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Mrs. Brock met them at the door when they arrived. She was a lovely woman of around fifty years who had previously worked as the duchess’s housekeeper and now ran Amelia House.

“Welcome.” She led Flynn to the third floor into a small, clean, furnished room. He gently placed Melody on the bed. Beside the bed was a crib for the baby, and Lady Morton laid the baby down.

The women brought here were here to heal, get healthy, and be strong.

They were also trained as parlor maids, kitchen helpers, ladies’ maids, seamstresses, or whatever they preferred.

With the help of the Society, they found jobs and never had to return to St. Giles if they chose not to.

Unfortunately, some of them, when they were better, went back to the slums as it was the only life they knew and felt comfortable with.

Emmeline hoped Melody would be one of the fortunate and select the best path forward. Many of those with children did because too many died of disease at an early age and they wanted a better life for their little ones.

The sun was rising when Mitchel drove her home. Exhausted as she was, she didn’t see the lone horseman following them not far back. Her feet shuffled up her front stairs as Harrison opened the door for her.

“Welcome home.” He took her cloak before she disappeared up the stairs, her feet shuffling toward her chambers with one destination in mind—her bed.

With Amanda’s help, she removed her clothing, washed up, put on a night rail, and climbed beneath the counterpane with a deep sigh. Sleep. She could sleep for days.

*

After he’d returned to London from his country estate, Andrew, with the help of the Duchess of Greenville, had begun following Emmeline when he could as she traveled into the slums of London.

When he’d first approached the duchess, she refused to supply him with the information but finally relented.

She recognized a man concerned for a lady’s safety.

Making a sizable donation to Amelia House helped his cause as well.

Tonight had been never-ending. Sometimes, he took an unmarked coach, but tonight, he’d been on horseback and was deuced sore as he headed home to Blackstone House.

He’d nodded off in the saddle several times throughout the night.

But he’d refused to leave until he saw Emmeline safely home.

He couldn’t be with her each time she traveled, but he tried.

The night trips were easier than some of the daytime ones.

He admired Emmeline for her charity work, but it frightened him all the same.

With a business and warehouse on the docks, Andrew regularly witnessed the seedier side of London.

If Emmeline knew all that happened in the areas she visited, he didn’t think she would ever return.

Theft. Murders. Kidnapping and enslaving of women to work in brothels.

Assaults and rapes. The list went on and on. Unimaginable horrors.

He shivered as he left his horse at the mews behind his home in the care of a stable boy.

He could sleep all day and wished he were able to.

He had a meeting with his barrister in a couple hours’ time, and he’d planned to spend time at the docks today going over the receipts from their latest shipment.

Each of the friends had a job within their company.

Caldwell oversaw their fleet of ships and their travel routes.

Langford planned and organized the cargo, what they imported and exported, and managed the loading and unloading of the ships with Caldwell’s assistance.

Presently, Andrew was in charge of the receipts and money as numbers came easy to him.

But it was on their list of things to do to hire an assistant to oversee the office.

Since he and Langford had inherited their titles recently, their time was in demand and often required elsewhere.

What with meetings and numbers and the lack of sleep, Andrew felt the day could not end soon enough.

And on top of all that, that night he had the theatre.

He would never cancel because he’d invited Langford and Lilly, but he’d also invited Emmeline.

To his utter shock, she’d accepted his invitation.

Seeing her from afar was all well and good, but he craved her nearness even if she didn’t want it.

Finally, after a grueling day, Andrew, dressed in dark blue and cream, was ready for the theatre.

His carriage picked up Langford and Lilly, then drove to Emmeline’s townhouse.

The distance between all three homes was not lengthy.

It could be walked on a nice day. As Andrew exited the carriage, Emmeline came out the door and took his breath away.

Her evening gown was deep green paired with a cream shawl.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head, with cascading curls brushing her neck and shoulders.

She was a vision, and his heart stopped.

“Good evening,” he said while assisting her inside the coach.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she replied as she took the empty seat facing front. Andrew entered, taking the seat beside her.

The coachman flipped up the stairs and closed the door. When everyone was settled, Andrew tapped the roof, and the well-sprung, comfortably cushioned carriage lurched forward.

Several minutes into the ride, uncomfortable silence took up residence inside the coach, and, just to say something, Andrew muttered, “Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet . I do love a well-done tragedy.”

“Yes, it is a tragedy,” Emmeline said in agreement.

“But also a great love story for the masses. Two young people fall in love, their families enemies. Life for them together seems untenable, which turns out to be true, and they both die by their own hand. They love in life and death together, forever.”

“It is a beautiful, tragic love story,” Lilly said.

Langford huffed. “It is a tragedy, and I reminded my lovely wife to bring a spare handkerchief.”

“I brought an extra one as well,” Emmeline remarked.

*

Emmeline couldn’t believe he’d invited her to Romeo and Juliet .

No one could sit through Romeo and Juliet without being passionately invested in the budding love between the main characters and emotionally battered by the end of the play.

He didn’t know it was one of the last theatre productions she and Aiden had attended.

Her emotions would be raw from the play and her memories, and she hoped she didn’t embarrass herself with a breakdown.

She hated how things had turned around for them.

Her heart broke anew every day, wanting what they’d shared back.

She was trying to forgive him. She even understood why he’d omitted the truth.

But she was warring with herself every day.

.. forgive him... don’t forgive him.

It was causing stomach issues, headaches, and fatigue.

Her mother was beside herself with worthy over her health.

It was a miracle she was attending the play this evening.

And wouldn’t it be easier if she just forgave him and they could go back to how they were at the house party?

In truth, she had accepted his invitation tonight in the hope of starting the forgiving process.

“We have arrived,” Andrew said. Once the door opened and the stairs lowered, Blackstone exited and leaned forward, his hand out. “Shall we?”

“Thank you.” With the contact of their hands, warmth traveled up her arm and spread to her heart.

There was never any question that they suited one another in the bedroom.

And in other areas. She freely admitted she’d loved him—and still did.

She hated herself because something deep inside her was holding her back, and no matter what she did, she could not stop it from sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.

She woke up each day with a plan to free her anger.

She would go outside, inhale deeply, and then exhale until she had no breath left inside.

Then, she would release all the anger, anguish, and resentment she had kept inside.

Let it exit her body, join the wind, and carry it from her far, far away, never to return.

It never worked. She visited her garden and exhaled, but nothing was expelled but empty hot air. Her heart remained shattered from Andrew’s lies, and her mind ached.

“Are you still with me?”

The sound of Andrew’s concerned voice caused gooseflesh on her bare arms and eased her heart. It was a warm night, so she only brought a shawl to keep the chill away. “Yes, I’m here. I appreciate your concern.”

“I’ll always be concerned for your wellbeing.”

“Thank you.” She knew he spoke the truth now.

The Theatre Royal, Covent Garden had burned to the ground in 1808 and was rebuilt a year later.

Emmeline was amazed at how quickly it had been managed.

The theatre was beautiful. They entered from Bow Street into a large stone entrance hall, and someone rudely called out to Andrew just as they approached the grand staircase.

“Your Grace.” The Countess of Hartford curtsied, and Emmeline swore her knees creaked.

“How lovely to see you back in London.” She tugged her daughter forward, who looked like she wished to be anywhere but there.

“You recall my daughter, Lady Beatrice, who is having her first Season. I believe you danced with her in Bath.”

Ever the gentleman, Andrew smiled and bowed over Lady Beatrice’s gloved hand. “Yes. How could I forget such a lovely young lady? I hope you’re enjoying your Season and have many suitors vying for your attention.”