“Luce,” said Con quietly, moving between them. “There’s more to this than that.”

“Is there?” Arden asked, his eyes still on Hawk.

“Yes.” Everyone else in the room spoke at once, and the shock of it broke the tension. Clarissa laughed, then bit her lip, eyes still shadowed by shock and uncertainty. She pulled free of Arden, but made no move closer to Hawk.

This had snatched away her elusive beauty. All he wanted in life was to make Clarissa beautiful, each and every day, and yet by his actions he had doubtless thrown away the chance.

He spoke to her alone, without hope. “My father thought he should have inherited Deveril’s wealth along with the title, and he spent in expectation of it. That’s where the debt came from. I sought you out looking for evidence that you were involved in Deveril’s murder because then the will would be overturned and the new viscount—my father—would inherit the money.”

“You thought me a murderer! I suppose in some ways I should be flattered.”

“Clarissa…”

But her hand covered her mouth. “I’ve just given you the evidence.”

“You have?” Arden asked, sharply.

“I told him everything. Just as he planned.”

“No!” Hawk exclaimed, but there seemed nothing left to pin hopes to except honesty. “At the beginning, yes.”

“Do I have to slap you with my gloves?” Arden asked coldly. “I’d have to burn them afterward.”

“Not now!” Hawk commanded, aware of Clarissa’s sudden pallor. “Con—”

He put his hand on her arm to push her toward Con, but she twitched away. “Don’t try and get rid of me! Don’t you dare! Any of you. I’m not a child.” She whirled on Arden. “You are not to fight over me.”

“You have no say in this.”

“I demand a say. I insist on it.” When Arden stayed tight-lipped and resolute, she said, “If you duel him, I’ll shoot you.”

“Clarissa,” said Hawk, wanting to laugh and cry at once. “I’m sure you don’t know how.”

“It can’t be so hard as all that.” She stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “You said it was an honorable act for someone to kill Deveril. How could you even think of destroying people over it? Even for Hawkinville.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then what drove you?”

“The will,” he snapped. “Forgery is hardly cloaked with honor, Clarissa, no matter how you care to deceive yourself.”

She stared at him and the elusive truth dawned even as she whirled to face Arden.

“It was a forgery!” She laughed. “Of course it was. How very stupid I’ve been. Deveril—Deveril!—leaving me all his money. He’d have rather left it to the Crown, or scattered it in the streets if it comes to that.” She suddenly struck out at the marquess with both fists, pummeling him.

Arden stepped back, and before Hawk could reach her, he grasped her wrists and spun her to face him. “Hit him if you’re feeling violent. He’s the villain of the piece.”

She staggered forward, weeping, and Hawk caught her, held her for a precious moment. “I have committed no crime.”

Except breaking a heart.

“Abduction, for a start,” Arden said.

“Stop.” Con took Clarissa from Hawk, keeping an arm around her. She wasn’t crying, but she seemed ready to collapse. “There’ll be no duel,” Con said, in an officer’s unquestionable voice, “and no violence.” Then he looked at Arden with a frown. “I gather criminal acts are not to be shared among the Rogues these days.”

The marquess looked to be at the end of his tether. “Not lightly, no. And you came back from Waterloo in a bad way. We weren’t about to add to your burdens.”

Con pulled a face and sat Clarissa in a chair. He went to his haunches in front of her. “What do you want to do?”

She looked at him, pallid, then up at Hawk. “I want to arrange to give the money to the new Lord Deveril.”

Arden took a step toward her. “Don’t be foolish.”

Without looking, Con put a hand out to stop him. “It will be as Clarissa wishes.”

“On Hawkinville’s side, I see,” said Arden coldly.

Con was steady as a rock. “It is Clarissa’s choice. That has been decided.”

It seemed to stop Arden’s fight, but he said, “Perhaps she’ll see sense when the shock’s worn off.”

“Do I have any say?” Hawk interrupted.

They all looked at him, but he spoke to Clarissa. “Hawkinville only needs some of the money—”

“Damn your eyes!” Arden exploded. “How much filthy money do you need?”

Hawk faced him. “Legally, the money belongs to my father. But twenty thousand pounds will suffice.”

The arrogant disdain was designed to annihilate. “I will provide it for you on agreement that you leave Clarissa in peace.”

There was nothing left but icy invulnerability. “Within the week?” Hawk inquired.

“Within the week.”

Clarissa started to say something, but Arden overrode her. “We can discuss your situation later. Come along now. Beth will want to take care of you.”

