“He may surprise you.” Jocelyn finished her coffee and stood. Her smile was warm. “You have certainly surprised me.”

Annabel saw her to the door and swept her into a quick embrace. “Thank you.”

“Call on me anytime. It’s rare that my skills can be used in Society.”

Jocelyn was going down the steps as the family carriage pulled to the door. Stapleton’s march echoed through the hall.

“Lady Ramsbury?” He already had her coat and hat. “His lordship has asked that we bring you to him.”

Jocelyn’s words made Annabel less resentful of her Frederick-shaped shadow and the carriage that kept her out of the sunshine. She rode in the middle of the seat, her fingers clenched into a fist to fight the urge to stare out the window and see if anyone was following. The quiet pressed on her like a winter cloak.

There is more to Lord Ramsbury than meets the eye. Annabel gave an unladylike snort. There was more to everyone in this scheme than met the eye. It was a maze that made her head spin until she didn’t know up from down. All she knew was she needed to find a way out, through her father’s debts, her sisters’ futures, and past a killer viscount only she could identify—someone who was a threat to the man she loved.

She’d felt it for weeks, though she’d originally marked it down to the intimacies she and Jasper shared. Making love with a handsome man turned every woman’s head, didn’t it? But every day gave her a glimpse of the man behind the face that sent every Society lady into a swoon. And when Raines had aimed his sword at Jasper’s neck, the cold anger that flooded her spoke of something deeper than attraction.

“I have to tell him the truth,” Annabel whispered. She wouldn’t be another person in his life who loved him too much to be honest. Besides that, if Spencer had been desperate enough to send Raines as an assassin, Jasper was somehow a threat to a larger plot. He needed to know everything.

If she lost him because of it, at least he would be safe.

Outside the window, the crowds and noise faded. Rather than the creamy-white uniformity of houses in Belgravia and Mayfair, the homes here had their own personalities, and they faced the Green Park. If Annabel squinted, she could just make out the spires of Buckingham Palace.

The coach slowed to a stop, and the door opened. Rather than Frederick with his serious stare, Jasper stuck his head into the coach. “Welcome home, Lady Ramsbury.”

His wide smile was irresistible as he helped her from the carriage and led her forward.

Rather than imposing steps, the red-doored entrance was simple, and the front windows were skirted with flower boxes. Once inside, the hall was generous, but not grand, and the stairwell coiled along the walls. Scaling three stories. A large glass window, set in the roof, flooded the space with light.

“Welcome to Ramsbury House,” Jasper said, still keeping hold of her hand. “I wanted to ensure the roof was sound before we visited.”

“It’s beautiful.” If they stood on the top floor at night, they might be able to see the stars. Annabel slid free of him and pulled her pin from her hat.

“While I’m glad you’re free of those ridiculous ribbons, I’m worried that pin will puncture your brain.”

She fingered the lovely onyx and ruby-headed pin that reached from her fingertips to her wrist. “I thought that was the reason you bought it.”

He put his lips to hers in a warm kiss, and she felt him smile before he withdrew. “Your brain is one of my favorite things about you, darling.”

Eager to explore, Annabel walked into the drawing room, where the rugs were rolled against the walls and the furnishings were shrouded. Jasper lifted a cover to reveal a green sofa that had been in style several years earlier.

“Grandfather wasn’t much for entertaining.” Jasper grimaced. “There’s not even a ballroom. If you’d prefer, we could stay—”

“I love it here,” Annabel said, meaning every word. Ramsbury House was a home. She could imagine raising a family here—a rowdy gang of laughing, tow-headed boys.

“You can decorate however you’d like.” Jasper took her hand and led her from the room, talking as he pulled her along. “Paint, wallpaper, whatever furnishings you want—but there’s one last room I want you to see.”

They walked to the back of the house, away from the street. The door opened to an empty library. At the far end of the narrow room, a large bay window with a deep seat overlooked a small, private garden—or what would be one eventually. The scent of new paint hung in the air. The green walls would match the view.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I do.” She ran her fingers across the top of a crate, wondering what was inside. “Are these your grandfather’s books?”

Rather than answering her, Jasper lifted the lid. A beloved marble face, shrouded in straw, stared back at her.

“Plato?” Annabel ran her finger along the base, finding the divot Rachel and Rebecca had caused while playing tag. Mother had heard the crash and flown through the house, terrified the immortalized philosopher had killed one of her daughters. Novels filled the remainder of the box, their titles like the names of old friends.

Aristotle was in the second box with the geography books. Annabel’s vision blurred so that she couldn’t read the titles. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at her husband.

He was to her in two long steps. Annabel leaned into his arms.

“I remembered your face when you were in the library at Ramsbury.” He pulled her closer. “And thinking you must have loved the library at Chilworth—this library. It belongs with you.”

“You are a constant surprise.” She cradled his heavy jaw in her palm and let his soft hair tickle her fingers. “Thank you, Jasper.”

“That look makes me wish the bed upstairs wasn’t in pieces.”

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his ear. “Then perhaps we should go back to Lambourn House.”

“In the middle of the afternoon?” Jasper gave a mock gasp. “Lady Ramsbury, you shock me.”

Annabel evaded his grasp and stepped to the third crate. “Far be it from me to scandalize such an upstanding—”

Jasper snatched her hand and dragged her to the door. “I’ll show you upstanding.” His laughter tumbled up the stairs. “Get your hat.”

At the coach, she turned back to look at the gracious, unique home which now held something other than tempting promises. She missed it already.

“Ramsbury?”

She turned but got only a glimpse of a tall man in a black coat with his hat pulled low over his eyes before Jasper stepped in front of her. The man brushed past at a brisk pace, pushing Jasper aside.

Trapped between his back and the coach, Annabel reached to steady him before he crushed her. He doubled over with a gasp.

“Get in the coach,” he said. “Now.”

Annabel reached for the door and stopped. Her glove was soaked in blood.

She spun to stare at Jasper. His lips were set in a firm line, matching the hard curve of his jaw. Blood seeped across his side, staining his waistcoat with alarming speed.

“Frederick!” She’d meant the word to come out as a command. It was more a shriek.

The footman came to help, but Annabel pushed him away. “Find that man. Dark coat, dark cap. He went into the park.”

He followed her instructions without pause or a backward glance.

“Lawrence, take us to hosp—”

“Home,” Jasper rasped as he urged her into the coach. “We’ll be safer at home.”

Annabel’s arguments died on her lips. His blond hair was dark against his pallid, sweaty face. “Home, Lawrence,” she barked. “As fast as you can go.”