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“So Lynley was orphaned at fourteen?” His aunt’s lack of sympathy for his lost mother could not have helped a grieving boy.

“I went to him at once. I saw that he would need the strictest guidance to avoid going down the fatal paths that had consumed his parents. I knew I would have to take him in hand. And I did.”

“Then you must rely on his training and his good sense, ma’am.”

“Oh, but all my work went out the window when his uncle, his mother’s brother, took him away. In Spain there was nothing but debauchery.” Lady Silsden frowned.

“You must have been relieved to see him when he came home from Spain looking so fit and…undissipated.”

“He retreated to Lyndale, and the constables came with the tale of his being a highwayman...”

Emily gave a little start, which she hoped her guest did not notice.

“Oh, Miss Radstock, you must persuade Lynley not to fight Ravenhurst.”

Lady Silsden looked like a small gray bird huddled against a storm, feathers ruffled. Emily summoned her sympathies. His aunt was an old woman, largely alone in the world, fixed in her ways, anxiously desiring her own strict idea of what was best for Lynley without any understanding of his character.

“You may rely on me to speak with him directly, ma’am. And you really must not give way to needless alarm. My sister gives her party for us tonight, as you know, ma’am, and we’ll all be together.”

“Of course. But if you could speak to him...”

“I shall.”

“Have you set a date for your wedding?”

“We’re waiting for my mother’s return.”

Lady Silsden nodded and looked around the room. “That’s good. Perhaps your mother will have a chance to redo this room. The Egyptian mode is so out of fashion.”

* * * *

Lynley left London before dawn, a pair of warring memories driving him. In one flash he would see Em in the grasp of Barksted’s man, being hauled to a waiting carriage. In another flash he would see Em looking up at him, eyes alight with soft desire.

At Lyndale he found everything in its usual sober order; only Sultan was glad to see him. He wasted little time there. As he and the horse headed back to London, he wrestled his will into submission. He might want to go on spying with Emily Radstock and playing a daring game of dancing close to the flames of desire, but at the same time he knew he did not want a hired bullyboy to put rough hands on her again. She would feel betrayed that he had abandoned their partnership to act alone, but he refused to expose her to more danger, including danger from him. If they found themselves alone together again, he feared he would yield to that baser nature that his aunt had tried to check and his uncle had always encouraged.

From the moment he heard her talking to her sister Roz, he’d been intrigued. Then he had lifted his head above the green back of that sofa and seen her. Still, he had not felt any danger to his heart until they’d begun working together, until he’d begun to appreciate her mind and spirit.

Emily Radstock had followed the twists and turns of the case with ease. Alone in that scandalous bedroom, so chilled she nearly shook apart, Em had gone on thinking. She’d seen at once what the letter to Lord Strayde meant, while he had been lost in those other attractions to which he had considered himself immune—creamy skin and swells and hollows of sweet flesh, and a saucy mouth. He had been right to put a check on temptation by sending for Wilde and Miranda.

* * * *

Emily discovered that promising to speak with Lynley and actually speaking with him were two different things. Her first thought about how to reach him was through Phil. As she expected that Roz could use her help with final preparations for the dinner party, she went directly to her sister.

Even in the entry, where a footman greeted her, Emily sensed the bustle of a household preparing for an event, but she found Roz sitting calmly in her pale blue and gold drawing room. She had a sketch of her dining table and a pencil in hand.

“Seating your guests?” Emily glanced over at the great green damask sofa, but did not find Lynley there.

“It’s always a delicate matter. If I put Lynley’s aunt Silsden on my right, do you think Aunt Mary will be offended?”

Emily studied her sister’s sketch. It was pure Roz, thoughtful and correct, but she could see the difficulty of adding Lady Silsden into the usual mix of family and friends.

Roz glanced up. “As she is Lynley’s only relation who will attend, I feel that she perhaps deserves some particular notice. There are so many more guests on our side, so to speak.”

Emily nodded. A tray of untouched buns and jam sat on the small table next to Roz. “Are you not hungry?” Emily asked.

“Not so much. I feel a little off today. Have a bun if you like.”

Emily split a bun, finding it warm inside, and spread some lovely marmalade. “Roz, do you know where Lynley is this morning?”