Felix looked at her.The woman who once counted his pulse after kissing him breathless. The girl who lived within earshot of Vienna’s white horses yet never dared to climb astride one.
“I just found you,” he said, quieter now, ragged around the edges. “And already I’m told to pretend I haven’t. What kind of freedom is that?”
Maisie crossed the room—three quick steps—and caught his hand. Her grip was firm, familiar, too much and not enough.
“We can’t be seen,” she whispered. “Not yet. If List even suspects the truth about John, he’ll tear it all down. The marquisate, the boy’s future—it’ll vanish overnight.”
The nameListburned through Felix’s chest. Always prowling and circling. He felt the old instinct rise: fight, shield, strike first. Not this time. Not with her in reach. He would take the blow himself before letting it fall on Maisie or John.
“But I want to be with you,” he said, raw.
“And I want you.” Her voice dropped, trembling but sure. “Every second. In daylight, not in shadows. But not if it costs the boy.”
His throat tightened. “I thought you were mine.”
Maisie’s eyes shone. She leaned close enough that he felt her breath. “Then prove it. Protect melikeI’m yours. Hide me because I matter.”
His jaw locked. “So that’s what we are now? First lost… now hidden?”
Her smile was small, aching. “No. We’re a promise.”
He drew her closer—slow, deliberate—his lips brushing the crown of her head as if sealing a vow.
“Then I promise this,” he murmured against her hair. “When the boy is safe—when no one can twist our love into a weapon—I won’tjust take you home. I’ll walk beside you in daylight. Every day. For the rest of my life.”
Her face pressed against his chest, hidden in the damp wool. Her arms cinched tighter, as though she could anchor herself in the rhythm of his breath. “Until then,” she whispered, steady but aching, “we endure the shadows.”
After Felix kissed her one last time, he opened the door and she left Maisie behind but became Lady Spencer as soon as she crossed the threshold. The coach had been waiting, and Maisie got in. Felix raised his hand in a signal, and the door creaked open to the lamplight.
She gathered herself, shoulders straightening, her expression calm as porcelain. One careful step, then another—down into the gaslit street with the grace of a woman who belonged everywhere.
But Felix knew. Knew how her fingers had clutched, how her voice had trembled when only he could hear. They were already acting a part. Pretending strength neither of them felt.
And somewhere out there—in the dark beyond the circle of lamplight—List was listening. Lurking and waiting for their missteps.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was splashedacross the morning papers before the sheets had cooled from the press.
Baron Wolfgang von List of Königsberg, Prussia, has lodged a petition before the Lords Commissioners in Chancery, disputing the legitimacy of John Spencer, Marquess of Stonefield.
The article dripped with venom:
Serious doubts surround the boy’s guardianship. His household, it claims, is directed by a woman of questionable repute, possibly masquerading under the name Lady Spencer. If such charges prove true, neither his fortune nor his future can remain safely in her hands.
Thus, the issue was set. The Peerage Committee would hold a public hearing at Chancery to decide whether John’s guardianship would stand or whether scandal, sharper than law, would strip it away.
For Maisie, the words cut deeper than any blade. It was not her name she feared losing, but the boy’s very future. She had promised his father he would never be left alone. And she knew, with the same certainty she knew her own breath, what it would mean if John fell into List’s hands.
Rachel Pearler laid the paper flat, her rings catching the lamplight. “It’s confirmed. The committee meets tomorrow. Chancery rules.Lord Kettering presides.”
Maisie’s hand stilled on the arm of her chair. “Then it has begun.”
“You mustn’t go,” Rachel said at once. “They won’t hear a woman. They won’t even see you. To speak would only draw fire onto yourself—and onto John.”
Maisie’s throat closed. “So I am to stand aside while List twists John’s inheritance into scandal?”
Rachel’s gaze softened. “Someone with standing must answer. A gentile man with a title—or a witness they cannot dismiss.”
