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illusions about his reputation and he was content to live a life that did not consist of pandering to the whims of a society for which he had no respect, not anymore. Yes, he knew his reputation was bad—and he had been a reckless youth, and an even more reckless man—and the scar that everyone believed was some dueling injury made him look like a villain. Once he’d lost his social position he’d found his friends leaving in droves. Now he did not trust any of them, and his cool and arrogant manner, often downright hostile, did not help others to warm to him.
    By God he was no young lady’s dream husband! Lady Averil would run a mile, and if she didn’t then those who loved and protected her, not to mention those who oversaw her fortune, would build walls around her that Rufus could never scale.
    And yet he could not help but remember her voice in the darkness of the coach, talking about her sister in that wistful way. Would she let him help her? He might be a little rusty at it, but he used to be the best man The Guardians had in the East End. If that was where Rose was then he would find her.
    And Averil would be so grateful to him that she’d marry him?
    Rufus shook his head and sipped his drink.
    He was out of practice when it came to wooing ladies of the upper classes. Since his wife died, on the day that Eustace was born, he’d spent his time with an assortment of former dancers and actresses, women who did not ask anything from him once he’d paid for their services. Could he really persuade Lady Averil Martindale to fall in love with him? To agree to marry him? To hand over her considerable fortune so that he could save his family home?
    He took another sip of his brandy, remembering her gray eyes sparking up at him as he held her in his arms. Would it be so very hard to face her over the breakfast table every morning for the next forty years? To spend his nights in her bed?
    “My lord?” Gregson was in the doorway and Rufus hadn’t even heard him knock. “Master Eustace won’t go to sleep until you say good night, my lord.”
    Upstairs Eustace was in bed, a night lamp on the table beside him. Eustace would not sleep without a light since Mrs. Slater frightened him so badly with tales of hungry monsters that came in the night to eat bad boys. That was what she called him. A bad boy. Dear, brave, softhearted Eustace, who hadn’t a bad bone in his body.
    Rufus uncurled his fists and smiled at his son. “You know you shouldn’t have gone with Uncle James to that place, don’t you?”
    Eustace wriggled under the bedclothes.
    “But I’m glad you did. Just don’t do it again, eh?”
    The boy nodded and yawned. “Papa, I liked her.”
    Rufus lifted an eyebrow but he was fairly sure he already knew what Eustace would say.
    “Lady Averil. She was nice, wasn’t she? And I liked her dog. Can we visit her house soon?”
    “We don’t really know her, do we? You have to be invited to visit someone’s house if you don’t know them.”
    “What was my mother like?”
    Rufus wondered just how many more shocks he could take today. Eustace never spoke of his mother. What on earth had made him think of her now? But of course it was Averil Martindale, and he must have overheard James’s ill-considered idea about marriage.
    “She was rather tall, and pretty, and she had hair the color of autumn leaves.”
    “No, I mean, what was she like ?” The boy sounded fractious, but he was tired so no wonder. Rufus let it pass.
    What was she like? It was a long time since Meredith had died but he still remembered the bitter arguments, the recriminations, the realization by both of them that they had made a terrible mistake. Meredith, the daughter of a rope manufacturer in Bethnal Green, and Rufus, the son of an earl. Their runaway marriage had caused a fracture in both their families and Rufus had found himself ostracized by society. When she died things had only gotten worse and he hadn’t had the heart to repair the