"What makes you think I have news?"

Thalia lifted a knowing brow.

"Oh, pooh, there's no hiding anything from you. You can always read me like a book."

"Good thing the story is always so entertaining. Well, out with it."

Jane straightened the lines of her skirt. "Maybe we should wait for the tea to arrive first?"

"No, now. It's not bad news, I trust?"

"No, quite the opposite. At least I a.s.sume you'll feel that way once you hear."

"You have my complete attention." Thalia laced her fingers together in her lap and waited for Jane to begin.

"Well, apparently there was quite a row at Gentleman Jackson's boxing salon yesterday afternoon. The whole town is abuzz. Jeremy filled me in on the details over breakfast this morning. Or at least everything he heard last night at his club."

Jeremy was Jane's husband. He was one of those men who claimed to disdain gossip but who always knew all the latest on-dits.

Thalia frowned. "Oh? And why would I be interested in a fight at Jackson's boxing salon?"

Jane leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "Because it involved Lord Kemp."

Thalia stiffened. "Did it?"

"Don't fly up in the boughs. I know you hate even hearing his name mentioned and with good reason, but you're going to like this. He was challenged to a bare-knuckles match, then literally beaten senseless."

"What!"

Gordon had always taken great pride in his pugilistic skills, boasting of his prowess on many occasions. He cowed other men and he liked it. Just as he'd once cowed her.

"Indeed. The fight was a brutal affair and despite Lord Kemp getting in a few good blows, he lost badly. They say the other man is nearly as good as Mr. Jackson himself. He beat Kemp right down to the ground, then spat on him when he walked away."

Thalia stared, unable to say a word.

"Jeremy told me that Kemp had to be carried home insensible," Jane continued. "Reports from the doctor say he suffered three broken ribs, a fractured jaw, a loose tooth and two black eyes. Oh, and a dreadful headache, although that seems to be improving, more's the pity. About time that dreadful bounder got his comeuppance."

Some man had beaten Gordon? Beaten him so badly he'd been unable to walk out on his own?

An odd tremor rose in her stomach. "Jane, what is the name of the man who fought him?"

"Why? Are you thinking of sending him a thank-you note?"

"His name?" she repeated.

"It's Byron. Lord Leopold Byron." Jane studied her for a long moment, then c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "You have the most peculiar look on your face."

"Do I?"

"Why do I get the feeling there's something you haven't told me?"

Thalia sighed. "I meant to, but then I didn't because it's over."

"What is over?"

"The affair I had last winter."

"You had an affair?" Jane's eyes turned round.

Thalia nodded. "Yes. With Lord Leopold Byron."

Thalia sat staring out the window of her study for a long while after Jane left.

She'd told Jane about Leo, but not everything. Even now it was hard to speak of him. His absence was a painful void in her life, a hollow emptiness that nothing and no one else could fill. The weeks they'd spent together seemed like a happy dream, brief brilliant moments that outshone all the rest.

He'd fought Gordon for her-and won.

Part of her was grateful.

Another part was afraid.

He shouldn't have done it, whatever the outcome.

Gordon would not soon forget.

She wished she could run to Leo, wrap him in her arms and tell him how much she loved him. How much she missed him. Warn him to be careful and not to fight any more battles on her behalf.

Maybe she should write him a letter?

But no, it would only open up the barely healed-over wounds again. If there was any hope of letting him move on, of convincing him to let her go once and for all, then she needed to stay away, even if it killed her.

Maybe she should leave, as she'd once threatened she might. Sell the town house and go deep into the countryside.

Derbyshire.

Or even Wales.

Somewhere distant. Somewhere he wouldn't think to look.

If she really wanted to separate them, she could always go to the Continent. But the thought of being that far away from him, of not even being in the same country any longer-why the very idea had the power to drive her to her knees, to rob her of what little strength she had left.

Simply put, she feared such a permanent parting would destroy her.

No, she would say nothing. Leo had proved his mettle against Gordon. He was a grown man, who was clearly more than capable of looking after himself.

She would not worry.

She would let him live his life. And for his sake, she would live hers-alone.

"Oh, don't say you won't join us, Byron," said one of his friends nearly two weeks later. "Pritchett's is the best new gaming club in London. The play is unparalleled and the women just as sweet. You've got to come. The night won't be the same without you."

The rest of his five friends all made noises of agreement and urged him to join them on their continued revels. Lawrence was not among them, having gone off with a cadre of his legal a.s.sociates who had wanted an evening of their own out on the town.

Leo knew he ought to carry on making merry with his cronies, but it was late and he'd had enough of pretending to enjoy himself for yet another night. He had no appet.i.te for gambling and even less interest in fending off the overly perfumed advances of the club's doxies who offered their bodies for sale-no matter how "sweet" they might appear.

