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Pressing her palm to her stomach, she felt the stiff, new bandage Emme had insisted she wear before putting on her dress. It was a good thing, too. If it weren’t for that small delay, Jacqueline would have rushed headfirst into her father’s study, embarrassing them both in her hurry to see Henry.
    “Jacqueline?”
    Jacqueline looked up to find her father stepping out of his study, his eyes soft with concern. “Was that Mr. Gates?”
    Lord John nodded. “He came by to give his regards. I didn’t think you were receiving visitors.”
    “No, no.” Jacqueline forced a smile. “I appreciate you making my apologies.”
    “Of course,” Lord John stepped forward and took his daughter’s arm. “Why don’t you join me? I’ll send for tea.”
    “You don’t drink tea,” Jacqueline said, letting her father lead her into the library.
    “What Englishman doesn’t drink tea?” her father scoffed. Jacqueline took a seat on the couch, watching her father cross the room and give the bellpull a tug. “I just prefer mine with a bit of brandy.”
    “Perhaps I should try it,” Jacqueline said, her smile wobbling.
    “Or we could skip the tea altogether.”  
    “Papa?” Jacqueline’s voice was childlike in its sadness. “Henry doesn’t want me anymore, does he?”
    Lord John crossed the room and knelt down beside his daughter. “Oh, my dear,” he said, taking up one of her delicate hands in his. “Do not concern yourself with Mr. Gates.”
    Jacqueline nodded and brushed the tears from her cheek.
    “You’ll always have me to take care of you,” Lord John assured his daughter, patting her hand.
    Jacqueline forced her smile to stiffen. Looking into her father’s face, she realized it would forever be just the two of them.  
    Unfortunately, forever was a very long time.  

CHAPTER FIVE

    Devil entered Westminster Abbey, taking a moment to close the door quietly behind him. New beeswax and old sin permeated the air as he walked down the aisle, ignoring the high gothic arches and colorful stained-glass windows. Devil slipped into one of the pews and closed his eyes.
    The past few weeks had been hell. Word of Lady Edwards’ kidnapping had spread through London like pox on a whore. There were wages in the betting books covering everything from the lady’s first public appearance to whether or not she was increasing, to the exact date she would finally flee London.  
    “Most of my parishioners attend church on Sundays,” Canon Andrew said, taking a seat beside Devil.
    “That’s why I come on Wednesdays,” Devil said, opening his eyes.
    “It’s never too late to change,” Andrew said, eyeing his friend.
    “I know.” Devil searched Andrew’s face. And Andrew knew; Devil could see it in the holy man’s eyes. “But I don’t want to.”
    “And no one has ever been able to get you to do something you don’t want to,” Andrew replied. He should know; they’d grown up together. Both boys running wild on the streets. But where Andrew had turned to God, Devil had turned to violence. “You look tired.”
    “I am tired,” Devil admitted. He hadn’t been sleeping. His dreams, and his nightmares, were plagued by visions of broken women—a long line stretching back to his mother. Noticeably absent was Lady Edwards, but it was just a matter of time before she made an appearance.
    “Do you want to talk about it?”  
    “Not if you’re going to lecture me about my wicked ways,” Devil said. News of a nobleman’s daughter being abducted was not something that could be kept quiet. The particulars may not make the morning edition, but there was enough speculation that it would be a long time before the gossip settled and the event passed into history.
    “No lecture,” Andrew promised, resting his arm on the back of the pew. “Just a friendly ear and maybe a bit of advice, if you wish.”
    Devil was quiet for a moment, raking his hair with his fingers and scratching at his scalp. “Do you think intent