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Prologue

1813:

"I don't have time for this nonsense, Brayd!" Nigel said, tapping his riding crop against his booted foot.

Brayden resisted the urge to jump to his feet. He forced himself to remain seated behind the estate desk in the Earl of Raby's office. Said earl, his older half-brother, had no problem relinquishing his estate duties to him. They were duties Brayden gladly accepted. It was beyond him how Nigel could have no interest. From all accounts, the man inherited his wild streak from his mother.

Brayden leaned forward; his hands held a death grip on the edge of the wooden desk. "Then you had best make time, Nigel. These are your lands and your people. You have to--"

"I am Raby. I don't have to do anything." Nigel leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk, staring Brayden in the eye.

Brayden took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice reasonable, although dealing with Nigel when he was in one of his moods was nearly impossible. "Listen, Nigel, I understand--maybe better than anyone--that you don't want to be tied down with estate matters, but these are your responsibilities."

Nigel started to turn away, forcing Brayden to come to his feet and grasp his brother's arm, turning him to face him.

"What are you doing?" Nigel's eyes blazed.

"Making you listen. If you do nothing else, you have to listen to the villagers. They want you to hear their cases. As the largest landowner, as earl, you are the magistrate."

"Bah!" Nigel waved his hand in the air. "What do I care if John Sawyer poaches?"

Brayden ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to tear it out. His brother just did not seem to understand that it was a matter of honor, not just the actual poaching involved.

"Don't we hire gamesmen?"

"Yes, and they're the ones who caught the poachers. You have to deal with them."

"Isn't that what I hire you for?"

Brayden could feel his nostrils flare at the slight. "No, Nigel. They expect the earl, no one else." No matter what it cost him to say those words, it was the truth.

"All right," Nigel said. "I will deal with the issue after I return."

Brayden tossed his hands in the air and slapped them on his sides. Nigel waved him away. "I already promised Morris we would meet this morning."

"Morris!"

Nigel raised his eyebrows at Brayden's tone, but answered in a calm voice. "I know you don't approve of Morris, but he's not a bad sort."

"It's more a matter that I don't trust the man," Brayden said. He watched his brother's neck grow red around his cravat, and his lips tighten. A glare in Brayden's direction and Nigel strode from the room.

After his brother left, Brayden removed his coat and loosened his cravat. He had devoted several days to dealing with the estate books but kept being interrupted with other matters. For now, he knew that Nigel would be occupied longer than just the morning and it would be several hours before Heston, the estate secretary, made his appearance.

Instead of working, he spent most of the time contemplating Nigel's behavior. It was definitely worse of late, but so far he had found nothing in the books that indicated it had any bearing on the estate in any way. Whatever it was, he was certain Morris--Lord Hawke--was involved. The man was an out an out bounder as far as he could tell, yet his sort appealed to Nigel. If he hadn't the niggling feeling that his brother was holding something back, he might be inclined to let the other matters go, but this morning's row had been building for many weeks.

Shaking off all thoughts but those of the estate, Brayden bent his head to the task, at least until there was a commotion in the hall that drew him there, along with the butler calling his name.

Running into the hall, he saw Morris, his face drained completely of color, issuing orders. As soon as the other man saw Brayden, he grabbed his arm.

"Thank God, Brayd! It's Nigel. He took a jump over the west hedge--"

Brayden didn't wait for the man to finish, but immediately ran to the stables, where one of the stable lads already had a horse ready. Ignoring the mounting block, he threw himself on the beast's back. Morris was already mounted, as were several of the other groomsmen.

"Lead," he barked at Morris, pushing his mount to an all out speed. He knew that his face was as white as Morris's. If Nigel could have been moved, he would have been here. He glanced at a few of the other riders and noted that they were well prepared and had a stretcher with them. He set his mouth in a grim line, and forced his horse to a faster pace, quickly outdistancing Morris and the others.

He heard the weak whinny of the horse before he spotted his half-brother lying partially in the ditch on the side of the hedge. He detected no movement.

"Nigel!" he screamed. Sliding from the saddle, he fell on his knees next to his brother, fearing that he was already too late. Extending a trembling hand, he laid it against Nigel's neck. The pulse was weak, but there.

He patted his brother's cheek, looking for response. Finally Nigel opened his eyes the merest slit.

"Good ride, Brayd," he said weakly.

"Listen to me! The men are coming, they have a stretcher. We're going to--"

"No...time..." His eyes drifted closed, but opened again when Brayden called his name. "Safe...not Morris..." His voice was growing weaker so that Brayden practically had to hold his ear to his brother's lips.

He moved away now to look at him. "Nigel, I need to know. What is in the safe? What do I need to do?" When there was no answer, he put his hand to Nigel's pulse again. Even weaker, but present.

"Mis..sive...attend..." Again, his voice drifted off, then suddenly his eyes opened wider and his voice was stronger. He shifted his gaze to Brayden. "Good sort, Brayd. You'll do right. Always do."

Brayden watched in despair as Nigel's eyes rolled back and his breath came in a gasp. He knew without checking his brother's pulse that he was gone.

The ride back was a somber one, but even that paled in comparison to a few days later when Brayden recalled all of Nigel's words and checked the safe in the study and withdrew the missive Nigel mentioned, with the Prince of Wales' seal on it. Brayden didn't even want to touch it, let alone read it. Opening it, he began to read.

Still holding the papers, he sank into one of the chairs in the study and let his head fall back. Saddling him with the earldom was something Brayden could handle, but for Nigel to leave this the possibility of forfeiting his lands if he did not return the artifact Nigel was practically accused of stealing.... Brayden sat up and looked through the paragraphs again. He had one month, at the most, to settle the matter. Oh God, what if he hadn't even been with Nigel? He would have lost his lands and known nothing.

Chapter One

Brayden Derrington, Earl of Raby, looked at his cards from under heavy lidded eyes. He fanned them slightly, then gathered them in a neat pile and laid them face down.

"I say, Brayden, you're not out, are you?"

"Don't be absurd," the man on the left said, his voice sharp. "Derrington is waiting for everyone else to decide their play." Edmund Morris, Lord Hawke, gave a snort. "Damn puppies."

There was a time when Brayden might have been inclined to agree with the man, but not tonight. Now, he would not agree with anything that passed Morris's lips. He would choke on the words.

There were one or two titters, but they abruptly died when Brayden cast his steely gray gaze on them.

As the night wore on, several of the men left the table, but few chose to take their place. The stakes got higher. Brayden willed Collin to leave the table, but the demme man insisted on staying. As long as he stayed, Brayden knew he would have to. He could smell the desperation on Morris; he wanted that pot. Desperate men make mistakes, Brayden reminded himself, keeping his eyes on his cards. Collin, Lord Worsley, was the one who should have been desperate, but he held his ground. Brayden tried not to look in his direction.

Morris threw in his last hand. "That's it. Dere. Done up for the night."

Brayden lounged back in his chair, letting the edge of the card mutely tap the baize covered table. "I could advance you." He didn't raise his voice, just stated the offer in a matter of fact tone.

For a fleeting moment, Brayden watched the potential greed flicker in Morris's eyes. The card did a steady tap against the table, one edge, then another. He could see the battle Morris was waging with himself before he finally gave in. Shrugging his shoulders, he once again seated himself at the table. "One more hand."

Brayden looked at the man his eyes tired. He knew damn well he had practically cleaned the man out. He really didn't have much interest in the game itself. He was there to trounce Morris--to keep him from winning heavily against Worsley. He had heard Worsley often gambled more than he could afford. Tonight he seemed bent on proving it. If there had been another way to catch the man's attention without gambling, Brayden would have used it. From all accounts, games of chance were stamped on the Worsley family birth records.

Several years younger in age and eons younger in experience than most of the other men at the table, Worsley had managed to hold his own for most of the night, at least until Morris stepped in. When Morris moved in, Brayden did too. The man was not to be trusted.

He looked over at Worsley. "Figured you were done up for the night too."

"No sir, a few more good hands and my luck could change."

Brayden gave a nearly silent sigh and nodded to the dealer to start the play. It was going to be a long night. If it weren't for the fact there was a connection between Worsley and his half-brother Nigel, he'd have very little interest in the man. But Brayden wanted, no needed, to know what that connection was. He planned to talk to the man--informally, of course--as soon as he could cut him out of the pack. But with Morris always about, that was damn near impossible.

