The moon had ceded the night to the stars when she arrived
at the meeting place they had agreed upon via letter: a
small ancient cemetery surrounded by a fence and hedges on a
street still busy with carriages and horse traffic. A long
black cloak and veil aided the dark in disguising her.

Her coachman walked beside her, but he would not accompany
her to the meeting. For all his taunting, Peregrine did not
frighten her. A man who dedicated his leisure time to
rescuing strays was unlikely to harm a lone woman.

The cobbles shimmered with rain as she gestured for Jonah to
remain across the street. Lamps lit this part of London
irregularly, and the break in the wall was in shadow. Beside
the gate stood an enormous man.

“Ma’am.” The behemoth bowed. “He awaits you within.”

It was immediately clear why Peregrine had suggested this
place. The thick hedge within the walls created a bower of
privacy and the gravestones scattered unevenly throughout
made swift escape impossible.

He had staged the situation to his advantage too. He stood
among the stones not four yards away, a lamp on the ground
behind him casting him in silhouette. He was tall, and the
breadth of his shoulders and solid stance suggested a man of
fine physical conditioning. The night was mild and he wore
no hat or overcoat—nothing to disguise him.

He was entirely willing for her to know his true identity.

The gate creaked closed behind her.

“Good evening, madam,” he said into the darkness. “It is a
pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I have looked
forward to this moment for years. But, of course, you
already know that.” His voice was smooth and low, far from
menacing, rather intimate, and shockingly, unbelievably,
horribly familiar.

Only hours earlier this elegant voice had proposed marriage
to her.

“I am Gray,” he said. “Now remove that veil and tell me your
name.”