“When his wife died tragically in a boating mishap,” she continued, “I was all of twenty-one, still had my looks. And he knew I was fertile. I could provide him with the heir his wife had failed to. While it does not speak well of me, I did still love him and thought my sacrifices had earned me the right to be at his side, and to finally have access to everything—his household, his money, respectability. So I moved off Mistress Row—our informal name for the area because quite a few of the town houses on the street served as lodgings for the mistresses of lords—to a grand residence in Mayfair. And now I live every day with the memory of the weaknesses of my youth.”

“I’m not sitting in judgment of you,” he felt compelled to say. He knew the world was a harsh place for women. He and his brothers had come to the aid of many through the years.

“That makes you the only one in London.”

The echo of footsteps had the countess straightening away from the desk. “Your host arrives.” Her smile was self-mocking. “I shan’t listen at the keyhole this time. Good night, Mr. Trewlove.”

She began walking toward the door.

“My brother Finn.”

Stopping, she glanced back.

“He was brought to Ettie Trewlove on April eighth of the same year. Perhaps—”

She shook her head. “No, he is not one of my sons.”

The earl burst into the room, staggered to a stop. “Good God, Frances, what are you doing here?”

“Entertaining your guest.”

“Will you see to Polly? Her nerves are still rattled.”

“I’ll take her some warm milk.”

Aiden wanted to shout at her to kick the doxy out, felt rather grateful that he’d grown up with far different examples—but then his mum wasn’t all innocence and goodness either. She’d done things of which she wasn’t proud in order to survive. The countess was correct. Women had a rougher go of it than men.

As he lumbered over to the sideboard housing decanters, Elverton didn’t deem to acknowledge Aiden, but then Aiden hadn’t expected he would. The earl followed the same routine he had when Aiden had first called on him years earlier. He poured himself a scotch, stalked to the desk, dropped into his chair, and glared. “What do you want?”

“I want nothing. I’m here to make a demand. Stay clear of the Duchess of Lushing.”

Elverton barked out a laugh. “You do not make demands of me, boy.”

Aiden tossed back the scotch, then hurled the glass into the hearth where it shattered into shards. The earl jumped, which brought him a great deal of satisfaction. “She is not for you.”