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Surely it all meant something.

Her body aching in places she hadn’t known existed before experiencing Zeke’s lovemaking, she eased off the bed and made for the basin.

She splashed herself, lathered, rinsed and dried, then picked up her brush to work out the worst of the tangles caused by Zeke’s fingers as they’d sifted through her hair. I like it when you wear your hair down , he said in that husky voice, laden with desire.

Maybe desire alone comprised his feelings for her. Maybe she saw what she wanted to see, grasped at straws, and all for naught. Her promise to her brother still bound her as surely as if she’d already married Garrick.

The truth was, regardless of what Zeke professed last night about his ability to see Collin’s title restored, Collin was a bird-in-hand kind of fellow. Unless Zeke could pull off a miracle and accomplish what he promised immediately, Collin would never agree to void his agreement with Garrick.

But what if Zeke could convince Collin to trust him, and allow her to marry him instead? Would half of Zeke’s heart be enough for her? She would have said no a week ago. But now…

Perhaps she should allow Zeke to speak with Collin on the matter.

A short while later, she stood outside Collin’s door hoping he wouldn’t take one look at her beard-scraped cheeks and know how she’d spent the evening.

She rapped her knuckles on the door and a young chambermaid ducked her head out from an open chamber. “Excuse me, milady. Are you looking for the man who’s letting the room?”

Kitty smiled and nodded. “He’s my brother.”

The maid stepped into the hall and cleared her throat.

Kitty glanced uncertainly from the still closed door to the somber looking maid. “He was ill last night, and now he doesn’t answer. Would you kindly open the door for me?”

The chambermaid glanced toward the stairs. Kitty could practically read her thoughts. Go ask the owner of the establishment before opening the door and lose precious time from her many tasks, or trust the lady.

“Please,” Kitty said in an urgent voice. That old feeling of dread was stirring the hair at her nape.

“The thing is, milady, his lordship isn’t in.”

“He’s gone down to breakfast, you mean?” She asked, her pulse spiking.

“No, milady.” The maid pulled a skeleton key from her apron. She unlocked and opened the door. “He’s been out since yesterday afternoon, mum.”

Kitty did a quick sweep of the room. Collin was, indeed, absent. His travel case lay open, but it looked as if little, if anything, had been removed. Someone had turned his bed down, but it did not appear slept in.

Collin hadn’t spent the night here? But he had returned, had he not? The note she received from him eschewing dinner in favor of bed had been written in his hand.

Concerned and confounded, Kitty thanked the maid, and turned away. She headed straight for the dining hall. There she did a perfunctory check for her brother, knowing full well she wouldn’t find him.

Minutes later, she set out at a vigorous clip. Something was very wrong here. Ever since Collin saw that man, Peters, he’d acted off.

If she was being honest, Collin had seemed different since his return. He had a coldness about him. She chalked it up to his traumatic experiences.

The day was gloriously sunny, a perfect day for festival revelry, and crowds swarmed the streets. The sounds of laughter caused a sick feeling to invade her stomach. Collin had brought her here as a respite from her upcoming trial, as she saw it. If something happened to him because of her…

But he had to be all right. She’d only just gotten him back. She redoubled her efforts, pressing through the clogged streets, her destination clear.

Resolve filled her as she spied the tobacco shop, behind which she’d lost Mr Peters. No one paid her any mind as she strode for the alley entrance.

Standing at the edge of the shadowed, narrow passageway, Zeke’s warning against doing anything foolish flashed in her mind. He wouldn’t be pleased with her right now. But what else she could do?

She took a bracing breath, and stepped into dark shadow. To her great relief no foul odor of urine greeted her. No broken glass crunched beneath her booted feet. No bats swooped.

She inched forward, letting her eyes adjust, sliding her fingers over the bricked wall to her left.

At what she guessed marked the half way point of the alley, a door crashed open. Raucous male laughter poured from the unknown establishment, and a pair of men clothed in gentleman's garb stumbled out. They appeared too intent on holding each other upright to notice her.

They started for the opposite end of the alley.

Before she could second guess herself, she called to them. “Excuse me, gentlemen?”

Two heads jerked around to gaze in her direction.

“Mr. Hawthorn, do you see a lady there? Or have my losses brought on hallucinations?”

“I do indeed, Mr. Stone. I do indeed.” The man called Hawthorn raised his voice a little. “My dear lady, have you lost your way? There’s no friar down this road, I can assure you.”

The men’s hardy snickers caused them to wobble all the more.

Kitty strode toward them with more bravado than she felt.

Up close, the pair reeked of spirits and stale tobacco smoke. She barely resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose.

“Actually, I have a brother who’s lost.”

The men exchanged glances, then guffawed uproariously.

“A brother, she says, Mr. Stone.”

“So she did,” Mr. Stone agreed. He stepped toward Kitty, tripping over his own slow feet, and fell into the brick fascia to his right. Evidently opting to rest there, he plopped his head in his hand, and gave her a smug grin. “Sure it’s not a missing husband you’re after?”

She blinked. “Positive.”

Mr. Stone shrugged. “Why would you be looking here for your brother, miss?”

She decided to go with the truth as far as she knew it. “I saw Mr Peters come this way yesterday. He and my brother are friends.”

“Peters? Peters ain’t nobody’s friend. Mr Hawthorne, let’s be off.”

They turned and resumed their plodding egress.

“No, wait, please. You know Mr Peters? Have you seen him? Perhaps you could point me in his direction.”

One of the men gestured loosely behind him, toward the closed door.

Kitty approached the heavy looking wooden door, noting the chipped green paint and unpolished brass door handle. She considered for the briefest moment heading back to the inn. Then she thought of Collin, and the hard looking Mr Peters.

Before she could second-guess herself, she lifted her hand and rapped.

No one answered.

