“I take it he deserved it,” Claybourne said, giving the impression that he was the patriarch of this unusual clan.

As Eleanor squeezed her hand unmercifully, a shiver of dread raced through Emma. She despised having to endure this moment when they heard all the sordid-

James gave a brusque nod.

Claybourne nodded in turn. “Right, then. What’s your plan? Provide them with new names, set them up somewhere?”

“Wait,” Eleanor said, loosening her hold on Emma. “That’s all you require? A nod? What sort of people are you?”

“The finest you’ll ever meet,” James said. “I wouldn’t have called them here otherwise.”

But more weighed on Emma’s mind than the trust they so easily granted James. “You mean to send us away?”

“It’s possible that may be our only recourse to ensure your lovely neck isn’t stretched,” James said, “but before we work on the particulars of how best to handle your disappearance, we need to attend to other matters.” He glanced around, to find everyone’s attention still riveted on him. “My plans at the moment involve finishing what the ladies began. Rockberry didn’t act alone. We need to discover who the others were and bring them to justice.”

“I suppose you’ve thought through the particulars,” Jack Dodger said.

“Within reason, as far into the future as I can see-which isn’t far.” Without revealing any of the sordid details involving her sister’s encounter with Rockberry, James explained about the society that had lured her in. He then removed a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it, and passed it to Claybourne. “Rockberry placed that around Elisabeth’s neck in a ritual that welcomed her into servitude.”

“It’s a very intricate piece,” the Duchess of Greystone said, looking at the drawing. “And quite lovely. Where is it now?”

“Hopefully in Rockberry’s residence. I intend to go searching for it tomorrow night.”

That was news to Emma. “Within his residence? Are you mad?”

James bestowed upon her a very somber but determined expression. “If we’re to have you or Eleanor pretend to be Elisabeth returned to town for another taste of pleasure, we need to find the necklace. While the marquess’s home is large, people tend to hide things in rather conspicuous places. Ten minutes, fifteen at the most, and I should have it in hand.” He gave his attention to Mr. Dodger. “Thought perhaps you could invite the new Lord Rockberry to a private game of chance at your club tomorrow around midnight.”

Mr. Dodger shrugged. “If Claybourne and Greystone are up to it.”

Both men were, and particulars were worked out as they discussed how best to keep the new marquess occupied while James searched his residence. Emma didn’t like it. If he were caught-

“What of his servants?” she asked. “You don’t think they’ll notice you traipsing through the house?”

“Most will be abed. I’ll be most discreet.”

Although she still didn’t like it, she quickly realized that she and Eleanor were here as a courtesy. The others were making the plans. They were so comfortable with each other working out what needed to be done that it occurred to her this was not the first time they’d plotted together to bring some plan to fruition. If she’d been honest with James from the beginning, it was quite possible that he could have instructed her and Eleanor on the best method for getting rid of Rockberry without getting caught. They’d thought they were so clever, but had relied on games they played as children. She wondered if there’d ever come a time when they weren’t ruled by naiveté.

When the final details were worked out, Mr. Dodger, Lord Claybourne, and his wife took their leave. The only question that remained was which sister would be placed in harm’s way.


“It has to be me,” Emma said as she walked through the garden, her arm entwined around James’s. He’d asked for a few minutes alone with her, after which he, too, would take his leave.

The gas lamps cast a faint glow over the path they walked. Roses, hyacinths, and other blossoms scented the air around them. Another time, Emma thought it would have been a relaxing, calming diversion before retiring to bed, but her nerves were far too jangled as the silence built between them. “James?”

“The situation may turn deadly. Eleanor, at least, has killed. She might not hesitate to do what she must.”

“She might think twice about it. As you’re well aware, the guilt gnaws at her. And I’m not too shabby in a dangerous-”

Before she’d finished making her case, he snatched her up against him and began plundering her mouth as though it were the last opportunity that he’d ever have to taste her. They’d had few moments alone on the journey here. Perhaps that was the reason she welcomed his advance and clung to him almost with desperation. She didn’t want to consider that it was because their time together was quickly coming to a close.

After this little ruse to get to the others, she and Eleanor would still be held accountable for their role in the death of Rockberry. Whatever her punishment-death, transportation, or years in a women’s prison-James wouldn’t be there with her. He would remain in London, solving crimes, and eventually marrying. She didn’t want to think about another woman lying in his arms, but neither did she want to contemplate the lonely years ahead of him if he remained a bachelor. Or the lonely empty years she would face without his hands gliding over her back as they did now, his kiss stirring her passions.

She wished they could retire to his lodgings, lock the door, and never leave. She wanted to awaken in his bed surrounded by the musky fragrance of their lovemaking. She wanted to feel the heat of his body lying heavily over hers.

He dragged his hot, moist lips along her cheek before nibbling on her ear. “Don’t ask me to risk losing you,” he said in a tortured voice that caused her heart to ache and rejoice. She was truly precious to him. But as much as he meant to her, she couldn’t be so selfish as to willingly put her sister in harm’s way again. It was her turn to take the risk.

“Don’t ask me to risk losing another sister.”

He grew so still, the tension in his body a silent thrumming. When he released her, she felt as though something of monumental importance had shifted between them.

“You’d give up everything we might have so easily?” he asked.

“There’s nothing easy about this, but you must know that what we have is only temporary. As wonderful as it is, James, it will be taken from us whether we wish it or not.”

