Chapter 12

Max shifted anxiously in the hack on the way to the Phoenix Club. It was Friday and there would be an assembly, so he’d changed his clothes at the hotel. He hated that he felt harried, but he’d only arrived in London a short while ago.

He was still irritated that he hadn’t been able to leave Stonehill the day before. The new grooms had started that morning, which meant Og could drive him to London. Except Og had been exceptionally disagreeable regarding the new grooms and leaving them in charge of the animals on their first day. Max had nearly directed one of the new lads to drive him instead.

But Og had insisted he would drive the coach, provided they left today. Max had acquiesced, if only because he understood what it felt like to battle one’s own mind. Og was mired in his ways and in having independence, and Max was asking him to do two things that would cause him stress: welcome new retainers and drive him farther than the village.

The hack stopped in front of the Phoenix Club. Max stepped out and immediately considered climbing right back in. He rarely went out in public and hadn’t in some time. Was he ready for the stares and murmurs his appearance would provoke? His scarred visage was bad enough, but they would also speculate about him and his notable absence.

He pivoted, but the hack was already pulling away. Exhaling with resignation, Max faced the club once more and noted there were two entrances. Because, as Ada had explained, there were two sides of the club. Which one should he use?

The gentlemen’s side, he supposed. But which one was that?

Max loitered for a moment, hoping for some sort of divine indication. Except he didn’t believe in divinity. Not after what he’d seen and done.

Scowling, he was about to march toward the door on the right side of the building when he saw a trio of ladies walk up the short steps. They were quickly admitted inside.

Not that door, then.

Veering left, Max made his way up the steps. The door opened, and a green-liveried footman held it while Max moved inside.

Immediately, he was greeted by another fellow in dark green livery, but this one had gold on his collar. He seemed to be someone of import.

“Good evening,” he said to Max, his voice even with an edge of curiosity. “Forgive me, but I don’t recognize you. Are you a member?”

“Not officially.”

The man’s eyes flickered with surprise and dismay. “Then I’m afraid I can’t admit you.”

“I’m the Viscount Warfield.”

“Ah, yes, however, I don’t recognize that name from the membership roll.”

Max tamped down his annoyance. “Fetch Lord Lucien.”

“I’m afraid his lordship is exceedingly busy. There is an assembly this evening.”

“I am aware of that as I’ve come to join the bloody assembly,” Max growled. “If you don’t fetch Lord Lucien this instant, I guarantee he will not be pleased.”

The man, who was perhaps a few years younger than Max’s thirty years, blanched. Still, he hesitated until Max growled again. Max may also have turned his scarred face toward the bloke and bared a few teeth. The man took himself off at last.

Occasionally, being a beast had its advantages.

While Max waited, he studied the large entry hall. Hung above the staircase, a massive painting of a bacchanalia was the focal point. The more he studied it, the more he seemed to recognize some of the figures portrayed within it. There was Pan, of course, and Dionysius. But in the lower right, it seemed Lucien and Dougal laughed with another pair of gentlemen. Another figure caught Max’s eye—just up the same side of the painting, a man arrived at the feast on horseback. Max recognized both man and beast—it was him astride Arrow.

He was completely unprepared for the sweep of emotion that stunted his breath.

“Good God, Warfield?” Lucien’s voice broke into Max’s haze of befuddlement.

Blinking, Max turned his head and focused on Lucien. “What the bloody hell is that?” He jerked his head toward the painting.

“I had it commissioned. Isn’t it marvelous?”

“You’ve no right to put me in a damned painting. Especially like that.” Seeing himself on Arrow… Max still couldn’t breathe properly.

“I like it,” Lucien said coolly. “It’s a wonderful reminder of my old friend.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Let’s not begin this way. I’m so very pleased to see you. What on earth brings you all the way to London and to my club of all places?”

Max grunted. He definitely should have climbed back into the hack. He wasn’t sure this aggravation was worth seeing Ada or meeting his half sister.

