It might have been an assignation, but the sounds involved were not those of pleasure.

As Geoff positioned himself to the side of the doorframe, he heard the first voice say, "She is becoming a distinct liability."

The speaker wasn't Vaughn.

It was a woman's voice, low-pitched, grating in its tonelessness. From his vantage point next to the doorframe, Geoff couldn't make out the speaker. The door opened in, not out, and she was somewhere to his left, behind that inconvenient slab of wood. But he could picture her features, their classical perfection at variance with the flat tones of her voice. High cheekbones, skin as white as any poet could desire, sultry black eyes, and a come-hither smile.

The Marquise de Montval. The Black Tulip herself.

Her companion detached himself from his seat at the vanity and strolled dangerously close to Geoff's hiding place. The cane swinging from his right hand was as unmistakable as the marquise's voice.

"A bit of an exaggeration, surely," replied Lord Vaughn, in tones of intense boredom. "My dear, you must control these tendencies toward hyperbole. They don't become you."

The marquise ignored him. "She never had the skill for it."

"Not everyone has your…talents."

"My talents have been hard-won."

"Believe me," said Lord Vaughn wearily, "no one knows that better than I."

"I don't know why I tolerate you, Sebastian."

"Because"—Lord Vaughn smiled sardonically over the head of his cane—"without me, you would still be rotting in London."

"I didn't need your help. I would have gotten out of that myself."

"Not nearly so expeditiously. Nor with so little trouble to yourself. Bribing the guards with your body isn't much in your line, my dear. Unless your fervor for the cause has changed you in more ways than one."

"It might have been more pleasant to have remained in prison. Certainly the company would have been more genteel."

"As you will. You always did have low tastes, Teresa. Robe-spierre, Danton, Marat…not a gentleman amongst them."

"If all gentlemen are of your ilk, I'll take the rabble."

"But only if they come clothed in silk. Much as it enlivens my existence to be insulted by you, did you have a purpose for this little tкte-а-tкte? Or could you merely not resist an opportunity to get me alone in the dark? For old times' sake, as it were."

"Don't flatter yourself, Sebastian."

"If I don't, who will?" Vaughn's tone changed, and from his vantage point behind the door, Geoff could see his posture change, the lazy line of his back go taut, as he asked, "Do you really mean to eliminate the girl?"

"Unless you can suggest another way."

"'If it were done when 'tis done, then it were well it were done quickly,'" quoted Vaughn meditatively. It was unclear whether the words were question or command.

"Tonight," said the Black Tulip softly.

The word reverberated through the quiet room.

Unfortunately, a reverberation of an entirely different kind filled the corridor. The quiet hallway rumbled under the weight of a large piece of scenery, being rolled by a full complement of burly stagehands.

"He would have to have an elephant," one of them grumbled, as Geoff flattened himself against the wall rather than be run down by a remarkably one-dimensional pachyderm on wheels.

His companion's answer was indecipherable over the clatter of the rough trolley.

Geoff used the confusion to slip sideways into the dressing room. It was too late. The birds had flown, leaving nothing behind but the smell of greasepaint and a dozen unanswered questions. Who, Geoff wondered grimly, were they planning to eliminate? The first name that came to mind was Jane's. Or, as they knew her, Miss Gilly Fairley. Wherever Jane and Miss Gwen had gone, he hoped they were watching their backs.

But the marquise had indicated that whoever the unnamed nuisance was didn't have much talent for the game. Which led, unerringly, to Letty.

Vaughn had recognized Letty from London, of that much Geoff was sure. Her clumsy charade as Mrs. Alsdale wouldn't fool a child—but it might spark the suspicions of a pair of paranoid French spies. The marquise's pride must be smarting at having been caught by an amateur like Henrietta; she wouldn't want it to happen again. To be caught once by an amateur might be accounted carelessness, but to do so twice meant a quick trip to the inner reaches of the Temple Prison.

Geoff started down the corridor at something close to a run. Although she didn't know it yet, Jasper was the least of Letty's worries.

* * *

"Put those curtains back at once!" Letty snapped at Jasper, sounding uncannily like Miss Gwen. Letty tugged on the heavy crimson drapes, but once down, the fabric showed no desire to be pushed back again.

"In a moment," Jasper said soothingly.

