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Graham crouched in the far corner, knees drawn to his chest, eyes glassy and unseeing. A smear of dried blood marked the wall beside him. He rocked back and forth as if in time to an unheard song.

It was as if the man she loved—there was no doubt left that she loved Graham—had been scraped away, leaving only this shell behind.

“Graham.” Abigail choked out his name on a sob and moved toward him, but Elias grabbed her arm.

Graham’s head snapped up. His gaze was wild, unfocused. He went utterly, preternaturally still, just staring at them.

“Don’t move,” Elias whispered. “On your feet, soldier.” He barked the order and his grip on Abigail’s arm tightened.

Graham flinched at the command. He rocked harder. "Redchester, Graham. Surgeon Lieutenant. Naval Division 14." The words tumbled out mechanically, his gaze fixed on some distant point.

"Stand and report, Redchester," Elias commanded, moving to stand right in front of Graham.“I said stand up,” the admiral braced his legs apart and crossed his arms over his chest.

Graham shuddered, blinking at Elias before he struggled to his feet, using the wall for support. His hands trembled violently. He mumbled something low under his breath as he drew himself up. Abigail stood statue still. Her heart shredded at the struggle as he clawed his way back through god knew what horrors.

Swaying unsteadily, Graham flexed his hands, reopening the cuts on his knuckles. Fresh blood trickled down his fingers.“I am Graham Redchester," he said, each word deliberate, measured. "I am in London."

“Just so. Steady on,” Elias nodded.

"Impeccable timing as always, Admiral." Graham's voice was sandpaper-rough, but a ghost of his usual composure flickered across his face—then vanished as his gaze shifted to Abigail. Horror and shame replaced recognition. He turned away sharply. "Take her away."

Abigail stepped back, giving him space, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from running to him. "I wanted you to know that you're not alone," she said.

Graham paused, his back rigid. "Leave now, Abigail. Please." The last word almost broke her. It bled with his humiliation, his shame.

You stubborn man. Let me help you.

"No. I won’t leave you." Her voice was quiet but resolute. "I'm not skilled with a sword, but I'll stand beside you as you fight your demons."

"And what happens when those demons hurt you?" he demanded, still refusing to face her.

"That's my chance to take." Abigail stepped forward again. "I'm not going anywhere, and we've only got five minutes to figure out how to get you out of here and stop Hollan. Do we waste them arguing or strategizing?"

At the mention of Hollan, Graham's posture changed. He turned slowly, focus sharpening in his eyes.“What’s happened?”

"Nedley's exhausted every legal avenue," Elias said grimly. "We need another approach. You are a guest of this fine establishment until an evaluation is completed. No way around it.”

Graham heaved a sigh.“A Dr. Wrenn is supposed to evaluate me at dawn.”

“Yes, well, I doubt he’ll rush through his breakfast kippers to get here in a timely manner,” Elias said.“Your duchess browbeat the simpleton at the door and bribed the guard to get us this far. I believe we’ve leveraged as far as we’re able.”

Graham's brows shot up, and Abigail raised her chin.“The rules of decorum do not matter when those I love are in peril.”

A shadow of a smile crossed Graham’s mouth.“And they call me dangerous.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.“If only they’d taken me to Bedlam.”

"It's a sad day indeed when one would prefer accommodations at Bedlam to their current circumstances," Elias said.

“Lincoln Wallace is there,” Graham said.

"The alienist?" Elias's brows rose.

"The very same. I speak with him occasionally—professionally." Graham paced the small cell, energy returning to his movements. "He specializes in maladies of the mind, particularly those afflicting soldiers.”

“Will he come here?” Abigail asked, seeing the faintest flicker of light on the vast, dark horizon.

Graham nodded.“He has privileges in all the best madhouses.” He pinned Elias with a look.“You look like hell, Admiral, but can you manage this one more thing?”

The old soldier drew himself up.“I’ll drag him by the coattails if I have to, but getting him here in the middle of the night, in this weather. That’ll take some doing.”