The ruins of his hand.

Of his touch.

In that keen awareness, he could not help but tell her the truth.

You will regret me.

But she would not regret what he did for her. Of that, he was certain. And so he was here, tonight, in a supremely uncomfortable suit, waiting for the rest of London to arrive, so he might commit a crime.

And give the woman he loved the life she deserved.

The curtain moved and West entered, his highborn wife on his arm, the two looking like royalty. And they were in this new age, where the news could elevate or destroy, and the ground shifted beneath the feet of the aristocracy. In a matter of years, women would survive Lily’s scandal as long as the news was on their side. The world would see the truth of her—that she was glorious and worthy only of their adoration.

Not so now, however.

Now, he required West for more than the papers.

The other man met his gaze, nodding a greeting from across the box so that he could dispense with the formality when he reached Alec, his wife firmly on his arm. The lady’s presence made it impossible for Alec to do the same. He bowed, greeting her with the title to which she was entitled, despite her marrying a commoner. “Lady Georgiana.”

She smiled, broad and beautiful. “Your Grace,” she said, setting her hand in his with a curtsy that would put a duchess to shame. “I do not use the title. I am Mrs. West.” She turned to her husband. “Proud beyond measure to be so.”

The love in the words was unmistakable, and Alec found himself, for the first time in a long while, believing in the emotion here, surrounded by couples who seemed to have touched it despite its ephemera.

Perhaps the box would bless Lily. Bring her the love of which she’d once dreamed.

The thought ached, even as he forced himself to complete it. Pushing aside the knot in his throat, he looked to West. “Tell me you have it.”

West reached into the pocket of his top coat and extracted a sheaf of paper. “That you must ask is an insult of the highest caliber. I should call you out.”

“I would choose broadswords. And you would not enjoy the outcome,” Alec said, taking the paper.

“Christ,” West said. “The Scots really are a prehistoric people.”

“I rather like the idea of broadswords,” Mrs. West said, dryly. “I should like to see you with one, husband.”

He turned to her, his voice going low and dark. “It can be arranged.”

Alec rolled his eyes and opened the document, not caring that the rest of London watched. He stared at the map for a long moment, committing it to memory before depositing it into his own pocket. “I shan’t ask you how you procured it. But I am grateful for it.”

West’s gaze lingered on his wife. “I have excellent connections. Ones that extend far beyond my reach.” He returned his attention to Alec. “And there is another thing you should know. Hawkins is evicted from his home in Covent Garden. If gossip is to be believed, he is bedding down here.”

Alec nodded once. “As the home is emptied of its contents, I am unsurprised.”

One of West’s golden brows rose. “And how do you know it is empty?”

“Would you believe connections beyond my reach?”

“No.” He paused. “But if those connections were worth their salt, they would tell you to offer to buy the painting tomorrow if you cannot steal it tonight.”

Alarmed by the frankness of the newspaperman’s words, Alec’s gaze flickered to West’s wife, who he knew was on the Selection Committee of the Royal Academy. The lady inclined her head. “As far as I am concerned, you play the role of Robin Hood here, Your Grace. If I had my way, the thing would have been banned from exhibition the moment Miss Hargrove was made mockery.”

Alec bowed again. “My lady.” Turning to West, he added, “Thank you.”

With their mutual support, he was prepared to do whatever he could to get the painting. Now, all that was left was for Hawkins to take the stage, so he could destroy the man and win Lily’s future.

As though he had summoned her with the thought, she entered the box on the arm of Lord Stanhope, who had collected her from Berkeley Square, where Alec had deposited her the evening before, after they’d destroyed both his sanity and the home of Duke and Duchess Number Nine.

Lily had begged him to let her stay, and he’d turned her away, praying that her anger would consume the other, more dangerous emotion that tempted him so thoroughly.

He was rather proud of himself, honestly, for orchestrating this particular scenario. As sending her away was, perhaps, the most difficult thing he had ever done.

Lady Sesily Talbot trailed behind them—a perfect chaperone considering her sister and brother-in-law stood mere feet away. If one was willing to ignore the fact that Sesily Talbot had taught Lily to escape a home from the third floor and also to wonder what was beneath a man’s kilt.

Not that he had not enjoyed her discovery immensely.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight and longing for the concealing folds of his plaid.

No. Sesily was the best available choice, as viable chaperones for Lily were somewhat thin on the ground and he had learned his lesson at Hyde Park.

Lily laughed up at the earl as they entered, and though she was obscured from view, Alec was instantly drawn to the sound, to her glittering eyes, to the wide, open smile she offered the gentleman. Memory flashed from the preceding night, a keen reminder of what it had been to hold her in his arms as she’d laughed without hesitation, free and honest, like breath.

Alec’s hands fisted at his side, itching to lay the perfect earl low.

And then Lily was looking at him, and he was the one laid low. She stopped laughing instantly, unable to keep her emotions from her gaze. He identified them immediately: Disappointment. Betrayal. Anger. And behind it, shame.

What in hell was she ashamed of?

He could not ask her, despite a keen desire to do so.

Stanhope released her to greet the others in the box, and Lady Sesily put a hand to Lily’s shoulder, drawing her attention. Leaning in, the other woman whispered something and Lily straightened beneath the words, calm settling over her. Alec made a mental note to destroy any man who disparaged Sesily Talbot ever again, for she played marvelous sentry for Lily.

When he was too weak to do it himself.

The Marchioness of Eversley and Mrs. West extricated themselves from their husbands’ dotage to greet Lily, and gratitude flooded Alec, the two aristocratic ladies lending the full force of their combined power to Lily’s reputation. With their support, she would survive the gossip that would linger after he found the painting and destroyed it.