Brayden took his cards as they were dealt and the play began. It went quickly, and the others swiftly folded, leaving himself, Morris and Worsley. He could see that Worsley's pile of chips was rapidly dwindling. Blessedly, the hand ended and Brayden hoped to God that Worsley would pull out.

Neither God nor luck appeared to be with him. The betting became heavier than Brayden liked. If the game were not soon called, the losses would be heavy indeed. He could practically feel Morris bristling with the anticipation of winning. The stakes were upped, and the tension climbed in the room. With nothing left to ante, Worsley called one of the waiters for pen and paper and wrote his vowels for his house and its contents.

Brayden pushed down the bile in his throat. What was the man thinking? Didn't anything work in that brain-box? For the first time, he really looked at the other men who were standing about, no doubt wishing they were still in the play. They were practically licking their lips over the pot. These had been his half-brother's friends! With friends like these, he doubted that Nigel needed enemies. He knew he would have to win this hand and the house before the man did something even more stupid. What a dunderhead.

To Nigel's credit, he had not included Collin in his circle, although the man had wanted to be. Collin was too young in years, and certainly in experience, to keep pace with Nigel or his cronies.

Brayden was the last to turn his hand and when he flipped the cards on the table, he stared. He had lost! He had been wool gathering instead of counting cards. It was one thing for him to lose, but in doing so, he lost his chance to bargain with Worsley.

Worsley was the first to rise. "You have my vowels, my lord," he said to Morris, and quit the room. Brayden fought the inclination to follow to be certain the man did nothing else stupid and watched as his source of information disappear. He could hardly say what he wanted with a roomful of onlookers.

Morris reached out his hand to gather his chips and vowels.

"Another hand, Morris?" Brayden asked lazily.

"I think not. I'm quite content with my winnings."

Seeing that the play was finished, one of the waiters appeared, offering to take the chips to the cashier for the gentlemen.

Brayden stretched his legs out in front of him and settled back in his chair, inviting Morris to join him for a drink, then issuing the order to one of the waiters. If he was going to be denied Collin's company and information, then he would see what Morris had to offer. It might be the only thing he could salvage of the night. "Worsley looked pretty well trounced tonight, Dere," Morris said.

"That he did." He took his drink from the tray the waiter presented to him. "I hadn't expected him to bet the house."

Morris took his own drink before answering. "Demme puppy. Finished off what his father started. Had to happen." He turned his half empty tumbler, letting the light catch on the amber liquid within. "Would have been a damn sight easier if your brother had just let him into the group."

Brayden felt his heart thump against his chest. This is what he wanted. He raised his glass to his lips, not looking at Morris. "He must have had his reasons," he said. He just wished he knew what they had been!

"Nigel always had a reason for what he did." Morris heaved a sigh, then put his glass down on the nearby table. "Not quite the way I was planning to search Worsley's house, but...," he shrugged. "...it will do."

Was it possible he would learn what he needed without Worsley? "Why search Worsley's?"

Morris gave a small laugh. "Come Brayd, you have to know that Nigel gave the man goods for keeping."

Brayden ignored the man's careless use of his shortened name that only his closest friends used. While Morris had been one of Nigel's closest friends, he certainly was not one of Brayden's. "I can't imagine what that would be," he said, sipping his own drink, thoughts running rampant through his mind. Could it be possible that Nigel had given Worsley the artifact mentioned in the missive? It seemed highly unlikely. He couldn't see Nigel entrusting valuable pieces with Collin, but what if he had? The only one who could answer now was Worsley.

Morris shook his head. "And Nigel always claimed you knew everything that happened." His voice took a sharper note, "If you don't know, it's going to be even harder to control the Riders."

"I think I can manage," he said dryly. He didn't have a choice, but did Morris know that? It seemed that his instincts were right again. Worsley was definitely involved, whether knowingly or as an innocent accomplice still remained to be seen. The trick would be to see him before Morris did, for he had no doubt Morris would be there the next day to make sure Worsley vacated the property. He willed his distaste not to show on his face.

Morris put his glass on the table and rose. "Thanks to you, I have enough ready blunt to get me through a few more games, and thanks to Worsley, I don't need to worry overmuch about it tonight." He sketched a brief bow to Brayden and headed off.

Brayden studied the amber liquid in his glass, wishing that Nigel were still around. The two men had not been particularly close, their ages alone precluded that. But for Nigel to have created this mess, intentionally or otherwise, irked Brayden immeasurably.

"Heard tell Morris won from Worsley," Kit Landford, Viscount Hulton, said as he dropped into the chair Morris had just vacated

At six foot, Kit was close to the same height as Brayden, His sandy-colored hair and deep blue eyes were a striking combination. Along with his pleasant disposition, it always made him a favorite guest.

"You heard right."

"You had a reason for it, I take."

Brayden snorted in response. "I was wool-gathering!"

Kit shook his head in amusement and ordered his own drink. "We're drowning our sorrows here instead of at your place where we could do it in comfort and with decent drinks because...."

"Because I'm tired, Kit."

The other man sputtered, then quickly coughed when Brayden turned and arched one brow in his direction.

Brayden didn't think his friend would believe him, but he was tired. Of course, he was blistering angry too.

"Saw Morris leaving when I came in."

Brayden tossed back the rest of his drink. "I almost had him," he nearly growled.

"So I heard. Why did you let him go?"

"Let him? No, he refused to play any more. Probably headed to some hell to fleece some green behind the ears lordling."

"I suppose you'll go after him tomorrow."

Brayden held the glass to the light, and looked at the remaining liquid pooled in the bottom of the glass. "Won't do for him to amass too much blunt. He's comfortable with what he has now."

"There's nothing you can get out of this, Brayden. It's not going to bring Nigel back or change the past."

He gave him a wry smile. "No, it won't change the past, Kit, but it will curtail future events."

Saying goodnight in a clipped voice, Brayden gathered his cane, gloves, hat and overcoat from the major-domo and headed out the club doors. What in God's name had Collin been thinking? Clearly the man had been in his cups, no doubt of that. He shook his head in disgust--still to wager the Town house--or in Worsley's case, the only house. The man must have been mad as well as in his cups. He refused to think of the men who had watched him make that bet with no intent of stopping him. These men were honorable? He couldn't see it; hadn't seen it. His real friends should have led him out--forbade him from making that wager.

He climbed into the coach, refusing to think about it anymore for the night. Or morning, as it might be. Later this morning he would head to Worsley's and try to see what they could salvage of this mess.

* * *

Brayden had just finished pouring his coffee when his sister entered the breakfast room. Dressed in a pale yellow walking dress, trimmed in white, Arabella was a picture of maidenly modesty, which he knew was a great disguise. Not that she wasn't proper. She was just known--at least to him--for getting her own way. Very effective disguise though.

"Oh, don't get up, Brayden," she said, sailing past him toward the sideboard.

He looked at her over the top of his paper and grinned. He had no intention of moving and the chit knew it. "Had a good night at the ball, I take it," he said, laying his paper aside.

She didn't answer until she was seated. "It was boring, Brayden. Although I did hear some interesting gossip later in the night."

He took a sip of his coffee, watching her and waiting. "Do tell," he said in a drawl.

"About you." She took a dainty bite of her toast.

He put his coffee cup down. She wanted to play it out, then let her.

Finally, she gave a little huff, and said, "If you must know, that dreadful Mr. Edwards--William," she clarified, "stopped by after playing at his club. He said that you won a Town house. What in heavens name are you going to do with it. You did win, didn't you?"

"I didn't win, Arabella, so it's nothing to be concerned about."

She relaxed against the back of her chair for a moment before resuming her correct posture. "I couldn't picture you being responsible for throwing someone out of their home."

He resisted the urge to shudder. He couldn't see it either. And in that light, he didn't wonder if fate had dealt him the kinder hand in not being the one to have to deal with Worsley and that issue. Instead, he now had a bigger bargaining chip. One he hoped the man would consider, if for no other reason than his options were seriously limited. Collin could help him locate the artifact, and Brayden would work to keep Collin out of jail and in his own home.

Brayden's personal pockets were deep. As a younger son, he would not have the earldom. In its place he had his mother's lesser property combined with his keen business sense. Now he had the wealth of the earldom behind him too. Granted, his was the deeper pocket, but titles and land carried their weight! He only hoped it would work with Worsley and Morris. Morris was the type that would do something to his detriment if it meant keeping someone else from their goals. Right spiteful, his nanny would have said.

