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E dward dreaded facing the barrage of questions he feared would be tossed his way as soon as he entered his club. He therefore chose to go for a walk instead. Remaining indoors since returning from the Old Bailey yesterday morning had made him restless. For although he’d been relieved by Adrian’s lack of appearance, he’d kept expecting an officer of the law to show up at his door.

Just because this had not happened yet did not mean it wouldn’t. Processing all that had transpired would likely take time for whoever was charged with the task. Sooner or later, however, they would review the list of individuals close to Adrian. Especially those with the means to assist him. Like his closest friend.

Concerned by this prospect and how he’d respond to the pressure of being questioned by the authorities, Edward lengthened his stride. The air was brisk after last night’s rain, the pavement showing signs of dampness. On the opposite side of the street, a newspaper boy alerted passersby to the latest issue of The Morning Post . Edward had already read it while taking his breakfast, the headline as glaring as one might expect after what had transpired: “Adrian Croft on The Run After Questionable Trial Casts Shadow Upon Legal System.”

It was good to see the press was leaping to Adrian’s defense at least. Whatever my own feelings about him may be, it’s important he’s treated as I would expect to be, were I in his shoes. Abernathy was the name of the man who’d said that. The editor in chief from The Morning Post had taken no issue with voicing his concern about the proceedings. A good man for Adrian to have in his corner and one Edward should perhaps try to befriend.

After all, this man had the power to influence the masses. It was a handy skill if one knew when and how to apply it.

Reaching the corner of Piccadilly and Park Lane, Edward stopped to wait for various horses and carriages to pass before crossing to the opposite side. He turned toward the Hyde Park entrance, eager to step onto the peripheral path and stretch his legs in earnest.

As he passed beneath the wrought iron arch where the park began, he happened upon a group of three women who seemed to have stopped for a chat. Raising one hand, he prepared to doff his hat in greeting. But when one of them glanced his way and he recognized her as Mrs. Croft’s friend, Miss Melody Roberts, he realized that wouldn’t do. They’d danced together, after all, as recently as last week. With that taken into account, rushing past her would be extremely ill-bred.

So he did what the gentleman in him demanded and gave up on taking a solitary walk for the moment. Instead, he slowed his steps as he made his approach.

Miss Roberts’s head turned more fully toward him. Though most of her thick auburn curls were concealed beneath a cream-colored bonnet, a couple of locks had been granted the freedom of framing her face to perfection. Lovely brown eyes fringed with long lashes widened as they met his. A broad smile followed and something warm filled an empty corner of Edward’s chest.

“Lord Marsdale. What a lovely surprise, finding you here.” She gestured toward her companions. “Are you acquainted with Miss Violet Greene and Miss Octavia Burley?”

“Indeed I am.” They’d been introduced to him by their parents when they’d debuted one or two Seasons ago. Edward’s interest, however, had been elsewhere. On Evelyne Croft, to be precise. A short bow allowed him a moment to mask his emotions, to hide the broken remains of his heart and the cutting pain he received from the shards. “A pleasure as always, ladies.”

They beamed at him as though he were some sort of Greek hero drawn from legend when he knew himself to be anything but. Yes, he possessed an attractive title and a fortune to go along with it, but he wasn’t the sort of man who slayed dragons or who dared risk his heart by declaring himself to the woman he loved.

If he were being nice about it, he’d say it was due to being reserved. But if he were honest, the fact was he was a coward. An odd-looking one to boot, with that too rounded jawline he’d always hoped would become more angular with age, and the low eyelids that slanted toward the corners of his eyes, affording him with a constant air of melancholia.

He supposed his best asset was his personality. Which only aided him once he entered into conversation with someone. Honorable and kind were qualities he prided himself on upholding.

“My lord?”

Edward blinked, his attention refocusing on the three women who looked at him expectantly. “I beg your pardon. I was…”

“Woolgathering?” Miss Roberts’s pretty pink lips twitched, the amusement in her voice causing heat to wash over the back of Edward’s neck.

He cleared his throat, tried to think of a decent excuse, only to give up. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right.” Miss Roberts’s expression sobered. “Considering what has happened in recent days, I imagine it must be hard for you to find a way forward. I merely wished to know if you’d like to stroll with us for a while. It’s perfectly fine if you’d rather not.”

There was something far too compelling in Miss Roberts’s gaze. Her sincerity made it hard for him to think, so he shifted his attention to the right and allowed himself a moment to reflect on her offer.

When he’d left home, he’d had no desire for company of any kind. He’d wanted to be alone – or as alone as one could be in a city filled with roughly one and a half million people. He’d been as opposed to conversation as a cat would be to taking a bath.

And yet, the very nature of Miss Roberts’s invitation made him feel less alone. Which was something he was surprised to realize he needed.

