“You’re troubled, not rested,” Will said, getting up and crossing to him.
Oscar set his jaw as he tried desperately not to think about the reasons he wasn’t well rested. Why he wastroubled, as Will put it. But he couldn’t help letting his mind wander to Imogen. To drawing her pleasure from her until his entire body shook with wanting her. To being taken in by that smile this morning.
He blinked to clear it all away. “I suppose trouble is a constant, isn’t it?”
Will shook his head. “Not like this.” He leaned forward. “What’s going on? Club issues?”
“No. You run all the true matters so perfectly that I’m hardly more than a figurehead. The club is fine,” Oscar said.
Will’s lips parted. “Something with your mother, then? Is Joanna not well?”
Oscar smothered a smile. Will and his mother had parted ways decades ago, but Will had remained a friend. Perhaps the best one his mother had. He appreciated that. “Mama is fine. You probably saw her yesterday, yourself. You would know better than I her state of mind.”
Will shifted slightly, but then his gaze refocused. “If it isn’t the club or your family, then what is it?”
Oscar sighed. Will knew a great deal about his life. He’d always been a dependable confidante, and since what Oscar was doing might very well impact their shared business, he felt he owed it to him to be honest.
“I went back to the Cat’s Companion two nights ago,” he said.
The reaction was swift and emotional. Will pushed out of his chair and slammed both palms on the desk. “Oscar!”
Oscar flinched. Will only called him by his first name when he was in trouble. Rather like a child, actually, but he supposed old habits died hard.
“You don’t need to give me the whole set-down,” he said, holding up a hand. “I know your feelings on the matter.”
“You know but you clearly don’t care,” Will said. “Louisa has been gone for months, Fitzhugh. She’s beendeadfor months. Our sources are very clear on that, even if the details are fuzzy. What purpose can you have in going there except self-torture?”
“I want the truth,” Oscar said through clenched teeth. “I want justice.”
Will’s expression softened. “You saw things as a boy that made you protective of women in your mother’s position. I wish you hadn’t. But you know, having grown up as you did, that sometimes there isn’t justice available for women labeled fallen. It’s incredibly unfair. But it is the way it is. Fight for laws to change it.”
Oscar clenched his jaw and stared at his fist clenching in and out on the desktop. He was trying to keep his tone neutral as he said, “You may or may not be right. I’m not going to argue the facts with you. We’ve already done that so many times that I could probably tell you your arguments verbatim and you mine. I wouldn’t have mentioned it to you at all except…”
He trailed off. Telling Will about most things was easy. But there was something about telling him abouther, about Imogen, that felt much harder.
“Except?” Will encouraged, his tone gentle now.
“A woman ran out of the brothel and into my arms,” Oscar admitted. “She’d witnessed a dead body, overheard that the Earl of Roddenbury had killed the poor girl. She was seen and had to run. And I’m…I’m protecting her now.”
“Protecting?” Will breathed.
“Not a protector. Not like that.” Oscar hesitated, for he’d certainly touched her as a protector would. Kissing her and touching all that lovely, silky softness was most definitely in the realm of lover.
As was his pulsating desire to do it again and again and again.
“True protection,” Will said, oblivious to Oscar’s thoughts.
“They want her dead, too,” Oscar said softly, trying to push back the pure rage that accompanied that statement. “I’ve decided to take on her plight. Try to find a way to bring these bastards to justice at last.”
Will flopped back in his chair and stared at Oscar for a long moment. At last he let out his breath in a long whistle. “The Earl of Roddenbury. Could that be true?”
“She seems certain.”
“If he is involved—do you really think anyone will give a damn?” Will asked. “You know how that world works. They’ll protect their own, justice be damned.”
“I fear that may be the case,” Oscar admitted.
“Then the best thing you can do for this girl is to help her make herself a new identity and get her out of London.”
