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group of confident, relaxed men, the past had rushed back on Darien like a tide. Harrow. The worst time of a tough life. Because of the Rogues. Because, especially, of Lord Darius Bloody Debenham.
    And so he’d run. It had been a calm, steady walk, but inside he’d been running as he’d once run at school, and he’d hated that. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was going as long as it was far away from people. When he’d discovered Debenham’s sister alone and vulnerable, he’d seen the opportunity for perfect revenge.
    She’d proved to be more than he’d expected—braver, more quick-witted, and infinitely more passionate—though that bloodred dress had been a warning. But he’d captured her. Now all he had to do was find Debenham to clinch his victory.
    Where in hell was he? This was his betrothal ball.
    Suddenly, he thought to wonder, what if he’d already left? What if he was too frail to last this long? He should have found that out.
    Poor preparation.
    Poor intelligence.
    Dammit. What to do now? He could still tell his story, but he wanted that face-to-face confrontation. He wanted to make Debenham eat his rescue out of Dog Cave’s hand.
    Leave and come back tomorrow? He needed to do this before Debenham’s sister had a chance to block him.
    The dance ended, the crowd shifted—and Darien saw him.
    He almost laughed aloud.
    Where was the addicted cripple?
    Dare Debenham strolled toward the ballroom doors, smilingly intent on the lovely brunette on his arm, and she adoringly intent on him. He walked without so much as a limp, and if he bore scars, they weren’t visible. In fact, he looked fitter and stronger than before.
    And completely happy.
    He should have been christened Theophilus—beloved of God.
    To hell with this. Darien turned to leave the room. Let’s see how long Debenham smiled with shame hanging around his neck.
    But he made himself stop. He’d resolved to restore the Cave reputation for good reasons. To retreat now would be another victory for the Rogues.
    Very well, a roll of the dice. If Debenham looked through him, pretended a Cave didn’t exist, or worse, reacted as if he were a leper at the feast, Darien would leave him to stew. If not, he’d play this out. He turned and stepped into the couple’s path.
    Debenham blinked, clearly far away, and then he smiled politely. “Canem.”
    Only Darien’s closest friends called him that—Canem Cave, a play on cave canem , “beware of the dog.” And that rocketed right back to schoolboy hurt and rage. Damnable. Especially when Dare Debenham had been the one to make that cruel joke.
    â€œCave Canem,” he’d said, laughing, turning Horatio Cave into Dog Cave, leading to—
    Enough. The dice had rolled and Darien must pay. He gave his enemy the good news. He even spoke to a couple of military men nearby, but he couldn’t linger more than that.
    Darien fled the celebration and went straight to hell.

Chapter 5
    T hea blended with the guests, smiling and hoping no trace of her inner mayhem showed. But she was alert for signs of drama or disaster. There was something, something discordant in the air.
    What had that man done?
    People only smiled and nodded at her, or paid compliments on the ball. If he’d announced the ridiculous betrothal, someone would have to say something. Wouldn’t they?
    Had it been a trick? Had he terrified her for amusement? Was he now laughing about it with others?
    Was he not even a Cave at all?
    Hope flared, but shame quenched it. If it had all been a game, Dare would remain burdened.
    She couldn’t bear not knowing. She wove through the guests, her smile feeling like a grimace, seeking Dare or Darien—what a silly confusion that was!—or anyone else who could tell her what had happened while she’d been away.
    â€œSuch a tragedy!”
    Thea started and looked at the speaker, Lady