"Indeed." Honoria seconded her husband's edict. "We'll need to discuss the arrangements."

Patience stared at her. Honoria smiled, openly affectionate. Both Devil and Vane shot Honoria, then Patience, identical, unreadable, masculine looks, then exchanged a long-suffering glance.

"I'll see you out." Devil gestured to the hall.

Honoria came, too, Sebastian at her shoulder. While they stood chatting, waiting for Gerrard to fetch his coat, the baby, bored, fell to tugging Honoria's earring. Noticing his wife's difficulty, without pausing in his discussion with Vane, Devil reached out, scooped his heir out of Honoria's arms, and settled Sebastian against his chest, so the diamond pin anchoring his cravat was level with the baby's eyes.

Sebastian cooed, and happily grasped the winking pin in a chubby fist-and proceeded to destroy what had been a perfectly tied Trone d'Amour. Patience blinked, but neither Devil, Vane, nor Honoria seemed to find anything remarkable in the sight.

An hour later, as London fell behind and Vane whipped up his horses, Patience was still mulling over Devil, his wife, and his son. And the atmosphere that hung, a warm, welcoming glow, throughout their elegant house. Family-family feeling, family affection-of the sort the Cynsters took for granted, was something she'd never known.

Having a family like that was her dearest, deepest, wildest dream.

She glanced at Vane, beside her, his eyes fixed on the road, his face a mask of concentration as he drove his horses into the lowering night. Patience smiled softly. With him, her dream would come true; she'd made her decision-she knew it was right. To see him with their son, lounging by the fire like Devil, caring without even stopping to think-that was her new aim.

It was his aim, too-she knew without asking. He was a Cynster-that was their code. Family. The most important thing in their lives.

Vane glanced down. "Are you warm enough?"

Wedged between him and Gerrard, with, at his insistence, two rugs tucked firmly around her, she was in no danger of taking a chill. "I'm fine." She smiled, and snuggled closer. "Just drive."

He grunted, and did.

About them, an eerie twilight fell; thick, swirling clouds, pale grey, hung low. The air was bitter, the wind laced with ice.

Vane's powerful greys drew the curricle on, wheels rolling smoothly over the macadam. They raced through the evening, into the night.

On toward Bellamy Hall, to the last act in the long drama, to the final curtain call for the Spectre and their mysterious thief. So they could bring the curtain down, send the players on their way-and then get on with living their lives.

Creating their dream.

Chapter 22

It was full dark when Vane eased his horses off the road onto the back track leading to the Bellamy Hall stables. The night had turned icy, crisply chill; the horses's breaths steamed in the still air.

"The fog will be heavy tonight," Vane whispered.

Beside him, pressed close, Patience nodded.

The back barn, second of two, loomed ahead; Vane uttered a silent prayer. It went unanswered. As he rolled the curricle to a halt just inside the bam, he saw Minnie's menagerie milling at the other entrance, peering toward the main barn, the stables, and the house beyond. They were all there, even, he noted, glimpsing a grey shadow darting about, Myst. He jumped to the ground, then lifted Patience down. The others came hurrying up, Myst in the lead.

Leaving Patience to deal with Minnie and the rest, Vane helped Duggan and Gerrard stable the greys. Then, grim-faced, he returned to the whispering group thronging the barn's center.

Minnie immediately stated, "If you're entertaining the notion of ordering us to wait in this drafty barn, you may save your breath."

Her belligerence was reflected in her stance and was echoed by the usually practical Timms, who nodded direfully. Every member of Minnie's ill-assorted menage was likewise imbued with decisive determination.

The General summed up their mood. "Blighter's kinged it over us all-need to see him exposed, don't y'know."

Vane scanned their faces, his features set. "Very well." He spoke through clenched teeth. "But if any of you makes the slightest sound, or are so witless as to alert Colby or Alice to our presence before we've gained sufficient details to prove beyond doubt who the Spectre and the thief are…"-he let the moment stretch as he scanned their faces-"they'll answer to me. Is that understood?"

A flurry of nodding heads replied.

"You'll need to do exactly as I say." He looked pointedly at Edmond and Henry. "No bright ideas, no sudden elaborations to the plan."

Edmond nodded. "Right."