So he took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh smell of trees and damp soil into his lungs, and said, “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Miss Roberts tilted her head, lips pursing a little before she suggested, “Let’s take that path over there.”

“But that will lead us away from Rotten Row,” Miss Greene complained, her shoulders sagging.

“We can always cut across to it later,” Miss Roberts informed her.

“Honestly,” Miss Burley said, “We just agreed—”

“Plans change,” said Miss Roberts. She gave her friends a bright smile and stepped forward. “Shall we?”

The other women shared a look that informed Edward they were not keen on the route Miss Roberts had picked. Sensing she’d done it for him so he could avoid the number of people they’d likely cross paths with on the more popular walk, he said, “I’ve no wish to alter your plans. We can take whichever route you prefer.”

Miss Greene’s eyes lit with excitement, only for them to suddenly dim. Biting her lip, she sent Rotten Row a longing look, then smiled and said, “Miss Roberts is right.”

“Indeed she is,” Miss Burley concurred, a similar expression brightening her features. “Besides, it’s not the fashionable hour so I’m sure Rotten Row will be a wasted effort.”

Miss Roberts turned toward the path she’d suggested, attempting, it appeared, to hide the humor that danced in her eyes. Edward suppressed a grin of his own as he fell into step beside her. Together they walked, with a minimum distance of two feet between them, while Miss Greene and Miss Burley brought up the rear.

Several moments passed in silence with only Miss Greene and Miss Burley engaged in a hushed conversation, during which Edward attempted to think of something to say. It grew increasingly awkward the longer they walked, but the fact of the matter was the only topic filling his brain at the moment pertained to Adrian’s trial, sentencing, and subsequent escape.

Try as he might, he could not come up with another subject of conversation. Besides the weather, which felt like the lazy attempt it would obviously be.

“It’s frightening, don’t you think, how quickly lives can change? Either for the better or for the worse.” Miss Roberts plucked a leaf from one of the bushes lining the path. “I hope you can forgive me for saying this, but since your close friendship with Croft is no secret, I thought it would seem a bit odd if we didn’t discuss what’s happened to him. Provided you do not mind.”

“I…um…” He cleared his throat. “To be honest, I’d hoped to avoid it.”

“Oh. How positively thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.” She frowned with a genuine look of distress. “You must think me horribly gauche for bringing it up.”

“Not at all.” Again, he tried to find the right words, anything that would lead to a better discussion.

“His wife is a longtime friend of mine, you see. With no word of what’s happened to her, I cannot help but worry.”

And just like that, he felt like a monumental arse. Self-absorbed and inconsiderate. Not once had it occurred to him that Miss Roberts might need to turn over recent events, that she might need consolation and had hoped to find it from someone who knew her friend’s husband better than anyone else.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he muttered, wishing at once that he were a wordsmith, capable of coming up with just the right phrasing in the moment. But he wasn’t. Never had been. Voicing his thoughts directly, however clumsily, was the only way he knew. It was a trait Adrian had always valued because he found it honest, but Edward knew it wasn’t for everyone. So he did his best to be gentle with his next words. “If I were you, I’d take heart in the lack of news you’ve received. It probably means your friend is safe. With her husband, I expect.”

Looking at him directly, she searched his face. “Have you…heard anything to make you believe this?”

However tempting it was for the sake of appeasing Miss Roberts’s concerns, Edward dared not respond in the affirmative. “No, but it makes sense, does it not? Someone helped Adrian flee. I believe that someone to be his wife since she, too, is missing. Bow Street has made it clear that they want them both found, so if there was any hint of that happening, we’d probably know about it.”

The crease marks on Miss Roberts’s brow vanished as he spoke. Her expression relaxed and her hand touched his arm. “Thank you, Marsdale, for bringing this to my attention. You’ve eased my concerns tremendously.”

She removed her hand, leaving Edward feeling oddly bereft. He did his best not to think about what it might mean. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

They continued a few more paces, the occasional remnants of rain in the form of puddles forcing them to weave their way along the path. “She’s like a sister to me, you know. Our pasts aren’t entirely dissimilar – two girls no one wanted. Until Mr. Harlowe found us and brought us to Clearview. Honestly, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I arrived there.”

“You came from the same orphanage?” Adrian had told him of his wife’s past when he’d spoken of his intention to ask for her hand.

A quick nod. “St. Christopher’s. An awful place I prefer not to think of.”

“I’m sorry.” How lucky he’d been to grow up with loving parents and sisters. His childhood had been nothing like Samantha’s or Adrian’s, or even Miss Roberts’s, it would seem. They’d all suffered in some way or other.

“Don’t be.” A gentle smile caught her lips, forcing him to acknowledge her beauty. “Everything worked out well for me in the end, thanks to Samantha. She refused to go with Harlowe unless he agreed to take me as well. And while I never aspired to being a lady’s companion, it’s a thousand times better than where I’d have ended up if I had stayed at St. Christopher’s. I’ve a comfortable life at Heathbrooke House. The dowager marchioness treats me exceedingly well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But what about…” Edward stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? The question he’d been about to ask was far too bold. Completely unlike him.

