“But West has looked at her face. And Georgiana’s. And realized the truth.” This, from Temple.
“Yes.” The word made her feel guilty. As though she could have changed the situation. And perhaps she could have.
“You should never have brought him into this,” Bourne said. “He’s too quick. Of course he discovered you are both women. He was bound to. He likely knew the moment he agreed to help you land Langley.”
She did not reply.
“But he doesn’t know about Chase?” Cross asked.
She stood from the table, moving to the stained glass window that covered a full wall of the room, massive and menacing, depicting the fall of Lucifer. Hundreds of pieces of colored glass meticulously assembled to reveal the enormous angel – four times the size of the average man – as he tumbled from Heaven. From the casino floor, far below, it appeared that he was cast from light into darkness, from perfection into sin.
Destroyed and, in destruction, renewed. A king in his own right, with power unrivaled by all but one. Georgiana sighed, suddenly keenly aware of how powerless second-most-powerful could be.
“No,” she said. “And he won’t know who Chase is.”
That, she could promise.
“Even if he did,” Temple said. “He’s to be trusted.”
Georgiana had spent years working with the worst of humanity – learning them, judging them. She knew good men and bad. A day ago, she would have said that Temple was right. That West was to be trusted.
But that was before he’d kissed her.
Before she’d been drawn to him as she’d been drawn to another, long ago. One whom she’d trusted with her heart. With her hope. With her future.
One who had betrayed her without hesitation, and taken everything she’d given, ensuring that she would never be able to give it to another.
Ensuring that she would never want to.
Now, she did not trust her instincts around West. Which meant she had to rely on a different set of skills. “How do we know that?” she asked Temple, setting her cards on the table, no longer interested in the game. “That he is to be trusted?”
Temple shrugged one massive shoulder. “We’ve trusted him for years. He’s never betrayed us. You’re paying him handsomely with Tremley’s file… there’s no reason to believe that he’ll do anything but help. As always.”
“Unless he discovers Chase,” Cross said. “Now that she’s under his skin, he’ll be livid if he feels he’s been duped.”
Bourne nodded. “There’s no ‘feels’ about it. He has been duped.”
“I don’t owe him anything,” she said. The three men cut her identical looks. “What is it?”
“He knows you’re not simply Anna,” Cross said.
“And he’s not able to keep his hands off you,” Temple said. “If he finds that you’re also Chase…”
She did not like the words, or the implication that West was more connected to her life than she imagined. Nor did she like the way that implication made her feel – as though she couldn’t quite take a deep breath. She’d felt this way before, and she did not fancy feeling it again.
She channeled Chase, remembering the shadow that had crossed his face as he’d discussed the Earl of Tremley. Eleven years. Remembering the threat he’d voiced – the hint that if she did not provide him with information on Tremley, he would release her secrets. He was a smart man – one who knew what he wanted. “What do we know about him?”
Bourne’s brows rose. “West?”
She nodded. “What’s in his file?”
“Nothing,” Cross said absently, collecting the cards and shuffling once more. “There’s a sister.” Cynthia West. A pretty girl, welcome in Society despite her lack of breeding. West’s money had purchased her support. “Unmarried.”
Georgiana nodded, knowing better than anyone what was inside the slim file in her safe. “And nothing else.”
“Nothing at all?”
She’d looked a few times in the early years, but she’d stopped as West had become ally in her battle with Society. “Not much,” Bourne replied. “His initial funding came from an anonymous donor for the gossip rag, which came to pay for the other papers. I’ve looked for evidence of the donor for years, but no one seems to know anything about it, except that there was a fair amount of money involved.”
“Nonsense,” Cross said. “There’s always a trail when it comes to money.”
“Not this money,” Bourne replied.
“Family money?”
“He’s not landed. There appears to be no one but the sister,” she said.
“So, he had a mysterious benefactor,” Temple said. “So did we at the beginning.” The Duke of Leighton had bankrolled his sister’s whim, with the understanding that no one ever know his identity – a condition to which Georgiana had been only too happy to agree.
She met the Duke of Lamont’s black gaze. “You’re saying he’s a man with no secrets.”
“I’m saying that he’s a man with no interesting secrets.”
She shook her head. “Everyone has an interesting secret. West is man enough to have more than one. So tell me, why don’t we know them?”
Temple’s gaze narrowed on her. “You can’t mean to search for them.”