There was only one woman he desired and she was out of his reach.

Inwardly, he scowled.

Outwardly, he forced a smile. "Sounds tempting, lads," he lied, "but I shall have to postpone that particular pleasure for another time. Right now, I'm off for home."

"Home? Surely not?" another one of the group complained. "It's barely one o'clock. The best part of the night is just beginning."

"True. But unfortunately I am promised quite early tomorrow at a breakfast fete with my mother and sister. I don't fancy showing up bleary-eyed and nursing an aching head from too little sleep and too much drink. No, you fellows have fun and I'll join you another time."

They made a couple more halfhearted attempts to change his mind, then finally gave up, waving him off down the street to locate a hackney. He didn't have his carriage. He'd ridden to dinner earlier with three of his friends; then they'd all continued on to a party afterward.

They were right, though. He had turned into a sad dullard of late. Rather than carry on with his usual routine, all he really wanted to do was sit and wallow in his misery. Thalia had told him he would get over her. That he would forget her and find another woman to love.

But she was wrong.

Other women no longer interested him.

As for forgetting, he could as soon forget to breathe as he could ever rid himself of her memory.

He swallowed the bitter thought and kept walking, letting a pa.s.sing hackney drive by. He would catch the next one. Or the one after that.

Despite the late hour, the streets still teemed with people, bursts of talk and laughter filling the air while the scents of summer drifted lazily past.

He was crossing from one street to another, an alley immediately to his left, when a pair of men emerged suddenly out of the darkness and blocked his way. He moved to go around them, but they prevented him again, crowding him deeper into the mouth of the alley.

They were big, rough-looking sorts. The kind more generally suited to the wharves than here farther in the heart of the city.

"If it's money you're after, I'm afraid I only have a couple of pounds," he said. "I'm not in the mood for a fight, so it's yours if you'll go on your way."

Rather than reply, they hurried forward and seized his arms, then dragged him farther into the alley-or tried to at least.

He elbowed the first and shook the second off with a kick to the shin, freeing himself. But when he turned to escape, he found the way blocked by two more toughs, each of them larger than the last. A glance behind him revealed two more who strolled up from the alley itself.

He fisted his hands, realizing he was surrounded. "Why do I get the feeling this is no ordinary robbery?"

Before he could let out a shout in hopes of attracting attention from helpful pa.s.sersby, they were on him, shoving him forcefully into the depths of the alley before unleashing a storm of fists.

He did his best to defend himself, punching and kicking any of them he could reach. He got in some good hits, sending one of them crashing down onto the rough cobbles. But there were too many to battle all at once and the blows rained down like hammers.

Pain exploded in his head and face, chest and back and stomach. He fell to the ground, curling into a tight ball to protect whatever he could. Blood dripped down his face, pooled in his mouth, his ears ringing. Hazily, he wondered if he was going to die.

Then finally, after what seemed forever, the beating stopped. He thought they would leave.

Instead, one of them leaned down, his mouth near Leo's ear. "Lord Kemp sends his regards."

He heard their laughter as they walked from the alley. Then he heard nothing more at all.

Chapter 33.

Thalia was eating breakfast in a sunny spot in the dining room three days later, enjoying a dish of newly picked strawberries and fresh cream, when a quiet knock came at the door.

It was Fletcher.

"Pardon the interruption, milady, but you have a caller."

Her brows arched. "At this hour?"

It was eight o'clock, far too early for any ordinary visit. She couldn't imagine anyone who would come to the house at this time of day unless . . .

She laid down her fork, her pulse suddenly racing. "It isn't Lord Leopold, is it?"

A faintly peculiar look came into Fletcher's eyes. "No, ma'am. It is his brother, Lord Lawrence Byron."

Lord Lawrence? Why would he of all people want to see her?

She puzzled briefly, then gave a nod. "Show him in, please."

Even though she had met Lord Lawrence before, seeing him came as something of a shock when he walked into the room. He looked so precisely like Leo that for a second she found herself wondering if it was Leo after all. But on closer inspection, she saw the subtle difference between them again, the slight variation in the coloring of his and his brother's eyes.

He bowed, then straightened to the same impressive height as his twin. "Lady Thalia, good morning. My pardon for intruding upon you at such an early hour."

"That is quite all right. Fletcher, another place setting, if you would be so good. Please, sit and take some breakfast, Lord Lawrence."

"No, I couldn't."

"Tea, then, at least."

He inclined his head. "All right. If you insist."

Lawrence eased into the chair on her left while Fletcher laid fresh china.

The servant withdrew.