Taking a last sip of his coffee, he excused himself. He'd better head over to Worsley's and get this mess straightened out before anyone else got any hare-brained ideas. Especially if William had been spreading tales.

Riding there on his gelding, Nelson, he began to wonder at his own ideas. If Collin agreed to help him, he was certain he could keep the man out of Newgate, especially since the Prince Regent was the one who wanted the artifact. And even if the Regent went back on his word, he would see there wasn't enough evidence to convict Collin. He was sure he could manage that much.

If Nigel hadn't started the idiotic Dere's Demons he wouldn't have to worry about a missing artifact, Collin wouldn't have been trying to desperately ingratiate himself with the group, and Brayden would not have the whole bloody mess to deal with. Absolutely typical of Nigel to leave it all on his shoulders.

Once he dismounted in front of the house, he looked about. It was fairly well kept--white, the same as its neighbors. The small wrought iron fence stood on either side of the stairs. As there didn't seem to be any grooms about, he looked around for a tying ring, where he could leave Nelson. He glanced up at the house again. It did look dark; could Collins have already left? He didn't think that would have been possible.

Not seeing a doorknocker in place, he became a little more concerned. Thumping on the door, he waited for it to be opened. When there was no reaction, he thumped again. Slowly, the door opened, but no one was there.

"Are you lost?" A light voice came from somewhere below his chest.

Looking down, he took an abrupt step back. He was wrong, someone was there. A moppet with golden curls looked up at him.

"Um...No..." Would the child even know Collin? Her simple gray gown with the frayed sleeves declared that she must be one of the servant's children.

"Emily!" he heard a frantic voice float in the hall. "Close that door at once." This was followed by the sound of scurrying feet, and then another face, identical to the first one, peering out at him. He looked down into two pairs of bright blue eyes.

"No," the first girl said over her shoulder. "Someone is lost. Can you help him, Jane?"

Great, he was going to be greeted by every servant Collin hired before he could even get his question out.

An unseen feminine hand whisked the two children out of his sight before he was greeted by a rather plain looking woman. She wore an outdated gray gown of linsey-woolsey and had her hair pulled so severely back from her face that it was difficult to determine its true color. It could have been anywhere from brown to gray. But when she focused her eyes on him, he nearly lost his breath. Never had he seen such clear, piercing green, eyes, magnificently framed by thick dark lashes. He hastily revised his opinion. She must be much younger than she looked.

"May I help you?" She had to repeat the question before he could pay attention to what she really said. And that was a mistake because now he had to focus on her pink lips, perhaps slightly too wide, but the bottom lip, fuller than the top caused its own distraction.

He dragged his gaze away when he noticed that the two little girls were trying to peer around the woman's skirt. He quickly looked away. No denying the poppets were adorable.

"I have business with Lord Worsley."

The woman looked him over, and he noted the wariness that came into her eyes as she moved closer to the door, clearly intending to close it on him. "I'm sorry, he's not at home now."

"I assure you, it is most urgent that I speak to him." It was urgent if he didn't want the demme puppy to do something truly stupid. Though at the moment, it was difficult to decide what could be more stupid than wagering--and losing--your only home.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "but he's not at home." She started to close the door, but he could hear the little imps in the background.

"Collin left this morning," one whispered in a voice sure to carry across the street.

"No, it was night, I saw him when I came downstairs," the other insisted.

Brayden looked at the woman in front of him, and was surprised to see that she was blushing. Why? She hadn't lied, evidently.

"Perhaps later would be a better time?" he inquired politely. Perhaps he would catch the man out at his club.

"I don't think so," the woman said.

One of the girls stepped around the woman and looked at him. "Collin packed his valise," she said, "and took Henry with him."

Who was Henry? Glancing at the woman showed that she looked mortified. He had no doubt she would like to slam the door in his face. Looking up and down the street before addressing her, he said, "I think it would be best if I came in." He suited action to words and entered the house. At first, she held the door firm, but when he put his gloved palm against it and pushed, she easily yielded, albeit with a loud sigh.

Once inside, Brayden looked around. The hall was well proportioned, but the floor looked as if it could use a good polishing.

He removed his hat. When she didn't offer to take it, he tucked it under his arm as he removed his gloves. Reaching inside his coat, he removed his case and handed her a card. She had to take it in her hand since she did not present him with a tray. "Could you please leave that for Lord Worsley when he returns," he instructed her. She didn't bother looking at the card.

"I'm sure you heard the girls," she said wryly. "Collin is not at home, and I do not expect him any time soon."

Brayden's irritation grew. When he caught up with the man, he was going to throttle him with his bare hands.

Brayden slapped his gloves against the palm of his other hand, unsure of what to do next. Seeming to come to a decision, he abruptly stopped.

"Perhaps I could speak to the major-domo," he said. The woman in front of him must be the housekeeper, but why she was answering the door, with the young girls yet, was beyond him.

She seemed to draw herself up so that she stood a few inches taller. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

He scowled. He knew it, but couldn't stop himself. He noticed that the two younger girls took a step closer to the woman, and he forced himself to smooth his brow.

"Then, whom can I speak to?"

"Perhaps if I knew your business..." She looked down at the card and he swore she tried not to let her own eyebrows raise.... "My lord."

Lord Raby! What in heaven's name was Collin mixed up in now? Ever since he had come into his title it had been one thing, then another. Even she had to admit that they were getting increasingly worse. She had done her best to keep a close watch on her brother, but even though she was the elder by four years, she was female, as he so often reminded her. As far as she was concerned, the absolute worst of Collin's escapades began when he first met Lord Dere and his nefarious band of riders. She certainly wanted nothing to do with them, but that was neither here nor there. Right now, she had to deal with Lord Raby..

"I am Lady Jane Worsley, Collin's sister. Perhaps you could talk to me in his place." She leaned down to speak to the twins in a low voice before sending them on their way with a gentle push to their shoulders. They turned to look at him once, but did as they were bid.

His sister! Collin has a sister? Never heard of her. She must be older than he. Perhaps those were her children. That make sense.

Then she leveled her gaze on him again, and he felt the full effect of her heavily fringed green eyes. They would be lovely if they didn't hold such scorn. He blinked. Perhaps Collin had told her what had transpired. And where the devil was the man anyway?

"If you would follow me, my lord, we can speak in Collin's study." She led the way past several doorways before entering a dark room.

Evidently, the darkness held little appeal for her because she immediately moved to push the heavy velvet curtains aside after indicating that he should take a seat in front of the desk. When she finished her task, she turned to join him in the second chair. He rather expected her to take Collin's seat, but she left it empty.

"Now, my lord," she said, turning to him, "how may I help you?"

Where to start? He was still reeling from the fact that the man had a sister, but that was no concern of his. Presumably, she would go back to her husband--he hoped. His concern was finding Collin.

He looked at her, finding it difficult to meet her eyes. He would bet that she didn't look at her husband the way she was looking at him--as if she would like to see his head at the Tower of London.

"First, it would be best if you were to tell me exactly where Collin is. I truly need to speak with him before he does something foolish."

A slight, humorless smile played on her lips. "Why do I fear that is too late?"

He watched her smoothing the front of her dress. It was well worn. Perhaps she was cleaning, though he would have thought servants would have done that. Then he looked at her hands. They were rough looking and red, as if such work were not uncommon to her.

Sensing his attention, and following his gaze to her hands, she quickly folded them on her lap and waited for his attention to again focus on her face.

"I believe my sisters have told you--"

"Your sisters!" he interrupted her.

"Is that a problem, my lord?"

"No, of course not." And with a very sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized that might be a very large problem indeed! How could that be? He peered at her harder, trying to gauge her age. She could be anywhere between nineteen and thirty!

"My apologies," he said. "You were saying..."

"Merely that my sisters already answered you. He left here in the very early hours of the morning. What those two were doing up, I have no idea."

"And Henry is...?"

"His valet, of course." She moved her hands to the sides of the chair. She wanted to stand, but if she did, then he would follow suit and she wasn't sure that she liked him standing so far above her. She had immediately noticed the way he towered over her five foot, two inch frame.

"Now that we established that Collin is not here, what did you need to discuss?" There was no need to tell him that she was the more level headed of the pair and Collin often left any business matters up to her--discretely so, of course. She watched him shift in his seat, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I'm quite familiar with Collin's foibles, you know. I can't imagine that anything you have to say to me will come as a surprise."

