Page 67

He’d thought himself forgiven. But now he knew he was not.

If her ardor had cooled because of an outburst confined to his raised voice, what would she do if she knew what he’d done to Willard?

He didn’t want her to know. Ever.

He slid his injured hand into his pocket.

Surely, he could convince her to wed, while keeping his secret sacrosanct. What lady would want to know what had happened over a decade ago in a darkened, stench-filled privy?

But the convincing proved a problem. They were nearing November’s end. Soon, she would return to D’Acre House, and then travel onward to Ravenswood, where, due to the Chancellor’s stipulation, she’d be completely beyond his reach.

If she wasn’t already.

The last time he’d called at Asquith House only to find her “not at home to him,” he’d expressly asked his mother to intervene. Not his best moment, but his patience had worn thin.

And how had his mother answered?

He’d gotten the Quizzing Glass. The Quizzing Glass! Her own son.

Simon, my dear, what you have broken, you must fix. I have already done my part.

So, he’d shuffled back to the Albany. Then, he’d planned. His strategy was simple—get Lenora alone and convince her to marry him.

However, she had broken their agreement, and he’d exhausted all honorable methods for getting her alone. He’d have to resort to her tactics.

What had she said that night in the maze? Extremis malis, extrema remedia. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

He hadn’t understood.

He did now.

He’d borrowed her ideas for the plan he was about to implement, but the first, brilliant step was his own. Stationery.

A surprising choice for a love token, but only at first glance.

She knew him, perhaps better than anyone. Surely, she would understand what the gift meant. They would be apart for the holiday season. He needed them to stay connected through the separation the Lord Chancellor had insisted upon. He would give her the stationery and ask that she write.

It was, at least, something.

Just as he reached out to grasp Houghton’s brass handle, a bell jingled, and another door swung wide. He stepped aside to allow a group of bonneted ladies to pass.

With a sinking feeling, he recognized the proliferation of silk roses on a garish pink hat.

“Lord Asquith!” Nettie cried.

The group of ladies turned. Not just Nettie, but the whole Wainwright clan, including honorary Wainwright, Lady Emily.

Asquith bowed. “Greetings, ladies.”

“Ah, the elusive Lord Asquith.” Eliza approached on Asquith’s right. “How is Lenora, Asquith?”

Millie sidled over to his left. “We haven’t seen either of you for weeks.”

Good god. He hadn’t even begun his advance to recapture Lenora’s heart. Must he ward off an ambush from her sisters?!

“I understand she’s written,” he said.

“Of course she’s written,” Eliza said. “But is she eating?”