"It wasn't me that gave him a knock on the head," Gentry said defensively. "I was only out to rob the old cheeser, not kill him."

"No matter what your intentions, the result was the same. You were an accomplice to murder." Staring into his stony face, Sophia softened her tone as she continued. "But the past cannot be changed. All we can do is deal with the future. You can't really mean to go on this way, John."

"Why not?"

"Because you are not invulnerable. You will make a mistake sooner or later, one thatwill have you swinging on the gallows. And I could not bear to lose you a second time. Besides, this is not the life for you. You were not supposed to--"

"It isexactly the life for me," he cut in tersely. "Sophia, whatever memories you have of me don't apply now. Do you understand?" "No," she said stubbornly. "I don't understand how you can live like this. You are better, more worthy, than this."

Her words earned a peculiar mirthless grin. "That shows what you know." He stood and went over to the fireplace, bracing a large hand on the white marble mantel. The firelight played over his hard young features, striping them with black and gold. After a moment's contemplation, he turned toward her. His expression was intent, but his tone was deceptively lazy. "Let's talk about Bow Street some more. You say you can get into the criminal records room. It so happens that I need some information--"

"I've already told you no. I won't betray Sir Ross's trust in me."

"You have for the last two months," he said irritably. "What's stopping you now?"

Sophia realized that he was not going to be satisfied until she told him the truth.

"Nick," she said carefully, "there is a...a certain relationship that has developed between Sir Ross and myself."

"My God." He raked his hands through his hair distractedly. "You and he..." Words seemed to fail him.

Understanding the unspoken question, Sophia gave him a cautious nod.

"My sister and the Monk of Bow Street," Gentry muttered in disgust. "A fine revenge this is, Sophia! Jumping into bed with the man who nearly killed me! If that's your idea of retribution, I've got a few things to explain to you."

"He has asked me to marry him."

Gentry's eyes flashed with astonished fury, and he seemed to stop breathing. "I'd rather see you dead than marry the likes of him."

"He's the best man I've ever known."

"Oh, he's a damned paragon!" Nick said caustically. "And if you marry him, he'll never let you forget it. He will make you believe that you're not good enough for him. You'll be crushed by his damned honor and respectability. Cannon will make you pay a thousand times over for not being perfect."

"You don't know him," she said.

"I've known him a damned sight longer than you have. He's not human, Sophia!"

"Sir Ross is forgiving and kind, and he is well aware that I am not perfect."

Suddenly her brother stared at her in a calculating way that made her uneasy, his dark brows lowering at the inner corners in a devilish slant. "You're very sure of him, then," he remarked silkily.

She met his gaze with earnest resolution. "Yes."

"Then let's put your faith to the test, Sophia." Nick casually rested an elbow on the mantel. "You'll get that information I want from the criminal records room.Or ...I will tell your steadfast, oh-so-forgiving lover that he has proposed marriage to the sister of his worst enemy. That Sophia and the despicable Nick Gentry have the same blood flowing through their veins."

Sophia nearly reeled backward in shock. "You're blackmailing me?" she said in an airless whisper.

"It's up to you. You can get me what I want...or you can take the risk of losing Sir Ross.Now how much faith do you have in his forgiveness?"

Sophia couldn't speak. A thought blazed through her mind:Dear Lord, will the past always return to haunt me ?

"Do you want me to tell him that I'm your brother?" he prodded.

She just couldn't be certain. She knew that Ross was everything she had claimed and more. And once he learned of her relationship to Nick Gentry, he would try to find a way to overlook yet another terrible fact about her. But this might be the straw that broke the camel's back. There was a chance that Ross might never be able to look into her eyes without remembering that she was the sister of his hated adversary.

And suddenly Sophia realized that she would die before letting that happen. She could not survive Ross's rejection, not now, after they had become so close. She could not take a risk--she had too much to lose.

Her voice came out in a croak. "No."

Strangely, Gentry's eyes seemed to flicker with disappointment, almost as if he had hoped that she would defy him. "I thought so."

Sophia stared at her brother intently, wondering if he was playing games with her. "You couldn't really bring yourself to blackmail me," she said, though she couldn't prevent the wobble of uncertainty in her tone.