Her voice was low and soothing, though at the moment it seemed to hold a tinge of humor. He wondered if she would think the whole situation a lark? Mentally, he brushed away the thought. She didn't look as if she would see humor in anything. He briefly wondered why she dressed the way she did if she were Collin's sister.

"How familiar are you with your brother's affairs, Lady Jane?"

"Quite, I assure you. Since you are not a tradesperson, I am to suppose you did not come to settle accounts." She tilted her head to one side, studying him. "And since you do not appear to be angry, I am to guess that you have not come about his latest d'amour." He felt his cheeks heat. "Since you are a gentleman, I can only assume that it is a debt of honor." She gave him a rueful smile. "The problem is that Collin appears to have taken everything with him, so I am afraid I cannot immediately settle the account." Waving one hand toward the desk, she told him, "But if you care to leave a note with the amount owed to you, I will see that you get it as quickly as possible."

Dere looked at her, his eyes hidden by half-raised lids. He did not want her to readily see the surprise there. Evidently, she knew quite a bit about her brother; she had not lied about that. Perhaps, though, she did not know him quite well enough.

Chapter Two

He turned various words and phrases over in his head, trying to decide the best way to approach the subject. There was no best way, damn it. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. What the devil was he going to do about the woman and the girls? This was not his responsibility, he reminded himself. He thought back. There was nothing in Collin's words or demeanor that indicated he would not be here.

She watched him, waiting, and no doubt wondering, what the problem was. He could hardly tell her that they were homeless, thanks to Morris. Well, thanks to her brother, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. He was not the one who should be delivering the news.

Finally, his decision clear, he leveled his gaze on her. "Your brother does not owe me money," he finally told her. It nearly pained him to see the relief on her face. He raised one of his hands to forestall anything she might say. "However, we did play last night."

"Then if you owe him money, please feel free to leave it," she told him, waving toward the desk.

There was no masking the excitement in her voice. He frowned at that. Was Collin so mean-fisted that he didn't give his sisters any funds? He looked at her dress in a new light and drew his lips into a thin line. She must have mistaken his reaction for anger, for she hastily spoke up.

"There's no need," she hastily assured him. "I was merely making a suggestion."

"I am aware of that. You have no idea when he will return?"

It was her turn to drop her gaze.

"Look, he left before we could get matters settled."

He was trying to be honest with her, she could sense that. Shouldn't she return the courtesy? "If you must know, Collin does not plan to return anytime soon." She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Dere started at that. "What the deuce do you mean? Forgive my language."

She gave him a weak smile. She certainly had heard a lot worse! "I spoke to him very briefly before he left," she admitted. "He said that we should see him when he returned."

"Which will be when?" This is where his conversation had started some time ago.

She spread her hands wide and let them drop to her side, and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm afraid I really couldn't tell you that. I really do not know," she added hastily in case he should think that she merely did not want to share that information with him.

Now what? As a gentleman, and aware of the situation, one he helped precipitate, he could hardly leave her and her sisters here to fend for themselves, even if she did look old enough and capable enough. "How old are you?" he asked abruptly.

"Twenty-four, my lord." She kept her gaze steady on his.

"And your sisters? They are twins, are they not?"

Her features softened as she indulged in a slight smile. "Yes, they are. They just celebrated their ninth birthdays."

The tall case clock in the room struck the hour, and Dere knew that he had already overstayed his welcome. Still, he had not done what he needed to do. Not that he knew what that was now that Collin was gone. Hadn't the man even told his sister? He looked at her sharply. She didn't look as if Morris had been by. She didn't look distraught enough. He felt his own lips tighten. If neither man had yet told her, was it his responsibility to do so? Dere never shirked his responsibilities. If he had, perhaps he would not be in this predicament to begin with. He nearly shuddered at the thought of Morris meeting the sisters. He would not want that reprobate anywhere near those young girls. Or the older one for that matter! Taking a deep breath, he started.

"There was a game last night," Dere repeated, his voice brisk now that he knew what he needed to do. "Your brother was in his cups and lost more than he should have."

"How much?" she interrupted, her voice breathy, as if all of the air had been knocked from her person. Her hand had instinctively gone to her throat as if the words were choking her. She took a deep breath. "How much?" she repeated in a stronger voice.

"Rather a lot, but that is not the concern at the moment." He waved his hand as if dismissing the problem entirely.

"Then what is?" Jane felt her voice climbing higher, but she couldn't stop it. There was simply nothing left. She had sold the little bit of jewelry that she had. The few close-to-valuable paintings had been sold long ago. The only servants left were Grace and Samuel, but only because they had absolutely refused to leave. They would have to leave now; she could not even afford to feed them. She would have to find employment for herself just to be able to pay their pension, let alone care for her sisters. She closed her eyes at the thought. Damn Collin! They were too young to have to face this. Surely some relative could take them in. She raised dulled eyes to his, wanting to listen to whatever else he had to say. At least they had the house for now. It would be a place to return to, even if they couldn't afford to live there.

"As I understand it, Collin lost quite a bit of money last night before I ever got to the club. Then his luck seemed to change." Quickly, he went over the evening's events, finishing with the fact that Collin had literally bet his home and its contents.

"That is ludicrous," she said.

"My thoughts exactly," he said. "The problem remains that we need to locate Collin."

"So...what? You can return the house to him?" she asked, her voice bitter.

"I did not win," he said quietly. "Morris--Lord Hawke--won." He was rather surprised that Morris had not been to the house yet. If he had, the girls would already be gone; he was sure of it.

"Even Collin could not have bet the house," she declared. But she knew he very well could have. The house wasn't in a prime area, but she knew it was still a fashionable one. She raised her hand to her forehead, trying not to shake her head. What in heaven's name had her brother been thinking? She let her hand slide down to her mouth to cover its trembling. Not a moment ago she was certain they had the house, their home, for security, now they didn't even have that.

Composing herself, she let her hand fall to her lap. She resisted grasping them tightly. Instead, she focused her gaze on Lord Raby. His face had hard planes and angles, and his chin was squared and very solid looking. He was very solid looking. She was sure he did not have to pad the shoulders of his jacket the way Collin did. His mouth was compressed into a tight line, but when she looked into his eyes, they did not seem as hard as the rest of him. Perhaps he could tell them what to do. Perhaps it would not be so bad if they could live here--paying rent, of course.

She hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud until she saw his lips moving. Even then, it took her a moment for his voice to register. "That is impossible, nor will Morris permit it."

Jane literally felt all the blood drain from her head. She didn't know that one could feel it, but she did. She wanted to just continue to sink to the floor. She could feel herself moving. Good lord, was she swaying? She was never overcome. From a seeming distance, she noticed the alarm flare in his eyes as he quickly came to his feet, and a moment later he pressed a cool glass in her hand. She could smell the spirits Collin favored.

"Drink this," he said, his voice insistent.

She couldn't look at him, but with trembling hands, she raised the glass, with his help, to her lips and took a sip. When she would have placed the glass on the desk, she felt him push it firmly to her lips, and tip! She gasped as she drank more of the liquid than she wanted, then immediately began to cough and sputter. She pushed the glass away, and this time, he let her, taking an appreciative sniff of the liquor before placing the glass on the end of the desk.

When she made to rise, he let her, continuing to talk to her. "Much better. I'm sorry Collin's news has distressed you, but there may be a way to set it all right as soon as we find him."

"It...it wasn't just Collin's news," she admitted. "I just had expected that we would still be able to live here." She gave a shrug, elegant in spite of the coarse gown that she wore.

"That is impossible."

"So you said. But you are not Lord Hawke."

"No, but I know the man well. He is eager to take possession." He watched her closely.

She winced at his words, but her voice was steady. "Why would he be eager? Even I know the house needs some work."

‘Even she?' Who better than she? And why hadn't any upkeep been done. He mentally waved that away, that was not his concern. "He seems to think that Collin has something valuable hidden here."

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I assure you that anything of value, Collin used long ago."

He felt his own hopes sink. "He may not have known of its value."

"I assure you, there is nothing of value in this house."

He gave her a quick glance before settling his gaze on the wall in front of him. She was of value. And to someone like Morris, her sisters would be of great value.

She looked down at her fingers twisted together in anxiety. Where in Heaven's name would they go? She took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm. A few more moments and Lord Raby would leave. Once he was gone, she could give in to hysterics. For her sisters, she would ask. She would have to. "I wondered if it were possible if you could care for my sisters--just for a few days," she said.

