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“Good evening,” Gideon said evenly, tipping his hat, then slipped out the door as the curious crowd flooded the stairs.

He stepped into the London night and took a deep breath of cool spring air, forcing thoughts of Lady Leila from his mind. He whistled for his driver, and his carriage rolled toward him.

He wasn’t attending the balls to flirt with ladies or find tryst partners.

His carriage stopped before him, and he climbed inside after instructing the driver to hurry home.

Lady Leila had her own mission, and he had his.

As the wheels turned and the carriage lurched into motion, Gideon pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his inner coat pocket and flipped it open beneath the dim glow of the carriage lamp.

His fingers moved quickly, thumbing through pages filled with neat entries—each dated and packed with lines of daily tasks, appointments, and obligations.

He turned to the last inscribed page, where today’s date was scrawled at the top.

Gideon retrieved a pencil from his coat pocket and pressed it between his teeth as he ran his finger down the list of crossed-out items:

Solicitor meeting regarding the sale of unentailed estates

Tailor

Luncheon with Lord Ainsley re: the criminal reform draft

Make revisions to the education petition

Schedule a reading of the Protestant tolerance brief in the Lords next week

Hardgrove Ball

Every item on the day’s list had been neatly crossed out.

Except for one.

Gideon stared at it for a moment.

Then, he plucked the pencil from his mouth and drew a single line through it.

Lord Wrexham

Then he shut the book with an audible snap.

Chapter 2

Present Day – Spring 1744

Gideon pressed his back against the cold stone wall, resting his head. The chill offered a small relief from the pounding in his skull. He closed his eyes for a moment, then let them drift open, surveying the small enclosure he had found himself in.

A faint glimmer of light filtered in from a tiny window high above. It was obscured by leaves or branches—he couldn’t tell—but occasionally, when the wind blew, a narrow beam of moonlight slipped through and cut across the room.

In those brief glimpses, Gideon could make out that his enclosure was a narrow, oblong space. Not a room exactly, more like a cell.

A dungeon.

There was only this tiny window, offering the slimmest view of the outside world, and to his right, a thick wooden door fitted with a small metal grate—no doubt for the guards to peer in without unlocking it.

Guards… Were there any watching him? Standing in the way of his possible escape?

He couldn’t hear anyone outside the door, nor could he tell if there were other prisoners shackled in rooms nearby.