3. 4 September, 1826

Lincoln"s Inn Field

Derek held his head in his hands and poured out his heart. At the end of his bizarre tale, he lifted his eyes to see the sympathy surely lurking in that of his old school chums.

However, when he raised his gaze, he realized the looks on the faces of Barrister Stephen Forsythe and Bow Street runner Archer Colwyn looked anything but understanding and consoling.

Sythe was the first to speak. "I don"t know what you expected from us, Derek, but you have to admit your situation leans more toward the preposterous than the tragic."

Anger surged inside him. His face flushed with heat, and he stopped for breathing for a moment.

Col spoke softly, a twinge of sympathy lurking in his voice. "You have to admit the idea of an earl accumulating five mistresses and then installing them in side-by-side townhouses on Grosvenor Street beggars belief, even for a wealthy peer such as yourself." He leaned to the side, closer to Derek, who sat in the chair next to him in front of Sythe"s aged walnut desk. "Frankly, with all of the gaming tricksters in this city, I"m surprised your odd living arrangement hasn"t attracted a blackmailer before now."

Sythe stayed silent, but steepled his hands in front of him and nodded in agreement with Col"s words.

"What about the women themselves? I wouldn"t be surprised if one of them isn"t behind the threats." Col looked toward Sythe, who nodded in agreement again.

Derek lurched forward in his chair and pounded on Sythe"s desk. "They are some of the finest women I"ve ever known. Why would any one of them have reason to blackmail me? I"ve given them everything they could possibly want."

Col and Sythe exchanged another look.

"What?" Derek"s face flushed even hotter than before.

"Jealousy," both barrister and runner said in unison.

"But they don"t know about each other." Derek pounded the desk again.

Both of his old school friends ignored his outburst, but exchanged knowing looks.

Sythe was the first to speak. "I"ve been married a very short while, but I can tell you a woman"s jealousy and resulting ire can rip your very world apart. The man who said "hell hath no fury," and so on, was on to something."

Col added, "I"m not yet married, but the calm, reasoning chess mistress I now share my life with can turn into a raving termagant if an especially, um, alluring client seeks my counsel in our rooms near Covent Garden."

Derek spread his arms wide. "But they don"t know about each other."

Sythe smiled indulgently. "Do you see every one of your mistresses every night?"

"Of course not."

"Are there nights when you don"t see any of them?"

"Of course...a man has to rest occasionally."

Col suddenly gave in to uncontrollable laughter. "Only you could utter such a preposterous statement." He leaned close again. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do. Otherwise, why would I be here?"

"Then you must trust my words when I assure you wholeheartedly that those women not only know of their mutual existence, but they"re comparing notes on the nights you"re not there."

Derek sat back, feeling the blood rush from his head to other, erm, less important, yet more insistent parts of his body. His mistresses were talking about him. At first the thought puffed him with pride, which turned to fear, and finally shame. What the hell were those five women saying about him behind his back?

He finally broke down, exasperation overwhelming him. "Please, Sythe, how am I supposed to find out which one of them is a murderess?"

Sythe gave him a withering look and leaned forward onto his desk. "Why don"t you simply ask them?"

"Can"t you just ask them for me?"

Sythe and Col exchanged exasperated looks.

Col spoke first while Sythe leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "We"d like to help you, of course, as an old friend, but what you"re asking is entirely out of our areas of expertise."

"You need someone who"s attuned to the highest levels of society." Sythe sat forward again with a thud.

"You mean a gossip?" The earl shook his head sadly. "Where can I find this sort of expert I need?"

Col and Sythe answered in unison. "Aunt Camilla."

4 September,1826

Number One Grosvenor Street

Adrienne carefully pulled aside the blindingly white, starched lace curtains from one of the long windows at the front of her parlor facing Grosvenor Street. She tried to stand in the shadows and hide her face, hoping Obadiah would assume the maid was preparing to wash the windows.

