For the next ten minutes, Leo glanced at Catherine repeatedly, perceiving that something was deeply wrong. She was trying very hard to concentrate on the play, but it was clear that her mind was consumed with some overpowering problem. She was distant, unreachable, as if she had been encased in ice. Trying to comfort her, he took her hand once more, and ran his thumb above the edge of her wrist-length glove. The iciness of her skin was startling.

Frowning deeply, Leo leaned toward Poppy. “What the devil happened to Marks?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” she returned helplessly. “Harry and I were talking to Lord and Lady Despencer, and Catherine was off to the side. Then we both sat, and I noticed that she looked ill.”

“I’m taking her back to the hotel,” Leo said.

Harry, who had caught the last of the exchange, frowned and murmured, “We’ll all go.”

“There’s no need for any of us to leave,” Catherine protested.

Ignoring her, Leo stared at Harry. “It would be better if you stayed and watched the rest of the play. And if anyone asks about Marks, say something about the vapours.”

“Don’t tell anyone I had vapours,” Catherine whispered sharply.

“Then say I had them,” Leo told Harry.

That seemed to rouse Catherine from her numbness. Leo was relieved to see a flicker of her usual spirit as she said, “Men can’t have vapours. It’s a female condition.”

“Nevertheless, I do,” Leo said. “I may even swoon.” He helped her from her seat.

Harry rose as well, looking down at his sister with concern. “Is this what you want, Cat?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking annoyed. “If I don’t, he’ll be asking for smelling salts.”

Leo escorted Catherine outside and summoned a hackney carriage. It was a two-wheeled, partially open vehicle, with an elevated driver’s seat at the rear. One could speak to the driver through a trapdoor at the top.

As Catherine approached the vehicle with Leo, she had a crawling sensation of being watched. Afraid that Latimer had followed her, she glanced to her left, where a man stood beside one of the theater’s massive portico columns. To her relief, it was not Latimer, but a much younger man. He was tall, rawboned, and dressed in shabby dark clothing and a tattered hat, with the overall effect of a scarecrow. He had the distinctive London pallor common to those who spent most of their time indoors, whose skin was never touched by sun without the filter of polluted city air. His brows were strong black stripes across his gaunt face, his skin creased with lines that he was too young to have.

He was staring at her fixedly.

Catherine paused uncertainly, aware of a vague sense of recognition. Had she seen him somewhere before? She couldn’t fathom where they might have met.

“Come,” Leo said, intending to hand her into the carriage.

But Catherine resisted, caught by the riveted stare of the stranger’s raven-dark eyes.

Leo followed the direction of her gaze. “Who is that?”

The young man came forward, removing his hat to reveal a mop of shaggy black hair. “Miss Catherine?” he said awkwardly.

“William,” she breathed in wonder.

“Yes, miss.” His mouth curled upward in the beginnings of a smile. He took another hesitant step, and bobbed in a sort of clumsy bow.

Leo intruded between them protectively and looked down at Catherine. “Who is he?”

“I think he’s the boy I once told you about … who worked at my grandmother’s house.”

“The errand boy?”

Catherine nodded. “He was the reason I was able to send for Harry … he took my letter to him. My lord, do let me speak to him.”

Leo’s face was implacable. “You would be the first one to tell me that a lady never stands and converses with a man on the street.”

“Now you want to pay heed to etiquette?” she asked in annoyance. “I’m going to speak to him.” Seeing the refusal in his face, she softened her voice, and surreptitiously touched his hand. “Please.”

Leo relented. “Two minutes,” he muttered, looking none too happy. He remained right beside her, his eyes ice-blue as he stared at William.

Looking cowed, William obeyed Catherine’s motion to come to them. “You turned into a lady, Miss Catherine,” he said in his thick South London accent. “But I knew it was you—that face, and those same little spectacles. I always hoped you was all right.”

“You’ve changed more than I, William,” she said, trying to summon a smile. “How tall you’ve grown. Are you still … working for my grandmother?”

