He reached for his boots. “You will note that this is one of the great drawbacks to an illicit affair. One must maintain constant vigilance.”

She grabbed her robe off a hook. “You can’t go out the front door; she will see you. You’ll have to use the back stairs and leave through the garden.”

He picked up his coat. “I hesitate to mention this, but my hat is still in the front hall.”

“Damnation, I forgot all about your hat. We must get it.” She rushed toward the door.

He seemed amused by her rough language, but he followed obediently.

She hurried down the stairs, Anthony directly behind her. Out in the street the carriage had come to a halt.

She snatched Anthony’s hat off the hall table and tossed it at him.

“Go,” she ordered softly.

He caught the hat easily in his left hand. “One question before I leave, Louisa.”

“No questions. There is no time.” She made desperate, shooing motions. “You must hurry, sir. Emma will be at the door any second.”

“I really must have an answer,” he warned, but he started down the hall toward the rear door carrying his hat and coat.

“For heaven’s sake, keep your voice down,” she said, trailing urgently after him.

Anthony opened the back door and halted on the threshold. He turned back.

“My question is, did you experience anything approaching transcendence this afternoon?” he said.

She was horrified by the delay. “For pity’s sake, sir, this is no time to talk about that sort of thing.”

“I am not leaving until I get an answer.”

“Yes, yes, it was all a marvelously transcendent experience. Just as the novelists describe it. Now, leave at once.”

He smiled, kissed her once more, very quickly, very possessively on the mouth, and departed.

She thought she heard him whistling in the garden.

She closed the door as quietly as possible and dashed up the cramped rear stairs. Back in her bedroom, she shut the door, and set about straightening the bed.

She would tell Emma that she had taken a nap this afternoon, she decided. That would explain why the bed was rumpled and why she was in her robe.

She glanced in the mirror and was shocked to see how flushed and disheveled she appeared. There was no time to put up her hair.

The door opened downstairs. Louisa grabbed a white cap, plopped it down on her head, and shoved her hair up inside it. Then she threw herself onto the bed.

A short time later Emma came up the stairs and knocked softly on the door. “Are you resting, dear?”

“Yes,” Louisa said. “The afternoon was quite exhausting. I’ll tell you all about it when I come downstairs shortly.”

“I shall look forward to the details of your meeting with the Stalbridges. Take your time. I am going to change my gown.” Emma’s footsteps receded down the hall to her own room.

With a shudder of relief, Louisa sat up. She was still breathing much too quickly. That had been very close.

She got slowly to her feet and went toward the wardrobe. A strip of dark blue silk dangling over the back of a chair caught her eye: Anthony’s tie. Jolted, she picked up the tie, coiled it very carefully, and hid it in a drawer.

Very close, indeed. Thank heavens Emma had not opened the door. Illicit liaisons were quite exciting, but they were proving to be hard on the nerves.

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME he had ever been obliged to sneak out through the back door, Anthony reflected, going up the steps of his town house. Life had certainly become more interesting since meeting Louisa Bryce.

The unusual mode of departure made for a challenging change of pace, but damned if he intended to go on skulking around alleys and gardens indefinitely. Nevertheless, the memory of Louisa’s breathless, shivery passion as she climaxed in his arms compensated for a great deal, including his undignified exit.

He was aware of feeling in remarkably good spirits, in spite of the lack of progress in the investigation. It was not only the heated lovemaking that had improved his mood, he thought. It was Louisa’s passionate insistence that, regardless of what had happened to Fiona, he was not to blame.

It was one thing to have his family assure him of that; they had always stood with him. Having Louisa defend him so passionately was something else entirely. For a while there in the sun-and-shadows of her bedroom, with the taste of her still on his tongue, he had even allowed himself to believe that she was right.

The door opened just as he reached for his key.

“Welcome home, sir,” the housekeeper said. “A message arrived for you a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” Anthony moved into the hall.

The note rested on a silver platter. Anthony picked it up and tore it open. Satisfaction flashed through him when he saw Miranda Fawcett’s signature.

…I invite you and Mrs. Bryce to meet my very good friend at ten o’clock this evening.

Clement Corvus had taken the bait.

36

Miranda Fawcett was ensconced on her gold sofa. Louisa thought she appeared even more dramatic than usual in a fashionable gown of pale blue silk and dark blue velvet. Pearls glowed on her fingers, circled her throat, and gleamed in her hair.

“Ah, there you are, Louisa, my dear.” She smiled warmly and beckoned with one beringed hand. “Please sit down.” She turned to Anthony. “How delightful to see you again, sir. I’m so glad you were free tonight. I realize I gave you very short notice.”

Anthony bowed over her hand. “My pleasure. I look forward to meeting your very good friend.”

“Mr. Corvus is already here.” Miranda winked. “He is waiting in the wings, as it were. The dear man has spent so much time around me that I fear he has learned the value of making an entrance.”

Louisa perched on one of the satin-covered chairs and adjusted her spectacles. “It was very kind of you to arrange this meeting.”

Miranda chuckled. “I assure you, Mr. Corvus was eager enough to meet Mr. Stalbridge after he read those papers that you left with me.”

A man spoke from the doorway. “Indeed, sir, I was most enthusiastic about making your acquaintance.”

Louisa turned her head and saw a surprisingly short, neatly made man. Although he was no taller than herself, there was an unmistakable aura of elegant menace about him. They did not call Clement Corvus The Raven merely because of his name, she thought. A little chill went through her.

His hair had clearly once been jet black. It was now a striking silver. He was clean-shaven and dressed in an exquisitely tailored black suit.

Anthony inclined his head, silently acknowledging Corvus as an equal. “Good evening, sir.”

Corvus’s eyes crinkled faintly at the corners. Louisa got the impression that he was pleased with Anthony’s respectful manner.

“And this is Mrs. Bryce, whom you know very well as I. M. Phantom,” Miranda said. “Mrs. Bryce, Mr. Corvus.”

Corvus walked to Louisa and bowed formally over her hand. “Mrs. Bryce. It is a privilege to meet you. I am a great admirer of your work.”

“Thank you, sir.” She smiled. “The pleasure is mine tonight. At last I have an opportunity to tell you how grateful I am for what I strongly suspect has been your behind-the-scenes advice on several occasions.”

Corvus smiled indulgently. “Miranda will tell you that I find it vastly entertaining to be of assistance to such an intrepid correspondent.”

Miranda laughed. “What Clement really means, of course, is that he is always pleased to help I. M. Phantom rid him of some of his business competitors who happen to move in Society.”

Something cold and glittery appeared in Corvus’s dark eyes. “It is not the competition that I mind, my dear. I am, after all, a businessman. I enjoy the sport. But I will admit that I take strong exception to certain gentlemen who choose to engage in commercial ventures that cater to the most depraved tastes or those who take advantage of people who do not move in their circles. Those same gentlemen would never dream of lowering themselves to inviting a man of my background into their homes for a glass of brandy, yet they do not hesitate to dirty their hands in businesses that I would not touch.”