"I share your regret," Simon said with mocking sincerity.

"It took you long enough to find a way of bringing pressure to bear on me. Finding my daughter that night at the inn was a stroke of luck for you."

"It was useful," Simon agreed, pouring himself a glass of port. "But sooner or later something would have turned up. It always does if one knows how to wait."

"And you are very good at waiting for an opportunity. I am well aware that I got off lightly. I am greatly relieved that all you wanted from me was my wife's social connections. If my father had still been alive, I imagine you would have demanded a much higher payment for what he did to you."

"Yes."

Northcote sighed. "If it is any consolation, he told me before he died two years ago to keep an eye on you. He said you would return one day and when you did, you would be dangerous. When are you going to make Canonbury and Peppington pay?"

"I prefer to keep them dangling for a while."

"Living with financial uncertainty is their true punishment, is it not?"

Simon sipped his port. "Revenge is best savored slowly, not gulped."

"Slow, steady torture." Northcote smiled grimly. "A very Eastern sort of vengeance, I believe. Again, I can only be grateful that your wife is impulsively generous."

"I shall keep a closer eye on her impulsive gestures in the future," Simon assured him dryly.

Northcote grinned. "Lady Blade has made a most delightful splash in the social world."

"So I am told."

"I must tell you, Blade, that both my wife and daughter are genuinely fond of your lady, in spite of the fact that she is married to you. How does she figure in your vengeance?"

"She is not involved," Simon said flatly.

"But she is a Faringdon," Northcote pointed out with a shrewd glance.

"Not any longer," Simon said.

"It has not escaped my notice that she belongs to you now and so does St. Clair Hall." Northcote hesitated. "My father, Canonbury, and Peppington all owed you because they turned their backs on your family after your father's death. But the Flighty, Feckless Faringdons owed you the most of all. It was a Faringdon who caused your father to take his own life. It was a Faringdon who took away your home and effectively destroyed your family. And in the end you will crush Broderick Faringdon and his clan, will you not?"

"It is a logical conclusion," Simon agreed in a neutral tone. "But my wife is no longer a member of that clan."

"Do you know, Blade, I am extremely grateful that my father's offense was a relatively minor one and that you consider the debt repaid," Northcote said with some humor. "I would not like to be a Faringdon at this moment."

Emily emerged from Asbury's Book Shop feeling extremely cheerful. Her maid Lizzie and the hatchet-faced footman named George were trailing behind her, their arms piled high with a collection of the latest romances and epic poetry which Emily had just finished selecting in the shop.

The little parade made its way to where the black and gold carriage waited near the curb. George was hurrying to open the door for his mistress when a familiar blond-haired Adonis jumped out of a nearby vehicle and rushed forward.

"Hello, Em. Fancy meeting you here."

"Devlin!" Emily smiled happily at her handsome brother. "How wonderful to see you. Where is Charles?"

Devlin cast an uneasy glance at the footman and maid and then took his sister's arm and led her a short distance away. He lowered his voice. "It is because of Charles that I have been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you, Em. Something terrible has happened."

"Dear God." Emily's eyes widened in sudden horror. It dawned on her that she had never seen Devlin looking so grim. "Is he hurt or ill? Dev, tell me, is he… is he dead?"

"Not yet," Devlin said roughly. "But he likely will be quite soon."

"He is ill, then. Good heavens, I must go to him at once. Quick, get into the carriage, Dev. Have you sent for a doctor? What are the symptoms?" She made to turn away but halted as her brother grabbed her arm again.

"Wait, Em. It ain't like that. That is, Charles ain't exactly ill." Devlin scowled at the waiting maid, footman, and coachman. All three scowled back. Devlin lowered his voice another couple of notches. "You may as well know the full truth, Em. He's going to fight a duel in two days' time."

Emily raised her gloved hand to her mouth. "Bloody hell."

"It don't look good, Em. Charles and I have had some experience at Manton's gallery, of course, but God knows neither one of us is a crack shot." Devlin shook his head. "I am acting as one of his seconds. We are looking for another."

"I do not believe this." Emily was shaken. "Who challenged him?"

"Well, it was Charles who did the challenging," Devlin admitted. "Had to, you know. Matter of honor."

"Dear God. But who did he challenge?" Emily demanded.

"An out-and-outer named Grayley. The man's said to have fought two other duels and won them both. Wounded his opponents seriously on each occasion but they both lived, so there was no scandal. The thing is, Em, there ain't no guarantee Grayley won't kill Charles. They say it's just luck that the other two survived. The man's a cold-blooded marksman."

"I do not believe this," Emily whispered.

Devlin looked down at her. "Look, Em, I know you ain't supposed to socialize with your family now that you're married to Blade. But you're our sister, damn it. And I figured you'd want to say goodbye to Charles."

Emily straightened her shoulders. "I intend to do a great deal more than say goodbye to him. I intend to put a stop to this foolishness. Take me to him at once, Dev." She swung around and headed for the carriage.

"Dash it, Em, there ain't no way to stop the thing." Devlin hurried after her. "Matter of honor, as I said."

"Nonsense. It is a matter of idiocy." Emily climbed into the carriage, followed by Lizzie and her brother. She was aware that her maid and the ferocious-looking George were both eying Devlin with disapproval but she ignored them.

"Give the coachman the direction to your lodgings, Devlin," she said firmly.

Devlin raised the trapdoor in the carriage roof and quickly issued instructions. Then he dropped into the seat across from Emily and Lizzie. "Damn and blast. Hope I'm doing the right thing here."

"Of course you are." Emily frowned. "Where is Papa?"

"I went around to his lodgings first thing this morning but he ain't there. Place is locked up for the week, I was told. He's ruralizing with friends in the country. Had a bit of bad luck at the tables. No time to find him and bring him back." Devlin heaved a morose sigh. "Wouldn't do any good even if we did locate him."

Emily opened her mouth to ask another question but she saw the warning look in Devlin's eyes and paused. She realized her brother was silently cautioning her not to let Lizzie know what was happening. Emily sat back and waited with seething impatience for the carriage to reach the lodgings Charles and Devlin had taken.

The door opened as the vehicle drew to a halt. George looked more forbidding than ever. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but are you sure this is where you want to be set down?"

Emily glanced over her shoulder. "Is this the correct address, Dev?"

"Yes." He grabbed his walking stick and jumped down behind her. Then he used the stick to rap once on the coachman's box. "You may wait for your mistress out here. She won't be long."

"Aye, sir." But the coachman looked as dubious as George.

Emily paid no attention to any of the forbidding looks she was receiving from her staff as she walked up the steps on her brother's arm.

A moment later she stepped into the rooms shared by the twins. Curiously, she glanced around at the comfortable, masculine surroundings. She had been aware that her brothers lived the life of carefree bachelors on the town but she had never actually seen their lodgings.