They call him the Devil Earl-a scoundrel and accused murderer who grew up on the violent London streets. A proper young lady risks more than her reputation when consorting with the roguishly handsome Hero Fiennes Tiffin , but Lady Josephine Langford...
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He saw his grandson.
Hero considered those words as his coach rattled over the cobblestone streets. He'd been wandering aimlessly through London for more than two hours trying to settle his thoughts.
He'd left the affair shortly after Josephine and he had returned to the ballroom. He saw no reason to stay. He suspected no other lady would dance with him, but more than that he had no desire to dance with anyone other than Josephine. And he'd not further risk her reputation by having a second waltz. He'd already placed her reputation at risk with one dance and a turn about the garden. Why was she willing to risk so much simply to see that he was accepted?
Friendship? God knew he'd risked everything-including his life-for his friends. They'd risked no less than that for him. But Josephine-what did she gain? If he spent any more time in her company, no decent man would take her to wife.
Tonight she'd done away with the purpose for their association. For some reason, she'd decided the bloke wasn't worth killing. Hero supposed he should be grateful he'd not taken her at her word that first night and done the gent in.
Still, he was bothered by her change of heart. She wasn't a mindless chit, and she was certainly no one's fool. If she thought someone needed killing, he most likely did. And there was still the matter of the man who was following her. He needed to have a word with Jim, but first he wanted to see Mabel.
The coach came to a halt outside O'Reilly's, and Hero alighted. He went through the front door. No tension reverberated here as it had at Avendale's. But then this was his home, this was where he belonged. Hunter approached him.
"Hero-"
Hero held up his hand. "Not now."
He was a man with a purpose. He opened the door to the backrooms and went down the hallway to the room where he knew he'd find Mabel. She was hard at work on her books. He rapped on the doorjamb. She looked up and grinned at him. As always, her smile warmed him as nothing else did.
"Aren't you dressed rather fancily?"
"I attended a ball hosted by the Duchess of Avendale," he said.
"I didn't think you were one to attend the aristocracy's affairs."
"I thought it time I begin making the way clear for us."
She looked down at the ledgers. "So we'll be attending balls?"
"I think you'll enjoy them. There's gaiety and lovely gowns. Food and drink and people."
"Yes, lots of people I'll not know."
"You'll come to know them. And best of all, we shall dance." He strolled into the room and held out his hand. "Dance with me now."
