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Seraphina bit her lower lip, feeling a rip form right down her middle. She did not know who to trust. Who to believe. And she was running out of time.

“Very well, Mama,” she said hoarsely. “I shall marry the Earl.”

“Look up.”

Tristan looked up from his desk, just in time to see a leather portfolio flying at his head. He caught it just before it collided with his forehead, and glared at Hugo.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Your profits from our last endeavor,” Hugo said, taking a seat across from him. He smirked with triumph. “It turned out better than expected.”

Tristan raised a dubious brow, and Hugo felt a sense of glee as his friend’s eyes widened at the copious bank notes inside.

“My God,” Tristan muttered.

“It would be blasphemous to accept such a title,” Hugo sighed, “Though I would accept a slightly less pious moniker.”

Hugo chuckled at his own retort. His sense of accomplishment had been absolutely radiating as of late, and he was finally starting to accept that his temporary move to London was perhaps not as bad as he may have feared. He had money. He had Seraphina- or at least he was about to. And despite the rumors, he was drawing in more business.

“Hugo, this is incredible,” Tristan said with awe.

“I don’t trust London banks,” Hugo replied, “I told you if you had a little patience I would get it done another way, and as you can see I have.”

“The other investors will be thrilled!” Tristan replied.

“Hugo nodded.

“No doubt. And the rumors that I am running a play among the Londontonwill diminish once their pockets are full,” Hugo said happily.

“You were right, Tristan, as was Leah. It was time for me to return to London. We should celebrate. Ask Theo is she would not mind snagging Seraphina from her mother’s clutches, would you? I thought perhaps we could take them to the Opera House.”

Tristan’s wide smile vanished within an instant.

“You have not heard.”

A shot of discomfort speared through Hugo’s happiness, and he shifted in his chair.

“Heard what?” He asked.

“Seraphina. She is to marry the Earl of Repington.”

Hugo’s smile dropped completely.

“No.” Flashes of their last time together poured through his mind Her soft whimpers. The melting of her body beneath his. Her explosion of pleasure upon his tongue. The woman washis.

“I am afraid so, old friend,” Tristan replied, his tone full of remorse. “They are not officially engaged, but he has been talking about it quite a bit at White’s. Railing on about the heavy dowry Seraphina’s father is paying him for the marriage. It’s going to happen.”

“The Earl of Repington,” Hugo sneered. “But he’s past fifty! And not even half as wealthy as I am!”

“You and I both know that is not what matters to Seraphina’s parents,” Tristan replied softly. “They need his reputation to save their own.”

“Petty lechers,” Hugo spat out, shooting to his feet. He began to pace, uncomfortable with the sudden emotion that had burst through his chest.

“You have to let it go, Hugo,” Tristan urged as Hugo began to pace the floor.

“The hell I will,” he snarled.

“Your reputation is shifting every day,” Tristan argued, “There are surely more young ladies opening their minds toward you. You will find another. One that is less complicated.”