Lynch would never let her face this alone. Heat flushed behind her eyes, and the crushing grip of the hunger eased until color flooded back into her vision.

“This must be your lovely wife.” The Duke of Moncrieff stepped forward, reaching for the duchess’s hand.

Rosalind smoothly offered him her left hand, and he pressed his lips to the back of it, hesitating minutely. No doubt he’d realized it wasn’t flesh he held but metal.

“How intriguing,” he said. “I wasn’t aware that you’d married a mech.”

The word was a complete insult. Rosalind held a hand out, suppressing Lynch’s sudden, furious intake of breath.

“If you hurt her, I will kill you,” Rosalind whispered, triggering something within the mechanics of her hand. A blade hissed through the silk of her glove, narrowly avoiding the duke’s lips. She smiled as he let her go abruptly.

“It’s never a successful evening without at least one threat,” Moncrieff replied haughtily. To his credit, he extended his hand toward Rosalind again. “May I have this waltz with your wife, Lynch?”

It was a threat, but the pair of them exchanged glances, then Rosalind stepped forward, accepting the duke’s gloved hand. The blade slowly vanished back within her glove. “Go,” she told her husband. “Dance with Perry. The duke and I shall discuss the mechanics of my latest bill.”

“It sounds fascinating,” Moncrieff replied dryly, shooting Perry a warning glance as he swept the duchess into the waltz. He hadn’t expected her to accept.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Perry’s shoulders relaxed. Lynch took her gloved hand and rested it on his forearm, holding it in place. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she whispered, then attempted to smile. “But I have been in worse places and survived.”

“Dance with me.”

Perry nodded and then Lynch was leading her toward the dance floor and smoothly sweeping her into the waltz.

To dance with Lynch was strangely comforting and she realized that they moved perfectly together. For years they’d waltzed with blades, knowing how the other moved, knowing each fluid line of the other’s body. This was simply a different style.

“You’re not alone,” he told her. “Don’t give up.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Lynch gave her an amused smile. “How long do you think Moncrieff will last with Rosa before she drives him insane with her latest proposition for Parliament?”

“Perhaps I should join her cause. I can bore him to death.”

Lynch’s grip tightened, just a fraction. “Do you want me to challenge him?”

“No,” Perry replied. “I need him alive.” She looked up. “I need you alive.”

There was a long moment of companionable silence between them as Lynch swept her in circles around the room. They’d never needed an abundance of conversation between them to be comfortable.

“Need him alive?”

Perry glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “He has a device that can reverse the effects of the craving. Or control it.”

A slight intake of breath. That was the only sign that he’d heard her, but for Lynch, he might as well have set off a fireworks display. “And the price?”

“Me.”

He nodded sharply, looking across the ballroom. His gaze locked on something, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he stared at the duke. “That device could be dangerous.”

It reminded her that Lynch was no longer simply the Nighthawk, but one of the Dukes who ruled the city.

“He doesn’t intend to share how it works,” she replied. “But if tonight goes well, he’ll allow the Echelon a preview at the exhibition tomorrow. He’ll control the device, of course, but he’ll allow blue bloods to use it for a small price. And he’ll give me access to it.”

“I see.”

It unnerved her, for she feared he knew exactly what she meant. “What is Garrett doing tonight?”

The waltz slowed, Lynch rocking her to a halt. “He’s here, of course. For you.”

His gaze lifted over her shoulder and Perry felt a prickling awareness run down the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder just as the crowd parted and Garrett stepped through, immaculately clad in black, with the white of his bow tie gleaming. Just that easily he slipped into the coat and looked as though he belonged here in a way she’d never mastered.

“No.” She panicked, jerking at Lynch’s hold.

Lynch leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “If I ask him, I know what the answer will be. The price is too much, Perry. It’s time you learned to let someone else help you for a change.”

“I can heal him,” she whispered. “I can save him.”

Another long, slow look. “Speaking as a man who has recently had his wife try to sacrifice herself for him, the gesture won’t be appreciated. If a cure exists, then there’s still hope. That’s enough.”

“Might I cut in?”

The voice shivered over her skin, under it. She held on to Lynch until the last second, a wash of heat sweeping through her. Then Lynch gently disentangled her and passed her into Garrett’s arms.

“She’s all yours,” Lynch replied, and the words sounded vaguely prophetic.

Music started up, a hint of a Middle Eastern hum rasping over the strings. Perry’s gaze jerked to Garrett. The assah. A dance designed to tempt, to display a thrall or debutante’s best assets to a blue blood.

“You look beautiful,” he said, sweeping her into the dance. Of course he knew the steps, though she didn’t ask how. There’d been affairs in his past with ladies of the Echelon, and Garrett had always been able to master any skill with minimal effort, damn him.

He turned her in a slow circle, holding on to her wrists from behind. “Though I prefer you in red.” Another turn, drawing her back against his chest, his voice whispering over the skin of her neck. “And wet.”

One hand curled around her waist, drawing her in tight against him. Perry slid her gloved hand over his, holding it in place, her breath trembling through her chest. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re going to ruin everything.”

“Precisely.”

The dance swept them apart again, Garrett twirling her in elegant circles. Then she was back in his arms as if she belonged there. Oh, how she wanted to stay. This dance was forbidden, but the feel of Garrett’s arms made it seem as if the world had vanished around them, as if they could create their own world. Somewhere safe, just for them.

“I told you to go!” she whispered harshly. “I made my decision.”

