"You draw a hasty conclusion, sir," I said. "She needed help, and I helped her. Any other assumption insults her."

"Her husband was disgraced. There is no help you can offer her."

Her husband. The one who she'd said, in her inebriation, had been murdered. But a husband in disgrace might explain her words, and despair. In the world of the haut ton, dishonor could be a living death. She may have meant murder in the sense that Iago might have expressed it, murder to his good name. Disgrace to her husband would be great disgrace to her as well.

But I wondered. Something seemed very out of place.

"Who is she?" I asked.

Brandon's look turned outraged. "You do not even know?"

My temper frayed. "For God's sake, what do you take me for?"

"I take you for a man who does as he pleases, with whomever's wife he pleases."

My heart beat hard. "One more insult, and we meet. Even if Louisa guts me for it."

At the mention of his wife's name, the fight suddenly went out of him. His eyes filled with contrite anguish, and he walked blindly past me to the middle of the room. He stopped and stared down at the cloak.

He must have been very certain of finding Louisa here. He had worked himself into a rage, ready to kill me and drag her home. He had wanted his fears proven, wanted to stand over Louisa and me, letting the role of the wronged man give him power. That opportunity had been snatched from him, and now he was at a loss.

"I do not know where she is, Gabriel," he said, his voice hushed. "I believe she has left me."

"Good God. Why do you think so?"

"You do not know. You…" He broke off and swung around, his manner as stiff as ever. "This is none of your affair, Lacey."

All night, I had been told that things were none of my affair. "You charged in here looking for her, certain she was with me. You have made it my affair."