Her chair scraped back and she stood to go. She gave a little pat to Leah’s cheek. “Your world of the future must be quite different from this. But you must trust me, dear. I know how you are to go about things in this society. I’ll not lead you astray.” She turned to leave, but before she reached the door, she looked over her shoulder at Leah.

“My dear, I shall never forgive myself if you do not marry advantageously. You are too precious to squander yourself on anything less than a peer of the realm.” She disappeared through the door, leaving Leah’s jaw hanging open. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite convince it to shut.

So much for her apology. So much for laying things out on the line, thanking Lady Chesterfield for her kindness but firmly stating her feelings for Avery. So much for planning her exit ASAP.

She munched on a piece of bacon dejectedly. It appeared that she had another couple of days to figure out exactly how to get Lady Chesterfield to realize that she was perfect for Granville, not Leah.

Why hadn’t she stayed home and started collecting cats or something?

Twenty-Six

He’d never been a dreamer. Though his realities were not always pleasant, they were better than being caught unawares. His beliefs had not changed, but his dreams were much stronger than they’d ever been in the two days since he’d seen her last.

Several times, he’d shaken himself to regain control of his mind from the memories that replayed through it over and over. Leah smiling up at him, straw in her hair and laughter in her eyes. Leah’s kisses, passionate and fervent. Leah sinking to her knees…

He dropped the brush he’d been using on His Grace’s coat. The clatter of the heavy object on the polished floors brought some clarity to his foggy mind. Scowling, he picked up the brush and resumed his brushing on the sleeve of the duke’s fine, blue coat. He must hurry and finish his duties so that he could watch out for her.

That night in the stable had not changed his station, nor had it magically gifted him with the means to support a wife. He’d revealed his feelings to her, but he should not have. She had come to land a husband, not ensnare herself with a boxing valet, his bedridden aunt, and a puppet master named Prachett.

Avery’s strings would be jerked again on the morrow. He was to face Emersen in the Jackford. Their match was sure to be the biggest draw in years. The underdog, Russell the bruiser, against the as-yet-undefeated Emersen? With Prachett’s careful planning, the odds were stacked against Avery. If he were to win, Prachett and his cronies stood to make thousands of pounds.

“Bloody fool,” he hissed under his breath. He was an idiot for forgetting reality for that night in the stables—and for nearly every minute since then.

The door opened behind him.

“Your Grace.” He turned and bowed without looking up. “You have returned early. Is everything well?”

Instead of his employer’s gray-haired form, Prachett stood in front of him. A self-satisfied smile crossed his face, an expression so unpleasant that it tensed Avery’s spine.

“What are you doing here?” Avery nearly spat the words, clenching his fists at his sides. “How did you get in?”

* * *

Ranelagh Garden wasn’t at all what Leah had expected. She and Lady Chesterfield arrived and were shown to His Grace’s private table in the Rotunda. An orchestra played somewhere nearby, their soft refrains a sharp counterpoint to the boisterous crowd around them. Lords and ladies of the ton filled the Rotunda, but more normal people were scattered along the various paths through the garden.

“Are we early?” Leah wasn’t sure why she was bothering to talk to Lady Chesterfield. The woman hadn’t bothered to listen to a word Leah said for the last two days. She’d tried to reason with her. She’d yelled; she’d even mustered up a tear or two. But nothing she said could convince her patroness that she wasn’t, and never would be, in love with the Duke of Granville.

“Oh pish-posh,” Lady Chesterfield said. “You look ravishing.”

Yup. She didn’t hear a word.

Leah lowered into her chair carefully. She didn’t want to crush the silver gown that Muriel had taken such care stuffing her into like a Thanksgiving turkey. Lady Chesterfield started babbling about the fireworks that would happen later, but Leah didn’t really pay attention. She kept scanning the crowd for a familiar handsome face, one that didn’t belong to a duke.

Of course, why should she expect Avery to show up tonight? This place was huge. It wasn’t like he could hang out by a window and keep an eye on her. She tried to get mad about the high-handed way he’d been watching her, but she couldn’t. He made her feel safe and loved.

And honestly, what more could she want out of life?

