No help for it. Elise sighed and started down the stairs. She hated vulnerability in any form. Tonight, Harry had exposed her weakness for him in two seconds flat. This crazy infatuation of theirs was doomed. She should never have agreed to give it a try.

Harry needed a wife—a woman to heal the wound inside him and provide siblings for Sammy. How could she mend that breach when she was broken herself?

Chapter 23

Anders Gilmont opened the London society pages. Photographs of a recent Jumpers Ball and Steeplechase at Torwoodlee Castle featured heavily in the mix. His mouth tightened.

Once he had mingled in such elite circles, escorting his wife from one charity event to the next. Gone were the days when he had enjoyed the clink of champagne glasses, the soft, cultured accents of the upper crust, and the sparkle of jewels and shimmering gowns.

Jealousy snapped its snarling teeth at what he had lost.

Scrolling through the pictures, Gilmont identified several former acquaintances. The Marquess of Roxbury—the tall, dignified gentleman stood beside his much shorter wife and their progeny, three pretty women with . . .

Gilmont’s finger moved the controls, hesitated, then returned to the previous photo. To the right of Lord and Lady Roxbury stood their tall, red-haired daughter. His eyes narrowed on the caption below: Lady Elise Henderson.

A vein ticked beside his left eye, and his blood temperature went from simmer to boil.

The Marquess of Roxbury’s beautiful daughter was none other than his nemesis, Agent Elise Taylor.

Lady Elise hadn’t used that name in court two years ago during his trial and sentencing. No wonder he had struggled to locate her. Neither of her monikers had a social media presence.

He threw back his head and laughed at his luck. Good things did indeed come to those who waited. And he had waited more than a year, living in the shadows after his escape from HM Prison Brixton.

Picking up his mobile, he called Lauren, his de facto secretary.

“Hiya, Professor.”

“Book me on the next available flight to Edinburgh. I’ll text you what I need when I reach the airport.”

Gilmont’s eyes slid back to Agent Taylor’s picture. Now that he knew where to look, he had no intention of passing this job off to Danny. Altering his plans for Agent Taylor was nothing compared to the final outcome. He would take great pleasure dirtying his hands in this particular instance. He laughed again as an overwhelming sense of satisfaction filled him.

A dozen hours later, Gilmont landed in Edinburgh. He trailed after the disembarking passengers and skimmed through the string of texts he had received while in flight. Automatic doors slid wide to the terminal, and he followed the signs to the lavatory near the main exit.