4. 5 September, 1826

Lady Camilla"s Drawing Room

Derek Selkirk, Earl of Framlingwood, lifted Lady Camilla"s delicate china teacup to his lips with all the trepidation of a man handling a venomous snake, fearing his life as he knew it might be cut short at any moment.

Aunt Camilla tilted her head and gave him a coquettish grin. "What brings you boys to St. James Square on such a warm day?" She took a dainty sip from her own cup before setting it down so smoothly onto the fine porcelain saucer, not a sound could be heard in her ornate, unnaturally quiet parlor. Only the Ormolu clock on the mantel could be heard faintly chiming the hour.

She"d treated all of them as her "boys" ever since their days at Eton. Her warm, welcoming house on St. James Square had turned into a sort of refuge during school holidays, for very differing reasons. She"d cosseted and protected them as much as she could over the years, and now, not one of the grown men her nephew still counted as his closest friends would argue when being referred to as one of Camilla"s "boys."

Barrister Stephen Forsythe was the first to speak. "We have a bit of a delicate dilemma."

"All of you have dealt with an endless litany of "delicate dilemmas" over the last year. What, pray tell, is so different now?

"First, there was Honoria and Ath. That was a near thing when her father tried to marry her off to some Scottish oaf in the wilds of the Highlands. Then you, Sythe. I"ve never seen the like. Off you race, disappearing to a place even I can"t recollect near Bath, only to come back with an exotic wife, and now...how old is the babe?" She batted her eyes at Sythe to soften her blunt words.

After that, my dear Lionel found the love of his life in Nathaniel. Now, I"m in danger of splitting out the seams of my gowns from overindulging in his partner"s culinary masterpieces, and the two of them have filled my house with foundlings. As if to emphasize the number of said foundlings, two small boys rolled into the parlor, pounding each other with fists in a desperate battle over a chocolate biscuit.

A footman in hot pursuit tried to apologize for letting the two young brawlers interrupt their tea.

Camilla waved away his concerns. "For heavens sakes...see that Cook provides each of those naughty boys with his own biscuits."

Archer Colwyn, who"d accompanied Sythe and Derek to plead for help with Derek"s case, grinned at the two young miscreants. Derek was sure he was no doubt remembering their early years together at Eaton. And then there were the fist fights that occasionally broke out amongst the friends during holidays spent at one of Aunt Camilla"s various estates.

Once the footman had marched the two young boys out of the sitting room and snicked the door shut behind them, she leaned forward and pointed an elegant finger toward Derek. "What nonsense have you gotten yourself into this time?" She included Col and Sythe in her suspicious, sweeping glance.

Derek took a long gulp of tea and gingerly set down his cup on the delicate side table next to his chair. After an extended clearing of his throat, he began. "I have a very equitable set-up on Grosvenor Street where my mistresses have every comfort they could desire, and I spend one night each week with them individually. This situation has suited all of us mutually for several years now.

Camilla raised her other hand suddenly. "Stop. Wait. You want me to believe these paragons of womanhood whom you"ve taken on as mistresses never squabble amongst themselves, never try to get rid of one of their number?"

"Pah. Of course not." Derek took another sip of tea and leaned back into the chair"s luxurious cushions. "None of them knows that any of the others exist. They each think they"re the only one."

The normally regal and unflappable Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitbychoked on a swallow of tea. She recovered immediately, covering her mouth as if she"d suffered a coughing fit.

"Young man--. You may be a peer of the realm, but you are pathetically ignorant of the ways of women." She looked to Sythe for confirmation, and he nodded slowly. "Of course these women all know about each other. Even you couldn"t keep such a secret from five women who all live nextdoor to each other."

She studied the carved cherubs circling the elaborate medallion in the ceiling of her drawing room for a few moments before adding, "And of course a blackmailer is targeting you, because most of the ton knows about your havey-cavey living arrangements as well. I"m surprised the criminals of this city have waited this long to try to extort funds from you."

"But the claims that one of the women under my roof, er roofs, is a murderess? I can"t ignore that possibility."

"No, you can"t. But Sythe and Col can"t help you either. This predicament requires a mind superior to that of a craven blackmailer. We must all put our heads together to find a solution." She took up her cup and sipped slowly and thoughtfully, all the while staring off into the distance, apparently lost in thought.

Finally, she snapped her fingers, jumped to her feet, and commenced pacing the length of the sitting room. The sound sliced through the silence like a gunshot, and Derek nearly fell off his chair.

When she finally stopped in front of him and leaned down close to his face, he tried to sink back into the cushions until he was invisible.

