The carriage rocked along, heading into Mayfair, pausing here and there as other carriages crowded the streets. She barely noticed the delays, indeed was grateful for the opportunity to let her mind range ahead, examining, imagining.

If she did indulge in a liaison with Torrington…

He would realize she was a virgin, would guess she’d never been married. However, she doubted he would expose her to the ton; there was no reason he should, not once she’d explained.

There was, however, another danger. One her instincts, uneducated though they were, had detected. Just how real that danger was she couldn’t be certain, yet Tony— Torrington—was a nobleman to his toes. Arrogant, yes, with a definite streak of ruthlessness behind his charming facade, and…she searched for the word to describe what she sensed when he looked at her, held her, kissed her, caressed her.

Possessive.

If she gave herself to him, trusted him that far, would he agree to let her go?

She wasn’t foolish enough to overlook the point; if she became his mistress, allowed him to become privy to her secret, he’d be in a position much as Ruskin had been, able to dictate her behavior. She recognized the possibility, viewed it clearly, yet she couldn’t, despite all, see it happening. Adriana had mentioned Geoffrey’s assessment of Torrington; it concurred with her own reading of the man. He was simply not the sort to hold a woman against her will. Regardless of all else, he was an honorable man.

If she did become his mistress, for whatever length of time, he would, in the end, let her go.

All of which left her precisely where she’d started, facing the question of what she should do and no nearer to finding an answer.

The only alternative to making a decision was to stave it off. Somehow to hold him off, to avoid the culmination he was clearly steering them toward. If she could hold to a line just short of surrender, then the instant Adriana was established, disappear…

With a creak, the carriage turned into Waverton Street. Adriana stirred, stretched. Alicia straightened, and gathered her shawl and reticule. The carriage halted; looking out, she saw the light burning above their door.

Thought of her brothers innocently asleep in their beds.

Resist Torrington. The problem with that strategy was that in order to implement it, she’d have to fight not only him, an experienced campaigner, but her own, largely unknown, desires.

She let the footman hand her down, then led the way up the steps. Their reckless but straightforward plan had developed serious complications.

The next morning, Tony headed for the Bastion Club. On foot. He needed the exercise.

Needed the physical activity to ease the building frustration of a type he’d rarely had to endure. Indeed, he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman so much, and not having her. Worse, in this instance, he recognized the need to go slowly, carefully; his relationship with Alicia was forever, not for a few weeks or a few months. It would be the most important relationship of his life; it demanded and deserved a degree of care, of respect, of attention.

He’d noticed her occasional hesitations, the sudden tensing, almost a skittishness that sometimes gripped her. He’d always succeeded in soothing it, in getting her to set it aside and relax, to trust him. To open her eyes, see and accept all that could be and would be between them.

Although he hadn’t foreseen it, her reserve didn’t surprise him; she might be a widow, but that wouldn’t change the underlying truth of her nature—she was a virtuous lady, and as such would not easily be seduced. And in her case, there was yet more—a complicating factor. She was responsible for her family, and she took that responsibility seriously.

He hadn’t imagined that in gaining his bride, he’d have to compete with her family for her attention. While the fact was a difficulty, and clearly would continue to raise hurdles, he didn’t, as it happened, disapprove.

He enjoyed her family—enjoyed spending time with her brothers, even enjoyed watching Adriana make her choice, especially given Geoffrey was involved. But more, he found the circumstance of her family reassuring.

As an only child, he’d never experienced the relationships Alicia and her siblings took for granted. The warmth, the closeness that was simply there, the support it never occurred to them to question… all that was not only attractive, but spoke strongly of Alicia’s ability to create for him, with him, the sort of home and family he wanted. And needed. How much he hadn’t realized until he’d met her and her brood.

Regardless of his frustration, he wouldn’t have her change, didn’t wish she was otherwise. He valued her for what she was, as she was, and was fully prepared to accommodate that, to woo her as she needed to be wooed.

And pray he didn’t do himself an injury in the meantime.

With a wrench, he hauled his mind away from that moment in the Cranbournes’ front hall. Just thinking of that made him ache. Determinedly, he focused on the meeting he was heading for, with Gervase Tregarth and Jack Warnefleet.