“But the baby…”

“Is not enough to tax my Amazon.” He turned to Con, acting as if Hawk was not there. “Coming?”

“No. I’ll deal with Hawk.”

“He can’t be allowed to harm Blanche.”

“He won’t.”

“Of course I won’t,” Hawk snapped. Arden had drawn Clarissa to her feet, but she looked stricken still. “Clarissa, you don’t have to go.”

It was a faint hope, and her blankness denied it. She made no protest as the marquess took her out of the room, but then she suddenly stopped.

Hawk watched in faint beating hope as she turned back. She pulled off the two rings and put them on a table against the wall. And then she was gone.

Hawk was left with Con and could collapse into a chair and put his head in his hands. “I’ve known battles that have been easier.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“She was innocent,” Hawk said, to himself as much as to Con. “All along, she was completely innocent.”

And thus his treatment of her had been atrocious from first moment to now. He’d hunted down a sheltered young woman who’d been forced into an engagement with a depraved man. She’d been abused, terrified, threatened, and then witness to his bloody murder.

Arden was right. He deserved to be shot.

“You’re not totally the villain, you know,” Con said in a steadying voice.

Hawk looked up. “Oh, please, explain why not.”

“You can’t let Slade rape Hawk in the Vale.”

“So I rape Clarissa instead.”

“I am sure you did not.”

Hawk sighed. “No, but I’ve used her shamefully.”

“Last night was unwise, but understandable. And you planned to marry her.” Con smiled a little. “If you wish, you can lay most of it at the Rogues’ door. We came up with the forgery.”

“You weren’t even there.”

“All the same.”

“Ah,” said Hawk, suddenly wracked by a weariness he hadn’t felt since Waterloo, since after Waterloo with the chaos and the wounded and the mounds and sweeps of bodies and body parts so that victory, for the moment, was valueless. So one only wanted to turn back time for a few brief days to restore life and joy to the thousands of dead, and to their families still to hear the news, and then change history so that such battles never happened again.

Events, however, are written in ink the moment they occur, and cannot be erased.

“In that case,” Hawk said, standing and beginning to pull together what was left of his life, “can I ask you to deal with Arden about this? A duel, though I can understand his feelings, would serve no one. You can assure him that I will do nothing to endanger Mrs. Hardcastle or anyone else involved in Deveril’s death. For the sake of Hawk in the Vale, however, I must take his money. In strict honor, I should not let the matter of the forgery go.”

Con rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Nicholas arrived at Somerford Court yesterday. You know who I mean? Nicholas Delaney? Apparently his Aunt Arabella summoned him to Brighton.”

“Arabella Hurstman? Good God, a Rogue dragon as well. I was doomed.”

“I’m afraid so, but since she was largely kept in the dark, I think the doom will fall on us. But when Van explained about the Deveril title, we agreed immediately that the money had been improperly redirected.”

A crack of laughter escaped Hawk. “Now that’s a way to describe forgery. And a damn good forgery, too.”

“But of course,” said Con with a smile. “You have to understand that everyone, including Deveril himself, thought he was heirless. The money was going to buy the Regent another gold plate or two, and without money, Clarissa’s situation was desperate. You may not know, but Nicholas has an interest in that money. It was originally gathered by a woman called Therese Bellaire—” Con must have caught a reaction. “That name means something?”

“Oh, yes,” said Hawk with another laugh. The debacle was beginning to take on an absurd humor. “I recruited Delaney for that job. He must be enjoying this turn of the wheel.”

“Not particularly. But at least I don’t need to dance around the details. The Bellaire woman gathered the money from Bonapartist supporters. She was supposed to take it to France to be ready for Napoleon’s return. Instead she planned a new life in America. Nicholas distracted her sufficiently that Deveril was able to steal it.”

“Gad. And she didn’t kill him then and there?”

“She was, as I said, distracted. And by then, England was not safe for her. But Nicholas could hardly be happy leaving that money with a man like Deveril. When Clarissa’s affair erupted, it was simply too good a chance to pass up.”

Still swimming in lunatic humor, Hawk asked, “I wonder what happened to Therese Bellaire? She managed to work her way back into Napoleon’s inner circle, you know, but Waterloo must have ended her hopes.”

“I pray that’s true. I’m sure she’s never forgotten or forgiven any of this. I remember her. Honeyed poison. But the forgery was done under the assumption that no one had a better claim. Right is on your father’s side and the money should be his. We agree on that, but Clarissa’s situation makes matters difficult.”