Even if it meant from himself.

“I…” Morgan wiped a hand down his face. “I need help.”

Rowles studied his friend. “Are you in trouble?”

“Yes, but not in the way you’re likely imagining.” Morgan’s words were tight. “I need help because my little sister could be the death of me, and I’ve exhausted all options but one, which brings me to you.”

Rowles leaned forward, his forehead wrinkling in confusion and concern. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean my sister will no longer take my word that you are not sick, dying, or excessively angry with her. I’ve tried all I know, and this is the final option I can think of. I hate to ask this of you, but I am at a loss for any other option.”

Rowles nodded. “I’ll help however I may, but you’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“I’m talking in circles, I know. I apologize.” Morgan sighed. “Would you, perhaps, mind making an appearance at some social event to prove to my sister you haven’t given up the ghost and are not harboring some grudge against her?” Morgan closed his eyes in defeat.

Rowles released the breath he’d been holding. So…she wasn’t spoken for. Relief pumped through him only to be deflated by understanding that he was being asked to play a part in pushing her away.

Further. Pushing her further away.

“I understand. She’s a persistent sort,” Rowles remarked, forcing a level tone while his heart reacted to the words with a mix of approval of her persistence, hope that she indeed cared—even a little—and desperation to see her, even if it meant he had to push her away.

“That, my friend, is an understatement.” Morgan’s voice was clipped, irritation with his sister clear in his tone.

Rowles’s lips tipped upward with a ghost of merriment. “I’ll do what you ask.”

Morgan leaned back in the chair, his shoulders sagging in what appeared to be acute relief. “I apologize for troubling you, but I truly have run out of options.”

“It is of no consequence,” Rowles said bravely. Deep within, he knew the cost, but it was outweighed by the salve of seeing her.

“We’re attending Almack’s this evening,” Morgan informed him.

“Ah, watered-down lemonade and dandies. Lovely,” Rowles said with a hint of sarcasm.

“And the most eligible place to be to court young ladies, so young ladies attend in droves—if allowed a voucher.”

“Which I’m sure you’ve procured for your sister.” Rowles nodded.

“Indeed. She’ll be presented to Lady Jersey tonight.”

“She’ll approve of her, I’m sure.”

“I wish I could convey that certainty to Joan.” Morgan’s tone was weary. “She’s a little flummoxed.”