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“I suppose that explains the dossiers.”
“The Matchbreaker serves several purposes.”
“Let me guess.”
She stayed quiet as he thought, eager for him to guess. Wanting him to be one of the few who understood.
“There’s the obvious bit. Your group of women, bringing down the worst of men—those with unchecked power and nonexistent morals.”
“We would not have to if Westminster would do it for us,” she replied.
“Instead, you are called to service. And you put yourselves in harm’s way.” His brow furrowed. “You realize that if you are ever caught . . . if you are ever named as the Hell’s Belles . . .” He pushed a lock of her hair back from her face. “Christ, Adelaide, I shall have to rethink Parliament. You need a body man.”
She smiled at the words. “You’ve proven yourself a sound bruiser.”
Frustration flashed on his handsome face. “Don’t joke. What you play at—”
She leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet as he deserved, this prince among men. “I know what we play at, Henry. Even if we were not exceedingly good at the game, I’ve played it for a lifetime, on my own.”
“Not any longer.”
Irritation flared. “You expect me to, what, wait for those in power to police themselves? To change the rules? That’s a pretty suggestion, Duke, but while you make your speeches, the real world turns. And real people are caught in the balance.”
She made to move off his lap, but he caught her. Kept her. “No, Adelaide. I don’t mean that at all.” She looked back to him, his beautiful blue eyes clear and honest. “I mean, not on your own any longer. Now you have me.”
Adelaide caught her breath.
“I pledge you my sword, shield-maiden. Let me fight with you. For you. Beside you.”
Oh.
This man. He would break her if she was not careful. He would destroy her with his vows and his promises and his beautiful eyes and his warm touch and the way he noticed her.
She almost believed him and the promise he delivered. God knew she wanted to. But she knew the truth—she was lucky enough to have had him here, now, for a time. Like a dream.
She ought to send Danny a note of thanks.
“Henry—” she began, but he cut her off, as though he knew what she was going to say.
“Tell me the rest. To tear these men down, to pull them from their pedestals... You need access to their information. Some of that comes from your friends, to be sure. But dinner parties don’t bring access to secrets. Not the important ones.”
She nodded, allowing him the change of topic. “No one has looser lips than a woman attempting to escape a bad match.”
“So you build the dossiers about the poorly chosen bridegrooms... like Jack... and collect the real secrets in the balance?”
“There are secrets and there are secrets,” she said, wanting him to understand that the circumstances of his birth were not what the Belles were after. “We’re after the secrets that should bring a man down. The ones that should spell ruin. Building a file on Jack was easy enough—and it gave us access to Helene, who... has a secret of her own.”
His attention sharpened on her. “What kind of secret?”
She shook her head. She could not tell him everything. Not without knowing Helene was safe. “The kind that sends peers to prison.”
He went to steel at the words, immediately identifying the villain. “Adelaide, you cannot go head-to-head with Havistock. He’s a monster. What he used to hide—what he hid from my father—now, he shows in full light. He sees the world changing and knows his time is borrowed. He’s against a wall... and will destroy you if he has the chance.”
She nodded. “That is precisely why we must go head-to-head with him, don’t you see? No one else comes for these men. No one else brings them to justice.”
He knew she was right. She could see it in his eyes. In the shadow of frustration there.
“Havistock built a fortune on the backs of the worstof our sins—every one of them legal and every one of them corrupt,” she said. He knew that. He saw the way the world twisted in knots to keep Havistock and his ilk out of trouble.
