He stopped, however, when he saw the small ecru square on the desk, and recognized the seal there.

It was from Chase.

He was opening it before he could stop himself, reading the words written black and forceful across the paper.

Rage flared, hot and welcome, not because of the fact that he had lost his membership – there were a dozen other clubs that would have him – and not because of the insistence that he stay away from Georgiana.

The fury came with the single, possessive word that rippled through him like poison. Our.

Our Anna.

He wanted to roar his disagreement with the words. She was not Chase’s. Not any longer. She was his. She, and the girl who sat across from him.

He would get them their new life.

He would keep them safe.

He might not know what was to come, but he knew this: Chase’s power was at an end. Duncan wanted him weakened, never again dictating his actions, or Georgiana’s, or Caroline’s. Duncan would see them protected from Chase and his unmatched control. And he would see them blossom.

Even if they were not with him when they did.

“Let me take you home. Your companion will no doubt be terrified to have lost you.” He came around the desk, noticing that she watched him carefully.

“What of my request?”

“I’m afraid that I already have an arrangement with your mother. She wants a marriage, and I have promised to help her.”

“It is a bad idea.”

He knew it. She would not be content with marriage. She would certainly not be content with Langley. And he wanted her content.

He wanted her blissful.

He could make her so.

Of course, he couldn’t. Not really. Not with his past. Not with the future that loomed every time Tremley threatened.

“What is in the message?” Caroline asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing of import.”

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, her gaze falling to his hand, where the paper was crushed in his fist.

He looked down at it, then said, “It is the next move in a game I’ve been playing for years.”

Her gaze turned curious. “Are you losing?”

He shook his head, his next step resolved, for the woman he loved. “Not any longer.”

Chapter 18

… It is the opinion of this publication that Lady G— has been fully returned to society. At the S— Ball last evening, the lady was given not a single respite from the festivities. And she was seen dancing with Lord L— on three separate occasions…

… As this year’s Season finds itself fully underway, this author has discovered, without question, that it is the ladies of London who rule…

The gossip pages of The Weekly Britannia, May 13, 1833

That night, Lady Tremley arrived at The Other Side battered and bruised and asking for Anna.

Georgiana – dressed as Anna – met the countess in one of the small rooms reserved for the female members of the club, where she pulled the door closed behind her and began immediately helping the lady dispense with her clothing. It was important that they quickly assess the damage the earl had done.

“I’ve summoned a doctor,” she said quietly as she unlaced the bodice of Lady Tremley’s dress. “And if you’ll allow it, I’d like to send a man around to fetch your things from Tremley House.”

“There is nothing there that I need,” the lady said, sucking in a breath as her loosening corset returned feeling to bruises that might have best been left without it.

“I am sorry, Imogen,” Georgiana said, guilt and anger making the words bitter on her tongue. She’d sent the woman home knowing that this might happen.

“Why?” The lady sucked in a breath as Georgiana ran fingers over her ribs. “You didn’t do it.”

“I invited you here. I should have stopped you from returning to him.” She lifted her hand. “You’ve a broken rib. Perhaps more than one.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me,” Lady Tremley said. “He is my husband. It is the proverbial bed in which I lie.”

“You shan’t go back to him.” Georgiana would stand nude on St. James if it would help to stop the woman from returning to her demon of a husband.

“Not after this, no,” the lady said, the words nasal and strained through a swelling nose and lip. “But I haven’t any idea where I will go instead.”

“I told you, there are rooms here. We can provide you sanctuary.”

The lady smiled. “I cannot live in a casino in Mayfair.”

Georgiana rather thought that a casino in Mayfair was far safer for the girls who lived and worked there than Tremley House was for its countess. Than dozens of aristocratic homes were for the women who lived in them. But she did not say so. Instead, she said, “I don’t see why not.”

The countess paused at the words, then allowed the wildness of the moment to wash over her. She chuckled, clearly not knowing how else to behave, before wincing in pain. “Life is mad sometimes, is it not?”

Georgiana nodded. “Life is mad all the time. Our task is to not let it make us mad in the process.”

They were silent together for long minutes while Georgiana dipped a cloth in a basin of water and cleared the blood from Imogen’s cheek and neck. Tremley had beaten his wife well. Guilt flared again as she rinsed the cloth and lifted it again to the woman’s face. “We should not have involved you.”

Imogen shook her head, reaching up to stay Georgiana’s touch. When she spoke, she was as regal as any queen. “I shall only say this once: I was grateful for the invitation. It gave me a way to fight him. To punish him. I do not regret it.”