He flinched at that, then looked earnestly into her eyes. “Always means always. I know I can’t have you and that, after tonight, I might never see you again. But that won’t change the way I feel about you, Soph.”

“I…” She wanted to blurt out everything in her heart. To tell him she loved him too and that she’d forever treasure the nights they’d spent together. But Reese was already gutted, and revealing her feelings at this point would only be twisting the knife. “I don’t deserve such kindness.”

“I disagree.” He lifted her hand and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the back. “You deserve the world.”

Before she could properly catch her breath, he released her hand and stood. “I should go. Remember, you don’t need to admit anything to Singleton.” He paused for a moment, then added, “He thinks that the Debutante Underground is a radical, subversive organization that threatens the fabric of society.”

“He said that?” Her blood heated with a mix of rage and fear.

“Something like that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step toward the house, his dark eyes full of regret. “Good luck tonight.”

“You too,” she breathed. “And thank you.”

He nodded, turned, and started up the path, but she called out, “Reese, wait.”

When he spun to face her, she hesitated, then voiced the question she couldn’t resist asking. “What do you think of the Debutante Underground?”

He tilted his head, thoughtful, then said, “I don’t know much about it, obviously, but if priggish, narrow-minded people take offense, I’d say that’s a sure sign you’re doing something important and worthwhile.”

With that, he strode off, leaving her alone and more certain than ever that she’d given up the one man who could have been her true partner—and true love.

Chapter 34

At the sound of the doorknob jiggling, Reese dove behind the sofa in Singleton’s drawing room and held his breath.

The door creaked as it swung on its hinges, and footsteps shuffled across the hardwood floor. If he had to guess, the utilitarian, brown shoes belonged to a maid, and she hummed softly to herself as she moved about the room.

Reese hoped she didn’t walk to his side of the sofa, but if she did, he was prepared to play the part of a ball guest who’d drunk too much and gone in search of a quiet spot where he could sleep off his excesses.

He’d spent the last hour furtively searching Singleton’s study and bedchamber, but after scouring every shelf, drawer, and closet in both rooms, he still hadn’t found the journal. He’d reasoned that the marquess might have spent time in the drawing room before the ball—and that he might have left the journal out on a table or even stowed it in the desk drawer.