“Do you know what you’re about?”
He did not show his surprise at the intrusion, even as his heart beat slightly faster at the realization that someone had entered the room without his notice.
“I don’t doubt you’re going to tell me,” he said, opening his eyes to find Chase at the end of the bathtub. “How long have you been watching me bathe?”
“Long enough for London’s female half to become quite jealous.” Chase dropped onto a nearby stool and leaned forward, legs spread wide, elbows on knees. “How is the arm?”
“Painful,” Temple said, fisting the hand of the bad arm and attempting a slow uppercut into the air. “Stiff.”
He left out other words. Numb . Weak . Useless .
“It hasn’t been a week; give it time,” Chase said. “You should be abed.”
Temple shifted in the water, wincing at the way the movement sent a pain through him. “I do not require a keeper.”
“Nonetheless, every night you are out of the ring is a night we lose money.”
“I should have known that you weren’t concerned about my well-being.”
They both knew it wasn’t true, and that Chase would raze London if it would help Temple’s recovery. But they pretended nonetheless. “I’m concerned about your well-being as it relates to my profit margin.”
Temple laughed. “Ever the businessman.”
They were quiet for a long moment before Chase spoke again. “We have to discuss the girl.”
Temple did not pretend not to understand. “Which girl?”
Chase ignored the stupid question. “She has requested to return to her post.”
He hadn’t seen her in days—had wanted to recover before he saw her again. He’d wanted his strength back before they did battle again. Before he faced her.
But he did not want her far from him. He refused to consider the reason why.
“And the brother?”
Chase let out a long breath and looked away. “Still missing.”
“He can’t stay that way forever. He hasn’t any money.”
“It’s possible the girl funded the plan.” Chase ran a hand through blond locks. “After all, she’s something of an expert at hiding in plain sight.”
It wasn’t possible. She was too concerned about money. “She didn’t help him.”
“You don’t know that.”
Except he did. He had played the fight over again and again. “I saw her at the fight. I saw her try to stop him.” He paused, her whispered promises in his mind. “She saved me. She healed me.”
“She had little choice.” Chase was ever skeptical.
Temple shook his head. She hadn’t tried to kill him. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t.
Chase’s brows rose. “You champion the girl?”
“No.” Liar . “I simply want to be clear that her punishment is not her brother’s.”
“And how shall her punishment be meted out?”
“I need West.” Duncan West, one of the wealthiest members of the club and the owner of half a dozen London papers.
Chase nodded and stood, understanding Temple’s plan without having to be told more. “Easy enough.”
So it began.
Did he want it this way? He’d been so sure. He’d imagined it night after night, this moment where he revealed her to London and took his justice. He imagined her ruined. With no choice but to leave again. To start over. To know what it was that she had done to him.
But now . . . “It will be on my terms, Chase.”
Brown eyes went wide with feigned innocence. “Who else’s?”
“I know how you like to meddle.”
“Nonsense.” Chase straightened one sleeve, brushing a speck of lint from the cuff. “I merely remind you that women are excellent actresses, Temple. Yours is no different.” Temple resisted the thread of pleasure that coiled through him at the possessive. “She was scandalizing London and causing the biggest distraction the Angel had ever seen minutes before her brother stabbed you. The whole situation stinks of collusion.”
“Then why didn’t she run, too? Why did she stay?” The questions had rattled through him for days, since he’d woken from stabbing-induced sleep to find her at his bedside looking grateful. Pleased to see him alive.
Beautiful.
His.
No. Not his. Never his.
“Bourne wasn’t about to let her go,” Chase replied. “The point is, she’s not to be trusted. Your wound isn’t healed, and you’re half the man you were a week ago. Allow her to leave. Asriel will watch her.”
Temple stiffened at the words, disliking their truth. Disliking his weakness. Disliking the way the idea of anyone watching Mara unsettled him. She was his responsibility. His path to truth. “I can’t risk him losing her.”
Chase cut him a disbelieving look. “Asriel has never lost a thing in his life.” When Temple did not reply, the founder of The Fallen Angel leaned in. “Christ. Don’t tell me you’re after her.”
“I am not.” Temple stood, water sloshing over the edge of the bathtub to form great pools on the floor.
He wasn’t.
He couldn’t be.
Chase threw him a linen towel from nearby and tossed another into one of the puddles. “She robbed you of your life—metaphorically, then nearly literally. And now you’re intrigued by the chit.”
Temple dried haphazardly, unable to use his bad arm. “She remembers everything about that night. I remember nothing.”
“What’s to remember? She drugged you, fled, and left you holding the debt for a murder you did not commit.”
There was more. The whys. The hows.
The repercussions. The boy with his hair and her eyes.
He wrapped the towel around his hips, and pushed past Chase, returning to his chamber. “She will tell me everything about that night, and she will prove my innocence to the rest of the world. That’s why I’m—as you say—intrigued by her. That’s why I worry that Asriel will lose her.”
But that’s not all of it.
He ignored the thought that should have sounded like Chase but instead sounded like himself. He was not intrigued by her. Not by her strength and her will and her fearlessness. Not by her long neck or her full lips, either. There were thousands of women in London more beautiful and more biddable.
He was not intrigued by Miss Mara Lowe.
Intrigued seemed a tame description of how he felt about her. Drawn. Tempted.
He was consumed by her.
Chase was silent for a long moment, watching as Temple dressed, sliding into trousers, then a white lawn shirt, and the sling that had been designed for his injured arm.
He did it all with one arm. Perhaps Chase wouldn’t notice.
Chase noticed everything. “How does it feel?”
It doesn’t.
“I could still fell you.”
A golden brow rose. “Big words.” Chase headed for the door, one hand on the handle before a thought occurred. “I nearly forgot. We’ve been watching the orphanage since Lowe attacked you.”
Temple was not surprised—Lowe had no money and no allies now that he’d crossed the Angel. He could not show his face anywhere in London without threat. He only had his sister.
Anger threaded through Temple at the thought. “And?”
“He sent her a message. We intercepted it.”