Even more than spying on what Obadiah was up to, she couldn"t still the flutters of fear every time she remembered the ruffian from the day before who"d lunged toward her out of nowhere on Bond Street of all places. Come to think of it, she"d had the sense of being watched off and on over the last several weeks, even before the attack occurred. She needed to see the street outside her formerly safe haven was clear of possible threats.

Although she realized the old Marquess of Ormonde who wanted her dead would probably send paid assassins to end her life, she imagined she"d know them when she saw them coming.

When she leaned forward a bit to be reassured solid, capable, loyal Obadiah was still on watch, she realized with a start he was gone. Her heart flew down to her stomach seeking refuge, much as she herself would like to do at that moment. Where the hell had her hulking ex-lover disappeared to?"

A pair of warm hands clasped her shoulders and a stab of fear laced with desire shot through her. When she whirled to face the intruder, Obadiah"s warm, peppermint-scented breath tickled her face. She sucked in a rapid breath, planning to scold him for leaving his post and frightening her. Instead, she folded into the haven of his arms, giving way to wracking sobs. "I...I...thought you"d left me," she scolded between sobs.

"Never, my love...never," he said, and sank down onto one of the comfortably stuffed chairs near the window, taking her with him and settling her on his lap while she finished crying. He patted her back with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Shhhh," he ordered. "I"ll always be here when you need me."

She wanted to believe him, but she wondered how he"d feel if he ever found out the real reason for her fears. The reason she"d left while he was away at sea and had fled to the security and anonymity of being one of the Earl of Framlingwood"s five mistresses.

Obadiah wishedAdrienne trusted enough in him to confide the details of whatever had terrified her into fleeing his protection in the first place. And now he wondered if the mysterious specter she"d feared for years had caught up with her. Or was some other diabolical plot at work to terrify all of the women under Framlingwood"s protection?

When he breathed in the expensive peach and lily scent that was Adrienne"s alone, he realized with cold clarity that he didn"t care why someone had threatened her life. He"d kill them no matter what their motivation. It didn"t matter. He"d hunt them down like the animals they were. As long as he drew breath, no harm would come to Adrienne, or any of Framlingwood"s other women assigned to his protection for that matter.

Her weight and warmth in his lap pulled him back to memories of the days when they"d first come together. He"d wanted to make her his wife but the shame and fears of her past had kept her from committing to stay with him in the bonds of marriage. He hadn"t been happy about the situation, but he"d respected her demands for them to live together without the benefit of a ring or vicar.

When he couldn"t help himself any longer, he made the mistake of glancing down at the inviting shadow between her warm, generous breasts. He couldn"t erase the memory of how they"d felt against his mouth when he"d suckled the rosy tips whilst filling her with his cock...over and over again until the light of dawn through their cottage windows had reminded them of the day ahead.

But then those days had been a precious few, compared to the many days at sea he"d spent as Captain Eleanor Goodrum"s right-hand man on her many forays into Mediterranean ports, seeking information for the Admiralty, enriching her fortunes as well as his, and doing the rescue work that was the whole reason behind everything else the fearsome smuggler did.

Adrienne looked up then with the mischievous look in her eyes that still haunted Obadiah"s dreams. "Why, Monsieur Lassen, I believe there is something loose in your lap." With a wide grin she pulled up the skirt of her muslin morning dress, spread her legs wide, and reached beneath the thin fabric for his cock which had sprung loose from his falls. She pulled hard and squeezed lightly whilst moving her hand slowly from his balls to the now moistening tip and back again.

He loosed an involuntary groan, pushed her clever hand away, and swiftly set her back onto her feet. "You"re a naughty minx, Adrienne Godet. You"re endangering yourself and all of your friends. I am a worthless bodyguard for whom it is high time to return to my station across the street."

With that, he left as quietly as when he"d stolen into the house earlier. Adrienne was a dangerous weakness. That was the last time he"d allow himself to be distracted by her, um, charms. At least that was what he told himself. His cock was not so sure.