They were waiting in the club’s meeting room, comfortably slouched about the mahogany table. Christian Allardyce was also there; when he raised his brows, Tony waved him to stay. “You’ve already heard part of this affair—the more help the better.”

Christian grinned. “And Dalziel is involved.”

“Indeed.” Tony sat and quickly, concisely, told them all he’d learned of Ruskin, his death, and his dealings with A. C. “This is a list of the ships mentioned in Ruskin’s notes, and the associated dates, and these”—he handed over a second sheet—“are the dates on which Ruskin received large cash donations to his gambling fund.”

Gervase studied the list of ships and dates, then compared them with the dates of the payments. Shifting to sit beside him, Jack perused the lists, too.

Christian, beside Tony, looked across the table at them. “I take it the payments in some way coincide with the shipping dates?”

Checking back and forth, Gervase nodded. “About a week in between, but not for every ship listed.”

Tony sat back. “It appears Ruskin provided the information, it was used or in some way confirmed, and then he received payment.”

“Whoever A. C. is, he ran a tight operation. No payment unless…”Jack stopped, looked up.

Grimly, Tony nodded. “Presumably no payment unless the information was useful.”

“Which,” Christian murmured, “suggests it was used for something.”

“And if it was,” Gervase was still studying the lists, “it wasn’t for anything good.”

“That,” Tony agreed, “is the inescapable conclusion. What we need to determine is exactly how it was used.”

Gervase nodded. “And trace it back to whoever that use benefited.”

“Precisely.” Tony paused, then asked, “Can you help?”

Gervase looked up, grinned. “I was intending to slip home for a few days. I can easily ask around in Plymouth, and along the coast there.” He met Tony’s gaze. “But you’ve more extensive contacts in the Isles and on the French side, and to the southeast on this side, I’d imagine.”

“Yes, but my problem—our problem at present—is that that information”—Tony nodded at the lists in Gervase’s hands—“is all we have. I compiled the list of ships from scattered jottings, more like reminders. Presumably the information Ruskin passed contained more detail.”

“But what detail we don’t know?” Jack asked.

“Exactly. Via the Revenue and Admiralty dispatches that passed through his hands, Ruskin had what amounted to each ship’s sailing orders, at least for their approach to our shores.” Tony looked at Gervase. “If you can find any hint of what was going on—how the information was used—I can put out feelers more widely. But given the nature of my contacts, if I ask general questions, rather than specific ones, I won’t get any answers. Worse, I might alert whoever it is that’s behind this.”

They all understood how the informant system worked; he didn’t need to explain further.

“Can I keep these?” Gervase held up the lists.

Tony nodded. “Those are copies.”

Folding the lists, Gervase slipped them into his pocket.

“I’ll ask around and see if I can find any whisper of any action involving these ships on or about those dates. If I find anything, I’ll bring it back immediately.”

“Once we have a clue what we’re dealing with, I’ll follow up more widely.”

Jack frowned. “Have you thought of inquiring via the shipping lines? If these ships are merchantmen…”

“I’ve a friend who’ll be in town in a day or so—he has a similar background to ours. He’s been out of the service for some years, but knows the game well. He also owns Hendon Shipping, one of the largest of the local lines. He has the contacts and will know how to make such inquiries without raising a dust.”

Jack nodded. “So—what did you want me to pursue?”

“Ruskin himself, and how A. C. knew him. Ruskin lived at Bledington when he was in the country. Not often, admittedly, but it’s an area we shouldn’t overlook. Given you’re the closest of us countywise, your inquisitive presence is least likely to attract attention. Our ultimate aim is to identify A. C. It’s possible he’s someone who lives out that way, and that’s how he knew Ruskin, and most importantly where Ruskin worked.”

“Right.” Jack’s gaze had grown distant. “I’ll check into Ruskin’s background and see if I can turn up anyone with the initials A. C. connected in however vague a fashion with our boy.”

“While you’re up there…” Tony hesitated, then went on, “You might check on a Mrs. Carrington and her family, the Pevenseys. Their connection with Ruskin appears to be via Chipping Norton. It seems Mrs. Carrington and the Pevenseys didn’t know Ruskin, but he knew them.”