He rounded the corner of the bureau. “Leah?”

She had curled up in a tiny ball on the floor. Her hands covered her eyes, and she shook like she’d been beaten.

Heart lit with alarm, he bent low and scooped her into his arms. “What is the matter?”

She pointed with a trembling finger. “Spider.”

Guilt pummeled him straight in the chest. He bore her away as quickly as he could, depositing her on the bed.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered against her hair.

“Can you get rid of the spider first?” Her voice was thin.

Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and returned to the corner she’d been forced to hide in, swallowing her terror as he lied to Henrietta. Not only had he besmirched her name and reputation, he’d forced her to cower like a criminal as her fears overtook her. He was a bastard.

The spider was nowhere to be seen. After a thorough examination, and only a bit more regret at the deception he’d enact on her, he stomped softly on the floorboards.

“Did you get it?”

He nodded as he returned to the bedside. Though he desperately wanted to hold her again, soothe her fears and ease her worries, he knew he could not. He stood over her, looking down as her shivers eased.

This was no life for her. He was a servant, with no home or funds to support her. Every groat he wrenched from his hardscrabble life went directly to his aunt’s upkeep. How could he doom her to a life of wanting? Of domestic servitude, when clearly she was used to a life much more like that she’d enjoyed at Lady Chesterfield’s? And Prachett could not be held at bay forever. Though she hadn’t seemed disgusted at his former occupation, she would be at the dishonesty inherent in his dealings with Prachett. And once she learned that, she would then revile him as everyone else did.

He could not have her. Though the words lanced his heart with their brutality, he knew there was no alternative.

“You must leave. If you are discovered here…”

She sat upright with a cross expression. “Avery, we have to talk about that. Listen, I…”

He pressed a finger to his lips. Footsteps grew louder as they approached.

“Henrietta is returning,” he mouthed. “Be silent.” The hurt in her eyes almost did him in, but he hardened his heart and turned away. After three heavy breaths, he turned back.

She was gone, his window open.

He bolted for the casement and leaned out. She was halfway down the trellis already.

“Leah.” His whisper was rife with the anger he wished he could roar at the thoughtless chit. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. Isn’t it obvious?” She let out a small cry as her foot missed its hold, and he fought the urge to leap out after her. The trellis could not hold their combined weight, he was certain.

“Do not be so rash,” he said, gripping the hair atop his head in frustrated fear. “I never meant for you to—”

“I know that, you doofus.” She jumped the last few feet to the earth, stumbling as she righted herself. The roar in his ears quieted somewhat as she glared up at him.

“I don’t want to cause you any problems, but we have to talk. Soon.”

She turned and walked toward the street, her dark cloak quickly hiding her from his worried, watchful gaze.

“The little idiot,” he snarled as he threw his shirt and boots on, throwing open his door and bolting down the stairs after her. “To think she walked alone in the streets and climbed the damned trellis three stories up. I’ve a mind to throttle her.”

But as he threw open the kitchen door and sprinted after her, he knew that while there were many, many things he’d like to do to her, throttling her was not one of them.

Thoughtless, beautiful fool.

Twenty-Three

Leah kept looking over her shoulder all the way back to Lady Chesterfield’s house. She had the odd feeling that someone was following her. But even though she kept watch, she could never see anyone.

It was probably Avery, wishing he could kick her ass for sneaking into his bedroom and nearly getting him caught with his pants down.

It was pure pleasure to kick off her boots and flop into bed with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what tonight had meant for Avery. Had it clarified the feelings in his heart the way it had for hers?

She rolled over onto her belly, bunching the pillow beneath her chin. When she was younger, she’d liked nothing better than getting lost in a book, a movie, a video game. When her life was more interesting, like when things with Kevin were heating up, she left her escapist life behind and enjoyed living in reality. But when things had fallen apart, she’d run to those comfortable old friends immediately, drowning herself in the distraction.