“I came to give Prudence her dowry.”

Lucien gaped at him. “Come to my office for a moment.” He led Max up the stairs. As they ascended, they passed a few gentlemen. Max didn’t know any of them, and to a man, they registered Max’s face and quickly averted their gazes.

At the landing, Lucien went to the right, and Max followed. Once they were inside, Lucien closed the door. “Brandy?”

“I understand you have Irish whiskey.”

Lucien stared at him. “You are full of surprises,” he murmured. “Yes, but it’s in the library.”

“Take me there,” Max said, recalling it was the place Ada had said he might like best.

With a nod, Lucien led him from the office back past the staircase to the front of the club, where a long rectangular room overlooked Ryder Street. Though the room was large, it was inviting with dark wood bookshelves and several seating areas. A sideboard with a varied collection of liquor atop it stood between the windows.

“How did you know about the Irish whiskey?” Lucien asked as he went to pour the alcohol. “It’s primarily for Wexford, and he likes to hoard it.”

“Miss Treadway told me about it. She thought I might enjoy it.” Max took the glass and inhaled the scent of the whiskey. There was sweetness with a bit of fruit and vanilla. Honestly, it reminded him of Miss Treadway in a subtle way, not that she smelled like whiskey.

Lucien poured himself a glass of brandy. “I am utterly baffled by whatever happened during Miss Treadway’s visit.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Should she have?”

“She drafted a report, which you’ve surely read. She also likes to talk.”

“That she does,” Lucien said with a chuckle. “Her written report was quite extensive, and I read every word. We also spoke, and she mentioned your resistance to change, but that you eventually came round. I’m still in awe as to how she did it.”

“Can we not belabor this?” Max asked wearily. He realized he was tired from the journey and annoyed by a number of things, namely that asinine painting. “I came tonight hoping I might meet Prudence. Is she here?”

“In fact, she is, along with her husband. I will warn you that Glastonbury may be angry with you.”

“That’s to be expected.”

“I continue to be astonished by the fact that you are well aware of your surliness and yet you do nothing to change it. Except apparently you did with Miss Treadway.”

“She said that?”

“Not entirely, no. I just assumed you’d mellowed since you’d agreed to hire a steward. And a woman to boot!”

“Assume nothing,” Max said tersely. He took a drink of the whiskey at last, finding it spicy yet smooth. He could see why it was Ada’s preference.

“What prompted you to give Prudence her dowry?” Lucien asked skeptically.

“Miss Treadway was a rather strong proponent on that front.”

“So, she wore you down about this where I could not. Amazing.” Lucien shook his head, and while Max recognized that his change of heart and mind on these issues was astounding, he didn’t appreciate how bloody flabbergasted Lucien continued to be.

Max glowered at him. “You’re still carrying on.”

“My apologies. I don’t wish to drive you away. I am delighted you’ve come to your senses when it comes to my cousin. You will like her immensely. She’s a lovely woman with a great deal of sense and wit.”

In response, Max drank more whiskey.

Lucien took a quick sip of brandy. “Your Phoenix Club membership is official. I apologize for the head footman. His job is to ensure nonmembers don’t gain entry, and you are an unfamiliar face. Furthermore, you didn’t officially accept the invitation I sent over a year ago.”

“I will remain an unfamiliar face as this is likely the one and only time I will visit. Don’t be surprised—or harass me—if I allow my membership to lapse.”

Lucien’s expression dimmed. “Does that mean you won’t be in London long?”

“A few days, I suppose. I should like to spend a little time with my half sister.” Unless he met her tonight and found her completely irritating. He was also considering meeting with her mother—his father’s lover, Lady Peterborough, who was Lucien’s aunt. Max thought back to the handful of times he’d met her in his youth, never realizing her link to his family. That ignorance ate at him. He’d been friendly to this woman who had heartlessly stolen another man from his loving wife.

