Conant had been correct in his initial assessment; the Tricorn was a bridge between all levels of society, the perfect place for ferreting out secrets and overhearing gossip. Drink, pretty women, and an intimate atmosphere, all encouraged men to talk. Fortunes changed hands at the turn of a card, the roll of dice, and those who owed money could often be induced to divulge valuable snippets of information in exchange for forgiveness of their debts to the house. The owners of the Tricorn held a great deal of power. The power to tear up incriminating IOUs, or, conversely, the power to call in the debts and ruin a man completely.

Ben, Alex, and Seb had slipped back into their previous roles, appearing to the world as reckless, aimless pleasure-seekers, but this time they had a purpose. As ex-soldiers, they didn’t flinch at encountering the darker elements of society, but they were also on friendly terms with all but the highest sticklers in the ton.

Benedict gave a wry smile as he glanced around the room. The disapproving matrons kept inviting him to their soirées, clutching their pearls in scandalized dismay. Most of them secretly hoped he’d show an honorable interest in their daughters. Or a dishonorable interest in them. He’d lost count of the number of married women who’d offered themselves to him over the years.

He ran his hand over his freshly shaven jaw, relishing the smoothness. His handsome face and family name had always allowed him access to the highest society. Scandalous and debt-ridden he might be, but he was still a member of one of the oldest aristocratic families in England. Still a catch.

At least, he would be, if he weren’t already married.

Benedict’s heart gave an impatient lurch. She was the real reason he’d braved Lady Langton’s ballroom. His wife. Georgiana Caversteed. Or rather, Georgiana Wylde.

He’d relived the brief moments they’d spent together in the flickering torchlight over and over, trying to make sense of it. She must have been in considerable trouble to have resorted to such a plan, but that was no excuse. He didn’t have time to become embroiled in some spoiled princess’s machinations.

He’d been deliberately crass in Newgate to test her reaction. Everything about her—from her soft skin to her crisp voice—had proclaimed her a lady of quality. He’d wanted to shock her into reconsidering her plans. And yet she’d countered his raw cheekiness with a cool confidence he’d found amazingly attractive. Georgiana Caversteed was an extraordinary woman, no doubt about it. Her stubborn intelligence intrigued him almost as much as the taste of her had aroused him. But that still didn’t mean he wanted to be married to her.