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He meant it entirely.

The city moved past in intervals of lamplight. Juliet sat across from him with one glove off, her hands still in her lap, watching the window. He watched the street and, without turning his head, noticed the angle of her shoulders and the way she held herself upright even now, alone in a dark carriage with no performance required of her.

She had held herself that way through the whole of the evening. Through Whitmore and Vickers and Penhurst’s eyes from across the floor and her father’s hand at her arm. He had watched her do it and said very little about any of it, and she had not asked him to say more.

“He smiled,” she said, after a long while. “Penhurst. During the waltz. When you looked at him.”

“I saw.”

“He meant for you to.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him. Her face in the lamplight was composed, tired at the edges. “What are you going to do about him?”

“What is needed,” Adam said.

She held his gaze. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I am never rash.”

She looked back at the window. She did not look entirely persuaded, and he was not going to argue the point. He watched her reflection in the dark glass, in and out of the light from the street, and said nothing else for the rest of the ride.

Ravenlocke House was still. One candelabrum burned on the entrance hall table. Grieves appeared, took Adam’s hat and gloves, and withdrew. Juliet went directly upstairs. He heard her steps on the landing, and then the careful movement of Eloise’s door.

Adam shed his coat. He drew the cravat loose from his collar and set it over the hall chair, then unbuttoned the waistcoat and draped it alongside. He rolled his cuffs back once and went upstairs.

Eloise’s door was ajar. The glow of her nightlight came through the gap.

He stopped at the threshold.

Juliet stood at the bedside with her back to the door. Eloise was deeply asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow, one arm loose at her side, her chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm.

Juliet stood over her without moving. Then she reached forward and tucked the edge of the coverlet around the girl’s shoulder. She straightened. She bent forward and pressed her mouth to the top of Eloise’s head. He saw her close her eyes as she did it.

He stood at the door with his hand on the frame and did not move.

His throat had gone tight, and he did not know why.

Juliet straightened, turned, and found him at the door. Neither of them spoke. She came out and drew the door closed with both hands, being careful with the latch before moving into the corridor. The lamp at the far end was low, and her hair had come partly down, several curls loose against her collar and neck.

“She didn’t stir,” Juliet said quietly.

“She rarely does once she’s properly asleep.”

“You said she’d asked for me. Before we left.”

“For both of us, in the end.” He kept his voice low. “She wanted to know if you’d come and look in. I told her you would.”

Juliet looked at Eloise’s door for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said, and walked down the corridor to her own room.

Adam knocked three minutes later.

She opened the door with her hair half-down, a cluster of pins in her palm, still in the silk of her gown. She stepped back and let him in.

The sight of her, so underdressed, so vulnerable… made him take a sharp breath, and he barely managed to hold himself back. Because tonight… he could no longer keep himself away from her.