“I’m so glad to hear it. We’ll organize a family dinner?—”

Max lifted his hand and cocked his head with a grimace. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not attend a large event. I’m certain we can get along on our own.”

Lucien couldn’t seem to stop from meddling. Max could see why he’d hired Ada and found her so valuable. They shared that annoying trait. Except Max had come to accept her meddling and even appreciate it. Could he do the same with Lucien? Perhaps it was time. He was just trying to be a good friend. And perhaps he was trying to make up for what he’d done—saving Max when he hadn’t wanted to be saved. Not that Lucien would ever regret doing that. Max believed he would defend his actions, both what he’d done in the moment and what he’d done afterward to ensure Max was seen as a hero, with his dying breath.

“Of course. I just thought it might be nice to get together as a family.” Lucien looked him in the eye. “We are family now, Max.”

That hadn’t occurred to him, and Max didn’t know how he felt about it. He’d gotten rather accustomed to being alone, to accepting that and perhaps even using it as an excuse to remain apart from everyone. What an uncomfortable thought.

“Just because I want to meet my half sister and give her the dowry she deserves doesn’t mean I want to join a family.” He drank more whiskey.

Lucien appeared briefly disappointed, but nodded to cover that up. “Understood. I don’t know where you’re lodging, but if you’d prefer maximum privacy, I invite you to stay here. We’ve excellent rooms on the second floor just above me, and the kitchen is quite good, if I may say so.”

Max had gone to the Stephen’s Hotel on Bond Street. It was the only place he thought he might be remotely comfortable since it was where military men lodged. But the lure of a place where he could be relatively alone was too attractive to ignore. “How many gentlemen lodge here?”

“At the moment, none.”

Perfect. “Can someone fetch my things from the Stephen’s Hotel? I’ll also need to notify my coachman. His name is Francis Ogden, and he’s situated in the mews nearby.”

“I’ll have someone take care of everything.” In this case, Lucien’s managing was bloody helpful. Max would try to remember—and appreciate—that. “But first, I’ll take you downstairs to meet Prudence.”

Max twitched. The idea of going into the assembly and seeing so many people all at once was a bit distressing. He nearly asked for Lucien to bring her upstairs, but didn’t want to seem a coward.

Except he was. Or wanted to be, anyway. But since he’d come all this way, he’d brave the stares and the murmurs. “Let’s go.” He finished his whiskey and set his empty glass on the sideboard.

Lucien tossed back the rest of his brandy, and when they started toward the door, Dougal MacNair blocked their path. Broad shouldered with ink-black curly hair, Dougal possessed the ability to look both imposing and approachable at the same time. The latter was due to his brilliant smile, which was not currently on display.

“Max?” Dougal shook his head. Then came the smile, or at least a hint of it. “I mean, Warfield. I apologize for the many times I will likely forget.” His features creased with genuine joy, and Max was hard-pressed not to feel a rush of sentiment. “It’s been too long, my friend.” His Scottish brogue was thick with emotion.

Then Dougal embraced him, and Max froze. He’d barely touched anyone the past few years. Only Ada had gotten this close.

Giving Max’s back a thump, Dougal stepped back. “It’s so good to see you.” He looked to Lucien. “Did you know he was coming and not tell me?”

Lucien shook his head. “He surprised me as well.”

Dougal looked from Lucien to Max. “Would it be boorish of me to suggest we abandon the assembly and go directly to the Siren’s Call?”

Laughing, Lucien said, “No, but I can’t leave my own damn club in the middle of an assembly. I haven’t thought of the Siren’s Call in years. Tomorrow night?”

“I think we must,” Dougal said, grinning. He gave Max a pointed look. “Don’t try to refuse. I won’t allow it.”

“I haven’t been out in years.”

Lucien’s gaze was earnest and sympathetic. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”

Max was torn. Facing people—exposing himself—made him anxious. But he’d come all the way to London, so perhaps it was time he tried.