Letty didn't feel soothed. Jasper was advancing on her in a way that made Letty long for Miss Gwen's parasol, or any other object with a sharp point. Her reticule was too flimsy to do any damage.

Edging away from the curtains, which veiled a direct drop into the pit below, Letty moved carefully around the first row of seats, her back to the wall. She kept her voice calm and low. "I was just going to visit my friend, Miss Gilchrist. You can accompany me if you like."

"You can't mean to run off so soon." Jasper swung neatly over the first row of seats, pinning Letty against the wall. "Not when we're finally alone."

"That," replied Letty sternly, sounding like every governess she had ever had rolled into one, "is exactly why I'm running off."

If she had hoped that would deter Jasper, she was mistaken. He ran one white-gloved finger down her cheek. "Your modesty does you credit."

Letty jerked away, ducking under his arm. "I'm not modest. I'm married. To your cousin. Remember? Geoffrey? The man who just walked out that way?"

"Ah, yes. Geoffrey."

"Yes, Geoffrey," repeated Letty with some asperity. "I realize that you two aren't exactly the best of friends, but I would appreciate it if you could find some other toy to fight over. May I go now?"

Jasper made no move to release her. "He doesn't appreciate you. Not like I do."

"Mmph," said Letty, partly because she couldn't think of any answer to that which wouldn't be hopelessly impolitic, and partly because Jasper's buttons were digging into her chest.

Jasper leaned closer, his breath stroking her cheek. "Why do you cling to your sham of a marriage?"

Letty twisted her head to the side before his mouth could complete its path to her lips. "It has to do with a little thing called vows."

Jasper smiled at her as the serpent must have at Eve. "If he doesn't honor them, why should you?"

"Just because all your friends drove their carriages off a bridge, would you drive off a bridge, too?"

"He doesn't love you, you know."

Letty scowled. It wasn't exactly news, but it still wasn't pleasant to hear it, especially not in that pitying way, and not from Jasper. Most marriages weren't contracted for love; it wasn't as though their situation were strange or unusual…at least, not in the lack of a love component. She would admit that botched elopements and spy rings weren't all that commonplace, even among the more eccentric reaches of the ton.

"Look at the way he makes up to Miss Fairley, right in front of you. Look at the way he kisses her hand, the way he whispers in her ear—" Jasper suited action to words.

Letty wriggled as far away as she could with the wall behind her and a beefy arm on either side of her.

"I don't want to discuss this."

"Don't be angry," Jasper wheedled. "I yearn only to worship you."

Letty put both hands against his chest and shoved. "All the best worship is done from afar. You might want to try it."

Jasper chuckled, but it sounded a bit forced. "Your cleverness is one of the attributes I admire most in you."

Letty crossed her arms protectively across her chest before he could make a show of admiring any other attributes. "What do you want, Captain Pinchingdale?"

"Why, for us to be together." Jasper favored her with a leer for form's sake, but it lacked conviction. "What a pair we would make, you and I. If only there were no impediment…."

Jasper looked significantly at Letty from under his long, thick lashes.

"What do you mean?"

Jasper shrugged, muscles moving under his regimentals in a way that had undoubtedly been the downfall of many an undiscerning young lady. "Accidents do happen. Hunting accidents, carriage accidents, the wrong sort of mushroom…"

Jasper's attentions took on a new and sinister cast as Letty pictured a carriage listing to the side on a heavily traveled road; Geoff stricken with convulsions at the dinner table; a freak fire in his bedroom, while the new heir shook his head mournfully, and mouthed platitudes about the tragedy of it all.

An attempt to seduce his cousin's wife was one thing, murder quite another.

"I can see you have given this a great deal of thought."

"Anything for you, my sweet."

"And once this…accident"—Letty had trouble choking out the word—"has happened, what then?"

"Why, then," Jasper said, and ran his tongue along his lips, "then we take our rightful places at Sibley Court. I as viscount"—he held out a hand to her—"you as my viscountess."

Letty regarded the proffered hand with undisguised revulsion.

"Is this before or after the bailiffs cart me away for murder?"

"How droll you are, my love!" Jasper chucked her under the chin just hard enough to be more punitive than affectionate. "No one would ever suspect the viscount's devoted wife. Not on their honeymoon."