"Indubitably," Henry swore.

Vane glanced around again. They all looked back, meek and earnest. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Patience's hand. "Come on, then. And no talking."

He strode for the main barn. Halfway there, shielded from the house by the bulk of the stables, he halted, and, rigidly impatient, waited for the others to catch up.

"Don't walk on the gravel or on the paths," he instructed. "Keep to the grass. It's foggy; sound travels well in fog. We can't assume they're snug in the parlor-they might be in the kitchen, or even outside."

He turned and strode on, blocking out all thoughts of how Minnie was coping. She wouldn't thank him, and, at the moment, he needed to concentrate on other things.

Like where Grisham was.

Leading Patience, with Gerrard close behind, he reached the stables. Grisham's quarters gave off it. "Wait here," Vane whispered, his lips close by Patience's ear. "Stop the others here. I'll return in a moment."

With that, he slid into the shadows. The last thing he wanted was Grisham imagining they were intruders and sounding the alarm.

But Grisham's room was empty; Vane rejoined his ill-assorted hunting party at the rear of the dark stables. Duggan had checked the grooms' rooms. He shook his head and mouthed, "No one here." Vane nodded. Minnie had mentioned she'd given most of the staff leave.

"We'll try the side door." They could force the window of the back parlor-that wing was farthest from the library, Whitticombe's favorite bolt-hole. "Follow me, not too close together. And remember-no sound."

They all nodded mutely.

Swallowing a futile curse, Vane made for the shrubbery. The high hedges and grassed paths eased his mind of one worry, but as he and Patience, Duggan and Gerrard at their backs, neared the place where the hedges gave way to open lawn, a light flashed across their path.

They froze. The light disappeared.

"Wait here." On the whisper, Vane edged forward until he could look across the lawn. Beyond lay the house, the side door closed. But a light was bobbing up from the ruins-the Spectre was walking tonight.

The light rose again briefly; in its beam, Vane saw a large, dark figure lumbering along the side of the lawn, heading their way.

"Back!" he hissed, pushing Patience, who'd edged up to his shoulder, into the hedge behind him. In the lee of the hedge, he waited, counting the seconds, then the lumbering figure swung into the path-and was upon them.

Vane grabbed him in a headlock; Duggan clung to one muscled arm. The figure tensed to fight.

"Cynster!" Vane hissed, and the figure went limp.

"Thank Gawd!" Grisham blinked at them. Vane released him. Looking down the path, Vane was mollified to see that the rest of the party had frozen, strung out in the shadows. Now, however, they clustered closer.

"I didn't know what to do." Grisham rubbed his neck.

Vane checked; the carrier of the bobbing light was still some distance away, negotiating the tumbled stones. He turned back to Grisham. "What happened?"

"The Colbys arrived late afternoon. I figured it was the sign we was watching for. I told 'em straight off there was only me and two maids in the house-if anything, Colby seemed well pleased. He had me make up the fire in the library, then called for dinner early. After that, he told us we could retire, as if he was doing us a favor an'all." Grisham snorted softly. "I kept a close eye on 'em, of course.

They waited a while, then took one of the library lamps and headed for the ruins."

Grisham glanced back. Vane checked, then nodded for him to continue. They still had a few minutes before whispers became too dangerous.

"They went all the way across to the abbot's lodge." Grisham grinned. "I stayed close. Miss Colby grumbled all the way, but I wasn't near enough to make out what she said. Colby went straight for that stone I told you about." Grisham nodded at Vane. "Checked it over real careful-like, making sure no one had lifted it. He was right pleased with himself after that. They started back then-I came on ahead, so's I'd be here to see what's next."

Vane raised his brows. "What indeed?"

The light flashed again, much closer now-everyone froze. Vane clung to the edge of the hedge, aware of Patience pressed to his side. The others edged closer, wedged together so they could all see the section of lawn before the side door.

"It's not fair! I don't see why you had to give back my treasure." Alice Colby's disgruntled whine floated on the frosty air. "You're going to get your treasure, but I won't have anything!"

"I told you those things weren't yours!" Whitticombe's tone turned from aggravated to scathing. "I would have thought you'd have learned after last time. I won't have you caught with things that aren't yours. The very idea of being branded the brother of a thief!"