"Which I picked up, like a peagoose."

Rex touched her arm above her gloves, where it was bare. "But such a pretty peagoose."

The countess cleared her throat. Daniel groaned.

At the second intermission, Lady Royce demanded Daniel's escort for a breath of fresh air.

"I fear your mother is playing matchmaker," Amanda said, concerned lest Rex think she was manipulating him, too. "But please ignore her efforts. I may not understand your principles, but I respect them. And I know I have said it many times, but it bears repeating: You are helping me, and I did not expect that much. I shall never expect more."

He was holding her hand, and now he leaned closer so no one overheard. Interested observers might suppose he was whispering tender love words in her ear. He did not care. "I may have begun your rescue as a favor to the countess. I might have continued in the interests of justice, and out of curiosity about what Sir Nigel was up to. But now I will not rest until you are a free woman, and that is for your sake, no one else's. You have every right to expect that, for what we shared."

She blushed like a schoolgirl, and he was reminded that she was still young, no matter how many years she had been forced to deal with life on her own. He wished he could take her in his arms right there, and to the devil with his vows of bachelorhood and childlessness. Jupiter, the woman was like a potent wine, stealing his inhibitions, his balance, his good sense. He sat back, as far from her as he could get, so he could think straight. "What we shared must not happen again."

"No," she agreed. "That would make me want forever."

Rex was saved from falling to his knees and promising just that by a sound coming from behind them.

"Why, look at the lovebirds," a low voice said, ending on a hiss. Sir Nigel, his hair pomaded in place and his neckcloth tied up to his ears, stepped into the countess's box, uninvited. "The new symbol of a travesty of justice. You will not get away with this, Rexford. Your father could not rewrite the legal system to include witchery, and you shall not, either, I swear."

"Good evening, Turlowe." Lady Royce sailed into the box like a man-of-war, all cannons firing. "I see you are still pursuing lost causes. My goddaughter is innocent. Now go away."

Sir Nigel did not leave. Instead he raised his voice for listeners in the surrounding boxes to hear. "I say she is guilty, and I intend to move the trial forward before this… this savage you call son makes a laughing stock out of the justice system."

The countess stood between the viscount and the barrister, like a lioness protecting her cub. She folded her arms across her impressive bust and said, "If you are half the man my son is, or my husband, you would know the truth instead of following the path that leads to your own advancement. I say that if you are in charge of our justice system, it is already a failure." She raised her own voice, with a growl in it. "You, sir, are no gentleman."

Sir Nigel turned purple with rage, his fists opening and closing, as if wishing he had the countess's throat between his hands.

Half-amused at Lady Royce's defense, and half-furious that Amanda was cowering in her seat, Rex thought about tossing the man over the balcony railing, but that might upset those beneath. No one wanted to be struck by falling night soil. "I will thank you to leave my mother alone," he settled on. "She obviously no longer wishes your presence. I never did."

Daniel was about to escort Sir Nigel from the box, by the knot in his neckcloth if necessary, but the countess cried out, "You called me mother!"

It had slipped out. Rex hurriedly redirected everyone's attention to Sir Nigel. "Furthermore, I wonder at your connection to the dead man. Had you been one of his fellow investors, those he choused out of a bundle? Your name was in his personal ledger book," he said, exaggerating on a pair of initials.

"What, you are suggesting I killed the man now? I did not!"

True.

"I had nothing to do with him."

False.

"No financial dealings?"

With so many people looking on, Sir Nigel could not slink away, nor bluster a refutation. Yet he feared a falsehood would strike him dead, like lightning. He knew Rex, like his father before him, was threateningly, terrifyingly different, although Sir Nigel did not understand how.

Rex capitalized on the man's hesitation. "You know I can recognize the truth. I can smell the fear on you. I can see your eyes looking for a hidey-hole. I can hear your breaths coming ragged and raspy. Tell me, in front of these people: Did you invest with Sir Frederick Hawley?"

Sir Nigel had no choice but to bluff. "Since when has a man's private business become public knowledge? I was at Almack's the night Sir Frederick was killed. I danced with Lady Bottswick." He gestured toward a many-chinned matron across the theater. "I saw your paramour leave the assembly. Everyone did. She is the guilty party, no one else. You are contemptible to cast doubts on honest citizens."