“Miss Ram, here he is. Good evening, dear Granville.” Lady Chesterfield’s excited curtsy nearly pitched her forward into the duke’s thighs. Fortunately, she righted herself without toppling, the green feathers of her bodice trembling as she fluttered her fan coyly.

“Thank you for coming. Our Miss Ram has been beside herself with joy since you agreed to meet us here.”

Though Leah’s Bullshit! went unsaid, she hoped it was clear in the intense height of her eyebrows. If anybody was thrilled, it was clearly Lady Chesterfield.

“It was my pleasure, indeed.” The duke smiled and offered his arm to Lady Chesterfield. “Should you care to take a turn about the gardens?”

“Oh, I cannot,” Lady Chesterfield said with all the sincerity of a zombie pledging to give up eating brains. “But do take dear Miss Ram for a turn.”

* * *

Prachett ignored the question, pulling off his gloves one finger at a time. “Do you know why I picked you, Russell? Out of all the boxers, do you know why I selected you as the man to beat Emersen?”

Avery stood rigid, mind ticking quickly. There was no such thing as a simple query from a man like Prachett. Every word he spoke was calculated, designed to give him the upper hand. But why would he risk so much as to enter a duke’s household? His Grace would not return until late this evening. Avery had been about to leave himself, in order to watch out for Leah.

“I do not.” Avery ground out the words. “But I have done as you’ve asked. The last two fights were lost on your demand, so you can have no quarrel with me.”

“I chose you, dear Russell, because you’ve forgotten.” Prachett ran a finger along the duke’s bedside table, lifting a heavy brass candlestick lovingly before replacing it. “To think that you, a vicar’s brat, fight barefisted in the mills like the very hounds of hell are nipping at your heels. Though you left us, you still belong to us. And to see you like this?” Prachett gestured at Avery’s solemn clothing, perfectly respectable for a servant of his rank. “You forget who you are.”

“I know who I am. But you are trespassing, and you must go. Now, Prachett.” Avery set his jaw firmly as he gathered the discarded cane and coat. The conversation was turning into a dangerous one, and he must keep his wits about him. “His Grace will return at any moment.”

* * *

Leah reluctantly stood and took the duke’s arm.

“We’ll be right back,” she promised Lady Chesterfield.

“Do take your time, and enjoy the air.” The older woman simpered as she looked up at the duke. “His Grace will ensure your well-being.” She fluttered her lashes like a preteen at a boy band poster.

Leah’s teeth hurt, she clamped them together so hard.

She didn’t waste any time. Once they’d exited the Rotunda and found their way onto a dimly lit path, she spoke.

“I’m really sorry about this. I’ve tried to tell her that you’re not really interested in me, but she’s not having any of it.” Leah kicked a leaf off the gravel pathway. “She’s like a damn dog with a bone.”

“Amelia is quite determined.” Granville patted Leah’s hand on his arm. “She does want the best for you.”

“I know.” Leah sighed. “But her idea of the best and mine aren’t really even on the same planet.”

Granville smiled as the orchestra grew fainter behind them. “Her tenacity is one of her most admirable traits.”

Leah couldn’t stand the lovelorn look on the duke’s face. “Listen. Why don’t you go back there? Have some time alone with her, and tell her how you feel.”

“I should not leave you alone.” Granville looked back longingly.

“I’ll be fine.” Leah laughed. “Go. Seriously. I’ll stay on the path right by the box.”

“I should not. It is not safe for a young girl.”

“I’m older than I look,” Leah grated. “For crap’s sake, go talk to the woman.”

She nearly had to shove him into the box, but the delighted sound of Lady Chesterfield’s voice assured her that she’d done the right thing.

Dragging in a deep breath, Leah smiled at her surroundings. Here she stood, in nineteenth-century England, in one of the famous pleasure gardens. She was dressed like a princess. All she had to do now was find her valet.

Picking a path at random, she whistled as she walked. It was a beautiful night, and her man was here somewhere. She knew it.

* * *

“Tell me,” Prachett said, ignoring Avery, “what do the other servants think of Russell the bruiser?”

“That is not any of your concern.”

“Ah.” Prachett stood tall as he towered over Avery, his thin chest heaving and his eyes glowing with a strange light. “I see. And your Miss Ramsey. What is her opinion?”

The words were soft, but the threat therein was unmistakable—as was the knife that was suddenly pressed against his ribs.