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The recital was well attended, with a duke’s heir, an earl, a government minister, and a senior bishop among the guests. Wine flowed, along with delicacies from the kitchen, and various musical pieces were rightly applauded.

The musicians took a break, and the guests mingled, chatted, and laughed, much like at any soiree—or so Constance imagined.

She gave in to requests and sat down at the pianoforte to sing.

She had just finished a rather naughty little song in French—greeted with much laughter and appreciation—when Solomon strolled into the room with Dragan Tizsa and another gentleman she recognized as Lady Grizelda’s youngest brother.

He had been present that first night she had met Solomon… And was that not Sir Nicholas Swan?

As usual, neither her guests nor the women made any unseemly fuss.

But Constance had to force her legs to move, to stand and walk across the room to greet them.

Her face burned. What on earth were they doing here?

In her territory? Why had Solomon brought them?

She was appalled to think of Dragan playing Griz false in this way—which was laughable, perhaps, but Constance’s disappointment was intense.

She had grown stupidly romantic since Solomon…

Her stomach jolted. Was she being stupidly romantic? To imagine fidelity in Solomon? Would any man feel obliged to be faithful, whatever his vows, to a—

“Constance,” Solomon said, taking her hand and kissing it and then her cheek. “I hope you don’t mind our uninvited arrival. I brought some friends to see what you do here.”

Constance blinked, the inevitable joke rising to her lips before she saw the deeper meaning in his eyes. Her flippant words died unspoken and she smiled brightly, offering her hand to each of the newcomers in turn.

“I confess I am somewhat surprised to see you gentlemen here,” she managed. “Welcome as you are.”

“They were not fully aware of the charitable nature of your establishment,” Solomon said. “I am trying to persuade them to donate.”

“Our coffers are always open,” Constance said weakly, grasping with some relief that these particular gentlemen were not here for the favors of her girls.

“So how does this work, then?” Sir Nicholas asked her.

They stayed for barely an hour, but by the time they left, she had a considerable amount of money to lock away in the desk of her private sitting room.

“I shall have to keep this separate,” she said worriedly. “I have never had a charitable fund, as such. Why did you do this, Solomon?”

“I thought it would help blur the lines. I know your perceived lack of respectability has begun to hurt you, and I think that is my fault. So I feel obliged to do something about it. It does not change the nature of the place. Your clients will not now know necessarily who is here for the girls and who for the charity and the conversation. The world might be discreetly aware of what goes on here, but they will also know it is a charity that you and everyone here is contributing to.”

“There will be no favors in return for charity,” Constance said firmly.

“Of course not.” He took her hand. “Are you pleased? Should I have asked you first?”

“Perhaps… No. No, I think it is good. I-I’ve never wanted to be worthy of anyone before.”

“Neither have I,” Solomon said. “Will you marry me, Constance?”

“You know I will.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Johnny came to see me today. I think he is David, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know me. He remembers nothing before recovering from an illness in a Marseilles hospital ten years ago. He’s gone back to sea.”

There was nothing she could say to make that better. So she simply put her arms around him and held him.

“I quarreled with him,” Solomon blurted. “The last time I saw him. I can’t even remember why now. I just remember being angry. And David being angry too as we stomped off in different directions.”

“Siblings quarrel,” she whispered. “It mattered to neither of you. It has no bearing on whatever happened to him, except that it did not happen to you too.”

Part of him wished it had happened to him too. She could feel that among the guilt as his arms tightened. He would learn to live with it again, in time, with her help.

“Will he come back?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I think he will come back.”

They embraced in silence for a long moment.

His rough cheek caressed hers. “Constance? May I stay?”

Her heart bumped. “Always,” she said simply, and led him through to her bedchamber.

It began as comfort, warm and welcome and intimate.

But desire had always been there between them and it flared all too quickly, taking Constance by surprise.

But then, everything took her by surprise that night, from his gentleness and tender worship, to the wild passion he ignited in her.

His own, he kept at bay as though she were a virgin, teaching her pleasure until she leaned to please him more and more.

And by then it was too late to stop, and she never wanted to again. Ever.

This was joy.

In wonder, she lay in his arms as their breathing gradually came back to normal. She realized he was smiling, stretching out like a large, satisfied cat.

“What are you so pleased about?” she asked, although she knew perfectly well.

“Because now you will have to marry me,” he said. And then they were both laughing because there truly was nothing they could not overcome together.