"Such a shock it will be to everyone," expatiated Jasper, waving the hand holding the gun, "when the young Viscountess Pinchingdale is found dead. On her honeymoon."

Not kidnapping, then. Jasper did seem to be taking her rejection of his advances a little too seriously. Letty wondered if she ought to have refrained from that comment about his sideburns.

"Not only dead," Jasper continued, warming to his theme, "but murdered. And by whom?"

"Preferably no one."

Jasper ignored her. "By her own husband."

"I hate to point out the flaw in your cunning plan," said Letty, squirming toward the far end of the seat, "but Geoff isn't here."

Jasper brought her to an abrupt halt by the simple expedient of thrusting the gun against her chest. "He doesn't have to be. That's the brilliance of it. It isn't necessary that our dear Geoffrey kill you—"

"How lovely."

"—simply that he be thought to kill you."

"And how do you plan to manage that? Geoff isn't exactly known for his murderous rages. No one is going to believe it."

"Oh, won't they?" Jasper looked altogether too sure of himself for Letty's liking. Even his sideburns exuded smugness. "Everyone knows our blameless Geoffrey was in love with your sister."

"Along with half the ton," snapped Letty. "It is not exactly an uncommon emotion where Mary is concerned."

"It is common knowledge that our Geoffrey was forced against his will to take you instead."

The way Jasper kept repeating "our Geoffrey" set her teeth on edge. Or maybe it was just the gun, poking insistently at the binding around her waist. She could feel the muzzle boring into her side, even through all the layers of fabric. For the first time, Letty wished Jane had wrapped on more binding. And perhaps a few layers of armor.

"I could have the entire ton up on the stand," continued Jasper confidently, "all vouching to the fact that Geoffrey never wanted to marry you."

Letty had no doubt that Mrs. Ponsonby would be the first to testify. "That might be true, but it's no motive for murder. Otherwise you would have three-quarters of the ton in the dock."

"Yours was an exceptional case."

"Wouldn't you rather just kidnap me and hold me for ransom?" Letty suggested. "That way, you get an immediate influx of funds with no pesky little murder charges. You know what they say about a bird in the hand."

"That isn't a bird; it's a gull. Do you really expect me to believe that our Geoffrey would pay to have you back? He wouldn't even travel with you as man and wife." Jasper smirked. "And everyone in Dublin has seen him making up to Miss Fairley. Now there's a fine piece of flesh."

Letty wondered just what Jane would have to say about that description.

"Besides, why would I settle for a measly portion when I could have the whole? Not only the money, but the houses, the title, everything that was due me at birth."

"Due?"

"Due. It should have been mine. What right did Geoffrey have? What did he have that I didn't?"

Letty could have told him the answer to that quite easily—he had the good fortune to be born in the proper order to the proper father—but she suspected the question was intended to be rhetorical.

If Jasper wanted unfair, he should try being born a woman. That would teach him.

"Perhaps," suggested Letty, treading very carefully, "you might try discussing this with your cousin."

Jasper might be venal, but he was, unfortunately, not entirely stupid.

"Do you think I'm entirely stupid? No, the only way is to take my destiny into my own hands. And you, my dear Lady Pinchingdale, are going to help me. Once your body is found"—Jasper gloated over the reins—"I won't even have to kill him. The law will do it for me."

"I'll grant you," said Letty, "that ours has not exactly been a picture of married bliss. But that isn't enough to prove a charge of murder."

"It will be," said Jasper complacently, "when they find our Geoffrey's snuffbox beside your body. It has the letters GP quite clearly worked into the design." Jasper paused for dramatic effect before adding the piиce de rйsistance. "And a portrait of your sister painted on the lid."

There was very little Letty could think of to say in response to that. What was there to say? In conjunction with the rumors percolating about their marriage, the discovery of the snuffbox would be just as damning as Jasper intended it to be. With the picture of Mary simpering sweetly from the underside of the lid, it provided both evidence and motive in one convenient package.