"I know now what you"re going to have to do to save yourself as well as all these poor women who"ve put their trust and safety into your hands."

Derek broke out in a grateful smile. "What should I do? Anything. I"ll do anything."

Sythe broke the stunned silence in the room. "You should pay off each of those poor women handsomely and then find yourself a respectable young gel of good ton to marry. You are getting a little long in the tooth, my boy. It"s time you sired an heir to carry on after you."

Derek exploded out of his chair and paced his own path in the sumptuous Turkey carpet. "I can"t let them go. I need to keep them all safe." He paused and raked his fingers through his hair. "First of all, I don"t need to marry. My late brother"s son is being educated to be my heir. And secondly..." He swept his arms wide. "I refuse to worry them until it is absolutely necessary...the last time I asked a mistress about her past, she ran. And then she died."

5 September,1826

Grosvenor Square Park

Adrienne stood in the shadows of a tree in Grosvenor Square Park and watched the comings and goings at an elegant mansion set well back from the street. A large park was part of the entrance, which made spying on the man who dwelt therein a near impossibility.

She was mulling over what to do next when she was grasped firmly by the shoulders from behind. Obadiah. She"d forever be aware of his scent of bergamot overlaid with peppermint anywhere, any time, up until the day she died.

She whirled, hurling sparks of anger from her eyes. She could not say a word for fear of being caught spying on the powerful Marquess of Ormonde. But she didn"t have to speak. Neither did Obadiah.

He was silent for a long time before squeezing her gently and finally whispering close to her ear. "Why are you lurking outside the Marquess"s house? Why aren"t you staying home on Grosvenor Street where I can protect you?

"I"ve had to search most of Mayfair looking for you." He touched one of her velvety black curls that had sprung loose from her bonnet in the heavy, moisture-laden air and heat of summer in the city. "I...I thought for one horrible moment that something had happened while I wasn"t there to shield you."

She turned suddenly, placing her delicate hand beneath his strong jaw. She gazed into his eyes for a long moment. "You can"t protect me this time. I"m afraid he"s found me, but I"m almost glad. It"ll be a relief not to have to keep looking over my shoulder."

"But why, Adrienne? Why? What have you done? Did you take some small trinket when you were a child and your mother was under his protection?"

"No. Much worse than that."

"What did you do?"

"You know the jagged scar that mars his forehead?"

Obadiah nodded his head hard. "What could that possibly have to do with you, a small child when your mother was part of his household?"

"He was beating my mother, she was bleeding, and I was terrified. I tried to scream at him to stop, but he wouldn"t listen."

"What did you do?" Dread and anxiety filled his voice.

"My...my mother fell to the floor, and she wasn"t breathing, so I took a vase from a nearby table and broke it over his head."

Obadiah fell silent. When he finally spoke, he whispered low. "How did you escape?"

"Captain El." Those were the only words she could bear to whisper back to the man who"d tried to keep her safe ever since. He deserved to know the truth before Ormonde"s hired footpads finally succeeded in killing her, or her aristocratic nemesis made sure she met her fate at Old Bailey.

Obadiah"s arms were like iron bands wrapped in warm fur when he forced her away from her spy post. She struggled at first but then accompanied him docilely until they were several streets away from the Marquess"s town estate. "What are doing?" She bit out.

"I"m saving you from yourself. The men who attacked you may have had nothing to do with the Marquess."

"How do you know?" She wrenched out of his grip and glared at him.

"I"m not supposed to tell anyone, but I suppose I"ll have to make an exception." His dark eyes blazed with worry. "I can"t let anything happen to you."

"I"m not your responsibility anymore," she argued and tried to walk away.

He pulled her back and leaned down close to her ear. "Someone is blackmailing the earl, and the nameless bastard has vowed to prey upon you and all the earl"s other mistresses on Grosvenor Street unless Framlingwood pays him what he wants."

Adrienne jerked away from his grip and gave him a defiant glare. "Do you think I"m afraid of this mealy-mouthed blackmailer who"s afraid to show his face?"

He said nothing, but turned his glance behind them to make sure they weren"t being followed.

"Wait a minute." She pulled at his tight footman"s jacket to force him to face her again. "How do you know the earl has other women?"

He gave her an exaggerated eye roll. "Please. Give me a little credit for intelligence. I"ve been watching your little group of Grosvenor Street regulars for days. What the Earl of Framlingwood doesn"t know about your coven of connivers could fill a book."

"Are you going to tell on us?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you"re prepared to give in exchange for my silence."

It was Adrienne"s turn to give him an exasperated eye roll.