Seeing the dark look on his face, she hurriedly assured him that she would send for them as soon as she found a place to stay. As soon as she found employment, but she didn't tell him that part. He might not take them if it took longer than a few days. "No more than two days," she assured him.

"That is impossible."

She gave him a genuine smile then, albeit a tired one. "You do not have to care for them, exactly! They are old enough to care for and amuse themselves. They are even quite helpful." This was not really working, she reasoned. Besides, they did help her. "I will tell them to be extra good; they will not disturb your wife or family."

"I do not have a wife," he declared.

She stopped speaking and closed her mouth abruptly. "I see." She let her hand trail over the back of the chair and realized that it was his chair. She stopped. "Williams, the butler, and Mrs. Parker have been here a long time," she said. She couldn't look at him. Didn't want to see what he was thinking or feeling, if anything. "They will be pensioned off, but they need time to make arrangements as to where they are to go. Should I tell them that they can stay here until those arrangements are made?"

He must have moved closer because his voice practically sounded in her ear. "That will be up to Morris."

She gave him a tremulous smile because she could see that was what he wanted. Fairness dictated that she not hold him solely responsible for her brother's actions. He was gentleman enough to come by, to talk to Collin; if only they knew where he was.

"If you hear from your brother, you will tell him that I wish to speak to him?"

"Of course, my lord." She looked at him then, standing tall, said, "Williams will see you to the door."

She didn't wait for a response, but left the room, hoping that Williams would be nearby. Quickly, she asked him to see Lord Raby to the door, then meet with her and Mrs. Parker in the kitchen.

She leaned against the wall, her hands covering her face for a moment. Lord, what was she going to do. And who was this Lord Hawke? Lord Raby didn't say anything against the man, but his inflection of voice clearly stated it was not someone he cared for. Taking a shuddering breath, she stood straight and let her hands fall to her side. For now, she had to meet with Grace and Samuel. She would deal with her sisters later. She leaned against the door frame, holding her hands to her cheeks, willing herself to stay calm. It was difficult with so many emotions swirling through her, rage and fear warring for supremacy.

"That one's real quality," Williams said, when he came back into the kitchen.

Jane scowled in his direction, but knew he spoke the truth. Lord Raby had been nothing but kind and reasonable when they spoke. She could not fault him for being the messenger and delivering the news that her brother should have done.

Without going into the detail that Collin had lost their home in wager, she informed the elderly servants that Lord Hawke was the new owner and would be taking possession shortly.

"When do we have to leave, Miss Jane?"

Jane warned herself not to let her smile slip. "Actually, the girls and I are leaving today." She ignored the gasp from the housekeeper. "You and Williams will be staying here until further notice. That will be up to Lord Hawke."

"Now that's just not right, Miss Jane," Williams said. "It'll be a scramble, but I'm sure Grace and I could be ready when you are."

"No, no." She smiled at the servants who were as dear to her as her own family; were her own family, basically. Although her father had outlived her mother by a few years, she could barely remember him since he spent so little time at home, and even less after her mother died. She reached out and patted Grace on the arm. "It's very possible Lord Hawke will have need of your services for a while." She crossed her fingers in the folds of her gown. That relieved the worry she could see gathering on Grace's face. "And of course, as soon as the pension starts, it will be easier for you when it is time to leave."

Samuel's face cleared this time.

"You didn't think I would forget, did you, Williams?" she admonished him.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "You hadn't said anything, Miss Jane."

She caught the glance he gave to Grace. So, they had been worried, but they had never said anything to her.

"Everything's fine," Jane told them. She heaved a sigh of relief. "Now that's settled, I guess we better get back to business. Right now, I have to go find Emily and Evangeline." She headed for the door quickly in an effort to avoid any questions she couldn't answer or didn't want to answer. She nearly made it out of the door before Grace stopped her.

"What about you, Miss Jane? Why aren't you staying here too?"

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to smile as she faced them, and calmly told one of the biggest lies of her life. "Oh, arrangements have been made with Lady Brooke's." On that note she quickly left the room, calling for her sisters before she had time to think of what really was to become of them. She could hardly say that based on the unvoiced opinion of a man she barely knew, she did not want to stay and meet the new owner.

To their credit, the girls came rather quickly when she called. Then she hastily ushered them up the stairs to their rooms and explained that they would be leaving the only home the girls had known.

"How will Collin find us?"

"Where will we go?"

Two different questions at the same time; typical of their behavior. She assured them that Collin would find them. If she didn't find him first, she amended to herself. Of course, if Lord Raby were looking for him too, she had no doubt that Collin would be found no matter what his wish.

"We're going to go stay with a friend of mine," Jane told them. She explained to them that they would each have one valise and what items must be put into them. If there was any room left, then they could add something else.

She looked around the room. The items were all familiar to her. Indeed they had come from her room once the girls were old enough to appreciate nice surroundings. She had had to supplement them with extra fabric, but in all it was quite pleasing. Jane was rather proud that she had managed to fashion the counterpanes, draperies and even the few cushions about the room, from the materials from her own room. The combination of blue toile from her room, and the old blue counterpane from her mother's room worked well together. Her mother would have been pleased, she thought. Now the twins would have to leave that too.

"I want to take Sarah," Evangeline said, referring to her favorite doll. To make her point, she went and sat beside her on her bed.

"That will be fine," Jane said, "as long as you pack everything else." Even if the contents of the entire house belonged to Lord Raby. She didn't think he would miss the appearance of one doll that he would never know even existed. She felt somewhat guilty, but not enough to deprive her little sister of the only joy she might have for some time.

"I want to bring Lord Henry," Emily insisted.

"Absolutely not," Jane told her. "We cannot bring a live animal to someone else's home." She tried to ignore the tears welling up in Emily's eyes but stood firm. She had no idea where they were going to end up, and the last thing she needed to worry about was an animal. Softening, she stooped down in front of Emily, and wrapped her arms around her, then put her hands on her shoulders so that she could look her in the eye. "I'm sorry we can't take Lord Henry, sweetling, but I promise that as soon as we can, we'll come and visit him."

Both girls looked at her in astonishment.

"What do you mean, visit, Jane," Evangeline asked. She left the bed and came to join her sisters.

Jane looked from one small face twisted with concern to the other. God, she was going to have to find some place for the girls to live, even if it were away from her.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "The house has been sold." She blinked to keep her own tears at bay.

"So, we're moving?" Emily asked.

She ran her hand down the silky smoothness of her sister's hair. "Yes, we are. Just the three of us."

There was no mistaking the worried expressions on the girls' faces, so she forced a brightness that she was far from feeling. She hugged each of them, and stood up. "This will be a great adventure, girls!"

"Like Pilgrim's Progress?" Evangeline, the great reader, asked.

"Exactly!" Clapping her hands, she encouraged the girls to start gathering items while she retrieved their valises from the attic.

Once she was in the attics, Jane made her way to the small window and sat on the floor in front of it. She wouldn't cry. There was no time for tears. She would do that later. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It seemed to be getting larger. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She would not cry.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around the section of the attic that she could clearly see. Surely there had to be something up here that she could sell. She had a total of several pounds. Hardly enough to keep her and the girls with a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. She could certainly do without, but the girls could not, would not. She would find work because she was desperate, and she was a good worker. She knew that, but how quickly would be the question.

With a renewed sense of purpose, and knowing that time was not on her side, she began looking through the trunks in the attic. She supposed in reality that they belonged to Lord Hawke now. But these were her things given to her by her parents in what seemed another lifetime now. Before her mother had given her the locket she presently wore, she had given her a smaller one. She hadn't been much older than the twins. It had been her first real jewelry. Selling it wouldn't bring much, she was quite certain, but it might be enough for another day's food or lodging.

It wasn't in the first trunk she looked through, but finally she did find it in the third. She hardened her heart to any sentimentality she felt looking through the clothes and keepsakes. However, she did pull out several dresses she hardly remembered. They looked as if they would fit the twins. They were a little outdated, but she was sure she could fix them to be more fashionable.

Slipping the locket into her apron pocket, she gathered up the dresses, found the valises and made her way down the stairs. She stopped in her room before checking on the girls. She didn't want them to see the dresses just yet. She wanted it to be a surprise for them. Good thing she had very little that needed packing, she thought as the dresses took up a fair amount of space. Packing was more a matter of gathering and putting things in the valise rather than having to pick and choose. In spite of the bulk of the dresses, she had some room left over.

