“Indeed, I do,” Wayne said, steel beneath the weariness in his voice.
“Have you proof?”
“Not yet.” His fists tightened on his knees. “But I will not release this thread until I have it.”
Donley tapped his fingers on the desk, thoughtful. “You may be right. But Montague… He has influence. Docks, warehouses, waterfront properties—all perfect to move contraband. I would wager his hands are far dirtier than Meyers’s.”
Wayne considered it, though his gut twisted in refusal. “Then keep Montague in your sights. For my part, I will not let Meyers go. The man is hiding something. I can feel it.”
Donley leaned back, a grin tugging at his mouth despite the gravity of the moment. “Then we are agreed. You watch your earl; I’ll watch my lord. And between us, we’ll catch them both.” He cocked a brow. “Though let us settle one matter…you remain Bow Street’ssecond-best Runner.”
Wayne lifted his head, one brow arching despite the ache behind his eyes. “Second best? And who claims first?”
Donley spread his hands wide, smirk broadening. “Why, me, of course.”
Wayne gave a laugh, sharp and brief, though it threatened to split his skull in two. Donley’s arrogance was insufferable, but the man’s instincts were sound. Still, no jest and no banter could ease the dread clawing at Wayne’s chest.
Because while Donley spoke of opium and docks and Montague, all Wayne could think of was Regina Taylor—her lips beneath his, her friend’s trust betrayed, and the ruin that loomed closer with every hour.
Chapter Five
Regina massaged hertemples as she stood before the Meyers’ imposing door, waiting for it to open. Though the headache that had plagued her since dawn had finally eased, the confusion and guilt remained, pressing like a stone in her chest. If only her memory could vanish as easily as the pain had dulled.
At least her fear of discovery at home had proven false. When her parents at last emerged from their bedchambers, they treated her as if nothing were amiss. They had not questioned her late return, nor her pale cheeks. They had not seen the shame written across her face. If only that were true in reality.
Now, she had another battle to face. Jane.
The butler, Gilbert, opened the door at last. His smile was as kind as ever, the crinkles around his eyes softening his stern, white-haired appearance.
“Welcome, Miss Regina.”
“I thank you, Gilbert. You are always so sweet to me, even if I may not deserve it.”
His brows shot up. “Not deserve it? My dear Miss Regina, you are nearly a sister to Lady Jane. You most certainly deserve every kindness in this house.”
The words pierced deeper than he could know.A sister.What sort of sister kissed her friend’s intended in a darkened coach?
Regina swallowed hard against the sting of tears and stepped into the great hall. The familiar sweep of marble floor and gildedframes greeted her. She knew her way to the parlor well enough after years of being Jane’s constant guest. Jane, of course, was never ready on time, but Regina would wait, as always.
Gilbert, ever perceptive, studied her face. “Are you feeling well today, Miss Regina?”
She forced a smile. “I shall be fine.” Though her body felt recovered, her heart still staggered beneath guilt. “Is Lady Jane prepared for our outing?”
He chuckled. “She is keeping her usual time.”
Regina nearly laughed outright. “You mean she is late.”
His eyes twinkled as he inclined his head. “As you say, Miss Regina. I will let her know you are here.”
“Thank you, Gilbert.”
He disappeared up the staircase, and Regina drifted into the parlor. She perched on the edge of a sofa, fingertips rubbing her temple again. Her plan for the afternoon formed like a fragile thread in her mind. If she could distract Jane by diverting her to admire some handsome new gentleman, perhaps Regina could weaken the ridiculous infatuation with Worthington without speaking ill of him directly. It was a dangerous gamble, but what else could she do?
“Regina, my dear!”
The booming voice startled her upright. Harold Meyers strode into the parlor with a genuine smile, arms open as though he were greeting a favored niece rather than his daughter’s friend.
“Lord Penrose.” She quickly rose and offered a curtsy, her pulse quickening.
