With the exception of Emma, of course, who wasn’t really of London. Still, James thought her by far the most appealing. It amused him now to think that he’d once thought no one would surpass Frannie for his affections. Yet Emma had managed to do exactly that.

Swindler waited behind the hedgerows at the marquess’s London residence until he saw the man’s carriage rattle by at half past eleven. Then he waited another half hour for the servants to settle in after their master’s departure before making his way to the servants’ entrance. Kneeling, he removed a small candle from his pocket, lit the wick, studied the lock, and within seconds was inside the kitchen.

An incriminating item such as the choker would be in one of two places: the library or the master bedchamber. Swindler decided to start with the library, remembering its location from his previous visit, when he’d come to inspect the scene of the crime.

Using the small light from his candle, disturbing nothing, barely breathing, he cautiously crept along the corridors, like a silent wraith. No servants crossed his path. He hadn’t expected any to be about. When the master was away, sleep beckoned.

Opening the library door, he stepped through and closed it behind him. Holding the candle aloft, he made his way around the numerous small sitting areas to the large desk at the far side of the room. He noted that the carpet was a different pattern than when he’d last been in the room. No surprise there. Blood seldom made an attractive decorative accent.

After setting the candle on the desk, he began opening drawers, searching for latches that would release hidden compartments. The former marquess wouldn’t want his secrets easily discovered. But that was not unusual for the aristocracy. Hence the reason Feagan had trained them regarding the mysteries of a desk.

“Looking for something, Inspector?”

Swindler jerked his head up to see the new Lord Rockberry stepping out of a dark corner. Thinking himself quite alone, he hadn’t bothered to check the areas to the side or behind him. The new marquess didn’t carry the stench that his brother had, so Swindler hadn’t noticed his scent. Unfortunate, that. He was trying to devise a logical explanation for his presence when Rockberry held up his hand. Silver dangled from it.

“This perhaps.”

Swindler realized he was definitely losing his edge. He’d become so obsessed with ensuring Emma’s freedom that he was becoming careless when it was critical that he be his most diligent. Closing the drawer he’d just opened, he held out his hands in acquiescence. “How did you know to expect me?”

“An invitation from the infamous Lord Claybourne for a private game with the notorious Dodger himself, not to mention a duke of the highest caliber? Me? A new marquess who has yet to fully embrace his title? Besides, I know that you all have ties to each other and the gutter.” He shrugged. “I’m young but I’m not a fool. I suspected someone wanted me out of my residence for a reason.”

“So you sent an empty carriage.”

“I did indeed. I must say I thought it very clever on my part.” He took a step nearer. “I know I didn’t lie about what I saw that night when my brother was murdered, which means that you lied about the woman being with you.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Which must mean that you were with her and helped to kill him. Perhaps you plunged in the dagger. Jolly good for you. Pour yourself a drink, man. It’s well deserved. As I’ve recently discovered, my brother was as vile as they came. I won’t take the blame for a murder I didn’t commit, but I’ll do what I can to get you and the lady out of the country.”

“I didn’t lie about my lady not being here that night. And I can prove it.”


“Twins!” Rockberry exclaimed, looking and sounding astounded.

“Triplets,” Eleanor said tartly, “until your brother destroyed our sister.”

Swindler had brought Rockberry to Greystone’s, knowing the ladies would be awake, waiting to see if he’d met with success in finding the silver. The gentlemen, too, were in the library, suspecting trouble and having returned when Rockberry failed to show for their private game.

In appearance, Rockberry favored his brother very little. He was slender, but not as tall. His facial features were not marred by arrogance. He looked back at Swindler. “I found his journal. He wrote of his shameful exploits in minute detail. Why he would keep an accounting regarding his abhorrent behavior is beyond me.” He turned back to the ladies. “To which of you do I owe an apology for Cremorne Gardens?”

“That would be me,” Eleanor said, with her usual biting tone.

“He told me you were a prostitute who refused to let him be. He told my friends and I to have our fun with you.”

“And you thought forcing me would be fun?”

