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Two weeks later, Drew wandered down an aisle in the House of Millard, a warehouse in Cheapside, which sold Bengal muslins and flannels. Caro hung onto his arm. Despite the obscurity of their meeting place, she wore a fine gauze veil, perhaps to hide the bruises.

Kilbride had banned her from consorting with her rakehell brother. But when Caro asked to see him, Drew planned clandestine ways to meet her.

As the two illegitimate children, both excluded and ill-treated in their childhood, they had become each other’s sanctuary.

When she reached the age of sixteen, the Marquis sold Caro to the highest bidder on the marriage market, disposing of his second embarrassment. She was ostracised like Drew. None of their family acknowledged her in public or private, and she had no friends because Kilbride forbade her to have any contact with others.

She was in the room the night he hit Peter. So was their mother and the Marquis. He hated that they must have seen how much his visit dislodged his self-control, or rather his self-worth.

Now he had no family, wife or friends; none of his friends had contacted him.

Pain tightened around his chest, holding firm, like an invisible metal band. This pain had haunted him ever since that night.

‘I have found a house for you,’ he said to Caro.

‘I cannot leave him, Drew.’

Drew sucked in a breath, trying to dispel the tension in his chest. ‘If you do not leave, he will kill you eventually. The place I have found is a small cottage in Maidstone, not far from London, so I may visit frequently. I will employ a woman to manage it, cook and clean and such.’

‘What if he finds me?’

‘Why should he? He has no reason to go to Maidstone and you may change your name.’

They stopped talking as two women walked past them.

‘You will not be able to take much with you, though?—’

‘I cannot leave.’

He stopped and faced her. ‘If you do not then I will challenge Kilbride to a duel and either I will be shot dead or go to prison for shooting him. Then where will we be?’

She lowered her head.

She was a tiny, slender woman, fragile but not weak. He had always admired her bravery. She never complained, merely coped. But they had learned stamina and endurance as children.

His palm rested on her shoulder. ‘Will you give me a date?’

She lifted her head. ‘I shall send word when I can.’

He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

‘And you? I have not even asked how you are. How is your wife?’

‘Miserable.’ A roguish grin caught at his lips, though it was not amusing.

‘ You are not amusing, Lord Framlington.’ No. I am human wreckage and I must either laugh or… kill myself.

He shrugged. ‘The poor girl married me, and I am a bitter, twisted bastard. As you know.’

Her arms lifted and she hugged him briefly. ‘You are not. Do not spoil what you have.’

‘Too late, I am afraid. You were at the Caldecotts’ so you saw.’

‘She is nice, Drew, and kind?—’

‘Which is exactly why I will never fit with her.’

‘If you do not intend to try, you should not have married her.’

‘I know that now. But the deed is done, she has paid my debts and she will find happiness in some other way.’

‘You will leave her?’ She sounded horrified.

He sighed. He had thought about it, but he could not do it, not yet. He needed more time. More time to set her in his memory and keep her there. He forced a smile, giving Caro no answer.

‘Do not leave her. She is good for you.’

‘No. Mary is bad for me, and I am very bad for her. She makes me lose control.’ She makes me face who I am, and I hate myself because I care what she thinks.

‘Have you apologised to Peter?’

‘I have not seen Peter.’

‘Drew, do not destroy your life.’ Her fingers touched the fading bruises around his cheek and eye. ‘Bruises heal. Even the inner ones.’

‘You had better go, Caro. You are wasting time worrying over me, save your concern for yourself. Contact me when you know you will have time to get away, and promise me you will not renege.’

‘I promise,’ she said quietly, committing herself. He had waited years to hear her agree to flee that monster.

She pressed a kiss on his cheek, through the layer of gauze, then left him.

Drew turned in the opposite direction and saw the two women in a far aisle. One was touching the fabrics, the other had been looking their way.

There was something familiar about her, but she too was wearing a fashionable veil on her bonnet, a sweep of white that covered the upper part of her face, and her eyes.

Even if they knew him, though, Caro’s black veil had covered her whole face, tucking beneath her chin, and the fabric was so heavy he doubted they could have recognised her.