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The man chuckled as he took back his hat and gloves from my still silent butler. “You’re a dark horse, Lady Briar, and no mistake. I’ll see you at the next board meeting.”

The door clicked shut and he was gone.

I lowered myself onto the bottom step of the staircase and looked, almost in wonder, at the notebook in my right hand. The notebook; his notebook. The evidence that Peregrine was perhaps just the man he had tried to become.

Markham

Though I knocked on the door with a certain amount of boldness, I didn’t actually think it would open.

She had wide, front facing windows, after all. It wasn’t like she couldn’t see it was me.

“You,” Lilah said flatly, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow as her footman backed away. “You’ve got a nerve.”

“I don’t know, I think if we’re talking about who’s got the biggest nerve, I’d say it was you,” I said in a level tone. “I saw the letter.”

For a moment, Lilah just stared at me. Then she blinked, her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. She brought her hands together before her, twisting her fingers as she always did when she was caught out. Or regretted something. Or felt like she was under attack.

Blast. I hadn’t meant to be so forward.

“I can come back later,” I said, taking a step back. Perhaps that would be best for me, anyway. Get my thoughts in order.

Georgiana would put me up for one more night, I was almost certain.

“No, come on in,” said Lilah quietly. She turned on her heels and wandered back into her hallway.

I hesitated, just for a moment.

Perhaps this a bad idea. I was still full of rage, after all, that Lilah had intervened in what had been the best opportunity I’d ever had for happiness.

But I couldn’t blame her. Not after what Briar had found in the financial records of her own ledgers.

How had I been so stupid?

I had come all this way. And Lilah did owe me an apology, of sorts.

Nothing like the one I owed her.

Not for the first time, I cursed the fact I’d accidentally left my notebook in Briar’s townhouse. I needed it. Hours had been spent pouring my ideas in that notebook, desperately trying to get the wording exactly right.

And now, when I needed it the most, it was out of reach. Just as out of reach as the woman who know owned it.

If she hadn’t already burned it.

“Pack up my belongings and send it to me, or dump it, I don’t care. Burn it, like you’re burning this down before even trying to understand. It may surprise you, Briar, but you’ve got this wrong. Big time. And the moment I walk out that door, it’ll be too late to fix.”

I sighed, stepped into Lilah’s townhouse, and shut the door behind me. “I hope I'm not disturbing.”

“You’re always disturbing,” shot back my friend’s voice from further down the hall. “But I'm used to it.”

I snorted, despite myself, and wandered into the drawing room.

It was impressive. Lilah had updated the décor since I’d last been here. There was a marble and ivory chess board near the window I hadn’t seen before. At the table was what looked like the remnants of a poker night. Three players.

My stomach lurched. The Gambling Dukes…minus me.

“Missed you at poker night,” Lilah said softly, confirming my suspicions as she leaned against a bookcase. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

I shrugged. “Neither did I.”

We stood in silence, the awkwardness flowing between us.

How had it got this bad? So awkward that I couldn’t even talk to my own sister-in-law?

Lilah was always the confident one. Some thought her prettier than Georgiana. I couldn’t really tell. They were my friends, and they had wardrobes to rival any royal stepping onto a ballroom.

And she had indeed been confident to write to Briar directly. I wouldn’t have thought Lilah had it in her.

But she did. And now she’d ruined whatever it was I could have had with Briar.

Not that I could blame her for that. Not entirely.

“I wish you hadn’t sent that letter,” I said quietly.

I hadn’t intended to be so blunt, but then there was no getting around it.

Lilah flushed. “I know.”

“There were a lot of things in there that hurt, you know.”

“I didn’t actually think you’d read it,” my friend admitted, cheeks burning but her gaze steady as it met mine. “But I meant what I said. You’re bad news, Markham. And I didn’t think someone like Lady Briar Weatherford deserved to have the wool pulled over her eyes.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my hands clenching into fists. Slowly, I unclenched them. “I'm not the villain you think I am.”

“Stealing doesn’t make you a saint,” Lilah pointed out.

I swallowed. “I never stole from you, or the club.”

“Oh Markham, give it a rest,” my friend said with a heavy sigh. “You think I'm going to believe that, with all the evidence we have? All the arbitration, the agreement your lawyer?—”

“I just meant, it never actually left the Gambling Dukes,” I said stiffly. “If you check the safe in your study, you’ll find it there. Honest.”

“Honest?” Lilah said, eyebrow raised.

But obviously she couldn’t help herself. Her curiosity was too high.

Sighing heavily, she stepped past me to the painting of three hunting dogs which she’d set up over her safe. We all knew the combination. It was a safe primarily for the Gambling Dukes, after all.

From here, I could see the look of astonishment.

“Well I’ll be blowed,” Lilah breathed. “It’s all here. Markham, I didn’t even think to—why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

“It was never about the money, it was about—I don’t know, the game? The risk?” I sighed heavily as I stepped closer. “I know that doesn’t change the betrayal. But I was never a thief, Lilah. That’s not who I am.”

My friend turned to give me an appraising look. It was cold, at first, but it warmed as I steadily held her gaze.

This was it. The moment I had thought would never come. Decision time.

Lilah’s sway with our friends was strong—stronger than Georgiana’s, though neither of my friends would probably admit it.

If she was able to forgive me, to see past the initial hurt, to see the man I truly was, was trying to become…then perhaps…

“You’re my friend,” said Lilah flatly.

I tried to grin as I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“And my brother-in-law.”

“I still think about her.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

“I’ve never disagreed with you there.”

“And I’ve destroyed things with Lady Briar Weatherford for you, haven’t I?”

I winced, but there was no point in attempting to hide the truth. She’d know, soon enough. “I love her, Lilah.”

“Oh, disgusting,” my friend said with a dry laugh as she rose from her chair. “I'm not sure I’ve ever heard you actually express emotions, Markham. What happened to you?”

Laughing wryly, I shook my head. “You know, I don’t know. Got a conscience? Met a woman who makes me want to find one?”

“Disgusting,” said Lilah, a slow smile creeping over her lips. “Fine, so, I sent her a letter that painted you in a pretty shocking light. But you’ve spent what, two, three months with her? You’ve bedded her, obviously.”

There was nothing more cringeworthy than your sister-in-law saying that. Still, I couldn’t lie. “Obviously.”

“And you love her. I don’t see the problem here,” Lilah said with a shrug.

“Go see her, tell her that my letter was nonsense—I’ll even meet with her, if you like.

Confusion sorted, problem solved. Right?

” She must have seen my hesitation for my friend narrowed her eyes and jabbed me, hard, in the chest. “What did you do?”

I flinched. Not that her jab hurt, but she was right. I had done something, and it was something I should have explained from the very start.

“I made another mistake,” I said heavily, regret pouring through my chest.

Lilah’s frown deepened. “And when you say made another mistake, you mean?—”

“I might have moved some money about,” I said weakly. “Money which wasn’t…exactly…mine.”

The disappointment in my friend’s face was almost worse than Briar’s—but not quite. “You little?—”

“I know I'm your idiotic friend, but can we just go ahead with the assumption that I'm a man who makes terrible mistakes but always wants to rectify them?” I grinned helplessly at Lilah. “The question is, do you think I can salvage this?”

Lilah shook her head slowly, and my heart sank as she spoke. “Honestly, Markham? I don’t know. This time, I really don’t know.”