“If I recall, I don’t believe I actually agreed with it.” Garrett twirled her in a pirouette, their eyes meeting for a brief smoldering moment before she was back in his arms.

“You’re a stubborn bastard.” Despite her anger, a tiny part of her warmed.

“We’re well matched.” His breath tickled her hair. “I’m going to give you stubborn children, my love.”

Perry flinched. She couldn’t focus on that. Not now. And he knew it. “He has a cure for the craving,” she murmured, trying to force him off balance as much as she was.

Stillness leeched through the hard body holding her. They paused in the middle of the dance floor. “If you tell me this is why you’re doing this, I’ll wring your bloody neck.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

Perry twirled, giving him a sharp look to keep going.

Garrett glared at her, moving sullenly into the next step. “I’m not leaving without you tonight. I did it once. Not again. And you can argue all you damn well like.”

Perry glanced over his shoulder. The Moncrieff prowled the edges of the dance floor, watching her with a dark, possessive look on his face. She jerked her gaze back to Garrett. “He’ll kill you.”

“Not here, he won’t,” Garrett replied with considerable aplomb.

“This isn’t a jest!”

At that his eyes darkened and he leaned close to her. “I’m not laughing, Perry.” His grip tightened on her until their h*ps were almost pressed against each other, his lips trailing against her cheek. She trembled at the rasp of his stubble.

“Damn you for a stubborn fool.”

“People in glass houses, my dear.”

Perry drew back enough to be able to see his face. “What are you planning?”

Another swirling circle, where she caught a glimpse of the duke, strolling slowly through the crowd. Their eyes met, then she was swept into Garrett’s arms, her back cradled against his chest.

“Best if you don’t know.”

“Garrett,” she whispered over her shoulder.

His gaze locked across the room. The duke stared back, a tight expression on his face. Perry couldn’t stop herself from grabbing Garrett’s hand reflexively.

“He’s not alone,” she whispered. “Whatever you’re planning, you need to know that he’ll protect himself first.” She hesitated. “Don’t forget about Hague.”

Garrett’s attention snapped to her.

“You know what he did to those girls.” Her chest seized, but she kept going. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen such a thing. It’s not the first time…” She couldn’t go on, shook her head. “I escaped, Garrett. I’m the only one who ever has.” The words were coming faster now. “The duke told me the cellars were out-of-bounds, and I should have listened to him. But I was curious. And there were…strange noises sometimes. Crying. At night. That was why I begged my father to get me out of there. I should never have gone searching. I should never have opened the cellar door, but I did.”

A thumb stroked her hand, drawing her back out of the nightmare. Perry looked up bleakly as he swirled her gently in his arms. Garrett said nothing, letting her say what she needed to say. His presence was an anchor against the fear and horror.

“When they found me, I was trying to free one of the girls. The duke told me that if I ever breathed a word of it, he’d kill my father, and Hague…he wasn’t supposed to touch me. I had to live there, knowing what was going on. One night the duke went out, to his club”—she was babbling—“I tried to free them again and Hague took me. He h-hurt me. He just wouldn’t stop cutting me, no matter how much I screamed.” She wet her lips, seeing it all over again. Garrett’s hand caught her chin, forcing her eyes to his. Forcing her to see him, rather than the blood on the blade.

“You escaped,” he said quietly.

Running down that long hallway in the duke’s mansion. Slipping in her own blood. And there, over the fireplace, a pair of crossed broadswords. She’d been so desperate by then. “When Hague came after me…I thought I’d killed him,” Perry whispered. “The blade went through his face, his jaw. I don’t know how anyone could have survived.”

“And then you ran.”

“Hague had injected me with the craving virus. So that I’d survive his experiments. By the time I fled, I wasn’t in my right mind. I could barely fight off the hunger, let alone actually think about what I should do. And my father—I couldn’t go home. It was the first place the Moncrieff would look. And he’d threatened—”

“It’s all right,” Garrett whispered, his hands stroking her h*ps as he rocked her. “You don’t have to be frightened anymore.”

So easy to surrender to that gentle touch. She wanted to. “You don’t understand. The duke knew what Hague was doing. They have no conscience, no…no empathy. You can’t arrest them. You can’t duel them; only a blue blood of the Echelon can. With this ability to reverse the craving, the duke owns the prince consort. Any court case would simply vanish, and the witnesses too.”

Garrett’s hold tightened. “So you’ll stay with him. Knowing what he did.”

“I will do what I need to.”

“And so will I,” he said quietly.

“Don’t.”

“If I asked you not to stay with the duke, would you obey?”

Perry’s jaw tightened.

“I thought not,” he replied. “So don’t ask me to watch the woman I love go with another man to save my life. I won’t have it, Perry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” His arms locked around her, drawing her close, his breath a harsh exhalation against her cheek. “I love you, Perry. I’ll always love you. And I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if you need me to.”

She couldn’t keep fighting him anymore. And the dance was drawing to a close, people’s eyes turning their way. He was holding her far too closely for even the assah.

Her eyes met the Moncrieff’s. The duke was waiting for her on the edge of the dance floor, a blank expression on his face. Too blank.

“Trust me,” Garrett whispered.

It broke something inside her. “I’m frightened,” she admitted. “All of this… Everything I’ve done… I can kill a man with one blow, but as soon as I see the duke, I’m just a frightened young girl again. I hate it.”

“The problem is that you still think you’re alone.”

She looked up.

“And you’re not,” Garrett said fiercely. “You have me—you’ll always have me. And Lynch and Rosalind, Byrnes…even Barrons is here… Do you think we’re frightened of the duke?”