Which was a godsend, she thought, when she made it to the girls' room. She handed them each a valise and in a short time they had them filled with clothing. While they had done remarkably well, she thought, they still had not packed their undergarments or shoes. Fortunately, it was cool enough that they could wear their winter wraps without anyone thinking it odd, and save room in the valises that way. Praising them, she encouraged them to take their cases downstairs; she would add their forgotten items to her case and join them.

"Are you certain I can't call a hackney for you, Miss Jane," Samuel said.

"I'm certain. Lady Brooke lives a very short distance from here and we shall be there in no time."

"Time for tea?" Emily asked.

"Oh dear, yes." It nearly killed Jane to lie to her sisters, but there was nothing else she could say with Samuel present. She didn't even know if she could give them supper tonight, let alone tea!

"There's no problem, is there, Miss Jane? You seem sad."

She stayed the girls while she turned to face the butler. Putting her case down, she gave him a quick hug. "I can't hide anything from you, Samuel. It is somewhat sad, but we'll be fine."

* * *

"Jane, where does Lady Brooke live?"

They had been walking for some time, but the girls said nothing about their surroundings, though Jane was sure they had to notice that they were no longer in the neighborhoods they were used to. The fact that both of the girls now walked much closer to Jane was proof of that.

Jane gave Emily's hand a slight squeeze. "I'm afraid I told a fib earlier."

"You never did, Jane!" Evangeline said.

In spite of their situation, Jane was hard pressed not to laugh at the outrage in her young sister's voice.

"I'm afraid I did. Lady Brooke is away this week and her house is closed so we can't stay there."

"Then where are we going to stay?"

Trust Emily to ask the one question she desperately wanted to answer, but could not. "We're going to see a woman who has another house. I thought we could stay there." She peered down the street. She had never been in this section of town, but she had heard some of the other women talking, saying that some of their daily maids lived in boarding houses. Mrs. Beetle's was one of the names she remembered.

The houses were quite close together, and the neighborhood was not terribly well kept, but the people they passed seemed pleasant enough. People who worked for an honest day's wage, she guessed. If she were lucky, she would be able to join their ranks.

Stopping in front of the house, she looked up at the narrow flight of stairs to the front door. It did not look especially welcoming, but looks could be deceiving, she reminded herself.

Chapter Three

Instructing the girls to stay quietly at the bottom of the stairs, Jane briskly climbed the wooden steps and knocked at the stout wooden door. When the woman answered, Jane quickly told her that she was in need of a place to stay. Jane was relieved to see that the woman was dressed cleanly and neatly. Her gray gown looked thick and warm, and the apron she wore was free of spots.

The woman looked at Jane and then down to the twins standing close together at the bottom of the stairs. The young girls wore dresses that were a bit outdated, but were quality all the same.

"Yer not runnin' away with the wee ones, are you?"

Jane suppressed the flare of anger, but answered the woman calmly. "No. They're my younger sisters." It was good that the woman was concerned, she told herself.

The woman looked pointedly at Jane's serviceable brown dress, then down to the younger girls. Her words couldn't have been plainer. Still, Jane lifted her chin. There was something lowering when a common woman who ran a boarding home dressed better than she could.

She gave Jane the price. "More if you want separate rooms."

Jane felt her stomach drop. She knew she hadn't enough money to stay anywhere for long, but she thought it would be enough for a few weeks. At this rate, it wouldn't last her but two. One, if she calculated in their meals. She did not have to eat much, but the girls were young, they needed nourishing food. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and readily agreed. At least they would have a place to sleep tonight.

"Come along then."

Hastily, Jane encouraged the girls to bring their valises and they followed their new landlady up the stairs. There didn't seem to be anyone else around; for that Jane was thankful.

"When you're all settled, you come down and I can tell you the rules of the house."

Once the woman had left, Jane closed the door and moved her valise near the tallboy. She encouraged the girls to do the same. She would unpack things shortly. Right now, she needed to hold her sisters close and study this room that would be their home for the next week. Longer if she could manage it.

"I don't like it here," Emily said, a slight wobble in her voice.

Jane dropped to her knees in front of the young girl and hugged her, then opened her arms to include Evangeline. Although the other twin made no sound, Jane could feel her shoulders shake as she buried her nose in Jane's neck.

Jane let her hand run down both of their heads. "I don't like it much myself, darlings. We won't stay here any longer than we have to." She closed her eyes, sending a quick, fervent prayer that they could at least stay as long as they had to, whether she liked it or not beside the point.

"How will Collin find us?"

Her sister's voice brought her attention back to the girls. She pushed herself a little away from them so that they could see her face. "Why, we will leave him direction, of course, silly." She gave them a big smile. Emily matched it with a watery smile and Evangeline followed suit. She gave them hugs, then stood.

"Besides, think of what stories we can tell him about our adventures!"

"What kind of adventures, Jane? Will they be fun?"

Grabbing each of their hands, she sat on the bed and encouraged them to hop up close to her. "The first thing we are going to do is take a good look at this room! We want to be able to tell Collin everything."

The girls solemnly looked about, studying the white walls and the large fireplace. Jane leaned past Emily and moved one of the curtain panels to let more light in.

The room was clean, and for that Jane was immensely thankful. The water pitcher was in one piece, as was the bowl. The mirror above the stand had some spots around the edges, but the center of it was clear so it was quite useable.

A set of straight-backed wooden chairs stood near the window, with a small table between them. She was glad to see it, since it would be a good place for the girls to do their schoolwork, as well as a place to eat whatever meals she could find for them. The bed was far from plump, but it appeared to be comfortable--at least for sitting. They would know after they spent a night on it. It was covered with some type of patched together quilt. It didn't look too thick, and there appeared to be no other cover in the room, so Jane again was glad it was not terribly cold yet.

* * *

By the next afternoon, Jane knew she was going to have to sell the small locket. The landlady was very kind, but not too helpful when it came to suggestions for employment. As the twins walked about the minute garden in the back, the two women enjoyed a cup of weak tea, courtesy of her landlady.

"A strong lass like you should be able to find work in the factories right enough," the woman said, looking at Jane across the table.

"I hadn't really thought about the factories," Jane said. Frankly, she was appalled at the idea. She didn't know much about them, but they were dirty, dangerous places. Even a few miles away, one could see the dirt spewing into the air. "I was hoping more for a governess post, something where I can bring my sisters along." She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, but Mrs. Beetly had truly shocked her when she mentioned factories. Gentlemen might accept working in factories, for she understood that they did make a good return, but ladies certainly never worked in them. She did not want to be resentful of Collin, but it was his actions that had brought her to this point. She was almost glad that Collin was out of her reach, even if Lord Raby didn't appear of the same mind. Just thinking the man's name brought his face immediately to mind. In spite of his abrupt manner, he had seemed kind.

It took a moment for Mrs. Beetly's voice to penetrate her thoughts. "Ah'm afeart there's no call for any of that here. That's for them fine folks and lords." She looked at Jane more closely, then must have come to some conclusion, because she nodded her head as if finally understanding something. "Had to leave your last job, did you?"

Seemed the woman had no problem believing Jane was a governess. Of course, she thought, there was little else that would account for her straitened circumstances, and her educated speech. She was debating how to best answer, when the woman started talking again and there was no need. "Tim, that's my boy, he can take you down to meet the foreman at the factory where he works. If he don't have something, the next one will. They all need people."

A factory! How could she ever consider such a job?

"They'll be glad of your sisters too," Mrs. Beetly continued.

Jane found her voice by then. "No, my sisters will not go into the factories."

"Ain't much else for the young ones, you know. Besides that, think you can earn enough in the factories yourself to take care of them?"

Jane wanted to tell the woman to mind her own business, but realized that the older woman thought she was being helpful. She took a deep breath before speaking. She even managed to give her a small smile, showing that she knew the woman meant well.

"It's kind of you to be worried, but I only have to watch my sisters for a short while. Someone else is to care for them."

Mrs. Beetly looked relieved. "That's all right, then. They'll be fine. Nice little girls like that." She took another sip of her tea. "I'll tell Tim to wait for you in the morning, shall I?" She rose to tend to the bread making she was about.

"That would be kind."

"He leaves here four o'clock sharp. You won't be late, will ye? He won't wait." She turned back to Jane and gave her a sharp look.

