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Before she could puzzle it out, he closed the remaining space between. He caught her by the elbow and pulled her sharply backward into the dark shadow of the courtyard bushes, shielding them from the lane.

Leonora gasped, pressing her back against the bricks. “Unhand me this instant!”

“Ah,” he murmured as he leaned in close. “There is your real voice.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she tried to clear it back into a masculine rasp. “I do not understand what you intend⁠—”

He stepped in so close she had to hold her breath, the scent of cedar wrapping entirely around her.

“You are being remarkably reckless,” he whispered near her ear. “What on earth were you thinking, coming to a place like this? Why on earth do you care so much about a necklace that you would go through the ordeal of dressing up this way just to secure it?”

She stiffened, shoving against his chest with both hands. “I do not have to explain myself to you. If you will not hand over the necklace, then keep it, but do not pretend you have any right to cross-examine me.”

“How on earth did you even think anyone would buy the notion that you are a gentleman looking like that?” he asked, his smile widening as he looked down at her waistcoat.

“It worked,” she snapped defensively. “No one suspected a thing.”

“Only because no one was looking closely enough to notice you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why were you looking so closely, sir?”

A thick, electric pause stretched between them. Anthony crossed his arms, the amusement in his eyes sharpening. His gaze started at her boots and climbed. It felt like she was now being catalogued and Leonora did not know how to feel knowing this. He lingered a beat too long on her waist, longer still on her mouth, before he finally arrived back at her eyes, one brow lifting like the inspection had confirmed some theory he’d been forming all evening.

“If you are willing to exchange something other than money for the necklace, perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Her imagination immediately raced through every scandalous, improper possibility she had ever read about in forbidden novels. Her hand rose automatically, fingers curling into a fist as absolute outrage surged up her throat. How dare he assume she was desperate enough to⁠—

“I meant your time, My Lady,” he cut in smoothly, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched her freeze. “Did you really think of something scandalous? Your cheeks have turned quite bright.”

Heat flared violently across her face, burning all the way to her hairline. She dropped her hand, stammering through a furious denial. “I did no such thing.”

He chuckled softly, entirely unbothered by her glare. “Return to your home, my lady. Come find me at my estate in two days. During the day, and not dressed as a lanky... frail man.”

“Your estate?” she asked.

He gave her a slow, mocking bow before straightening up. “You will be coming to Glenhaven. To see the Duke of Glenhaven. I will have an offer ready for you then, assuming you manage to arrive without inventing another alias along the way.”

Before she could fire back a single retort, he turned and walked out toward the main street.

Leonora stood alone in the shadows, her chest heaving as she watched him disappear into the fog. She touched her warm cheek, her mind racing before she forced herself to take in a deep breath. She had not walked away with the necklace tonight, but there was still hope. She could still get the necklace.

The night was not a complete failure.

CHAPTER TWO

“You are doing it again, Leonora.”

Leonora blinked, her hand freezing midway through an unconscious rhythm of tapping her silver fork against the rim of her plate. She forced her fingers flat, pressing them into her palm to stop the twitching. Her whole body felt hollow, aching from the physical exhaustion of a night spent in a stiff, wool-stuffed waistcoat, followed by hours of staring at the tester of her bed canopy while her mind raced in frantic circles. She never wanted to wear that ridiculous masculine disguise again as long as she lived.

Yet, staring at the gray morning light filtering through the damask curtains, she knew stubbornly that she would do it all over again if it led to the result she wanted.

“Doing what, Lady Byron?” Leonora asked, pasting on a bright smile that felt entirely too fragile.

Lady Byron did not touch her tea. She sat straight-backed at the head of the table, her eyes tracking every detail she could pick up from Leonora’s demeanor. She knew Leonora had not slept. She knew the signs too well.

“That restless little tapping,” Lady Byron said, her voice dry. “You only ever resort to it when you have spent the night wide awake. I would suspect you were up until dawn burying yourself in art books or mixing paints in your chamber, the way you used to back in the countryside when you were a girl. I lost count of the number of midnight candles I confiscated from your room because you refused to sleep.”

Leonora swallowed hard, a cold knot forming in her stomach. If Lady Byron had the slightest idea that Leonora had snuck out of the house in the dead of night, dressed as a man, and ventured into a seedy dockside gambling den filled with cutthroats, she would likely expire on the spot from shock and fury.