“We’ll force you if we must,” Lucien said with humor, but Max recalled the numerous visits he’d paid to Stonehill over the past few years and how he’d tried to force Max to do any number of things. The last time he’d done that, they’d come to blows.

“You won’t force me to do anything,” he told Lucien with a considerable chill. “I’ll go.”

Dougal clapped his hands together. “Brilliant!”

“We were on our way downstairs,” Lucien said. “Care to join us?”

“In a while,” Dougal said. “I just came from there, and after dancing with Miss Jones-Fry, I find myself in need of a large glass of whisky.”

“Are your feet all right?” Lucien asked with a faint grimace.

“They will be.” He grinned toward Max once more, then gave his arm a quick, firm clasp before going to the sideboard.

Max continued from the library. Lucien caught up with him, and they made their way downstairs.

“This way.” Lucien led Max through a wide arched doorway cloaked with dark green draperies. They stepped into the large, sparkling ballroom. Along with the windows across the far wall, mirrors reflected the flames of hundreds of candles in the chandeliers overhead. Dancers glided across the parquet floor, and nondancers were gathered at the opposite end—the ladies’ side. The musicians were situated above them in the mezzanine. It was a marvelous scene, and in that moment, Max was rather proud of Lucien’s accomplishment. He’d always worked to bring people together, both for good and…not so good purposes.

“They’ll likely be on the other side,” Lucien said. “Unless they’re dancing, but I don’t see them. Come.” He walked along the edge of the ballroom.

Max trailed him, trying to keep his attention focused on Lucien’s back so he wouldn’t see people looking at him. Or more accurately, he wouldn’t see their reactions.

He did an excellent job until they were nearly to their destination. Then his gaze strayed to a group of four ladies huddled together, their attention fixed on him. They stood to Max’s left, so of course they could see his scarred face. Two of them wore matching expressions of revulsion while the third looked away. The fourth studied him intently as if she wanted to remember every ripple in his flesh so she could draw it later.

Somewhat repeating what he’d done earlier with the footman, Max sneered before he snapped his teeth together, lips bared, as if he would take a bite from them. All four recoiled, and he nearly smiled.

“Here we are,” Lucien said, stopping. He turned, his expression darkening. “You’re ready? I confess I feel a trifle wary surprising her like this.”

“I’m not going to be rude, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, I wasn’t actually, but you make a good point. Though, you seem to be on your best behavior tonight. Or at least better behavior.”

“I’m trying.”

A brief smile flitted across Lucien’s mouth. “I can see that, and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me. Truly.”

“None of this is for you.” Max realized he sounded cruel, but it was the truth. He wasn’t sure if he and Lucien could ever return to the friendship they’d shared before the incident in Spain. If Max thought deeply about it—and when did he ever do that—he might realize he hated knowing Lucien had seen him at his very worst, that it was easier to keep his distance from the one person who had witnessed the worst day of Max’s life.

More than that, Lucien had interfered where he shouldn’t have. Never mind the fact that he’d saved Max’s life. Max hadn’t wanted to be saved, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to be recognized as a hero after what he’d done. “If you please, introduce me to my half sister.”

“Very well.” Lucien frowned slightly before turning once more and leading Max to an alcove with chairs. Two ladies were seated, and Max recognized the brunette as Lucien’s younger sister, Lady Cassandra. She was Lady Wexford now.

She, in turn, recognized Max, the color draining from her face before she reached for the other woman’s hand. She had to be Prudence. Pale skinned with blonde hair and light moss green eyes, she possessed an almost ethereal beauty. He now recognized her too—as the woman who’d come to his house seeking employment. And whom he’d tossed out with considerable vitriol.

She’d caught him on a particularly bad day.

Max bowed without waiting for anyone to introduce him. “Good evening, Lady Glastonbury. I am Lord Warfield. Maximillian, I mean. Or Max,” he added quietly, wondering why he suddenly felt nervous.

