“That we didn’t learn,” Maggs replied. “But those we asked thought it was most likely foreign privateers, or the French or Spanish navies.” He nodded to the boys. “Your brothers hit the nail on the head over who to ask—it was their idea to approach the navvies. They unload the cargoes, so they remember the ships they’ve been hired to unload that don’t come in, because then they don’t get paid.”

Alicia sat and absorbed all they’d told her while they consumed their tea and crumpets. When, finished, the boys eyed her hopefully, she smiled. “Very well. You’ve done an excellent job, and doubtless learned a great deal this afternoon, so you’re excused from lessons for the rest of the day.”

“Yayyyy!”

“Can we go and play in the park?”

She glanced out; it was still light, but night would soon start falling.

“I’ll take ’em if you like, ma’am.” Maggs rose. “Just for half an hour or so—let ’em run the fidgets out.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Maggs.” Then she looked at her brothers. “If you promise to attend Maggs, you may go.”

With a chorus of assurances, they jumped up, jostling as they raced from the room. With an understanding grin, Maggs followed.

Alicia watched him go. She owed Torrington a debt for sending him. Maggs was as careful of her brothers as she could wish.

Jenkins cleared the tea things and removed the tray; Adriana returned to her sketching. Alicia sat with the list in her hand, and wished Tony—Torrington—was there.

That evening, Alicia had elected to attend Lady Carmichael’s ball. Thus advised by Maggs, Tony saw no reason to arrive early; better to let the first rush ebb before making his way up the Carmichaels’ stairs.

He’d spent the best part of his afternoon with Mr. King, learning more about Alicia, specifically about her finances. As he’d suspected, she had had a contract with King, but to his surprise, the man hadn’t jumped at his offer to buy out said contract.

A degree of verbal fencing had ensued, until both he and King had agreed to show their hands. Once he’d made the nature of his interest clear, King had been much more accommodating; he’d agreed to burn Alicia’s contract in Tony’s presence in return for a bank draft for the appropriate amount. As King’s goal was to ensure that no one, not even he, could hold the contract over Alicia’s head, and as his only aim was to lift the financial burden from her shoulders, he’d been happy to agree.

The amount he’d paid had been another revelation. He knew how much it cost to run his various houses and to meet his mother’s milliners’ and dressmakers’ bills; how Alicia was managing on the frugal sum she’d borrowed was beyond his comprehension. Her gowns alone would cost more.

Yet King had assured him Alicia was not in debt to anyone else. Understanding what had occasioned his query, he’d added that he, too, had thought the amount far too small, but when recently he’d dined with them, he’d detected not the slightest frugality or lack.

Tony now understood that the face the Carrington household presented to the world was a facade—a superbly crafted one with no cracks. Behind the facade, however…he’d recalled the lack of servants and the simple but hearty fare Maggs had described.

Like crumpets and jam for tea.

Alicia’s payment to King, capital plus interest, would fall due in July. Her life would have changed dramatically by then, but if she recalled the debt and inquired, as both he and King fully expected she would, King had agreed to simply say that an anonymous benefactor had paid the sum. She would guess it was he; he was looking forward to her attempts to make him admit it.

Lips curving as he entered Lady Carmichael’s ballroom, Tony inwardly basked in a self-satisfied glow.

He made his bow to her ladyship, then joined the throng. The ball was in full swing, the ballroom a collage of silks and satins of every hue swirling about the black splashes of gentlemen’s evening coats. He looked around, expecting to locate Adriana’s court somewhere along the side of the room.

Instead, he saw Geoffrey Manningham, shoulders propped against the wall, his gaze, distinctly black, fixed on him.

Instincts pricking, he strolled the short distance to Geoffrey’s side. Met his scowl with a questioning frown.

“Where are they?” Geoffrey growled. “Do you know?”

Tony blinked. Satisfaction fled. He turned to survey the room, but didn’t see the crowd. “My information was that they’d be here.”

“You can take it from me they aren’t.”

The tension in Geoffrey’s voice, in his stance, had effectively communicated itself to him. Tony’s mind raced; he tried to imagine what might have happened. Could Maggs have been wrong? He looked at Geoffrey. “How did you know they’d be here?”

Geoffrey looked at him as if that was a supremely silly question. “Adriana told me, of course.”

That raised the stakes. The sisters had expected to be there, and were now seriously late.

A contained commotion by the door drew their attention. A footman was whispering urgently to the butler, proffering a note. The butler took it, straightened magisterially, then turned and surveyed the guests.

His gaze stopped on Tony.

The butler swept forward, not running, yet as fast as one such as he might go. He bowed before Tony. “My lord, this message was just delivered by one of your lordship’s footmen. I understand the matter is urgent.”

Tony lifted the folded note from the salver. “Thank you.”

Flicking it open, he rapidly scanned the contents, then glanced at the butler. “Please summon my carriage immediately.”

The butler bowed. “Of course, my lord.” He withdrew.

Tony opened the note again, held it so Geoffrey, looking over his shoulder, could read it, too.

The writing was a feminine scrawl, the hand holding the pen clearly agitated. Adriana had been too overset even to bother with any salutation.

My lord, I don’t know who else might help us and Maggs assures me this is the right thing to do. Just as we were about to set out for the Carmichaels’, officers from the Watch arrived, along with a Bow Street Runner. They’ve taken Alicia away.

The writing broke off; a blob of ink was smeared across the page. Then Adriana continued: Please help! We don’t know what to do.

She’d signed it simply Adriana.

Geoffrey swore. “What the devil’s going on?”

