Will stood in the streets of Mayfair, directly outside the mansion that was Kingfield House. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the window where he knew Emilia was sleeping on the other side. A hot breeze blew around him even though it was well into the darkest hours of the night.

He suddenly wished for snow or rain to cool his body from its raging need. It was only proof that he shouldn't have done what he had. It had not soothed his aching for Emilia, and it had only made his situation worse.

Will hadn't promised anything to her tonight. He told her that he'd won that bloody wager, and he would be sticking to it. But Will still felt like he had betrayed her by leaving her in the dead of night, sneaking away after she had fallen asleep.

He used her. Will felt sick to his stomach.

It was torture to be next to her. The warmth of her body seeped into his own, settling in his bones. It was torture sliding away to where he stood now, with the warmth of the night suffocating him instead.

Finally, Will spun around and moved briskly through the darkness, heading home.

He remembered the first time that he walked away from Emilia. Then, it had been skirting along the edges of winter. It was that magical time when the snow begins to fall, and people about town seem blithesome with the season.

Will had passed through the crowds of shoppers, making his way to Kingfield House as if he was in a trance. The merrymaking around him seemed like a dream. And at the time, he hadn't been able to understand their happiness.

He had planned it all out: what he would tell her, the words he would use, when exactly he would leave. Will had to have that plan; otherwise, he never would have been able to do it. He would have changed his mind and begged her to forgive and forget everything he had said.

Will used the one thing he knew would break her. He told Emilia that she embarrassed him, her ways too peculiar and unrefined for a gentleman going into politics. She would make him look bad, he'd said.

And because she believed those things about herself to be true, she believed him. Even though by then, Will had told her a million times that he loved everything about her, just the way she was.

It was amazing how easily doubt can leak into the human mind.

The look on Emilia's face was the worst. It had not been long after Will made love to her the first time, and by then, he had known her body. He had known her mind. Will had been able to see every emotion, every thought, as it flashed across her face.

And he'd felt it all along with her. Will was still reeling from the blow of blackmail. He was still not over the moment when a royal footman had shown up at his door, insisting that the King of England wished to see him. He hadn't exactly been able to deny the request, so Will was carted off to see Ernest.

And that, of course, had been when everything had changed.

Now, Will wasn't sure of anything anymore. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing by leaving Emilia to marry Trevor.

The only thing Will knew was that he was the worst sort of degenerate to have gone to her house like that. He should have walked clean away instead of toying with her emotions and body. He was everything that Kingfield called him that one time at Weston's home. 

Satan's spawn. The devil's debauchee. Defiler of women.

It was all true. Now more than ever.

Will slid through the front entrance of his townhome. He was about to walk up the stairs to collapse in bed when he noticed light shining through his study door.

He froze, confident that anyone who was there was most certainly not supposed to be.

But upon peering inside the crack, Will merely saw Leo's blonde head bending over a piece of paper, glasses sitting upon the edge of his nose carefully. What the hell?

Will eased the door open and leaned against the frame, but Leo did not seem to notice.

"You almost look like an academic," Will casually said when Leo still did not realize he was there.

Glasses, papers, and Leo himself went flying into the air, uprooted from their places on Will's desk. Leo clutched his chest in a shocked expression, repositioning his glasses on his straight nose.

"Excuse you," he gasped, affronted. "I attended Cambridge just as you did. I have done everything as you have, my friend."

Yes, Leo and Will had been together through at all. Nearly every aspect of their aristocratic lives were synchronized growing up.

There was always one thing, however, that Leo had which Will did not—a family that actually cared.

Leo had lovely parents. And Will's were...disinterested. But his lack of connection to his family gave him little qualms about leaving the country after graduating from Cambridge. He far preferred the company of friends and slight acquaintances to that of his parents. Leo even joined him in Italy for a time before returning to attend to his duties as earl.

Will had actually been in France when he received the letter that his father was ill. Out of duty, he returned to England, but the visit was brief. The late Lord Trotten passed within days of Will's arrival, and it wasn't long before Will packed his bags for a new country.

At the time, Will hadn't been ready to truly become Lord Trotten. Not in the way that his mother would have expected.

As for his mother, well, Will did not like to think of his mother.