Perhaps it was the cool, furious way in which she regarded him. She’d not forgiven his horrid behavior, and he didn’t blame her.

“You’ve a great deal of nerve.” This came from a gentleman to Max’s left. Also blond with an athletic build, he stepped close to Max, his hands fisting. His gaze trained on Max, he gritted his teeth. “Lucien, I apologize for the scene I’m about to cause, but I think I must hit Warfield in defense of my wife.”

“Don’t.” Prudence had stood and now moved between her husband and Max, her back to Max. “Ben, you aren’t going to make a scene. Furthermore, it wouldn’t be fair. You’re a pugilist, and Warfield looks as if he couldn’t last ten seconds in the ring.”

Max’s pride stung, but she was probably right. He’d never gained back all the weight he’d lost after being so severely wounded, and he certainly didn’t get enough exercise. He suddenly wanted that to change too.

Prudence pivoted, her eyes glittering as she looked up at Max. “Besides, if anyone is going to hit him, I think it should be me.”

“On that we agree,” Max said. “If you’d like to go outside, I will suffer whatever you wish to do to me.”

“What the devil is going on here?”

Everyone turned. Max knew that voice. His heart leapt.

Ada stood with one hand on her hip. “No one is hitting anyone.”

Ada could scarcely believe her eyes. Max was here. In London. At the Phoenix Club. She immediately assumed something was wrong even as giddy emotion swirled inside her.

She also realized they were seconds away from creating more of a scene than they already were. Summoning a bright smile, she turned her body toward the door leading outside. “Shall we adjourn to the garden? It’s a lovely summer evening.”

Before she could make eye contact with Max, he’d pivoted and started toward the door. Curiosity burned within her, but she’d have to tamp it down until later. Assuming there would be a later with Max. She had to know why he’d come.

Lucien and his sister Cassandra followed Max, and Glastonbury offered Prudence his arm. Ada hastened to move close to Prudence as they walked outside.

“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Ada whispered.

Prudence slid her a wide-eyed stare. “That’s precisely what he deserves.”

Ada couldn’t argue, and yet she had to. “He’s been through a great deal. That doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it explains it, I think.”

Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about what he’s been through?”

“Not much,” Ada admitted as they stepped into the garden. “And I won’t betray his confidence. Trust me when I say I know enough to understand why he’s been such a colossal mess these past few years. I should think that his coming here is a step forward. Can you give him a chance?”

“I will try, but I can’t promise Bennet won’t trounce him.”

“I won’t promise that either,” Glastonbury said, indicating he’d at least heard what Prudence was saying.

Ada stepped forward and pivoted to give the viscount a haughty stare. “I would beg you to remember the compassion and understanding that others have shown you.”

Glastonbury exhaled. “Yes.”

“I will try, Ada,” Prudence said. “So long as Warfield tries too.”

Nodding, Ada motioned for everyone to move to an area near a torch where they could conduct their discussion. They formed a circle, and Ada positioned herself between Max and Prudence.

“I’ll reiterate that there will be no hitting,” Ada announced. “Now, who would like to speak first?”

No one said anything. Cassandra, who could always be counted on to talk, finally spoke. “Lord Warfield has come to town to speak to his half sister, apparently.” Her voice carried disdain, indicating she was clearly in support of her cousin, Prudence. Ada would have been too, but she’d come to know and understand Max. She was thrilled that he’d come to see Prudence.

Max’s expression was impassive and perhaps bordering on irritated, which worried Ada. “I came to give Prudence her dowry.”

Ada brushed the back of her hand against Max’s. It was the best she could do when what she really wanted was to take his hand and kiss it and convey how happy she was that he’d decided to do this.

“That’s wonderful,” Ada said, barely containing her joy.

Max looked down at her, his brow slightly creasing. She had no idea what he was thinking.

