And she did not wish them.

What if we married?

For however long he lived, he would remember that question, spoken softly in his arms – the little possibility that came on a silly dream. When he breathed his last, in prison or at the end of a rope, that question would be his last thought.

It did not matter that she hadn’t meant it. Not the way he wished.

She wished the title. She wished safety and comfort and propriety for her daughter. And he knew better than any how important those were. How much she would give up for them.

And he would give them to her.

The viscount punctuated the thought. “You should be the one to care for her.”

“I will be,” he said. “This is how I will do it.”

Langley considered him for a long moment before nodding once. “Then if she will have me, I will have her.”

Duncan hated the way the words rioted through him, the visceral fury that came with them. The way he wanted to rail against God and the world that this was his fate – to love a woman he could not have.

But instead of that, he said, “If there is ever anything I can do for you, my lord, my papers are at your disposal.”

Langley rocked back on his heels. “I may come and see you sooner than you think.”

The viscount turned away, and Duncan was left alone at the edge of the casino floor, watching the crowds, waiting for her.

“I see your membership has been reinstated,” the Marquess of Bourne said at his elbow. “So you can see the fruits of your very idiotic labor?”

Duncan winced at the words, but did not resist them. He’d put a price on Chase’s head, and by extension, on this place and all her owners. Instead, he asked, “What is she planning?”

“All I know is that she’s about to make a damn mistake. But no one tells Chase how to live.”

“What mistake?” Duncan asked, not taking his gaze from the crowd. Desperate to find her. To stop her from doing whatever it was she was going to do. He’d made the mess of posting a reward for Chase’s identity – it should be he who cleared it up.

“She wouldn’t tell us anything else. Only that it was her decision to make – which is debatable at best – and some idiocy about us all having families now, and plenty of money, and the club having run its course.”

Dread pooled deep within. “She’s giving up the club?”

But why?

“In Chase’s fashion, she’s thought it all through,” Bourne said, exasperation in his tone, as though this were the whim of a silly girl and not the destruction of years of her work and dreams.

Duncan swore roundly.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

He couldn’t allow it. He could save her in another way. He searched for her again. “Where is she?”

“Knowing Chase, she’s going to make an entrance.” Bourne paused. “It goes without saying that if she is hurt in any way… if Caroline is marked in any way by this night…”

Duncan met the marquess’s eyes. “I would expect repercussions.”

“Repercussions,” Bourne scoffed. “We will disappear you, and you will never be found.”

“I assume you were sent with precisely that message?”

“That, and one other,” Bourne said. “You should not let her go.”

His went cold at the words, then hot. “I don’t follow.”

Bourne smirked, but did not take his gaze from the crowds. “You’re the smartest man I know, West. You follow perfectly well.”

You should not let her go.

As if he had a choice.

The crowd grew more and more raucous – drink flowed freely throughout the casino, and every table on the floor was filled with gamers basking in the glow of chance. The place was alive with sound, the calls of the croupiers, the cheers of the audience at hazard, the groans of those at roulette. He imagined he could hear the rasp of the cards at vingt-et-un as they slid over the baize, each sound more lush and magnificent than it had ever been – because he now knew it was her doing… her creation.

“I will say this for her, though,” Bourne said, watching the floor, considering the sheer number of gamers before them. “If we close our doors for good tonight, it will be with a bigger take than we’ve ever had.”

“I have to stop her.”

Bourne raised a brow. “I confess, I had hoped you would consider doing so. I’ve a family to feed.”

The Marquess of Bourne had enough money and land to feed all the families in Britain, but Duncan had other things to do than joust with the man. “Where would she be?”

Bourne looked up, to the stained glass, where Lucifer tumbled to the casino floor. “If I had to guess…”

Duncan was on his way, pushing through the crowds, weaving between tables, headed for the heavily guarded door at the far end of the room. He was nearly there when he heard his name, behind him, in a voice that at The Fallen Angel was equally familiar and foreign.

After all, the Earl of Tremley was not a member.

Duncan said as much, and Tremley smiled, coming closer. “I was invited tonight. By your Anna. I was told she was pretty, but once one meets her – she is – glorious.”

The words sent fury through Duncan, who could not bear the thought of Georgiana and Tremley breathing the same air, let alone being in the same room. “What have you done?”

“Nothing that you didn’t do yourself,” Lord Tremley sneered. “Indeed, you painted with a rather broad brush – five thousand pounds for Chase’s identity? You think he will simply lay back and let the hordes come to find him? I got it done.”