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He found none. Hedidn’tcare about the way others perceived him. He noted that fact with some defiance. O’Flannagan had probably intended for his rumors to be hurtful, but Conor hadn’t been hurt by them. Not on a personal level, at any rate.

No, all he cared about were the practical effects.

So. What were the practical effects, then?

The Arc relied on the repeat business of members of theton. It was a place for upper class gentlemen. And Conor knew all too well that nobles could have delicate sensibilities. If they learned something about Conor that they didn’t like, it might drive them to abandon The Arc as a place to spend their time.

And if theydidlike The Arc’s owner, they would be very likely to continue giving him their patronage.

I don’t care what they think, Conor thought in frustration,but I need them to like me. What a situation.

He didn’t want to waste his time trying to earn the approval of shallow people.I wish my clients could just be people who choose The Arc because they like its atmosphere, he thought.I wish they could just prefer it as a place to drink and a place to spend time, without needing to be impressed by my character. Isn’t that the more logical approach?

But there was nothing logical about some people. Some people would follow rumors, follow crowds, make decisions in flighty and senseless ways that had nothing at all to do with fact.

Infuriating.

The answer came to him, suddenly and crystal clearly, perhaps because it was what he had already been thinking about all day long.Henry. Of course. Henry is the solution to everything.

People loved Henry already. The Arc’s regulars were always thrilled to see him. Henry put people at their ease. He was likable. He was unthreatening.

Nobody will ever accuse Henry of being caught up in anything nefarious. The idea was laughable.It’s so simple. We’ll make him the public face of The Arc in my place.

Let Killian O’Flannagan try to start a vicious rumor about Henry Wilson. Just let him try! Nobody would believe a word of it. Henry was too nice.

It’s perfect,Conor thought.I’ll be able to spend less time at the club. Henry can have a greater financial stake as compensation for taking on this extra work. And O’Flannagan will have his legs cut out from under him.

All that remained was to discuss the practicalities of the matter with his solicitor.

Very pleased with the solution he’d devised, Conor sat back, picked up his cigar, and lit it.

I can’t wait to tell Henry, he thought as he took a puff.He’s going to love this.

Chapter 3

Astrid Dawson sat in the window of her bedroom, gazing down at the city street below and wishing desperately to be out among the people.

The house she lived in with her father had seemed so big when she was a child. Back then, she could spend days running around, engrossed in her own imagination, without ever getting bored.

She had pretended to be a princess, dressing in her finest clothes and dancing in her father’s library, envisioning a beautifully appointed ballroom.

At other times, she had pretended to be a knight, inventing valorous quests that had taken her throughout the house.

But now she was older, twenty-one years of age, and her imagination was no longer enough. She needed more.

If only Father would let me out of the house, she thought despairingly.If only I could attend a party…perhaps meet an interesting man…

But it was a daydream, nothing more. Astrid’s father was nothing if not protective. One day, she supposed, he would allow men to come over and seek her hand in marriage.Without my input, most likely. Without my even getting to meet them or develop feelings for them.

As protective as he was, she had no doubt that her father would marry her off to somebody safe. But would he be interesting? Would she be able to like him?

There was no telling.

A pair of young women, about Astrid’s own age, made their way down the road, giggling together about something. Astrid ached to join them.If only I could have a friend, someone to laugh and gossip with…

It wasn’t as though she had never been invited to parties before. Astrid herself held no rank or title, nor did her father, but as a solicitor he served plenty of noble families, and on occasion had been included on guest lists. And sometimes those invitations included his daughter as well.

But even on the rare occasion that Tobias Dawson attended a party, he never, never brought Astrid along. He seemed to think that something regrettable might happen if she were allowed out.