant to tell me where she will be next.”

“Not very noble of you.”

“I don’t claim to be noble. I claim to be in love.” Each time he said it, it became more real, hurt more. The only way to salve that pain was to have Lanora in his arms.

“You wouldn’t have had any luck. We all love her like family. We are family. My mum, the duke’s housekeeper on his country estate, raised Lanora right alongside me. Before you can be sure you love her, you should know that.” Grace’s tone was earnest. “At home, we all take our meals together in the kitchen. She gardens, and she usually helps me with the peas. She goes to country dances. She’s not like other ladies. If that’s not what you want, you won’t be happy with her.”

William closed his eyes. It sounded like heaven. It was how Darington described his daughter. Kind to the very center of her being. Noble of heart. Knowing people for who they truly were, not what title they held. Not embarrassed of Grace, then. Afraid of his judgement, as he was of hers. Perhaps, even, a woman who could know his truth.

“I must speak with her. Please, let me see her.”

“She’s truly not in. She went for a ride in the park.”

William shot to his feet, pain coursing through his side. “A ride in the park? Who dared ask her?” He glared down at Grace. From the corner of his eye, he caught a reproachful look from the dog who’d settled near his toes.

Grace was slack jawed for a brief moment, then a smile spread across her face. “Lady Edith. She’s riding with her aunt.”

“Ah, my apologies. I thought…” William tugged at his cravat. It was obvious what he thought. There was no reason to say aloud that his mind had instantly conjured an image of Lanora in the flower garden with another man.

Grace stood, her eyes sympathetic. “Go home for now, my lord. Give me this evening to speak with her. I promise, she’ll be in when you call tomorrow.”

“You’ll champion my cause?”

“I believe I will.” Grace’s smile widened to reveal dimples. “And with me on your side, you can’t help but prevail.”