anywhere, though we never formally met. When I came to your home with my stepfather, you were out each day, hunting, riding, doing all manner of physical things your frail, ailing brother could not.”
Nash stiffened beside Lilias, and she squeezed his hand, offering silent support. The man smiled, but his eyes held no warmth. In fact, they chilled Lilias. He flicked his gaze to the table, then back to Nash. “You look exactly like your brother. Twins, weren’t you?”
Twins? Nash had never said they were twins. He’d only ever called him his younger brother.
“We were,” Nash replied, his voice devoid of emotion but his hand was now gripping hers so hard that her fingers throbbed. But looking at him and the way he was focused intently on the gentleman speaking to him, she doubted that Nash was even aware of the reaction the man was eliciting in him. “I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was?”
“Mr. Levine, but you were far more interested in my sister, Helen. She’s Mrs. Helen Porter now. She’s widowed.”
Lilias froze in shock. Did Nash have a past with Helen Levine? Mr. Levine was smiling so knowingly at Nash that Lilias knew it had to be so.
Nash’s brows dipped into a confused expression. “Does your sister have flaming-red hair?”
The man nodded, and a slow, tauntingly smug smile tugged his lips upward. “As I said, you were more interested in her than in me the few days Helen and I came with my stepfather to your home. My stepfather was Jacob Pickering. Do you recall him?”
“Of course,” Nash said stiffly. “But why do you and your sister go by different surnames than your stepfather now?”
“We always went by Levine. You just never bothered to inquire.”
Lilias felt Nash flinch at the man’s tone of disgust.
Mr. Levine drummed his fingers on the table as he stared at Nash. “Helen and I were from my mother’s first marriage, and my stepfather did not ever deem us worthy to give us his surname.”
“Oh, that’s horrible!” Lilias blurted out, bringing the man’s attention fully to her.
The footman still in the room discreetly turned his back, and Lilias understood the man had been trained to act as if he heard nothing and saw nothing the patrons of the club said or did. This was likely the best opportunity she would get to persuade Mr. Levine to give her Helen’s manuscript. She untangled her hand from Nash’s while keeping her gaze on Mr. Levine.
“I actually came here tonight to find you,” she blurted, then rose from her seat next to Nash and took a seat at the table across from Mr. Levine.
By Nash’s loud grunt behind her, she gathered he did not approve of the way she was choosing to handle the situation, but she pressed on. The night would not last forever, and she had to be on her way home before the sky lightened and her family woke.
Mr. Levine offered her a lascivious look as he leaned forward in his seat and traced a finger over her forearm. She forced herself not to draw away as he said, “That, my dear, is the best news I’ve heard all night.”
She started when Nash sat beside her, not having heard him move, but she was glad. His presence was comforting, and she knew he would not let anything happen to her. And if she had questioned it at all, the intensity of his tone when he spoke next would have banished any doubt. He leaned his elbow on the table. “If you touch my lady again, I will break your hand.”
Mr. Levine withdrew the offending appendage, an irritated look upon his face. “Ladies such as this one”—Mr. Levine waved a hand in her direction—“go where their desires and the coin take them. If she’s looking for me…” He shrugged, letting his words trail off, but the implications were obvious enough.
“She needs something from you,” Nash said, each word punctuated with his obvious distaste for the man.
Lilias didn’t like Mr. Levine, either, and was particularly offended for all courtesans that they had to put up with such treatment from men. She doubted a single woman ever had dreamed of becoming a courtesan. Circumstances forced these women into their profession—no training, little choices, precious little freedom, and the desperate need to survive. And men were the main culprits of women’s terrible plights, and those same men dared to look down upon women when they did what they must to survive. His own sister was