Even in the shadowy garden, the intensity of his stare was unnerving.

“You should retire now,” he said flatly. “Sleep well. You’ll need your wits about you when it happens.”

“You’ve decided, then-it’ll be me?” She didn’t know if the small tremor in her voice was fear or excitement.

He didn’t reply. He simply walked away, disappearing into the darkness.


When Swindler had sent his missive to his childhood mates, he’d sent one other.


London Bridge

Four o’clock


He wasn’t surprised that Sir David had arrived before him, on the banks of the Thames beneath London Bridge. They’d met there many a night when Swindler was engaged in activities that required he not be identified with Scotland Yard. As usual, Sir David was smoking his pipe.

“So Swindler, you’ve returned to London. Why the secret meeting? Am I to assume you don’t have Rockberry’s murderer in hand?”

“It’s become rather complicated.”

“Fell for her, did you?”

It was difficult to admit, even to himself, that he’d fallen madly in love with Emma-especially difficult when Emma insisted on protecting her sister at the expense of a future with him. He knew he was being selfish, but dammit, his entire adult life he’d sacrificed his own happiness for others. Just once, he wanted to put his own needs first.

He explained everything to Sir David, sparing no details. Emma wasn’t there to be embarrassed by the truth or the sordid tale.

“Good God!” Sir David said when Swindler was finished. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir. The lady explained it all in her journal, then took her life. She had no reason to lie at that point.”

“And you think other nobles might be involved?”

“It’s possible. We’ll know more once we’ve set the trap. I’d like Scotland Yard involved-”

“No,” Sir David responded tartly before Swindler had finished outlining what he had in mind. “Not until we know who falls into your net.”

“Will you be falling into it, sir?”

The pipe fell from Sir David’s mouth as he spun around to face Swindler, the first time he’d looked at him directly since the meeting began. “I beg your pardon? Have you gone mad?”

“At the risk of appearing arrogant, I’m your best man. Yet you charged me with the simple task of following a lady through London. It was a waste of my talents.”

“On the contrary, Swindler, look what you’ve uncovered.”

“If you suspected this all along, why not tell me?”

Sir David reached down, picked up his pipe, and studied it. “Damnation. Can’t put that back in my mouth, now can I?” He tossed it into the river. “You’re not the only one who’s given orders, Swindler. Let’s just say that mine come from high up, very, very high up. We suspected Rockberry might be engaged in something unsavory when he first came to us. Why he didn’t just see to the matter himself is beyond me. Arrogant bastard expected us to see to it for him. Which I suppose, all in all, based upon your findings, was to the lady’s benefit in the end. Be that as it may, there have been rumors of this society. Nasty stuff that. Especially as Queen Victoria and her husband have a very strict moral code. People need to behave with a good deal more decorum.” He cleared his throat. “Forgive my rant. Carry on with your plans. When you know who all is involved, get word to me. Then we’ll decide how the matter is to be handled with the least amount of scandal and embarrassment.”

“Yes, sir.” Swindler turned to go.

“Swindler?”

Swindler gazed back over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”

“Take extreme care with this matter. Not a whisper of it is to make the rounds. Keep everything discreet, man. There could be a knighthood in it for you.”

“Your orders came from that high up?”

Sir David simply stared at the river.

Chapter 22

The marquess has accepted our invitation for a private game at Dodger’s at midnight. Enjoy your freedom. -C

According to the note from Claybourne, the new Marquess of Rockberry might be mourning the death of his brother, but not enough to give up all his pleasures and vices. Swindler had heard the younger possessed a weakness for games of chance. And no man with such a weakness would pass up an opportunity to pit his skills against Claybourne, Greystone, and Dodger. The men were legendary in their conquests of the gaming tables-when they indulged. Since taking wives, all three were rarely seen at the tables. Who could blame them when their wives were the loveliest ladies London had to offer?

With the exception of Emma, of course, who wasn’t really of London. Still, James thought her by far the most appealing. It amused him now to think that he’d once thought no one would surpass Frannie for his affections. Yet Emma had managed to do exactly that.

Swindler waited behind the hedgerows at the marquess’s London residence until he saw the man’s carriage rattle by at half past eleven. Then he waited another half hour for the servants to settle in after their master’s departure before making his way to the servants’ entrance. Kneeling, he removed a small candle from his pocket, lit the wick, studied the lock, and within seconds was inside the kitchen.

An incriminating item such as the choker would be in one of two places: the library or the master bedchamber. Swindler decided to start with the library, remembering its location from his previous visit, when he’d come to inspect the scene of the crime.

Using the small light from his candle, disturbing nothing, barely breathing, he cautiously crept along the corridors, like a silent wraith. No servants crossed his path. He hadn’t expected any to be about. When the master was away, sleep beckoned.

Opening the library door, he stepped through and closed it behind him. Holding the candle aloft, he made his way around the numerous small sitting areas to the large desk at the far side of the room. He noted that the carpet was a different pattern than when he’d last been in the room. No surprise there. Blood seldom made an attractive decorative accent.

After setting the candle on the desk, he began opening drawers, searching for latches that would release hidden compartments. The former marquess wouldn’t want his secrets easily discovered. But that was not unusual for the aristocracy. Hence the reason Feagan had trained them regarding the mysteries of a desk.