To the marquess’s credit, he blushed and took great interest in the shine on his shoes. “Perhaps I’m not so different from my brother after all. A cad when it suits me.”

“You’re very different,” Swindler said as he crossed over to a table, poured whiskey into a tumbler, then handed it to Rockberry. “Do you still have the journal?”

Rockberry appeared surprised by the question. “No, I took great pleasure in burning it. Is there a way to keep this situation from making its way to the Times?”

“Sit down,” Swindler said. While his order was to the marquess, everyone else followed suit. He wished he’d been nearer to Emma so he could have joined her on the small couch. Instead, she now sat beside Eleanor, holding her hand. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. He’d been angry with her when she insisted he put her in harm’s way rather than her sister. Now he just wanted to hold her.

Leaning forward, with his elbows on his thighs, Swindler asked of Rockberry, “Did your brother reveal where the meetings took place?”

“No. My sense was that it was always somewhere different. The night was the same, however. Wednesday. The ladies-if you can call them that-were to go to Cremorne Gardens, wearing their silver. Each would be approached by a gentleman who would lead them to a carriage. I take it the gentlemen knew the location, but the ladies did not. I suppose the fewer who knew, the better.”

“Did the journal offer any names?”

Rockberry took a sip of whiskey. “No. My brother was far more interested in describing the rituals and the orgy than the particulars of how it was all arranged. I do know they periodically initiated women into the society and those women were not always willing. They used blackmail, coercion, fear, and shame to keep the women from speaking out about them. He also wrote about…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

“What did he write, my lord?” Swindler prodded.

Rockberry finished off the whiskey, holding the glass in a white-knuckled grasp.

“My lord?”

Rockberry again took to studying his shoes. “He…he killed someone. Got too rough with her. I couldn’t stomach to read the particulars. They made me ill.” He gazed up at Swindler. “What do you intend to do with this information?”

“We intend to find the others. And if Wednesday is the night they meet, then that shall be tomorrow.”

“I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

“Allow us to borrow the silver.”

“You can have the deuced thing. So what’s your plan?”

Swindler supposed he couldn’t blame the man for his interest. He explained how they intended to set a trap.


Eleanor was acutely aware of Emma stiffening beside her when Mr. Swindler announced that it would be Eleanor who walked through Cremorne Gardens the following night. It was only fair. After all, she was the older of the two, even if only by moments. If he hadn’t selected her, she’d have had to give Emma a sleeping draught. She wasn’t going to allow her younger sister to be placed in harm’s way. Especially as Emma had a gentleman very much interested in her. It was quite possible that Mr. Swindler would see to it that Emma did not have to pay for what happened to the former Rockberry.

After details were explained, while people were taking their leave, Eleanor slipped out the door and into the garden. She wasn’t nearly as comfortable or trusting around these people as Emma. She simply wanted the entire matter to be done with.

“Miss Watkins?”

She’d only just reached the hyacinths when her name was called. Strengthening her resolve, she turned slowly, shoulders back, chin held high, to face Rockberry. “My lord.”

“You’re the one who ended…my brother’s ability to breathe.”

“It could have been my sister.” She didn’t know why she’d said that. Until that moment she’d been proud of her actions, but then, until that moment she’d not faced someone who might have cared about the blackguard. She had never considered that he possessed family or friends. All she’d seen was that he was a man who’d taken from her someone she loved.

“No. Your eyes contain a heavier sorrow than hers.” His voice was soothing, compassionate, and for some reason it irritated her.

“You misread me, my lord. I’m not sorry for what I did. Your brother forced my sister into submission. When he was done with her, he allowed others to have their way with her as though she were no better than a scrap of meat to be tossed to the dogs. My only regret is that he died so quickly.”

A heavy silence built between them, as though he didn’t know how to respond to the accusation.

“Shall we?” he asked finally, indicating the cobblestone path.

She was grateful to begin walking again, and he fell into step beside her.

“You act valiantly to pretend you don’t care, but I don’t think murder is in your nature,” he said quietly.

“You know nothing at all about my nature, my lord.”

“Dear God, I think you could have sliced my brother to death with your tongue.”