As a peer, Geoff would be tried before the House of Lords. How many members of the peerage had seen Geoff dancing attendance on Mary? How many of them had attended their disastrous wedding? True, those of them who knew Geoff would know that he wasn't the sort to murder his wife—but what was the sort to murder one's wife? They would waggle their double chins and speak wisely of young men being driven to madness by love. Tristan and Iseult would be mentioned, and that earl, two Seasons ago, whose wits had been so weakened by amour that he had gone so far as to marry his mistress. Someone would undoubtedly quote from Romeo and Juliet.

There would be wagging of heads, and reminiscences over past scandals, and the long and short of it would be that Geoff would stand condemned, hoist by his own love poetry.

Jasper wielded his whip with a self-satisfied slap.

"Bring out the black cap," he said cheerfully.

Since there didn't seem to be much point in trying to curry favor, Letty spoke as she felt. "You really are revolting."

Jasper glanced over at Letty, his handsome features arranged in a parody of sympathy. "Come, come, my dear girl, you must get some little pleasure at being the downfall of the man who ruined your reputation."

There was something fundamentally flawed with Jasper's logic, and Letty didn't have a hard time identifying just what it was. "I'd rather be ruined and live."

Jasper shook his head. "Just like a woman to reject the chance of a glorious death."

"Fine. You take death. I'll take dishonor."

"Don't worry, my dear," said Jasper, baring all his teeth. "I'll have a charming picture of you placed in the gallery of Sibley Court. I'll even tell the artist to paint out those freckles."

That did it. "If you are so keen on killing me, why haven't you just shot me already?"

"It might stain my clothes. Do you know how much this waistcoat cost?"

Letty was relieved to know that he had some scruples, even if they didn't necessarily stretch to the sanctity of human life—hers, for a start.

"Most forms of murder are messy," said Letty very seriously. "And no matter how hard you try to scrub at a bloodstain, you never really get the marks out of the fabric."

"Exactly," said Jasper. "That is why I am going to drown you in the Liffey instead."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Letty scarcely knew what she was saying. She was too busy casting about for escape plans. She had no hope of anyone riding to the rescue. Even if Geoff, on a very rare chance, had seen Jasper carrying her off, he had the demolition of the rebel stronghold to take care of. The life of a wife—even if he was glad he knew her—ranked fairly low next to the safety of England. "Water stains silk."

"I wore wool."

Thank goodness she knew how to swim. Not well, but enough to keep her from sinking straight to the bottom. Wearing men's clothing, she stood more of a chance than she would have in skirts. She would just have to pretend to go under and swim furiously toward the other bank.

"And don't think you'll be able to swim," advised Jasper, clearly deriving great pleasure from Letty's discomfiture. "Swimming ought to be quite difficult after a blow to the head."

"Blows to the head bleed badly," countered Letty, pressing back against the side of the wagon. The vial of sleeping potion was still in her waistcoat pocket, but there was no way she could administer it. As for the whistle, she could blow until she was blue in the face; no one would hear her above the rattle of wheels, and even if they did, no one would care. That left only the embroidery scissors. Embroidery scissors. She had as much hope of storming a citadel with a thimble. "If you won't think of me, think of your waistcoat. It's too fine to mar."

With a particularly unpleasant smile, Jasper leaned forward. Reversing his grip on the gun, he raised it high above her head.

"That's a risk I'll just have to take."

* * *

Letty was right; Jasper's sideburns were unbecoming.

They wouldn't be all that was unbecoming by the time Geoff was through with him. Jasper was long overdue for a damned good thrashing. Geoff charged toward his horse, before being brought up short by the realization that he hadn't brought one. Damn. He had no hope of catching them on foot. For such a rickety vehicle, Jasper's wagon was receding at an alarming pace. Ahead of him, children and livestock played in the street, carts rumbled past on their way back from market, and weary laborers trudged home from work. The throng of early traffic had slowed Jasper's progress, but it had not stopped him.

Geoff stopped a man leading a tired-looking nag. Whatever the animal's usual function was, it was not a riding horse.

"Here," said Geoff, tossing him a handful of coins without bothering to see what they were. "Buy yourself another horse."

Keeping hold of the bridle, the man tested a coin with his teeth, saying laconically, "I dunno, sir. She's a fine animal, sure and she is…"