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“Right.” Lydia nodded. “Well, I decided that that’s enough. I decided I won’t disappear into the shadows just because some man was cruel to me all those years ago. I will not let him define me. I’m not going to let him win.” She paused, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. “I’m going to marry Thornton, Honor. I’m going to be a marchioness by his side. I’m going to fight for my rightful place in this world.”

Honoria looked at her friend, the quill suspended midair. Lydia’s words spoke to her in a way nothing else had before.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

She no longer questioned her place in this world. She had been occupying it all along.

After days of floundering and second-guessing everything, she knew what she had to do.

“I’m going to fight, too,” Honoria said.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning forward.

A smile curved Honoria’s lips, slow and sure, as she slid the betting book toward her friend, the names successfully forged.

“I will explain later.”

* * *

“It’s madness.” Jacob paced the length of the study, a thunderous scowl on his face.

“I’ve thought it through. This is what I want.” Honoria’s voice remained steady, though her hands—clasped tightly at her middle—betrayed her inner turmoil.

“But why? Is this not enough?” He gestured vaguely around the study, the house. “Am I not enough?”

Honoria crossed to him in swift steps, her hands reaching for his forearms, gripping them firmly. “Of course, you are,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes searching his, willing him to understand. “You are everything. But it’s not about that. I deserve to reclaim my rightful space in society. I deserve to have my life back. I deserve to stand by your side on equal footing—not skulking in corners, pretending to be less than I am.”

“You are on equal footing with me.” Jacob’s hands covered hers, his thumbs stroking her knuckles.

“Not in the eyes of society.” Honoria’s smile was sad, bitter. “Not while I hide behind false names and borrowed identities.”

“And if you go through with your plan, you still won’t be that in the eyes of society.” Jacob pulled away, resuming his agitated pacing, like a caged lion. His voice rose in frustration, fingers raking through his hair. “You’ll still be ruined! Except now on display, paraded before the ton’s merciless judgment, their ridicule, their cruelty.”

She nodded, a single tear escaping to trace a path down her cheek before she brushed it away.

“I can’t hide my entire life, Jacob.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And I can’t let Bradshaw walk free, respected and untouchable, holding the power to ruin me once more. I can’t live in fear forever. He needs to pay. For me, for his current wife, for any woman who might fall into his clutches in the future.”

The fire in the grate popped and hissed in the silence that followed.

Jacob stared out the window for a long moment, his shoulders rigid with tension. When he finally turned back to her, his expression had changed into an impassive mask.

“Fine,” he said, his voice measured.

“Fine?” Honoria blinked in surprise, having expected further argument.

“Yes, fine. If your mind is made up, I will support you. I will be by your side every step of—”

“You can’t,” she interrupted, the words tasting like ashes in her mouth. This was the part she had dreaded most—the sacrifice that would cost her most dearly.

“What do you mean, I can’t?” Jacob froze, confusion marring his handsome face.

“You know what I mean. You said it yourself. I’m courting ruin.”

“So what?” He stepped closer, his voice rising with passion. “You don’t care about that, and somehow I should?” His hands reached for her shoulders, gripping them as if he could physically prevent her from slipping away from him.

“Yes, you should.” Honoria covered his hands with her own, then slowly, painfully removed them from her shoulders, holding them between them like a barrier. “For Elise’s sake, you have to. For Robbie and little Rosie. I won’t let you risk the children’s future. Their safety. Not for me.”

She took a step back, creating physical distance between them, unable to bear his closeness.