He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “She passed on two years ago, miss. Doctor said ’er heart gave out, but the girls at the ’ouse said it couldn’t be, she didn’t ’ave one.”

“Oh,” Catherine whispered, her face turning bleached and stiff. It was only to be expected, of course. Her grandmother had suffered from a heart ailment for years. She thought she should feel relieved by the news, but instead she only felt chilled. “And … my aunt? Is Althea still there?”

William cast a guarded glance around them. “She’s the madam now,” he said, his voice low. “I work for her, odd jobs, same as I did for your grandmother. But it’s a different place now, miss. Much worse.”

Compassion stirred inside her. How unfair it was for him to be trapped in such a life, with no training or education to afford him any other choice. Privately she resolved to ask Harry if there might be some kind of employment for William at the hotel, something that would lead him to a decent future. “How is my aunt?” she asked.

“Ailing, miss.” His thin face was sober. “Doctor said she must of got a bawdy-’ouse disease some years back … got in ’er joints and went up to ’er brain. Not well in the ’ead, your aunt. And she can’t see none too good, neither.”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine murmured, trying to feel pity, but instead a mass of fear rose in her throat. She tried to swallow it back, to ask more questions, but Leo interrupted brusquely.

“That’s enough,” he said. “The hackney’s waiting.”

Catherine gave her childhood friend a troubled glance. “Is there something I can do to help you, William? Do you need money?” She instantly regretted the question as she saw the shame and offended pride on his face. Had there been more time, had the circumstances allowed, she would have found a better way to ask.

William gave a stiff shake of his head. “Don’t need noffing, miss.”

“I’m at the Rutledge Hotel. If you wish to see me, if there is something I can—”

“I wouldn’t nivver trouble you, Miss Cathy. You was always kind to me. You brought me medicine once when I was sick, ’member? Came to the kitchen pallet where I slept, and covered me wiv one of the blankets from your bed. You sat on the floor and watched over me—”

“We’re leaving,” Leo said, flipping a coin to William.

William caught it in midair. His fist lowered, and he looked at Leo with a mixture of greed and resentment, his face turning hard. When he spoke, his accent was exaggerated. “Fank you, guvnah.”

Leo guided Catherine away with an uncompromising grasp on her elbow, and helped her into the carriage. By the time she had settled in the narrow seat and looked out again, William was gone.

The passenger seat was so small that the mass of Catherine’s skirts, layers of pink silk arranged like rose petals, spilled over one of Leo’s thighs.

Staring at her profile, Leo thought she looked stern and nettled, like the Marks of old.

“You needn’t have dragged me away like that,” she said. “You were rude to William.”

He gave her an unrepentant glance. “No doubt later, upon reflection, I’ll feel terrible about that.”

“There were some things I still wanted to ask him.”

“Yes, I’m sure there was quite a lot more to be learned about bawdy-house diseases. Forgive me for depriving you of such an enlightening conversation. I should have let the two of you reminisce about the good old times at the brothel while you were standing on a public street.”

“William was the dearest boy,” Catherine said quietly. “He deserved a better lot in life. He had to work from the time he could toddle, cleaning shoes and carrying heavy buckets of water up and down the stairs … he had no family, no education. Have you no sympathy at all for those in unfortunate circumstances?”

“The streets are filled with such children. I do what I can for them in Parliament, and I give to charity. Yes, I have sympathy for them. But at the moment I’m more interested in your unfortunate circumstances than anyone else’s. And I have a few questions for you, starting with this: What happened at intermission?”

When Catherine didn’t reply, he took her jaw in a gentle but secure grasp, and forced her to look at him. “Let’s have it.”

She gave him a strained glance. “Lord Latimer approached me.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed, his hand lowering from her chin. “While you were in the theater box?”

“Yes. Harry and Poppy didn’t see. Latimer spoke to me through the curtain at the back of the box seating.”