Cassandra, who stood between Glastonbury and Lucien, smiled at Prudence. “Better late than not at all, I suppose.”

Max flicked a glance toward Prudence, but fixed his gaze across the garden. “I want to apologize for not giving it to you before. I was, er, shocked to learn you existed.”

Ada could feel his tension. She inched closer to him, hoping her nearness would soothe him. Or at least let him know he had an ally.

“Is three thousand pounds adequate?” Max asked.

It was an astonishing sum, but Ada knew he could afford it. She brushed her hand against his again, hoping he understood how proud she was of him. She’d tell him so as soon as she had the chance.

Prudence exchanged a look of surprise with her husband before she addressed Max. “That’s most generous, thank you. I know you don’t have to give me anything. By law, I have no claim whatsoever.”

“You aren’t responsible for the circumstances of your birth,” Max said quietly, which was almost exactly what Ada had said. “Nor are you to blame for my father’s perfidy.” The anger and hurt in his voice were unmistakable.

Prudence’s features softened. “Thank you. No one was more distressed to learn of my real parents than me. My mother—the woman who reared me—told me before she died, and I sometimes wish I didn’t know.”

Max nodded slowly. “I can understand that. I wish I didn’t know that my father had been unfaithful. It rather changes what we thought we knew to be true, doesn’t it? The very way we view the world.”

“Precisely,” Prudence said softly.

Ada’s heart swelled. She hoped she was seeing the beginning of a wonderful sibling relationship—they could both benefit from it. Or perhaps Ada was just projecting her own desires on them. Having lost her family, she realized she was always looking for a replacement, even if it wasn’t in her best interest.

Prudence gave him a look that was both tentative and sympathetic. “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.”

Ada felt Max tense—his arm twitched, sliding gently against hers. She wanted to clasp him, to let him know she cared.

Glastonbury cleared his throat. “Thank you for the dowry, Warfield. It is deeply appreciated. I hope this won’t be the last time you and Prudence talk or spend time together.” He slid his arm around Prudence’s waist and drew her close.

“I’m grateful that you appear to care for my sister,” Max said rather flatly, making Ada wonder what was going on in his mind. “Just promise you’ll never be unfaithful.”

Glastonbury’s blue gaze turned to flint. “I would never. Pru has my entire heart.”

A lovely smile lit Prudence’s face, and Ada felt a surge of envy. What she wouldn’t give to share a lasting love like that. Alas, she doubted that would ever happen. Ada certainly didn’t expect it to, nor was she certain she’d have the courage to pursue it. It seemed that fate kept telling her she should be alone.

Ada slid a covert glance at Max. Brow furrowed and jaw tight, he appeared unsettled. She didn’t want to ask and draw attention to any discomfort he might be feeling. Disappointment snagged at her mind—she thought this encounter had gone rather well.

“I should get back inside,” Cassandra said. “No doubt Ruark is wondering where I’ve gone to.”

Max inclined his head toward Prudence and Glastonbury. “I’ll arrange for the dowry payment.”

Prudence looked him solemnly in the eye. “Thank you. Truly.”

Nodding, Max clasped his hands behind his back. Prudence and Glastonbury turned and walked toward the club. Cassandra and Lucien followed.

Ada stayed back, waiting until they were out of earshot before facing Max. The same thrill she’d experienced upon seeing him wound through her again. She was so glad he was here. “I’m so pleased to see you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because I know you, and there’s a telltale set to your jaw.”

He shook his head at her, exhaling. “You are far too clever for your own good. Certainly for mine. I was hoping I might have a few minutes to speak with Prudence alone. I should have realized that was too much to expect.”

“Tonight, perhaps, yes. But I feel confident she’d like to speak with you too. Will you allow me to arrange a meeting?”

“You’d do that?” He nearly smiled. “Of course you would. Is ‘meddlesome’ your middle name?”

“No, actually it’s Constance. That was my mother’s name.”

