We both stood still, caught in the hesitation of where we had left each other three weeks ago. That had been a beginning, sealed with that good-bye kiss, but certainty was not ours to claim. Not yet. And so he reached for my hand and took it to his lips, the press of his warmth against my skin blazing through my body. Ah, there it was—the matching blaze within his eyes. We stood, fingers entwined tightly, the final step into each other’s arms only a breath away.

“Evan!” Lady Hester shouted from the edge of the woods.

“Hester.” He released my hand and raised his own in greeting, but I saw his jaw clench. “Why is my sister here?” he asked under his breath. “I thought her too fragile to travel. Is she the reason for our meeting?”

“She insisted on coming to see you despite our protests. Deele is aware she has left the asylum and is taking refuge in London.”

“Well, that was inevitable.”

He moved forward to meet Hester, but I grasped his arm and halted him.

“She is not the reason why I placed the notice. I need to ask you something.”

He looked down at my tight hold. “Clearly something important. What is it?”

I released him, then took a deep breath, the words rushing out. “Did you belong to a club called the Exalted Brethren of Rack and Ruin? Sanderson was a member.”

He squinted. “The what?”

“The Exalted Brethren of Rack and Ruin. Colonel Drysan said you were a member. It was—” I paused. How best to describe it? “Along the lines of the Hellfire Club. But worse.”

“Worse?” His mouth quirked up. “You are a constant surprise, Augusta. But no, I have never belonged to such a club.”

“Are you sure?”

I was relieved that he denied any dealings with such a place, yet a part of me was disappointed too. Was my only clue about to disappear into nothing?

“I think I would remember something worse than Dashwood’s club.” He frowned, eyes fixed for a moment upon the tree line. “Wait, was it in Bedford Street, behind St. Paul’s in Covent Garden?”

“Yes. Colonel Drysan said it was near St. Paul’s.”

“I was taken to a strange club a few times by a friend from school. I was foxed a great deal in those days, so I can barely remember, but”—he grimaced—“well, it was not to my liking. Definitely along Hellfire lines. Why is it so important?”

“Colonel Drysan thought there was a link between you and Sanderson through the club. And through that link, a possible reason for Sanderson’s death other than the challenge at White’s.”