He gave her a callous smile. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Before she could reply, the door vibrated with an imperative thump, and a muffled voice asked for entrance. Obviously annoyed, Gentry went to let the man in. The visitor was one of the most peculiar creatures Sophia had ever seen, a heavyset man with bulbous features and a distinctive lavender pallor. The blue-black shadows on his bristly cheeks contributed to his grimy, dark appearance. Sophia wondered how many of these strange underworld figures must work for her brother.

"Blueskin," Gentry greeted his henchman.

"Someone's come looking for ye," the man muttered. "The Monk 'isself."

"Cannon?" Gentry asked incredulously. "Damn his eyes, he just raided the place in February! What in the bloody hell is he hoping to find?"

" 'Tis no raid," Blueskin replied." 'E's come alone."

Sophia shot to her feet in alarm. "Sir Ross is here?" "It appears so," Gentry said in disgust, motioning for Sophia to follow him. "I'll have to see him. You can go "With Blueskin out the back way before Cannon has a look at you."

Blueskin interrupted. "D'ye want me to 'ave the boys throw 'im out, Gentry?"

"No, idiot. Then he'll come back with a hundred constables and take the place apart brick by brick. Now, take this woman back to Bow Street. Anything happens to her, and I'll slit you from ear to ear." Nick returned his attention to Sophia. "About those criminal records--I want you to find out what Cannon may have learned from a man named George Fenton when he was held for questioning two weeks ago."

"Who is Fenton?"

"One of my spruce prigs." Seeing her confusion, he clarified impatiently. "A highly trained thief. I need to know what Fenton told Cannon--if he stayed loyal to me and kept his gob shut."

"Yes, but what will happen to Mr. Fenton if it turns out--"

"That's not your concern," he replied, pushing her toward the back door. "Now go quickly, before Cannon finds us together. Blueskin will keep you safe."

Less than a minute after Sophia had left, Cannon shoved his way inside the apartment. Nick sat in his chair by the hearth, stretching out in a provokingly idle position, as if it were of little concern to him that the Chief Magistrate of Bow Street had just invaded his home. Cannon approached him and stopped just a few feet away, his eyes appearing oddly light in his wrath-darkened face.

Despite his animosity toward the Chief Magistrate, Nick had to concede a certain grudging respect for him. Cannon was smart, seasoned, and powerful...a man's man. And he possessed an unyielding morality that fascinated Nick. A man handicapped by principles, who could accomplish all that Cannon had, was someone to be reckoned with.

The air was alive with challenge and aggression, yet they both managed to converse in a normal tone.

"You gave the necklace to Miss Sydney," Cannon said without preamble.

Nick inclined his head in mocking commendation. "You found that out damned quickly."

"Why?" The magistrate looked as though he wanted to tear him apart piece by piece.

Shrugging, Nick offered a casually spoken lie. "I've fancied the little muff ever since I saw her at Bow Street. I want a chance at her after you're finished."

"Stay away from her." Cannon's words were quiet but fatally sincere. "Or I'll kill you."

Nick threw him a cold grin. "Apparently you're not done with her yet."

"I'll never be done with her. And the next time you send her a gift, I'll personally shove it up your--"

"All right," Nick interrupted in rising irritation. "Warning taken. I won't bother your fancy piece. Now get the hell out of my house." Cannon stared at him with a lethal dispassion that would have alarmed any other man. "It's only a matter of time before you overreach yourself," he said softly. "One of your schemes will fall through. Some piece of evidence will implicate you. And I'll be there to watch you hang."

Nick smiled thinly, reflecting that Cannon wouldn't be so smug if he knew that Sophia was his sister. "I'm sure you will," he muttered. "But don't expect to take any satisfaction in my death. You may even come to regret it."

A look of puzzled speculation crossed the older man's face, and then he contemplated Nick with narrowed eyes. "Before I leave," he growled, "I want you to explain something. The gown you sent to Miss Sydney...she claims it is almost identical to one that her mother once possessed."

"Is it?" Nick asked lazily. "That's an interesting coincidence."

It was clear that behind Cannon's set face, his mind was busy sifting through questions. "Yes," he agreed. "Very interesting."