“That’s an even better fit—you never waver. In anything.”

Ada laughed. “I want to be flattered, but coming from you, I’m not sure that’s the way you mean it.”

“It is a compliment. But only for you.”

A ridiculous flutter passed from her heart to the pit of her stomach. This emotion swirling inside her—this besottedness—was most persistent. “Thank you. Once I set up your meeting with Prudence, where shall I send notice?”

He blinked at her.

“Your lodgings here in London,” she prodded.

“Oh, yes. I’m staying here, actually.”

“At the Phoenix Club?” Her voice climbed on the last word, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“Lucien invited me since I was staying at a hotel.”

Dear sweet temptation! That meant he’d be on the second floor of the club on the men’s side—a short walk through a hidden doorway from her own apartment. Ada wasn’t going to tell him that. She knew what would happen next. Or at least later, after the assembly.

Assuming he still wanted her the way she wanted him. Perhaps he didn’t. There was always the chance that their one night together had been plenty for him. Yes, that would be for the best.

Still, Ada wasn’t taking that chance. Knowing he was so close was bad enough. Telling him would be even worse.

Ada glanced toward the club. “I suppose I should go back inside.”

“Does your job require it?”

Did that mean he wanted her to stay? “Not really.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Ada’s entire body flushed with heat along with that incessant emotion. “I’m glad to see you too. How did things go with Mrs. Tallent?”

He frowned. “Not well. I forgot about the meeting. You could have done more to prepare me than leave an impersonal note on my desk. Neither of us knew what we were supposed to discuss.”

“Oh dear, that is entirely my fault. I’m afraid I was rushed. I slept later than I should have for some reason.” Her cheeks flushed, and she avoided his gaze. “In hindsight, I think I should have delayed my departure.”

“Mrs. Tallent and Mrs. Bundle would have appreciated that. I’m afraid I wasn’t my best self.” He blew out a breath. “I was my old self.”

That he thought of himself in terms of old and, hopefully, new made her want to turn circles of joy. “I hope they weren’t too upset. This is a transition for everyone.”

“They’re fine. I think. Og is the one who got worked up. I wanted to leave yesterday, but the new grooms started, and Og was adamant that we couldn’t leave his precious stable with brand-new retainers.”

Ada laughed at the edge of sarcasm in Max’s speech. “Was he horribly put out?”

“You should have seen him stamping about and growling. I believe he was also hissing.”

“Like a snake?” Ada giggled.

“That’s what Archie said—he was there to help.”

“Poor Og.” She realized that Og must have driven him to town. “Where is Og now? Should I fear for London?”

Max quirked a brief smile. “Perhaps. I doubt he’ll cause any trouble, but then it’s been a while since he was here.”

“How long has it been for you?” she asked quietly.

“More than a year.” He sent a furtive glance toward the club. “I admit to feeling uncomfortable.” Taking a deep breath, he shook out his shoulders. “I’ll manage. I won’t be here long.”

Ada cloaked her disappointment. “Well, let me see how quickly I can arrange your meeting with Prudence.” She wondered if she could postpone it—just a bit—in order to keep him here longer.

That would be rather self-serving. Ada was many things, but selfish wasn’t one of them.

“I’ll escort you back inside.” Max offered her his arm.

She knew the moment she touched him, her body would react with heat and hunger. She wasn’t wrong. As soon as her fingertips grazed his sleeve, she had to tell herself not to grab him shamelessly.

Attraction was a fascinating thing. It took no thought and seemed to be some sort of natural connection between certain people, or sometimes only for one person, Ada supposed. Attraction after being intimate with someone was an entirely different animal. There was a knowledge and awareness that made every look, every touch, every moment in that person’s company something greater and more arousing than before.

Ada was still very attracted to Max, but it was worse—now she knew exactly what she was missing. She sighed softly as they walked together back into the club.

More’s the pity since she’d never experience it again.