Hortense shook her head and snorted in disbelief. “Leave it to you to stumble into this.”
Percy sat forward. “And”—he pinned Izzy with a hard glare—“youare involved.”
Tilly gasped, eyes wide above the hands covering her mouth.
“In your little game with Pembroke,” Percy continued, refusing to release Izzy’s gaze, “what was the prize to be?”
~ ~ ~
My maidenhead, Isabel didn’t say.
She couldn’t speak the awful truth aloud.
Are you a virgin?That had been the question that had truly sealed her fate and brought her to this night. She’d experienced a flush of heat at the blunt intimacy of the question. For a moment, she hadn’t known the correct answer.
Then she had. Only a few types of women were deemed worth anything by a man like Montfort and a virgin was one of them.
Yes, she’d replied.
It had been the correct answer.
The right man—most definitelynotthe man at her side—was to be seduced. Her directive had been simple: collect intimate information about his person and allow him to relieve her of her virginity. Stained sheets were to be the proof.
Her father would have been rescued from prison, and her family made whole again.
And this wolfish, devastating man next to her—Bretagne, she’d heard him called—who smelled better than he had a right to—was that sandalwood?—had wrecked it all to bits. Except . . .
He hadn’t done it alone.
It was she who was truly at fault for destroying her and her family’s future.
“Perhaps,” Bretagne began in that hard-edged, self-sure voice of his, “your friend can inform us of the details.”
“Leave Tilly out of it,” Isabel all but growled. “She knows nothing. I demand you stop this carriage and let us leave.”
He scoffed. “I can’t imagine that’s in your best interest.”
“I can assure you,” Isabel protested, “it isabsolutelyin my best interest that you let us go.”
She had to find a way to fix this night. How had it gone so wrong, so quickly?
“Whatever it is you’re not telling us,” Percy stated, “Montfort knows you know it.”
With those words, Isabel’s night went from bad to worse. Her best hope lay in the possibility of salvaging this night, but was it possible? The odds were looking worse by the minute.
“The safe house in Seven Dials,” supplied Hortense.
Bretagne shook his head. “Montfort could find her. We need to get her out of London.”
Out of London?Isabel snapped to. “You can stop discussing me like I’m not here.”
“I have a place I can take her,” Bretagne continued, ignoring Isabel’s protest. The statement emerged from his firm mouth so sure of itself, even Isabel almost thought the matter settled.Almost.
Hortense nodded and gave the ceiling two sharp raps. The driver called out a “Whoa!” and the hackney slowed to a stop. “I’ll stay in London and work a few contacts. You know how to find me.”
Hortense pushed the door open, hopped down, and disappeared into the night. Bretagne shut the door and gave the ceiling another two raps. The hackney jerked into motion.
“Tilly?” he asked.