Leo was filled with explosive rage. For a moment he didn’t trust himself to speak. He wanted to go back and slaughter the bastard. “What did he say?” he asked roughly.

“That I was a prostitute. And a fraud.”

Leo wasn’t aware that his grip had tightened until she winced. His hand loosened instantly. “I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he managed to say. “I shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t think he would dare approach you after the warning I gave him.”

“I think he wanted to make it clear that he’s not intimidated by you.” She drew an unsteady breath. “And I think it hurt his pride all those years ago, to have paid for something he didn’t receive. Perhaps I could give him some of the money Harry settled on me, and that might be enough to make him leave me alone. To keep quiet about me.”

“No, that would only start us on a course of prolonged blackmail. And Latimer would never keep quiet. Listen to me, Cat … Harry and I have discussed how to manage the problem. Suffice it to say that in a few days, Latimer will find himself in a position in which he’ll either end up in prison or be forced to flee England.”

“For what crime?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“There’s a long list to choose from,” Leo said. “He’s tried nearly everything. And I’d rather not tell you the specific offense, because it’s not appropriate for a lady’s ears.”

“You can make him leave England? Truly?”

“Truly.”

He felt her relax a little, her shoulders slumping. “That would be a relief,” she said. “However…”

“Yes?”

Catherine angled her face away from his searching gaze. “It doesn’t really matter. Because what he said was no less than the truth. I am a fraud.”

“What self-pitying tripe. You were a fraud as an aspiring prostitute. As a proper and well-mannered lady who holds an irresistible attraction for ferrets, you’re completely authentic.”

“Not all ferrets. Just Dodger.”

“Proof of his excellent taste.”

“Don’t try to be charming,” she muttered. “There’s nothing more annoying than someone trying to make one feel better when one wants to wallow.”

Leo bit back a grin. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “Go on and wallow. You were doing so well at it until I interrupted.”

“Thank you.” She heaved a sigh and waited a moment. “Blast,” she finally said, “I can’t do it now.” Her fingers crept further into his, and he smoothed his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. “I want to correct something,” Catherine said. “I was never an aspiring prostitute.”

“What did you aspire to?”

“To live somewhere peaceful, and be safe.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, that’s all. And I haven’t managed to do it yet. Although … the past few years have been the closest I’ve ever gotten.”

“Marry me,” Leo told her, “and you can have both. You’ll be safe, and you’ll live in Hampshire. And you’ll have me, which is obviously icing on the cake.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her. “Rather more icing than the cake needs.”

“There is no such thing as too much icing, Marks.”

“My lord, I don’t believe that you sincerely want to marry me as much as you want to have your way.”

“I want you to marry me so that I don’t have my way all the time,” he said, which was the truth. “It’s not good for me to be indulged. And you tell me no quite frequently.”

She gave a huff of wry amusement. “I haven’t said it to you nearly enough lately.”

“Then let’s practice in your hotel suite. I’ll try to have my way with you, and you can try to refuse me.”

“No.”

“There, you see? You’re sharpening your skills already.”

Leo directed the driver to take them to the alley that bordered the mews behind the hotel. It was a far more discreet way to enter than parading through the lobby. They went up the back stairs and along the hallway that led to Catherine’s suite. The hotel was extraordinarily quiet at that hour, everyone either out for their evening pursuits, or sleeping soundly.

When they reached Catherine’s door, Leo waited as Catherine searched for the key in the little knitted silk bag she had looped around one wrist.

“Allow me,” Leo said when she had found the key. Taking it from her, he unlocked the door.

“Thank you.” Catherine took back the key and turned to face him at the threshold.

Leo stared down into her fine-boned face, reading the emotions that flickered in her eyes: despair, refusal, yearning. “Invite me in,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “You must go. It’s not seemly for you to stand here.”

“The night’s still young. What will you do in there, alone?”

“Sleep.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll stay awake as long as possible, worrying about nightmares.” Seeing that he had scored a point, Leo pressed his advantage. “Let me in.”