"And you, sir, are evasive. Honest? We shall see. I will find the answers, you can wager on it."

Daniel had one large hand on the barrister's shoulder, making Sir Nigel's knees buckle. He stumbled out, but called back, "I'll see you in court, or in hell."


Amanda expressed her concern when they were settled in the coach on the ride home. "Did Sir Nigel threaten you personally? That is what it sounded like to me."

Rex shrugged it off. "That man's posturing is of no account. He is a lawyer, trained in dramatics. Why, he is a better actor than any of those on the stage tonight."

"Be careful," Lady Royce urged. "I never liked him, and trust him less."

"Don't worry, Aunt Margaret, I am at Rex's back," Daniel said, promptly falling asleep against the cushions.

They shook him awake when they reached Royce House, enough for him to stumble toward the stairs. "Didn't sleep a wink last night, you know. Good night, all. Lovely evening. Uh, what opera did we see?"

Dodd brought a tray into the parlor, but the countess was tapping her foot after a single cup of tea. "I think Amanda needs her rest, also. Tomorrow we have tea at Princess Lieven's, then a reception for the Ziftsweig delegation at the Austrian embassy."

Rex rose when Lady Royce did, but stayed Amanda with a smile. "Amanda and I need to speak of our progress."

"Surely you can speak in the morning. I think you have made quite enough progress with her."

Rex's cheeks grew warm. "I meant her case."

The countess raised her eyebrows.

Rather than let the two strong-willed Royces battle over her, Amanda stood and curtsied. "I am a bit weary. I, ah, hardly slept last night, either. I will bid you farewell, my lord. My lady."

The countess waited for Amanda to leave the room before turning to her son. "As for you, Jordan, you need to know that you cannot have your cake and eat it, too."

He could not have any, for Verity had eaten the last one on the tray while his attention had been on Amanda, and how her gown hugged her curves on the way out. He swallowed. "Meaning?"

"Meaning if you do not intend to marry the girl, you cannot dally with her. You can keep your bachelorhood, or you can warm yourself at the fire I see burning between you. Not both. I told you, I will not let Amanda's heart get broken, or her virtue given to anyone but her rightful husband."

She was right, Rex knew, but he could not help feeling insulted. "Would that you had stood up for me that way, just once in my life."

"I stood up for you all your life. I hired Nanny Brown and I selected your tutors. I fought to keep you from the army, then insisted you were put on the Aide's staff when I lost the battle. I-"

Rex interrupted. "You know him, the man they call the Aide?"

"Do not underestimate me, you silly boy. I know a great deal. I know your grades at school and your accomplishments in the military. I have spent my time, and my influence, with the authorities and their wives, defending your reputation, demanding you and your cousin be rewarded with advancements for your contributions. I did not cross you off my list like an unwanted guest at a dinner party. I will fight with every fiber of my body to keep you safe, but not at Amanda's expense. I will not let you be a heartless fool like your father. Do you understand?"

He bowed. "Good night, madam."

She stared back at him. "You called me mother."

"You called me a heartless fool."


He acted like one, too. He stayed awake for hours, thinking of the countess's words, yet still wanting what he could not have. He wrestled with his conscience, but lost the battle. He pulled on his robe, but not his slippers, to make less noise. Then he slowly opened his door, thanking the countess's efficient household that the hinges did not squeak.


Amanda knew she was a fool without anyone telling her so. She'd had all the happiness she'd asked for in one night; more, she expected, than many women experienced in a lifetime.

It was not enough. She knew Rex did not love her, although she believed he did care for her. He was definitely attracted to her, but that was not enough, either. His mother might demand an offer of marriage out of him, but that was ridiculous to contemplate for a woman in Amanda's position. No matter what the countess said, no matter how many jewels she found in her coffers, no one married a murderess.

She could not force Rex to love her, Amanda admitted, but she, sure as Eve talked to the snake, could make him make love to her. Tonight she wore a different silky nightgown, one trimmed with sweet little forget-me-nots she had embroidered on the bodice herself. She smiled. The night rail looked anything but sweet when paired with her mother's sapphire necklace. Amanda tiptoed to her door and peered out into the hall.