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For the first time since she’d cooked up her plan and enlisted her friend’s help, wary indecision filled Faith’s eyes. “You’re certain that this is for the best? What if you are discovered? What if you come to harm?” The young woman twisted her hands. “I’d never forgive myself if—”

“I’ll be with Andrew,” she said simply. He’d never let any danger befall her.

Faith flashed another droll smile. “I believe that is my point.”

Marcia scoffed. “Andrew is perfectly safe.” Except the memory of his kiss permeated every corner of her mind, leaving her hot inside, and she prayed her friend did not detect the blush burning up her cheeks.

“I daresay that is the first and last time anyone will refer to Waters as ‘safe,’” Faith muttered. Her friend glanced about. “Now, go.”

With that, Marcia gathered her skirts and bolted off towards the servants’ stairs.

Please, don’t leave. Please, be waiting.

Because it was a certainty that if Andrew left, he’d not agree for a second time to help her.

He—

A tall figure stepped into her path, and Marcia gasped, all the wind knocked from her as she slammed into that solid wall.

Strong arms caught her, steadying her.

“Forgive me,” she said on a rush. And then the rest of the words died on her lips. “Oh.”

The dark-haired man clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “Hello, Marcia.”

She’d been fascinated by his hands from the moment he’d caught her palm for the first kiss he’d ever placed upon it. His fingers had been long, and powerful, and steady. Until now. Now, they shook.

“Charles,” she said dumbly, incapable of nothing more than his name.

He looked haggard. Exhausted. Rumpled, even. His sharply chiseled cheeks were covered with several days of growth.

“You…” he began, and when he didn’t finish that thought, she stared blankly at him. He swallowed loudly. “Are well?”

A panicky giggle nearly choked her. “As well as a lady can be after being left at the altar.”

All the color leached from his cheeks.

He looked miserable. Good. He should be. But also, why should he be? He’d been the one to break it off with her. Oddly, that reminder didn’t cut quite the same way it had just days ago. In fact, it didn’t cut at all.

Marcia found herself. “Lord Thornton,” she said coldly. “If you’ll excuse me?” Without awaiting permission, she made to step around him.

“Is Lord Waters dallying with you?” he demanded.

Oh, God. He knew. Stormont had suspected her identity last evening, after all. Heart pounding, Marcia faced him for a second time, grateful for the protection offered by her hood.

His features were strained, a muscle ticking at the corner of his right eye and a pulse throbbing at his jaw. And it occurred to her he was jealous. And yet, why should he be? “Lord Waters is a good friend of my family’s,” she said, infusing a coolness into her voice.

“Forgive me,” he said on a rush. “I know you have better judgment than to engage with one such as Waters.”

She frowned.One such as Waters? How dare he? Andrew had been a friend to her in every way. For a lifetime, too. She wouldn’t let this man or any man disparage him so. “You would dare insinuate LordWatersis dishonorable?” She gave him a once-over. “He wouldn’t dally with me.” Marcia glared at him. “Nor would he leave a lady standing at the altar.”

Charles jerked as if she’d struck him.

But Marcia was not done with him. “For that matter, who I—how did you put it—dally with is not your concern, Charles. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Please,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t go.” He stretched a hand out. “It was not my intention to insult you.”

It was a ludicrous claim for this man, of all men, to make. A laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Which time? This evening or the day of our wedding?”