Will raised a brow at Leo, who was now busy straightening the documents that had gone askew.  "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people when they are lurking in your home?" he grumbled.

"No," Will said dryly, "it would seem no one has informed me of that. What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep," Leo mumbled, not looking at him.

"Oh? Too many dreams of the madame?"

Will noticed tonight that Leo's long-filled interest in Lady Humphries had not lessened in the past years. He'd barely left her side throughout their rounds of drinks and whist. Will expected a mocking reply to his question, as was Leo's trademark, but the man ignored it entirely. Instead, he asked, "And what of your sleep? Or lack thereof?"

"I—" Will hesitated, not sure he wanted to admit the type of man he had become. "I was at Kingfield House."

Leo's head jerked up, and his eyes twinkled. "Late night chats with the duke?"

"Not precisely," Will said disparagingly.

Leo smiled, strode over to him, and gave him a hearty pat on the back. "Cheers, mate."

Will did not respond to the salutation, instead continuing to say, "I doubt Kingfield will want to do much chatting with me after this evening."

Leo's smile fell. "So," he began, drawing the word out. "I take it you do not mean to offer for Em?"

Will narrowed his eyes at the nickname. "You and Emilia are far too familiar for my liking."

Rolling his eyes, Leo replied, "Come off it, Will. Have I flirted relentlessly with Emilia for the past two years in your absence? Yes, naturally, I have. And we became rather close."

Will ground his teeth together.

"However," Leo continued, "she is not affected. She never stopped loving you. Not even for a single moment. Which is why I am going to ask you again—are you not going to offer for her?"

Hearing that Emilia still loved him tied his stomach in knots. But he kept his voice steady. "How can I?" Will questioned, shrugging and gesturing to the scene before him, to the endless letters of useless information.

"As it would happen," Leo said cheerily, sitting down on the top of Will's desk and throwing his perfectly shined boots on his chair. "I think I've found something that might help in that department."

"You have?" Will breathed, unbelieving. "Why the bloody hell didn't you say so right away?"

But Leo was now searching through the papers, muttering something about how Will had startled him, making a mess.

"Aha! Here you are," Leo said, holding up a crumpled piece of parchment.

"What is that?"

"Oh, this?" Leo said dramatically, "this is a letter from the Duke of Cumberland—that's the King's old title of course—"

"Yes, I bloody well know that."

"— that he wrote to your father, one, Lord Trotten, to encourage a meeting between him and a Frenchman named Clermont, who is the same Frenchman who signed the deal for the weapons for Napoleon."

Leo paused and then launched back into his presentation. "And not only that, but it says that the Duke of Cumberland, himself, would just so love to join in that little tête-à-tête. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be a tête-à-tête, as that would only be two people..." He reached up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Is there a word for ménage à trois that does not include the—"

"Let me see that." Will snatched the letter from Leo, cutting off his ramblings.

Will's eyes were unable to focus, emotion and fatigue blurring his vision as they attempted to scan the words. Will was able to read enough to confirm that was Leo was saying was true. Suddenly, he found it hard to breathe.

The king set his parents up, and this was some semblance of proof.

Finally, Will looked back at his friend while still clutching the paper rigidly in his shaking hands.

"Why don't I hold onto that," Leo said, reaching out and plucking the document from him. Will did not react; he merely continued to stand there, his mind blank.

"Please tell me you will not faint," Leo said, chuckling with a wry smile. "I have dealt with swooning ladies before but never a man."

Will cleared his throat. "Right," he said stiffly. "I do not swoon, Leo."

"Oh good," he replied, feigning relief. "Now, what say you about this?" He held up the letter.

"It—it's—" Will couldn't find the words to describe it. "Where did you find it?"

"Stuck between the drawers in the desk," Leo said, shrugging.

Will did not know what to say. It wasn't quite enough to absolve his problems completely, but it gave him hope.

"I do not know what to do now," Will said lamely.

"Well, I do," Leo said confidently.

Will lifted a brow, glancing warily at his friend.

"Marry the girl and take down the king." And then, with a little flourish of his hand, Leo added, "Obviously."

"In that order?" Will asked, uncertain.

"Yes, in that goddamn order," Leo exclaimed in irritation. "Otherwise, there shall not be a girl to marry. You have to trust her, Will."

