She checked Stephen, satisfied he was breathing comfortably and pleased he had regained some color. The errand would take little time and he would be safely guarded. Servants were frequently checking on his progress. As she hurried to the door, she remembered James’s orders to the footmen. They wouldn’t allow her to leave. They would heed James’s directives.

She headed for the study. She would be able to climb out the first-floor window without difficulty. Oddly she was not interrupted on the way. Once there, she opened the window, hiked her skirts and shimmied into the bushes, pulling the cane and her reticule behind her. She sprinted around the side of the house and edged her way to the street. It was broad daylight. She hurried before anyone from the house spotted her.

No alarm was sounded as she hailed a hackney rambling down the street. Unfortunately, there would be no one to accompany her.

As a result of her research she knew Terrence’s rented house was in a less prosperous district of town. She had kept tabs on a number of people in the ton. But what would she use as her excuse for going to his house? It was unseemly for an unaccompanied woman to meet with an unmarried gentleman at his residence.

The hackney pulled up to a charming but shabby old building twenty minutes later. Calliope paid the driver and used her cane to maneuver up the drive. She was suddenly glad she had brought it with her. Her leg had started aching a bit last night and it had gotten progressively worse with the stress of the day.

Calliope knocked on the door and was surprised when Terrence opened it seconds later.

"Miss Stafford, wh-what are you doing here?"

His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open.

"I hope I am not intruding, Mr. Smith, but I wished to speak with you."

He hesitated, but finally said, "No, do come in. I hope you won’t think me rude, but I’m expecting company soon."

"Thank you, I won’t stay long."

He showed her into the surprisingly modern drawing room.

"Please sit. Would you like tea?"

"No, please do not trouble yourself. I was in the neighborhood and just wanted to thank you for what you did the night of the Killroys’ ball. It was such a nice gesture."

Pink stained his cheeks. "Well, it was the least I could do after what that-that-woman did."

Calliope allowed a graceful blush to stain her cheeks and ducked her head shyly. "It was most kind of you to provide your carriage."

"Are you doing well, Miss Stafford? Have you found other employment?"

"Oh, indeed I have! I have a lovely job working in a barrister’s office not too far from here. It is a quite a wonderful place to work."

A genuine smile lit his face. "I am glad to hear it. "

"Actually, that is the second reason for my visit. I was hoping you could tell me who designed that beautiful eagle seal that I saw on one of your cards the night of the ball. The barrister for whom I work uses an eagle as his trademark and I would love to have calling cards created as a gift for hiring me with so few references."

Terrence shifted in his seat. "Well, as it happens I don’t believe it is an eagle. And I am not sure where that seal was purchased. The card was given to me by a… friend."

Calliope leaned forward in her chair. "If you tell me who your friend is, perhaps I could ask him." She threw an extra dash of feminine helplessness and appeal into her entreaty.

Terrence suddenly straightened. "I say, Miss Stafford, I think I could ask around and see if I can find a similar type of seal. Maybe one with a true eagle emblem."

She chewed on her lip. "I did so hope to give it to my employer soon."

"I will find it! I promise. What is the name of your barrister’s office?"

"Yes, Miss Stafford, tell him the name of the office."

Calliope jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice. It was cold and silky. She shivered and turned in her chair.

Terrence jumped to his feet. "You’re early, my lord."

"Yes, and it is fortuitous, I see."

A startled look appeared on Terrence’s face and Calliope saw the intruder. A tall, distinguished man with dark hair shot with strands of silver was standing in the drawing room doorway, a coat elegantly draped over his arm.

A wave of apprehension spread through her. A rustle in the hallway alerted her to the presence of another. A second man appeared, this one much stockier in stature. The look in the second man’s beady eyes chilled her. Her entire body screamed danger.

"Miss Stafford, is it? I’m glad you’re here. It makes things so much easier, you see."

Terrence stared at them, open-mouthed. "Did you know Miss Stafford was coming today? What does she have to do with this?"

"A great many things, I’m afraid." The earl uttered the words and the short man rubbed his pudgy hands together in anticipation. Calliope took several short breaths to calm herself.

"I don’t understand." Terrence remained stupefied.

The earl merely smiled. "Yes, I expected no less of you, Terrence. What did you find out about Angelford?"

Terrence anxiously looked at Calliope, but the earl motioned him on.

" He was roaming the streets today with his lightskirt. I trailed them to the Strand. They didn’t stay for long. They returned to Chalmers’s townhouse, and he left shortly thereafter. Unaccompanied."

Calliope could hear her own heart beating madly. Why in heaven’s name had she come here alone? And without informing anyone of her whereabouts?

"Good. Angelford will be cooped up there for hours. He is like a dog sniffing out a bone. He won’t leave Holt’s until he is assured of his innocence. Or his guilt." A sly smile appeared. "Hopefully the latter."

Terrence glanced nervously back at Calliope. "Why are you discussing this in front of her?"

"Oh, she won’t talk. My associate here will make sure of that."

Calliope rose to her feet and the earl arched an eyebrow. "And where do you think you’re going, Calliope?"

Her breath caught.

Terrence frowned. "Her name is Margaret."

The earl sent a condescending look in Terrence’s direction. "That is why I let you trail Angelford. You would have too difficult a time keeping up with his woman."

Terrence looked thoroughly confused. It showed in every muscle of his body. "I told you, the woman is at her house."

"Would you like to tell him or should I?"

Calliope sent him an angry look and mustered her temper. "No, my lord, I would not deny you the chance."