She pressed her ear to the door and thought she could hear the din of male voices coming from within. One way to find out. She squared her shoulders and grasped the knob. It stuck slightly, then turned in her hand.

The same awful smell of cigars and whiskey she detected on Hawthorne and Stone greeted her the moment the door opened. Was this a gentlemen’s club?

She stepped into a narrow, dark passageway, allowing the creaking door to nearly close behind her. Tiptoeing on her boots, she headed toward the light spilling in from a room branching off a few feet down.

She could make out distinct male voices now, and paused while still safely in the shadows to listen for Collin’s.

“I’ll stay.”

“Bloody bugger. He’s bluffing again.”

“Better hope you’re right if you’re going to call. He cleaned you out but good last time.”

Poker, then. She’d wandered into a den. A gaming hell, she’d heard them called. She spun around and hastened toward the exit. Silly little fool. Collin didn’t gamble.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the door. She swung the door open and stepped one foot into the alley.

“Argh!” she choked, as a heavily muscled arm hooked around her neck and yanked her inside. She wanted to protest but couldn’t speak. The brute had cut off her air supply.

She struggled with all her might, both of her hands tearing at the man’s immovable arm.

He dragged her down the hall and into the light.

“Found this little package wandering in from the alley,” her abductor announced in a gravelly voice.

A general rumble of male voices rippled through the room.

A tall man whose features she could not make out due to the brightly lit oil lamp hanging behind him approached. “I think she’s trying to speak, Brawn. Loosen your hold a bit.”

Brawn relaxed his grip enough she could stand on her own two feet and draw a full breath.

“I made a wrong turn, sir,” she said when she could speak. “Now kindly release me so I may go on my way.”

The tall man before her grabbed her chin, and jerked her face up to the light.

Up close, she recognized the man.“Mr Peters, you might recall we met two nights ago.”

The room erupted with raucous laughter.

“Not exactly your type, sir,” a man called.

Mr Peters rocked back out of her view. “Release the lady, Brawn.”

Mr Peters obviously held sway here, as she was abruptly freed.

“Thank you. I seem to have taken a wrong turn and—m”

“When did we meet?” Peters demanded

She took a moment to glance at her immediate surroundings.

Dark and high ceilinged, the room looked to be a converted warehouse of sorts.

Four round baize-covered tables made up the furnishings.

Four to five men sat at each. Oil lamps haphazardly attached to exposed rafters hung over the tables.

Thick bands of cigar smoke coiled in the harsh lights.

The men all stared at her with varying degrees of pique or curiosity. None of them were her brother. Of course they weren’t. She was the worst kind of fool.

“We both happened to be staying at the same inn, two days ago,” she finally answered.

The man barked out a laugh of understanding. “You’re Hastings’ sister. The one he didn’t want me to see.”

Kitty sidled backwards towards the passageway. “I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed your games, gentlemen. As it turns out, Collin and I got separated. He’ll surely be searching the streets for me, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“Separated, eh? Do y’hear, men? Hastings and his darling sister got separated,” Peters announced to the room.

“He’s searching for her, all right. Nose deep in the corner yonder,” someone volunteered.

Raucous laughter ensued.

Another man said, “Enough of this. I didn’t come here to chat.”

Several men apparently agreed, and voiced their assent.

Peters raised a hand, shushing the growing discontent. “Keep an eye on things, Brawn,” he muttered to the man who’d grabbed her, and and gestured for Kitty to follow him.

She wanted very much to leave. But curiosity bade her trail the man to an unlit corner of the large room.

In horror she noted a man huddling on the floor. Dark haired, and lying on his side, his back to the wall, he emitted a small snore.

She peered down at the man. “Mr Peters why are you—” She gasped. “Collin! What have you done with him?” She crouched beside her brother and gave his shoulder a firm shake.

He did not open his eyes.

“He’s passed out, thanks to his own overindulgence. I’d be most obliged if you’d get the pisser out of here,” Peters replied.

“I’ll be more than happy to,” she said, attempting to wake Collin, to no avail.

What was she to do now?

“There’s just a small matter of the debt owed me.” Peters rocked back on his heels.

She straightened. “Debt?”

“He lost deep, as per usual, but I’m sure you’re no stranger to that.”

“Deep?” she echoed again.

“He’s bet the farm, so to speak. You’d think he’d have learned after last time when he had to quit the country.

” Peters’ face split in a broad grin. “You should have seen his face when he came to me two nights past, all apologetic and humble-like, telling me how he’d be coming into money soon, and how he’d pay off his debt.

"When I told him it’d been settled years ago by Lord Hastings, his grandfather, I thought his eyes would pop right out of his head.” Peters cackled. “You fancies. You slay me.”

“I have no notion of what you're talking about, sir. My brother was pronounced dead until recently. His ship was lost at sea.”

“That’s as may be, milady. I can’t rightly say.

I can only tell you, he fled like a scared girl when it came time to pay his debts last time because he didn’t have the blunt.

Meanwhile, his lordship cleared away his debts as always.

Never bothered to tell his heir, though.

I suppose he got tired of bleeding money.

” Peters stared down at Collin, hands splayed on his hips.

He sighed and disappeared, returning a moment later with a large tankard in hand.

“Never did trust a man what couldn’t hold his liquor.” He dashed the contents into Collin’s face.

A sputtering Collin bolted upright, then brought a hand to his temple. His eyes were puffy slits of red. “What’s that, eh? Kitty, love, is that you?”

“And here, Lady Hastings, is his marker,” Peters thrust a small sheet of paper into her hands.

Kitty glared at her brother, then read the note. Her eyes went wide. “This can’t be.”

“Oh, but it can, Lady Hastings,” Peters said. He pointed to a scribble on the bottom of the sheet. “Witness your brother’s signature.”