Trust her? Will did not think that had anything to do with it.

But was it possible that Will would be able to turn the tables on King Ernest for good? Given this new information, he thought he might. Which meant...Emilia. He could have her.

"You are right, Leo," Will declared.

"Yes, well, I already knew that."

Will rolled his eyes, but he couldn't be mad. He couldn't be mad at all.

"Tomorrow," Will promised. "Tomorrow morning, I'll tell her I love her. And then I'll ask her to marry me."

Leo nodded once and smiled. "Second time's the charm, right?"

"God, I hope so," Will said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

****

Theo was drumming his fingers across the table, his expression moody. His morning meal sat untouched in front of him.

Emilia did not have the patience for her brother's antics this morning. She was still plummeting down from the high she had experienced last night in Will's arms, only to have found him gone in the morning.

Emilia supposed she should have expected it. For one, he could hardly have risked being there when the maid came in the morning. And two, he explicitly told her that it wasn't going to change anything.

But for Emilia, it changed everything.

Will might not be ready to marry her, but he wanted her. Last night he had looked at her like she was his whole world. He had made her feel loved.

Whether or not Will loved her, Emilia did not know.

The only thing she did know was that she loved him. And regardless of what Will wanted or what she wagered him, Emilia could not marry Lord Trevor when she knew in her heart that she would forever love William Graham.

Theo's fingers seemed to be pounding upon the table now.

"Any news this morning, Emilia?" he drawled, emphasizing the word news as though it was distasteful.

Emilia sighed, not sure what he was on about. But she said, "I think I should release Lord Trevor from our courtship. If it had even started, I am not entirely certain." Emilia scrunched her face, thinking about that.

"Why?" Theo asked, narrowing his eyes.

Emilia shrugged. "Why are you looking at me like that? I thought you should be happy. You never really liked him."

"Is there someone else who you are marrying, sister?" Theo asked, his eyes still assessing her carefully.

"No," Emilia said simply, standing up from the table. She strode from the room then, not able to stomach Theo's questioning at the moment.

Instead, Emilia went to sit in the parlor, thinking that she might send a letter to Adelaide. It had been some time since she heard from her, and Emilia wondered how she fared carrying that little niece or nephew of hers.

It would be a good distraction. The day was still very early, and Emilia would need something to occupy her today.

But she ended up staring at the blank piece of parchment for a long time, unsure of how to begin. Emilia did not understand why this should be so challenging, writing a few simple sentences, but her brain refused to work. She fiddled with the parchment instead, folding it in different directions before unfolding it and pressing it flat again. Which, of course, it wouldn't do. Something crumpled simply could not come back as new.

"Am I disturbing you?" A voice sounded behind Emilia, causing her to startle. Her hand flew to rest over her heart, feeling it beat rapidly within her as she twisted in her chair.

"Please forgive me for causing you a fright," Lord Trevor said, appearing genuinely apologetic from his spot in the middle of the parlor.

Oh, dear. Emilia wished she could hide or run away or anything. She was not ready for this yet.

"Hello," Emilia said, rather lamely, in response. "It's—it's quite fine. Might I ask what you are doing here? It is rather early yet, my lord."

"I am sorry for that," he said sincerely before adding, "but there is something urgent that I wished to speak to you about."

Emilia's brows furrowed. "Please sit," she replied, gesturing to the sofa behind him. "I hope that everything is alright?" she asked, slightly concerned. The look on his face was far from the one he had given her last night. He seemed nervous and uncertain, no longer bold and flirtatious.

"Oh, yes," he said quickly. "Yes, everything is alright."

Emilia stood and moved to sit across from him. Her neck had begun to feel uncomfortable from craning around in the chair.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

Trevor paused for a second before saying, "I had a lovely time with you last evening."

Emilia cocked her head to the side. "And I with you, my lord. I do believe that everyone had an enjoyable evening."

Lord Trevor gave a slight smile at that, chuckling. "Actually, I had such a wonderful experience, I was hoping...well, I was hoping that we might simply skip to the thing I have wanted to ask for you for some time now. And that is if you might do me the honor of becoming my wife."

Emilia sucked in a breath, and Trevor grasped her ungloved hands.

"Lady Emilia Shepard, will you marry me?"