Four o'clock in the morning. She didn't know if she was strong enough to do this. She gave herself a mental shake. It wasn't as if she had a choice. Right now, she would get this settled, then talk with the girls a bit. Perhaps they would even walk to the park today.

"Mrs. Beetly, one other thing, please." Jane stood and moved next to the older woman before pulling the locket from her pocket and showing it to her. "I need to sell this."

The woman gave her a sharp look.

Jane ignored the look that said the woman clearly believed she had stolen the jewelry. "I have the rent for this week, but I think the locket would provide for next week, and for food."

Mrs. Beetly closed Jane's hand over the locket. "You hold on to it, dearie. We'll see what happens when you go with Tim tomorrow."

Smiling her appreciation, Jane called the girls in and headed for their room. The air had done her sisters some good, but they were still restless. She would get them started on their afternoon lessons to give them something to think about.

While they worked on the geography lesson she assigned to them, she had a few more moments to think. She tried to tell herself that it was good that she had some type of work she could do, even if it were a factory. Hundreds of people did it every day, she reminded herself. But the thought of her younger sisters doing the same was beyond the pale. They were not brought up to be trades people, let alone workers! Neither was she, but she could do it. Surely she could make enough at the factories to keep a roof over their heads for a short while. She would have to write to some of her old friends. She nearly laughed at that. She had no old friends. Since Collin had come into his title over seven years ago, she had essentially ceased to become a lady. She knew he saw her as little more than a drudge, but someone had to be there to care for the twins. Perhaps if she had some claim to beauty Collin would have made sure she married, but with no beauty, and certainly no funds, she was of little use to him in that way, Gradually, the few friends she had ceased to come around as the difference in their life styles grew. They were all young women of breeding preparing themselves for a season; they did not overly care about raising children at this point. Not that she had been either, but there had been no choice. First her father insisted that she would care for the babies, then her brother expected it. She had not regretted her choice, but she had regretted her loss of friends. No, she would write to some of her mother's old friends and ask for help--for the girls. Someone, somewhere surely needed a governess. If there had been one relative left, she would certainly have approached them, and thrown herself on their mercy, but there wasn't. Both of her parents had been only children. The Worsley line was not a prolific one.

Recognizing that she was growing maudlin, she stopped her pacing about the room and stood in front of the girls, neither of whom seemed particularly interested in completing their lesson. She knew they felt as unsettled as herself. "What do you say to a walk in the park?"

Both of the girls whipped their heads about so quickly, their braids flew straight out from their heads.

"Really?" Evangeline asked. "Can we go to Aston Park? We have not been there in weeks."

"Has it really been that long?" Jane asked, teasing the young girl. "Then I suppose that we must indeed. Though I have to tell you it will be a long walk."

Evangeline's face dropped. "Can't we ride?"

Jane reached out and caressed the girl's head. "I'm afraid not, sweetling. But it's sunny out and we'll have fun."

"Will this be part of the adventure?"

"Of course it will! And I will bring my sketch book and we will have something to show Collin."

It didn't take much more urging for the girls to put on their coats and prepare for the outing. Jane scooped up a few of her precious coins. The girls would be hungry and it would be a treat for them to buy some hot chestnuts or an apple from the vendor. She slipped some drawing charcoal into her coat pocket and picked up her sketchpad.

By the time they arrived at the park, the girls were ready to sit near the pond and watch the ducks. Encouraging them to do just that, Jane opened her sketchbook, flipped to a blank page and quickly caught the scene. With the girls, she knew she had to be quick. And sure enough, before she was finished, Evangeline had wandered over to see the outcome.

Jane waved the girl to come and look over her shoulder. "See, I'm adding the shading to Emily's dress."

"That looks just like Emily, Jane."

Jane hid a smile at that. Only the two of them could immediately tell who was who. There were times she even had difficulty.

"Could you teach me to sketch as well as you?" the girl continued.

Jane felt a moment of guilt. Why had she not taught them? That there was precious little time for such things was not an excuse. "I can certainly try! When do you want to start?"

Evangeline's eyes lit up with pleasure and she came around her sister to sit next to her on the grass, leaning her head against her shoulder. "Is it too late today?"

Jane swiftly added a few more strokes, then turned to a blank page. This actually could work quite well. If she showed Evangeline the basics, the child would be busy all day tomorrow when she went with Tim to the factories.

The girl had a natural talent that far surpassed Jane's when she had been that age, and she told her so.

"Maybe Em does too."

"Somehow, I doubt it! She can't sit still long enough," Jane said wryly.

As if she heard her name, the other twin came loping over from her spot near the ducks and sat on the ground near her twin. "I say, that's good, Evan! I can practically hear those ducks."

"You can hear the ducks, Em, because they're following you." She pointed behind her sister to where the ducks were waddling their way out of the pond.

Emily giggled, then looked at Jane. "I'm getting hungry."

Jane stood, and motioned for the twins to do the same. "Then I suggest that we stop and get some hot chestnuts and start to walk back to the lodging house. It will be dark soon."

Taking her sketchbook from Evangeline and tucking it under her arm, she led the girls to where the chestnut vendor was tending his wares.

With the girls munching happily, Jane told them her plan for the next day and what she expected of them. "It will only be for a short while," she told them.

"Will we go to Lady Brooke‘s then?" Evangeline asked.

"Not there, but somewhere different." She didn't tell them they would be separated from her just yet. Perhaps one of her mother's relatives really would need a governess. She would be happy to go. She kept her thoughts to herself.

* * *

Brayden spent the next several days trying to locate Collin. The man apparently did not want to be found. If he were hiding anywhere in Manchester, he would have been discovered by now. Before digging any deeper into the unsavory parts of town, Brayden planned to meet with Morris. He heard that the man had already taken up residence in Worsley House, so he at least should be easy to find, he thought darkly.

As he climbed the steps to the house, he recalled his first visit and the way the two little girls had greeted him. Oddly enough, it wasn't their faces that came to mind, but their sister's. He hadn't thought her eyes could have gotten any larger but when he told her of Collin's wager, they had. And the mouth, a shade too wide, but made for smiling, had quivered. He had wanted to hold her and comfort her the way he did with his own sister; tell her everything would be all right. But he couldn't. All he could do was hand her a glass of spirits. Frowning at where his thoughts were taking him, he knocked briskly on the door.

He was relieved to see that Collin's butler greeted him. At least Morris must have found some use for him. "Have you any word form Lord Worsley?" he asked the man.

"No, my lord. Nor Henry."

Henry? The valet, he recalled after a moment. "What of Lady Jane? Is she settled?"

The butler looked unsure of how he was to answer. It could not be that complicated. "I would like to pay my respects," he said.

"We have not heard anything, but perhaps Lord Hawke has heard something."

Apparently he had not.

Refusing any refreshment, Brayden got to the heart of the matter. "I'd like to buy the house," he said as the men sat in the parlor. Brayden was glad it wasn't Collin's study for surely he would spend time picturing Jane there instead of concentrating on the matter at hand.

"Why?" Morris sat back in his chair, watching Brayden. "You have several houses, you don't need this one. I, on the other hand, am in need of a house."

"I can give you enough to find one in a more fashionable section of town."

Morris smiled at him. "You must want something here very badly." He looked around the shabby room. "Although I cannot imagine what."

Brayden leaned back in his own chair. He simply did not have time to play Morris's games. "What I need are answers."

"I wouldn't think this house could talk."

"True," Brayden gave him a tight smile. "But I believe that Collin could." There it was in the open. Now Morris would know that he was aware of Collin's activities or at least aspirations to join the riders.

"About the Demons?" Morris shook his head. "I don't think so. Nigel never wanted him in the group, you know that."

"I never understood why. Nor do I understand why Collin was so intent to join."

Morris chuckled at that. "He is twenty, Brayd. If he's not joining the military, where else could he find such tame excitement? You know that society turns a blind eye to Dere's Demons."

"For how long?" He kept his voice neutral, as if he were unaware that there was already a change in the ton's thinking.

Morris shrugged. "Until we tire of it."

"I would have thought that Nigel's death would have been a good time to end it."

"But you so kindly stepped in, Brayd. Se we now have another Dere to lead the Demons." Morris smile at him. "What could be better?"

Brayden could think of quite a few things, but nothing he could voice here. He took out his card and left it with Morris. "If you hear from Collin or his sister, do give them my card so that they know to contact me."

Morris's eyes narrowed. "His sister?"