“Marriage and children?” she said, voicing his unspoken words before he could think of something else to say.

He shook his head. “Forgive me. I’ve no right to ask such personal questions of you.”

“Perhaps not, but it is the sort of thing most people wonder about when they meet me. I can see it in their eyes. At least you had the courage to ask.”

Courage . A word he’d never associated with himself before.

He rather liked it, he decided. Made him feel a bit taller.

“Truth is,” she went on, as though she’d not just had a profound effect upon him, “My dream would be to have both one day. But I’m sensible enough to know that dreams don’t always come true for women like me. There are times when one ought to be content with the cards one has been dealt. Otherwise, an entire life can be wasted wishing for more.”

Her words caught hold of a lost place deep down inside him, the mixture of hope and acceptance echoing through him with sadness. For some absurd reason, he wanted to pull Miss Roberts into his arms and hold her. To offer some level of warmth and assurance. Or maybe to show her that unlike so many other snobs amid the peerage, he had no qualms about her past. It made no difference to him who her parents had been. All that mattered was that he liked her.

A thought that made his brain go completely blank for a second.

He took a sharp breath.

Allowed the truth to settle.

In all fairness, he did not know her especially well. But he had enjoyed the dance they’d shared at the Avernail Ball and was finding comfort in her company now. They shared a mutual concern for the Crofts. But was there anything more? Could there be?

He’d not dared ask himself this since Evie. And even now, he struggled to form an answer. Because the truth was, he didn’t know.

“I hope I haven’t shocked you with my cynical views,” Miss Roberts said. “Or frightened you away.”

“Not at all. I was actually just thinking that I’m glad I happened upon you when I arrived in the park. Your company was more necessary than I realized.”

Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Rather than comment, she simply kept on walking, which in some peculiar way added far more meaning to the moment than talking would have. And when Edward dared a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that both of her friends were smirking.

* * *

Melody served her guest a cup of tea before taking a sip of her own. The fresh air she’d enjoyed in the park made Lady Heathbrooke’s parlor feel all the more cloying.

“Please tell me you have some news,” Hazel implored. The red-head, almost the same exact age as Samantha, had been the closest one to her in recent years. Since Melody’s removal from Clearview House. “Harlow is growing increasingly agitated. He needs results. I believe Lord Carver is breathing down the back of his neck.”

Carver. The man Melody longed to push off a bridge.

Though she’d never met him in person, she’d heard enough to develop an instant grudge against him.

“Marsdale doesn’t know anything,” Melody informed Hazel. “Or if he does, he’s wise enough to keep the information close to his chest.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were able to make even mute men spill their secrets.”

“Unfortunately, Marsdale has what most men lack.”

“And what would that be?”

Melody set her cup aside and smoothed out a crease in her skirt. “Resistance.”

Hazel produced an indelicate snort of laughter. Melody answered with a look of disapproval that made Hazel straighten. “Sorry. It’s just the way you said it.”

“Marsdale’s loyalty to Croft is clear. The only thing he is willing to do is suggest what we already know – that the authorities are no closer to tracking Samantha down than we are.”

“He gave no indication of which direction they might have gone?”

“No, and I didn’t ask.” She did not pretend to not understand the critical look in Hazel’s eyes. “Given what happened with Evelyne Croft, we knew it would be difficult to form an attachment with Marsdale. Had I pushed him today, he would have avoided me forever after. At least this way, I’ve a chance to continue befriending him.”

“That sort of thing will take time. Time we do not have.” Hazel sank against the pink cushions that covered the back of the dainty settee. “Harlowe sent Holly north and Tara east. I’m to ride out as well. I just wish I knew whether to go south or west.”

“And if you’re successful in finding Samantha?” The question had nagged at Melody ever since Harlowe’s orders had been relayed.

“I’ll do whatever I must,” Hazel said.

Melody stared at her a long while, her insides twisting into a painful knot. “How can you sit there and say that as though she means nothing to you?”

“Don’t question what she means to me, Melody. You know how close we were. But she betrayed Harlowe and us the moment she chose to stand with that criminal.” Hazel’s expression tightened, her gaze flaring with equal parts pain and anger. “She’s a traitor to this country.”

That was certainly what they’d been told, and while Melody had no cause to doubt anything Harlowe had said, something bothered her. She dropped her gaze to the table, allowed it to trail across all the tea things and the assortment of biscuits on a small plate.

She knit her brow and then she said, “I don’t think Marsdale would ever be friends with the man we believe Croft to be. Something isn’t right. And before we follow a kill-order blindly, I think it’s worth acquiring a few more facts.”