With a measuring glance that read the quality of his coat and boots in much the same way as a military pass, she nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He waited until she was heading downstairs, then entered Ruskin’s parlor and shut the door.

Again, his search was thorough, but in contrast to Ruskin’s office, this time he found evidence someone had been before him. He found a pile of old IOUs lying in a concealed drawer in the escritoire atop more recent correspondence.

Dalziel and Whitley would never have permitted any other from either the official or unofficial sides of government to meddle in an affair they’d handed to him; whoever had been through Ruskin’s papers was from the “other side.” Indeed, the fact the rooms had been searched—he found further telltale signs in the bedroom—meant there was, most definitely, an “other side.”

Whatever dealings Ruskin had been involved in, someone had believed there might be evidence they needed to remove from his rooms.

Presumably they’d removed it.

Tony wasn’t unduly concerned. There were always threads left lying around in the aftermath of any scheme; he was an expert at finding and following such flimsy but real connections.

Such as those IOUs. He didn’t stop to analyze them in detail, but a cursory glance revealed that they’d been paid off regularly. More, the sums involved made it clear Ruskin had enjoyed an income considerably beyond his earnings as a government clerk.

Stowing the notes in his pockets, Tony concluded that discovering the source of that extra income was logically his next step.

After taking an impression of the key, he let himself out, returned the key to the landlady with typical civil service boredom, admitting to removing “a few papers but nothing major” when she asked.

Back on the street, he headed for Torrington House. He needed a few hours to study and collate all he’d found. However, the day was winging, and there was other information he needed to pursue that would, he suspected, be best pursued in daylight.

He’d been wondering how to approach Alicia Carrington and learn unequivocally all he needed to know. He’d left a corner of his brain wrestling with the problem; an hour ago, it had presented him with the perfect solution.

First, he needed to empty his pockets and let Hungerford feed him. Two o’clock would be the perfect time to essay forth to rattle Mrs. Carrington’s defenses.

He found her precisely where his devious mind had predicted—in Green Park with her three brothers and an older man who appeared to be their tutor.

The two older boys were wrestling with a kite; the tutor was assisting. The younger boy had a bat and ball; Alicia was doing her best to entertain him.

He spent a few minutes observing, assessing, before making his move. Recalling Alicia’s description of her demons, he grinned. The boys were sturdy, healthy-looking specimens with apples in their cheeks and shining brown hair. They were typical boys, rowdy and physical, yet they were quick to mind their elder sister’s strictures.

Obedient demons.

Amused, he walked toward her. The bat in her hands, she had her back to him. The youngest—Matthew?— tossed the ball to her; she swung wildly and missed. The ball bounced past her, giving him the perfect opening.

He stopped the ball with his boot, with a quick flick, tossed it up, and caught it. Strolling forward, he hefted the ball; as he reached Alicia’s side, he lobbed it to the boy.

And reached for the bat. “Here, let me.”

He twitched the bat from her nerveless fingers.

Alicia stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

Torrington glanced at her. “Playing ball.” He waved to the side. “You should stand over there so you can catch me out.”

Matthew, blinking at the changes, shook his head. “She’s not much good at catching.”

Her tormentor smiled at him. “We’ll have to give her a bit of practice, then. Ready?”

Alicia found herself stepping back in the direction Torrington had indicated. She was not sure about any of this, but…

Matthew pitched the ball to him, and he tapped it back between her and Matthew. Matthew squealed delightedly and pounced on it. A huge grin wreathing his face, he hustled to square up again.

After a few more shrewdly placed shots—one which came straight at her and surprised a shriek out of her— David and Harry left Jenkins with the kite and came hurrying to join in.

Normally, the older boys would have immediately taken over the game; she girded her loins to defend Matthew, but Torrington, bat still in his hand, elected himself director of play. He welcomed the older boys and waved them to fielding positions, leaving Matthew as bowler.

What followed was an education in how boys played, or could play if led by a competent hand. When Jenkins came up, the discarded kite in his hands, she waved him to take over her position. He might be more than twice her age, but he was better at catching.