Demme! He was not usually so clumsy. Didn't the man know?

"Did she live here?" Morris asked.

Brayden's eyes opened at that. Not that the words alone weren't chilling, but the way Morris said them reminded Brayden that all of the contents of the house also belonged to the other man. That would not include his sisters, would it?

Brayden shrugged. "I do not know. I know that she exists, but I do not know where. I was hoping you could tell me."

"Since I only learned of her existence..." he let the sentence trail off.

Brayden stood before the man could quiz him more about Jane. "We will meet at the same time and ride?"

Morris stood and walked him to the door. "Absolutely. The others are ready. We do have two newer members, you know."

* * *

Brayden was still mulling that over as he drank coffee at his club. First Worsley disappeared, then his sister--sisters, he corrected himself. No one had ever claimed the family had such talents. That aspect of Collin's talents should have made him very attractive to Nigel and the Demons. He wondered why Nigel did not want the boy to belong. He let his coffee cool as he rested his head against the back of his chair. The whole Demon episode was a mess as far as he was concerned. The only good thing about him being in charge, thanks to Nigel's untimely death and the fact that he bore the same last name, was that he would be aware of their happenings.

"Why so brown?" Kit's voice floated down to where Brayden was sitting.

He lifted one eyelid to make sure it was indeed his friend, though he would have recognized the voice in the dark. "Not brown. Just thinking," Brayden said, using his foot to nudge one of the chairs near his, indicating that Kit should have a seat. Once he was seated, Brayden opened both eyes and sat up straighter, and requested the waiter bring coffee for Kit and a fresh cup for himself.

"Do you know that Collin has not resurfaced?"

Kit raised his eyebrows at that. "He can't have gone far. Don't imagine there's much he can do."

Brayden gave a bark of laughter. "My thoughts exactly. Yet, when I went to his house--"

"Morris's house," Kit interrupted.

Brayden waved his hand at such a negligible point. "I discovered that Collin had not told his sister the situation."

Kit accepted the coffee from the waiter and stared at Brayden. "His sister? Never knew the man had a sister."

Brayden held up three fingers.

"Three sisters? Good God, what is the problem with them? I have never heard of them."

"That does not surprise me in the least. It doesn't appear that they were out of the house much. I would say that the question is what to do with them, but it seems they have also disappeared!"

"Well, it seems the problem has resolved itself," Kit replied.

"Perhaps." Brayden prepared to take a sip of his coffee, and stopped. "By the way, Kit, that information goes nowhere else."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dere." He sipped his own coffee and settled back in his chair.

The girls might be gone, but Brayden did not feel comfortable about it. He was aware that he had an overly moral streak as far as the ton was concerned. He learned to deal with it some time ago. He always rather suspected it was in reaction to his step-brother's wilder behavior.

* * *

After leaving his club and spending the day making discreet inquiries to Collin's affairs, he headed home. If nothing else, he learned that the man was expert at disappearing.

Deciding that the issue of Collin and his estate and disappearing family could wait, Brayden turned his attention to what mattered. The reason he was really in this godforsaken town to begin with was determining who really stole the artifact from the Indian prince, or was it stolen from the Crown? He wasn't clear on the issue, but he knew the Crown wanted it back; he just wanted it over. He wasn't sure how his step-brother ever became involved in the entire affair, but he wasn't happy to learn he was bearing the blame. Neither was the prince regent--at least according to the PM, Lord Liverpool. Thanks to what he had been able to piece together from Nigel's friends, Brayden did know that they believed Collin was involved somehow, which is why he even got close to the man to begin with. What a mess!

Even so, Brayden knew there had to be more at stake than the artifact. It wouldn't please him to discover he was right.

* * *

Four o'clock came rather quickly, Jane thought as she slipped on her most serviceable dress. Planting a quick kiss on each of the girl's cheeks she left the room and met Tim Beetly downstairs. He glanced at the kitchen door as if he would bolt the moment she appeared, or even if she didn't, she thought wryly.

"Thank you for waiting, Tim. I'm ready to leave," she told him so that he wouldn't think they had to wait around for anything else.

Using his chin, he pointed to the table where there were two wrapped packages. "Ma thought to give us some cheese and bread for breakfast. But we best be goin'. It's nearly two miles to the factory."

Following the boy's lead, she picked up the packet of cheese and bread, and walked behind him. Like the short distance between her home and the lodging house, the nearly two miles between the lodging house and the factory brought her to another world, one she was totally unfamiliar with. This was a Manchester even less than her sheltered upbringing had prepared her for.

As they came to the edge of the factory section, brick monstrosities belched black smoke. There were few windows that she could detect, and those that she could see were covered with so much grime she doubted that they could let any light in.

"Com'on," Tim told her, grasping her by the arm and leading her into one of the nearby buildings. "If you want to see the overseer, ya gotta look right smart."

She let him pull her behind him until they reached what she supposed was his destination. It was a grimy office door. She could still hardly believe that she was actually here! She was out of people she could decently appeal to for assistance, or she would never be here. She made a new resolve to search harder. As soon as she had coin, one way or another, she would place an ad in the papers.

She brought her mind back to the present when a paunchy, balding man appeared and led them further into his filthy office. Quickly Tim told him that she wanted a job.

She never thought she would be thankful to have the younger man by her side, but she was. He managed to say all of the right things leaving her with "yes" and "no."

The overseer quickly sent Tim on his way, and when one of the other girls came in, put Jane in her care.

"You're going to be a doffer," he told her. "You get forty-five minutes for your meal, and you better be on time. Mabel here will tell you the rules as you go." He waved both women out the door.

Mabel was some years older than Jane. At least she looked to be so. Her hair was thin and straight. It was hard to tell if it was clean or not because there was so much lint in it. She had a strange limping gait. The further into the dark mill they progressed, Jane saw this appeared to be the norm among the women there. Was it something they were born with or was it something that happened to them as they worked in the factories? She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. The noise and the dirt alone were enough to give her nightmares. She had known such situations existed, but certainly had not intended to find herself in such a place.

"It ain't so bad when we're not thronged," Mabel said, calling her attention to the present. "Then quittin' time is seven o'clock."

"What do you mean, thronged? And what time is quitting time now?"

Mabel looked at her. "Don't you know nothin' about the factories? We're busy now so everyone, well most everyone, works until nine o'clock. We're almost through so in maybe a sennight we'll be back to seven o'clock."

Jane tried to keep the horror from her face. She had not anticipated such long hours. Not for her, but for her sisters. She didn't know if she would be comfortable leaving her sisters on their own for that amount of time. She had always thought the people exaggerated the hours worked.

"And you best not be late in the morning or after dinner," Mabel continued. "Ol' Jack don't mind takin' a strap to anyone."

"For being late?"

"Not one minute late," Mabel reinforced.

No wonder Tim looked anxious to get here in the morning.

"But that ain't the bad part. It's when they quarter you that it really hurts." Seeing the puzzled look on Jane's face she sighed, then quickly explained the process. "If you're a quarter of an hour too late, Ol' Jack takes off half an hour; we only got a penny an hour, and they would take a halfpenny more."

"I won't be late," she assured the other woman. She couldn't afford to be!

Once they were in the frame room where the women would be working, Jane fell silent. She almost had no choice, the noise was overpowering. She watched the women working whenever Mabel pointed them out, studying what they were doing. After a few moments, Mabel indicated that she should try her hand at it.

As soon as one of the frames was full, Mabel stopped the frame, and instructed Jane to take the flyers off, then the full bobbins. She had to carry them to the roller on the other side of the floor, and reload empty bobbins on the frame and get it in motion again. It didn't seem too bad, until she realized how many frames there were and how quickly they operated.

By nine o'clock that night she was relieved to see that she had made it through the day, then recalled that she would have to walk back to the lodging house. She was glad to see that Tim had waited for her as he said he would. The walk home was much more silent than the one had been in the morning. She had to save what energy she could.

The girls were waiting for her when she entered the room. It was long past their bed time, but she felt mean telling them so. Instead, she listened to Emily tell how she played with Evangeline's doll and sat for Evangeline as the girl sketched, then she had to inspect Evangeline's sketches, praising her for her efforts. That at least was easy, she thought. The girl was frightfully good. Though she realized that at the rate Evangeline was going she was going to have to purchase sketchbooks and more charcoal. She wondered how she could do that. Perhaps tomorrow there would be a letter from one of her mother's friends.

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