Avery was confusing but exciting. Would he get tired of her too? Would he want to come back to the twenty-first century with her? If not, she’d be back to burying herself in her apartment with nothing but Mario and Mr. Darcy for company.

Her dreams swirled with the worries she couldn’t leave behind even in unconsciousness.

* * *

Avery awoke with a sense of foreboding.

With a steadying breath, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. A small square of paper lay innocently by the crack at the bottom of the door. The plain, rough paper crinkled under his hands as he unfolded it. In the moon’s predawn glow, he read it.

Russell,

Your lady friend, or should I say Miss Ram, visited you quite late last night. Terrible things can happen to a young lady on the streets of London after dark.

The Swansdown is set. You know what to do.

Prachett

Avery gripped the note so tightly that the paper ripped.

There was no question of obeying Prachett now. No matter what it cost him. He’d do anything to keep Leah safe.

Even lose his own soul.

* * *

The carriage bounced along, making Lady Chesterfield’s ostrich feathers wave excitedly. Leah sat across from her, glumness hanging over her like Eeyore’s little black raincloud.

It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Avery. Two freaking weeks. During that time, the duke had been their almost constant companion, showing up at every function she and Lady Chesterfield attended. He’d sat between her and Lady Chesterfield at the theatre, the two of them making The Taming of the Shrew much more about the societal tête–à–tête than it was about the performance. Leah despised people that talked during movies. Plays? Oh, her blood had bubbled like acid that night.

Too bad they hadn’t gotten her subtle hints. She couldn’t have been outright rude, or Lady Chesterfield would have either passed out or killed her, neither of which appealed to Leah.

Garden parties, balls, soirees—he was there for them all. It was probably a good thing, but Leah had a hard time viewing it that way. To hear Lady Chesterfield talk, the rest of the ton had had a much harder time swallowing the Leah-is-the-cousin-of-the-late-baronet story than His Grace had. The Duke of Granville’s attention had gone a long way in convincing the rest of society to accept Leah the way they had. Lady Chesterfield couldn’t be happier. She smiled, she laughed, she flirted with the duke. Leah was beginning to wonder why her patroness wouldn’t admit she was halfway in love with the duke herself. It was obvious to everyone except Lady Chesterfield.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of another large home. Leah bunched her soft-blue ball gown up in her hands to descend from the carriage. She didn’t remember who was throwing this shindig, or even what the hell day it was. It was just another night that she’d be expected to dance with His Grace, converse with His Grace, simper at His Grace. She considered shoving a finger down her throat so she could puke in the bushes and go home. Play cards with Muriel or scrub a chamber pot or two. It’d be less of a pain in the ass than being here, she was pretty sure.

“My dear Leah, come now.” Lady Chesterfield gestured with the fan.

Leah trudged toward the door, her heavy stomps sounding more like she was wearing combat boots than fine kid slippers.

“Stand straight, my dear. Good heavens, are your stays not laced snugly?”

Reluctantly Leah stiffened her spine. “No, it’s fine. I promise. Sorry.” If they tightened this corset any more, she’d need to be re-inflated when she took it off. She sighed as deeply as she was able to when she handed her wrap to a waiting footman. There were many long hours between now and that blessed corset removal.

“Amelia, darling,” an approaching woman cooed to Lady Chesterfield. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting your charming protégé.”

Introductions, dancing, more introductions, more dancing, chatting, warm and disgusting lemonade, it was a carbon copy of almost every night she’d had since moving into Lady Chesterfield’s home. It was hard not to think of all the books she’d read, all the movies she’d seen. This wasn’t elegant; this wasn’t magical. It was a damned bore. Where was the romance of the whole thing? It seemed to have gotten trampled beneath expensive kid slippers and the feet of aristocrats.

Leah’s smile started slipping as she stood in a group of young people who were cheerfully gossiping about some countess she didn’t know. A longing glance at the clock revealed that it was approaching midnight. People were being nice enough to her, but she didn’t want to be there.

She wanted to be in an attic room, snuggled on a thin mattress with Avery’s strong arms around her.