And how magnificent that would be. “I would.”

“If we were other people,” he said, pleasure in his tone as his fingers stroked over her face, “I would ask you.”

She nodded. “But we aren’t.”

“Shh,” he hushed her. “Don’t take it away. Not yet.” He turned her in the darkness, until her face was in the light. “Tell me.”

She shook her head, sadness coming quickly, on a wave of tears. “I shouldn’t,” she said. “It is not a good idea.”

“I have made a life on bad ideas,” he said. “Tell me.” He kissed her, quick and lovely. “Tell me you love me.”

The tears spilled over, but she could not look away from him. She could not tell him that she loved him, because she might not be able to walk away from him then. And if she could not walk away from him, all of this – this entire mess into which she had dragged him – would be for naught.

“Tell me, Georgiana,” he whispered, sipping the tears from her cheeks. “Do you love me?”

If she told him she loved him, she knew without question that he would never allow her to do what must be done.

And so, instead of answering his question, she answered Tremley’s question from the night before. She reached up, slid her fingers into her love’s hair, and pulled him down to her, grazing her lips against his once, twice, before saying, “I choose you. Always.”

She chose West. Here and now.

He kissed her, deep and long and wonderful, rewarding the words even though they weren’t precisely what he wished for. When he pulled back, he said, “I choose you as well, my lady. Forever.”

She adored this man, in all the dark corners that she’d thought she’d locked away forever.

Forever.

It was a long time… and belonged to him.

She would give it to him. “I can repair this,” she said.

He grew curious. “Repair what?”

He began to walk again, edging them through the garden gate to the mews at the side of the massive house, where a crush of carriages waited for their owners to call for them.

“All of it,” she said, her fingers trailing over the great black wheels of a coach, then along the silky flank of one of its horses. “I can convince Tremley never to betray your information.”

“How?”

“With Chase.” For the first time since they had met as Georgiana and West, she did not feel guilty referring to Chase as other. Not now, not as she was willing to sacrifice the false identity to save Duncan.

He stopped, turned to her. “I don’t want you anywhere near this, Georgiana. Isn’t it time you leave him? Isn’t it time you begin your life without him?”

She shook her head. “Duncan, you don’t understand —”

He took her arms in his grip. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve taken care of it.”

Everything inside her stilled. “What do you mean?” Was he planning to confess? “Duncan, you must not —”

“I have taken care of it,” he repeated. “But listen to me. Chase is dangerous. He has the power to bring us all down if he wishes. This entire mess exists because Tremley does not trust Chase not to release the information on his treason.

“I don’t know what it is that keeps you so beholden to him – I swore I would not ask ever again. But I do know that it is time for you to sever whatever ties you have to this massive, mythical man.” His words grew more impassioned and his anger began to show. “It is time for you to leave him. To leave that place. To end this part of your life.”

“I know.”

His hands cradled her face once more, tilting her up to meet his. “Christ, if you don’t do it for yourself, or for Caroline… do it for me.”

She was doing it for him. “I will.”

“Do this one thing for me,” he begged. “End it with him… whatever it is. Stay away from the club.”

“I will.” Two more days, and she would never look back at it.

“Do this, and I will never ask you for another thing again.”

She wanted him to ask. She wanted to be his partner in this. His Amphitrite. “Duncan…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. Hating fate and fortune, and wishing she were someone, anyone else. Wishing she were a woman who could fall into Duncan West’s arms and spend the rest of her life there.

“Promise me,” he whispered, his lips on hers, neither of them caring that they were in full view of half of London’s coachmen. “Promise me you won’t let him win in this.”

She returned the kiss. “I promise.” It was the closest that she would ever come to telling him she loved him. “I promise,” she repeated, and it was truth. Chase would not win this.

They walked to the next carriage in the line, and he opened the door. She peered in. There were newspapers scattered across the floor. Her heart began to pound. It was his carriage. Was he taking her to his home? Abducting her away from this place? From all the things that kept them chained to this world?

He handed her up into the carriage. “And promise me something else…”

“Anything.”

The wide world.

His hand slid down her leg, sliding under the skirts of her dress, his fingers caressing the skin of her ankle.

“Stay out of the club tomorrow.”

He closed the door and banged on the side of the carriage, signaling to the driver. “Take the lady to Leighton House,” she heard him say as the conveyance lurched into motion. She instantly understood what had happened – he didn’t want her sleeping at the club, so he was sending her to her brother’s house in his own carriage.