The kite in her arms, she retreated to lean against a tree. Given the focus of the game, she naturally found herself gazing at Torrington.

Not a calming sight.

He literally made her pulse skitter and race. She was far enough away to appreciate his perfect male proportions, the wide shoulders and tapering chest, slim hips and long, lean legs. She’d yet to see him make an ungraceful move; she wasn’t sure he’d know how. His reflexes were excellent.

She saw the laughing humor in his face as he skied a ball to Harry, who with a rowdy whoop caught it. Torrington’s black locks, thick and lightly wavy, hugged his head; one fell forward across his broad brow as he good-naturedly surrendered the bat to Harry. He took the ball and bowled for a while, then tossed it to David.

And came strolling over the lawn to take up a fielding position near her. He grinned at her. “Coward.”

She tipped up her nose. “As you’ve been informed, I’m hopeless at catching.”

The look he gave her was enigmatic, but a ball hit his way recalled him to his duty.

She tried to watch the play and call encouragement as a good sister should, but having Torrington so close, watching him move and stretch and stand, hands on hips, then wave, directing her brothers, was distracting.

His occasional glances did nothing to slow her pulse.

What really worried her was why he was there.

As soon as David and Matthew had had a turn at batting, she called a halt. “Come along—we have to get back for tea.”

Her brothers, flushed and glowing with happiness, ran up.

“I say.” David tugged her hand. “Can Tony come home with us for tea?”

Alicia looked down into David’s bright eyes. Tony— Torrington was Tony to them. That seemed dangerous. But David, even more than the other two, was lonely here in London, and what, after all, could Torrington do? She smiled. “If he wishes.”

“Will you come? Will you come?” The chorus was instantaneous.

Joining them, Tony—Torrington—glanced at her. “If your sister doesn’t mind.”

She wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea, and he knew it; she met his gaze, but kept her expression easy. “If you have no objection to sitting down to a nursery tea, then by all means do join us.”

He smiled, not just with his lips but with those coal black eyes; if she’d had a fan, she would have deployed it. He bowed. “Thank you. I’d be delighted.”

Thrilled, thoroughly pleased with their new acquaintance, the boys took his hands; surrounding him, they danced by his side all the way back to Waverton Street, peppering him with questions.

At first, following behind with Jenkins, she merely listened, learning that Tony was an only child and had grown up mostly in Devon, but also in part in London. He knew all the childhood haunts. But when Harry, military mad, asked if he’d served overseas, and he replied he had, her protective instincts flared.

Quickly lengthening her stride, she came up beside Matthew, tripping along, Tony’s hand in his, gazing adoringly up at his new friend.

“So which were you in—the navy or the army?”

“The army—the Guards.”

“And you were at Waterloo?”

“Yes.”

“Did you lead a charge?”

She jumped in. “Boys, I really don’t think we need to hear about charges and fighting over tea.”

Torrington glanced at her briefly, a swift, penetrating look, then he turned back to her brothers. “Your sister’s right—war is not fun. It’s horrible, and frightening, and dreadful to be involved in.”

David’s eyes grew round. Harry’s face fell.

Alicia only just managed to keep her own jaw from falling.

“But…”Harry blinked at Torrington. “I want to be a major in the Guards when I grow up. Or the cavalry.”

“I was a major in both, and I’d suggest you rethink. Aside from all else, there are no more enemies to fight. Being in the cavalry in peacetime might not be the exciting life you imagine.”

They’d reached the front steps of the house. Torrington waved the boys ahead of him, then waited for Alicia to precede him. She went quickly up the steps and opened the door, then stood back, and the three boys filed in.

Gracefully, Torrington waved her on, then followed.

“Upstairs and wash your hands, please.” She shooed her brothers to the stairs. “Then you may join us in the parlor.”

They flashed swift smiles at Torrington, then clattered up the stairs. Jenkins shut the door. She turned to him. “If you could order tea, Jenkins?”

“Indeed, ma’am.” Jenkins bowed and left them.

She turned to Torrington. “Thank you.” She met his black eyes. “That was just the right thing to say.”