"Feisty little thing. I see why he keeps you around. I thought I was rid of you after the Killroys’ ball. A couple of well-meaning hints in Lady Simpson’s ear…" He smiled and shrugged.

So her firing had nothing to do with James after all. Calliope balled her hands.

"Are you implying that Miss Stafford is that Esmerelda woman?" Terrence was naive and a bit slow at times, but not stupid.

"Actually, there is no Miss Stafford. There is no Esmerelda either. I have no idea how many other guises she has taken, but this is Miss Calliope Minton, daughter of the Viscount Salisbury."

"And I assume you are the man who killed him."

The earl cocked an eyebrow at her. "That credit will fall to Holt, not to me."

"I don’t know why you did it. I barely know who you are. But it was you."

The earl produced an unpleasant laugh. "My dear, you wound me to the core. Nevertheless, Holt will take the blame for your father’s untimely death and your dear lover will die proving it."

A surge of fear shot through Calliope, but she tried to maintain her composure. "How exactly is that going to happen?"

Terrence was looking at the earl as if he were the Hydra, sporting multiple heads. "See here, what is this about dying and murdering? I don’t want anything to do with that. You said I could court Lucinda and marry her if I fulfilled my end of the bargain."

"Keep your mouth shut and stop blubbering, you twit."

"Lucinda?" The pieces began to assemble.

"He’s her uncle and guardian. Lucinda listens to him, she’ll eventually begin to know the real me."

"Oh, Terrence," Calliope said sadly. He looked miserable and her heart went out to him, but she focused on the scowling earl. "Terrence was just supposed to keep tabs on James, wasn’t he? He knows nothing about any of this."

"Now that he does, however, we will need to rearrange our bargain."

Terrence looked terrified and Calliope didn’t blame him.

"Miss Minton, tell me where the ring is."

"A ring? That is what this is all about?" she asked innocently.

The earl was not amused. "Where is it?"

"Did my father take it from you? Is that why you killed him?"

"It is my ring and I want it back."

"And our townhouse… you set the fire to destroy the evidence, didn’t you?"

"Give it to me."

Calliope gave him a superior look. "By now James has shown Holt the ring. It will only be a matter of time before they find you."

The earl gave her a withering look. "I doubt that, my dear, but if so it will be of no interest to you."

The stocky man ambled forward. He had crooked teeth, a hooked nose and an extremely pockmarked face. "Shall I take care of both of them now?" His eyes didn’t touch on Terrence, he was totally focused on Calliope.

"We don’t want to worry our young helper, Curdle. He is still our friend, after all. Come, Terrence, tie up Miss Minton, here, and then we’ll talk."

Terrence looked at Calliope but she gave a firm shake of her head. It would do no good to argue. Save that for later.

In fascinated horror Calliope watched as the stocky man moved forward, but Terrence had obviously read his intentions correctly because he reached out and gripped Calliope’s arm.

Curdle yanked her away and roughly pushed Terrence back. Her body instinctively recoiled and she struggled.

Curdle laughed unpleasantly.

They tied a cord around her arms and legs and she was helpless to move. His fetid breath brushed her brow. She spat in his face and he backhanded her and stuffed a wad of cloth in her mouth. He grabbed the top of her dress and callously ran his hands over the material.

"Enough, Curdle," ordered the earl. "There will be time for that later."

After some argument, Curdle shoved her in a small, dark storage room. Terrence was barely able to throw the cane in after her before Curdle slammed the door. She could hear them arguing on the other side.

"I’ll stay with the filly. Never know who might be visiting."

"You can have your sport later. She’s not going anywhere. I need you to head over to Holt’s. If Angelford is there, kill them both. Terrence and I will be waiting for your return."

A shuffle of footsteps echoed down the hall.

"Where are the papers, Terrence?"

"They are in a safe place." The frightened note in Terrence’s voice was audible through the door.

"I want them. Where are they?"

"I-I won’t give them to you. I want to know what is going on. What are you going to do with Miss Stafford-er, Miss Minton?"

Calliope heard a loud thump and the sound of a heavy object hitting the floor.

The door opened and the earl stood tall in the doorway. "Sorry, my dear. But I don’t believe you have any more information for me. And unfortunately for you, you have too much information. But not to worry, you won’t die alone. Terrence, here, will be with you. And your dear James will join you shortly after he gives me the ring."

He gave her an almost fatherly smile. "Goodbye, my dear. Your antics were amusing to watch. It’s a shame we couldn’t get along more companionably."

She shrieked at him through the cloth that was tied over her mouth, as he closed the door and she was once more thrust in the dark. Why hadn’t he put a bullet through her?

At the moment she didn’t care; she was still alive. Calliope wondered what had happened to Terrence. Poor misguided Terrence. Lucinda Fredericks would be the death of him after all.

Calliope worked her hands, trying to free the ropes. It was useless, they were wrapped too tightly, but as she struggled, her left hand brushed her cane and a small ray of hope bloomed. Calliope shuffled the cane’s head back to her hands. A little more. Just a little more. The handle was in her fingers. Twisting it was another matter. She couldn’t get her wrists far enough apart to turn the knob. She needed more leverage.

She sat for a second before the idea came. She moved the cane as quickly as she could until she was sitting on the handle. Grabbing the rod with both hands, she twisted. The joyous sound of a click registered in Calliope’s ears.

She moved the cane around and positioned the blade between her tightly coiled wrists. She started sawing at the cord and nicked a finger. She stopped for a second to reposition when she smelled smoke.