“Lady Huntington, Lord and Lady Dare, Lady Chase…they’ll all find out.” Ciaran looked dazed, as if the ugliness of it was just now sinking in.
“Hyacinth.” She must not know yet. She never would have kissed him with such tenderness in the library this afternoon if she knew the whole story. She’d find out. Once she did, she’d despise him for it—for lying to her—and for denying he was exactly what she’d first accused him of being.
A murderer.
God, the irony was so perfect. Even he could appreciate the beauty of it. What a fool he was to think he could escape his past—escape who he was.
“Dixon’s holding this over Hyacinth, Lachlan. He’s threatening to tell our secret unless Hyacinth agrees to…Jesus, I don’t even know what. Marry him? My God, what kind of man threatens a lady into marriage?”
“The kind with gaming debts? Hyacinth’s an heiress. Maybe Dixon’s not as lucky with his wagers as Sydney thinks he is.”
Ciaran’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m going to throttle Dixon.”
Lachlan had to fight not to let his head fall into his hands. He was as close to despair as he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t give a damn about the secret anymore. Dixon could spread the tale all over London, for all he cared. All that mattered was getting to Hyacinth before Dixon did, because if he’d go so far as to threaten her, then he’d do worse, as well.
So much worse.
And Hyacinth…oh God, she’d fight to protect them. Even if she was furious at him for lying to her, she’d never let Dixon tell their secret if she thought she could do something to stop him.
Before the season started, after their call on Lady Bagshot all those weeks ago, he’d begged Hyacinth never to sacrifice herself for his sake again. He hadn’t known her well enough then to realize such a plea would fall on deaf ears, but he knew her now. She’d never let someone she cared for be hurt. Not if she thought she could prevent it. It was simply who she was.
How could he ever have thought she wasn’t strong? How could he ever have believed, for a single moment that her rare, pure kindness wasn’t the only kind of strength worth having?
An image rose in Lachlan’s mind then, of her determined smile as she danced with Lord Chester at the Hayhurst’s ball. Then later, her bruised and battered feet, resting in his lap…
Aingeal.
After what felt like the longest drive of his life, their carriage at last rolled to a stop in front of Lady Chase’s house. Lachlan knocked, then waited in an agony of impatience for Lady Chase’s ancient butler, Eddesley, to open the door.
“Lady Chase.” Lachlan didn’t stand on ceremony, but pushed past Eddesley and into the entryway. “Is she here?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lachlan closed his eyes as a relief so profound it nearly dropped him to his knees surged through him. They hadn’t left yet.
“But I’m afraid she’s ill, and isn’t receiving, Mr. Ramsey.”
“Ill? Then where are Miss Somerset and Miss Ramsey? Are they here?”
“No, my lady insisted they attend Lady Entwhistle’s ball without her.”
“What, you mean they’ve gone by themselves?” Ciaran’s voice was sharp with alarm. “What the devil? Lady Chase sent them off alone?”
Eddesley gave a faint sniff of disapproval. “Certainly not, sir. Lady Atherton is to chaperone them. She fetched them in her carriage a half hour ago.”
Eddesley said something else, but Lachlan didn’t stay to hear it. He and Ciaran were back in the carriage before the old butler finished speaking, and careening over the crowded London streets to Mayfair, and Lady Entwhistle’s ball.
Chapter Twenty
The Sixth, and Final Ball
Lady Entwhistle requests
Miss Hyacinth Somerset’s company,
At a ball to be held on Saturday, February 28,
At 6:00 o’clock in the evening,