Tony stuffed the note into his pocket. “I’ve no idea.” He glanced at Geoffrey. “Coming?”

Geoffrey sent him a grim look. “As if you need ask.”

They went quickly down the stairs and reached the portico just as Tony’s town carriage rattled up.

Tony reached for the door, opened it, and waved Geoffrey in. “Waverton Street! As fast as you can.” With that, he followed Geoffrey, slamming the door behind him.

His coachman took him at his word. They rocketed along the streets, swinging about corners at a criminal pace. In five minutes, the coach was slowing; it lurched to a halt outside Alicia’s front door.

Tony and Geoffrey were on the pavement before the carriage stopped rocking. Maggs opened the front door to Tony’s peremptory knock.

“What’s going on?” Tony shot at him.

“Buggered if I know,” Maggs growled back. “Strangest bit of work I’ve ever seen. Nice thing it is when a lady getting ready to go to a ball is set on in her own front hall. What’s the world coming to, I ask you?”

“Indeed. Where’s Adriana—and do the boys know about this?”

“They’re all in the parlor. Couldn’t keep the boys from hearing—there was a right to-do. Mrs. Carrington gave the blighters what for, but they weren’t about to go away, nor yet let her go out and wait until later. I’m thinking she went with them just to get them out of the house, what with the boys and Miss Adriana being so upset.”

Tony’s face hardened. He led the way to the parlor. The instant he opened the door, four pairs of eyes fixed on him.

A second later, Matthew flung himself at him, arms clutching limpetlike about his waist. “You’ll get her back, won’t you?”

The words, not entirely steady, were muffled by Tony’s coat.

David and Harry were only steps behind. Harry caught Tony’s arm and simply clung, the same question in his upturned face. David, older, tugged at Tony’s sleeve. When Tony looked at him, he swallowed and met his gaze. “They’ve made some mistake. Alicia would never do anything wrong.”

Tony smiled. “Of course not.” Putting a hand on Matthew’s head, he tousled his soft hair; laying an arm around Harry’s shoulders, he hugged him, then urged the trio back into the room. “I’ll go straightaway and bring her back. But first…”

One glance at Adriana’s white face told him she was as upset as her brothers, but having to comfort the boys and contain their panic had forced her to master her own. Despite the shock, despite the way her fingers clutched and twisted, she was lucid, not hysterical.

Her eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them. “They said they were taking her to the local Watch House.”

“South of Curzon Street, it is,” Maggs put in.

Tony nodded. Urging the boys ahead of him, he made his way deeper into the room. Geoffrey followed on his heels. While Tony sat in the armchair, the boys scrambling to perch close on the padded arms, Geoffrey sat beside Adriana. He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She smiled weakly, rather wanly, at him.

“Now,” Tony commanded, “tell me exactly what happened.”

Adriana and the boys all started talking at once; he held up his hand. “Adriana first—listen carefully so you can tell me anything she forgets.”

The boys dutifully settled to listen; Adriana drew a deep breath, then, her voice only occasionally quavering, she described how, just as she and Alicia were about to leave for the ball, a heavy knock on the door had heralded the Watch, accompanied by a Bow Street Runner.

“There were two from the Watch, and the Runner. He was the one in charge. They insisted Alicia had—” She broke off, then dragged in a breath and continued, “That she had killed Ruskin. Stabbed him to death. It was ludicrous!”

“I presume she told them they were fools?”

“Not in those precise words, but of course she denied it.”

“The men wouldn’t believe her,” Matthew said.

Tony smiled at him. “Fools, as I said.”

Matthew nodded and settled back against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony looked at Adriana. She continued, “We tried to reason with them—Alicia even used your name. She told them you were investigating the matter, but they wouldn’t even wait while we sent for you. They were totally certain—absolutely—that Alicia was a…a murderess!”

Eyes huge, Adriana looked at him imploringly. “They were very rough men—they won’t hurt her, will they?”

Tony bit back a curse, exchanged a swift glance with Geoffrey, and stood. “I’ll go there now—I’ll bring her back straightaway. Geoffrey will stay and keep you company. If I’m an hour or so, don’t worry.” Resettling his sleeves, he flashed the boys a reassuring smile. “I’ll need to have a word with this Bow Street Runner, and make sure the gentlemen of the Watch don’t make such a silly mistake again.”

Five minutes later, he strode up the steps of the Watch House. Two stalwart members of the Watch were heading out on their rounds; they glanced at him—and rapidly got out of his way.

Tony’s heels struck the tiles of the foyer; glancing swiftly around, he fixed his gaze on the supervisor behind the narrow desk, who was already eyeing him with increasing unease. This Watch House was situated on the edge of Mayfair; the hapless supervisor would know Trouble when he saw it. His expression as he hurriedly got to his feet suggested he recognized it bearing down on him now.

“Can I help you, sir—m’lord?”

I believe you have something of mine.

Tony bit back the words, reined in his temper, and quite softly said, “I believe there’s been a mistake.”

The sergeant paled. “A mistake, m’lord?”

“Indeed.” Tony drew out his card case, withdrew a card and flipped it on the desk. “I’m Lord Torrington, and according to Whitehall I’m in charge of the investigation into the murder of William Ruskin, lately of the Office of Customs and Revenue. I understand two of your men in company with a Bow Street Runner visited a private residence in Waverton Street an hour ago and removed, by force, a lady—Mrs. Alicia Carrington. The taradiddle I’ve been told—no doubt you and your men can explain it—is that Mrs. Carrington is accused of having stabbed Ruskin to death.”