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She looked around the room. It was filled with joyous people, laughing, dancing, and drinking. She felt as though she were drowning. What was she to do? Where was she to go? Returning home was out of the question, but to be cast out as a woman in London… She shuddered at the thought. Naive fool! Thinking he loved you. Believing he’d wed you! Oh, Papa, how could you have forsaken me for a sack of coins?

About to reach for another glass of champagne from a passing server, her hand froze mid-air when a strikingly tall woman with broad shoulders, jet-black hair, and eyes the color of coal approached her. Maggie pulled back her hand and straightened, unnerved and uncertain about what the woman could want from her.

“Miss Wentworth,” the woman said, her voice brisk. “I’m Hermia. I work for Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”

Maggie turned, startled to hear her name on this stranger’s lips. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” she asked.

“The widow proprietor of this establishment,” Hermia said.

Maggie nodded as she put it all together in her mind. The woman in black.

“She has kindly arranged a hackney to take you home. Lord Tidworth has been removed from the club and has already departed,” Hermia said.

“Removed?” Maggie asked, relief and confusion simultaneously flooding throughout her body. The last thing she’d wanted to do was see Tobias again tonight, let alone step into a carriage with him, but what did this woman mean by saying that he had been removed?

“Indeed, he was escorted off the premises for brandishing a knife.”

Maggie could not help but smile at the small piece of justice that had been served. It would no doubt work against her, but it felt sweet, nonetheless.

The champagne and the ordeal of the evening had taken effect by the time the hackney delivered Maggie to her front door. Her eyes and indeed her entire body were heavy with sleep. She dragged herself to her chamber, trying to fight the exhaustion. She had to think and plan for what was certain to come on the morrow, but her brain would not cooperate, so she pulled off her gloves, unclipped her chignon, curled onto her bed, and told herself she’d only rest for a minute.

The next thing Maggie knew, Tobias was leaning over her, shaking her by the shoulders. His face was twisted with rage. “Wake up!” he snarled. “It’s time for you to go home. Back to Dorset. Get up!”

Fury filled her, and she lashed out at him. “Bastard!” she screamed.

“My word! Stop it at once!” The voice was Hattie’s, and Maggie opened her eyes to see the maid standing over her. “What on earth is wrong with you?” Hattie said. “You almost scratched the skin off my face.”

Maggie’s chest heaved. She breathed, trying to calm her racing heart as she sat up. “I’m sorry. I was having a dream.”

“You’re still wearing your dress from last night,” Hattie observed.

“I was tired. I fell asleep as soon as I lay down.” Maggie looked at her now-wrinkled, purple muslin dress.

“Well, you must get up and ready yourself. I’ve had word from Lord Tidworth. He has ordered me to pack your things. He has arranged passage for you to Dorset today. The coach should be here in an hour.”

“An hour! I am to be thrown out in an hour?”

“Not thrown out. Sent home to your family.”

Maggie dropped her head in her hands, trying to think. She’d known this was going to happen, but somehow she was still not prepared. She could not go home—could not face her family as a discarded mistress. Her father would be furious with her for losing a nobleman and the fortune attached to him. And though she had hardened her heart against the smirks and gossip she received from the women of the ton, she would not be able to endure such humiliation coming from her peers in the countryside. Their disapproval would elicit real shame, and her tarnished reputation would affect her siblings. Home was not an option.

“Come, let’s get you changed into something appropriate for—”

“Oh, Hattie,” Maggie’s head was pounding, “my mouth is as dry as an ancient well. May I have some tea first?”

Hattie stepped back. “Very well,” she said gently. “I will fetch some tea, and then we’ll ready you for your journey.”

The maid retreated, and as soon as she shut the door behind her, Maggie began to pace her chamber. Where can I go? What shall I do without money? If only there were a place for destitute women. She thought of the tall, broad-shouldered Hermia who exuded confidence. And the widow proprietor, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who’d taken command of the men in her game room. She’d watched with awe at how those men, many of them lords, had instantly obeyed the widow. What she needed was the help of a strong woman—a woman who’d banished Tobias from her club. The answer came to Maggie as clear as dawn. She would return to the Lyon’s Den. But she would have to move fast.

She reached under her four-poster bed for the large carpet bag that had been gifted to her by Tobias when they’d taken a three-day trip to Brighton the previous summer and dragged it out. Then she opened one of her drawers and ran her eyes over the array of neatly folded empire dresses. She reached for two afternoon dresses, and a red silk evening dress, for she was certain the gown that she was currently wearing was wrinkled beyond repair. Quickly, she folded the three dresses and a few other personal items into her bag and snapped it shut. She couldn’t fit much else inside, so it would have to do. There was no time to waste. She opened another drawer and retrieved a small sack of coins. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough for a hackney to…Cleveland Row, was it? She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. Yes, that is what Tobias had said when his driver had rolled to a stop outside Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s blue house, “Here we are. Cleveland Row.” She nodded, reassuring herself. Then she picked up her carpetbag, ready to exit her chamber.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hattie asked, entering the chamber with a tea tray. “The coach isn’t here yet, and your hair is still hanging loose!” She set the tray down on the dresser.

“That’s not a problem. I can clip my hair into a chignon in the hackney.” Maggie snatched a hair clip off her dresser.

“What hackney?” Hattie frowned. “I just told you that your coach will arrive in an hour. You have plenty of time to…”

Maggie squared her shoulders. “I shan’t be returning to Dorset. I have other plans.”