And then one morning after he had finally fallen asleep, he had awoken to find her gone with not even a note to explain where.

He had never seen her alive again.

Months later, her blasted parents came apologizing.

To him.

He had made Rachel’s life one of perdition, causing her so much pain that she ran away in the middle of winter. When she came down with a fever in the cottage of her old nurse, she hadn’t even sent word to him.

He could have helped.

He had the resources that might have saved her.

But she had died rather than contact him. He had snuffed out a young and innocent life. And her parents had apologized to him about it. Everton threw his head against the brick wall behind him and bit down on his forefinger.

They’d apologized because he was a baron and Rachel hadn’t provided him with an heir.

Everton closed his eyes. He needed something to count. He pulled his hand out of his mouth and rubbed his temples until he no longer felt lightheaded. He opened his eyes and focused again on the carriages. Starting over, he counted sixteen of them.

He pushed off the brick wall and started walking in the direction of his carriage. Mrs. Cuthbert should have known better. She had seen him at his worst. Did she want him to return to that? The blithering idiot stuck in the drink and unable to leave his house? If she turned into another one of those prattling women who expected him to marry, he didn’t know what he would do.

Move to Scotland.

A footman scurried to assist him. He must have been watching the whole time, wondering at what point he should call for help. “Send for my carriage,” Everton growled. He would come back for his hat later. Or not at all—he had plenty of other hats at home. Right now he needed something to keep his mind off Mrs. Cuthbert’s suggestion. He could go home and be alone with an untouched brandy cup. But his hands still shook, and he didn’t trust himself not to drink it. He needed to go somewhere else, somewhere he could be distracted. Or even better, somewhere he could distract someone, but not someone quiet and submissive like Lady Emily or Rachel. Not someone who made him feel like half a man. He needed to be near someone who knew exactly what kind of a cad he was.

It was time to pay Miss Barton a second visit.

Chapter 7

With no contract in place for when Lord Bryant would come, she had spent the last three days on edge, constantly looking for a carriage outside. It wasn’t that she was looking forward to his visit so much as she wished she had some way of knowing when it would come. At least then she could relax while she worked.

Thanks to him, though, she had finally been able to work. The first day after his visit, she had a decent number of men come to her office, but most of them had visited before. All of them eventually got around to asking if the rumors of her and Lord Bryant were true.