"I will say this only once. If anything happens to me, I have several close friends who will avenge me." He turned to face Richard. "If I die, you will die, and Lancelot will die. Given my friends' rage were I to be murdered, I doubt Aubrey would survive either. Then there will be no Vails, the line will be dead as all of us. Do all of you understand me?"

Lady Mountjoy yelled, shaking her fist at him, "You're utterly mad! You are so mad you threaten my sweet boys who have never harmed you."

"Attend her, my lord, for that is the truth!" Alfred Lemming bellowed, his face now alarmingly red.

Nicholas sketched his stepmother a brief bow. "I will see that you are not killed, ma'am. I would want you and your fat lover to continue on; perhaps eventually you would feel despair that you taught them to hate me, taught them I was an enemy to be destroyed, rather than their brother whose responsibility it would be to protect them, to be at their backs, perhaps even to assist them. In the end, madam, you would realize you were surrounded by nothing at all."

There was stone silence for a moment before Alfred Lemming stepped forward on small well-shod feet and said, barely above a whisper, "I say, my lord, you should not make such a blanket statement as that." His very white brow was damp with perspiration, but he persevered. "Despite the venom and threats floating around the drawing room, it is no excuse for bad manners. I am Lord Heissen and I will personally vouch for the young gentlemen. That is the point, my lord. They are gentlemen, not hooligans. You have come from heathen places, doubtless tracked by heathen enemies with no sense of what is suitable in a civilized world. No English gentleman would fire a gun in the midst of traffic-to possibly be seen and identified. It is absurd that you would be suspicious of these fine upstanding boys."

Nicholas eyed the very dapper Alfred Lemming, Lord Heissen, whose white hands were as plump and beringed as his stepmother's. "I am pleased to hear your opinion, my lord. Since you appear to be slithering about in this pit of vipers, I have decided to add you to the list. If I die, this entire drawing room will be cleaned out, save for my venomous stepmother. I bid you good-bye. Oh, yes, madam, stay away from my betrothed."

"Betrothed! It is not to be borne. Why, I-" Nicholas took a step toward her at the same time one of Alfred Lemming's white hands gently pressed down over her mouth. Nicholas nodded at him, noted that despite its apparent softness, that hand of his looked, surprisingly, very strong. Nicholas said, "Keep it there, my lord, for her own safety."

When he passed by David Smythe-Jones, he said, "You really should consider a new name."

"What? It is a noble name, it is a name that carries countless unspoken tales of bravery and adventure."

"How long have you been employed here as the butler?"

The soft, white chin went straight up. "I took care of Master Lance at Oxford. I was ready to assume greater duties in London. I am now in charge of this magnificent house. All look to me to resolve difficulties, to train the tweeny, to ensure Master Lance's cravats are white as a virgin's spit, and well folded. I am perfection and that is what I demand from all the servants."

Nicholas had a sudden memory of actually smelling the rot eating away at the books in the library just down the corridor. It was odd for a five-year-old boy to remember that. He looked over the young man's head at Lancelot. "See that you keep your butler in line," he said, and he paused in the doorway, looked at each of them, his expression pensive. Then he left the town house, seeing their stony faces in his mind's eye. As he took the front steps, he heard his stepmother yell, "Why did you even let him in, Smythe-Jones? That is not perfection, that is serious bungling. What sort of butler are you?"

"But I wasn't even here! Master Lance and I were still at least a mile away when he shoved his way in. Had I been here he would have walked on my face. I didn't have my gunso I couldn't have shot him. He is dangerous, that big fellow."

Big fellow? Clyde nickered. Nicholas smiled.

25

An hour later, Nicholas was closeted with Ryder Sherbrooke. Thankfully the Earl of Northcliffe had escorted the wives and Rosalind to Madame Fouquet's. It was a vast relief because Nicholas knew Rosalind would realize something was wrong, and then the three of them would hold him down and question him until he spurted out everything he knew or imagined he knew. And then they would all throw their opinions into the ring and it would be chaos. Rosalind, he thought, something of a fatuous smile on his mouth, would have gotten a gun and gone off to murder the lot of the half brothers. And his stepmother as well, he imagined.

He said now to Ryder, "One of them is behind the attempt on my life, I simply cannot prove which one it was and so I threatened all of them. Funny thing is, I do have friends who would gladly avenge me. If I leave word, as I most assuredly will, all that pernicious family would be wiped out were I to die.

"However, since I do not believe them stupid, perhaps that is the end to it." He paused a moment, looking toward the empty fireplace grate. "Still, I cannot be certain. Fact is, I don't know what to do, sir."

Ryder paced the beautiful Aubusson carpet in the library, a splendid room filled with five thousand books covering three walls, floor to ceiling. Ryder remembered his father gently cutting each of the pages, handling all the books with incredible gentleness, placing them carefully on the shelves. "The world is in this room, Ryder," he'd told him.

After the silence stretched long, Nicholas said, defeat leaching out all emotion in his voice, "I will leave right this moment and never return if you believe it the thing to do."

Ryder looked down at a massive globe, spun it slowly, watched England appear, then quickly disappear. So small, he thought, England was so very small, insignificant really, in terms of the size of the earth, but still- He said finally, looking over at the young man, "I want to agree with you, Nicholas, I really do, but I cannot. Actually, you will add me to the list of your avengers.

"But I do not believe murder will be done. We will take steps to ensure it does not. Now, I know Rosalind wants you for her husband. I know that Rosalind being what she is, being made how she is, being as loyal as she is, she would doubtless follow you back to Macau if you tried to leave her. Thus, I don't believe I have any choice in how to proceed."

Ryder rubbed his forehead, cursed low and fluent. "You and Rosalind must wed immediately and leave London. What do you think of Wyverly Chase? I know you spent time there before you came to London."

"Yes, nearly a month there, putting repairs into motion, so many needed since my father left that beautiful old estate to rot. As for all the tenant farmers, they were in dreadful straits, but that is being corrected as well. I have an excellent estate manager there to oversee repairs."

"I trust you have sufficient funds to see to all of it?"

"Yes, of course. The penniless boy who left England at the age of twelve made good, sir, as the vernacular goes. You wonder if Wyverly Chase is a good sanctuary. That is what you mean, isn't it, sir? You want Rosalind safe while I sort all this out."

"Yes. Do you think you and Rosalind will be safe there or should you simply leave the country for a time?"

Nicholas marveled at the decency of this man, his logical brain, and the fact that, when it came down to the meat of the matter, he was doing what Nicholas wished him to do. Nicholas wondered if Rosalind would really follow him to Macau. He said slowly, "Wyverly Chase is set atop a lovely hill with open views all around. There is a thick pine and maple forest that ends a good one hundred yards from the house.