It was very late as the ladies' carriage entered London, and Marguerite admitted, to herself only, that the journey up to Town had wearied her. But, she told herself, it had wearied her companion as well, since Flora was asleep in the opposite corner of the commodious coach. She'd been sleeping herself until she'd felt the change in motion as they entered Town.

She hadn't felt so alive in months as she had coaxing everyone into letting her accompany Flora. First, of course, she'd had to convince Flora. Then Flora had to convince Major Holt - a task much easier than Marguerite would have expected. And then she'd needed to convince her dear cousin and to do that she'd needed to convince the doctor. But she had! And now she was back in London, and in the midst of some exciting adventure. Life did not look so much like Purgatory anymore.

The coach lurched to a halt, nearly throwing the two ladies to the floor. The door was wrenched open and a rough-looking man, lit by someone else's lantern, peered in.

"'Ere now, they's both got golden 'air! Which one does we want?"

"Both? Eh, one'll be the maid." Another face appeared. "Oh, they's both ladies."

Marguerite shrank back from the men conferring on her side of the coach, and noticed Flora sneaking a quick peak out her side. The nearest house still had lights lit downstairs. If they could make it that far...

"Best take both and let 'erself sort out which she wants and which she don't."

At that, Marguerite let out a piercing scream as Flora threw open the door. Her shriek caused both men to back up a step in shock, giving her the room she needed to follow Flora from the carriage. She slammed the door behind her as they dashed towards the haven of the house. Shouts rose behind them. Oh, dear, how many more men were there? Flora did not look back, and Marguerite steeled herself not to either. If she fell before they reached safety...

A hand clutched her arm, halting her flight and swinging her around. She screamed again and slashed at his face with her free hand. The beast laughed and caught her other arm easily and began to draw her towards the house. Was he a rescuer, then? She struggled to free herself anyways. Flora was there now, clinging to his arm, shrieking herself and trying to pry his hands loose. The other villains were approaching at a run and Marguerite could feel her limited strength ebbing.

An unearthly keening rose from the steps of the house. Marguerite's captor stopped and stared, and the girls turned to see. A pale apparition stood there, dressed in a white kilt, and bearing an enormous sword. The only touch of color was the red-gold of his hair, which seemed to flicker as though made of flame. It keened again, the sound rolling out to fill the street with its blood-chilling effect. Marguerite shuddered under the impact and realized vaguely that her captor had abandoned her. She realized that the footsteps she could hear were now departing.

The apparition swirled its sword about - and then dropped it. It brushed its hands together, and came down the steps towards them. Maguerite felt the cold hand of Death her cheek and her knees began to buckle.

"Ladies, I fear that your attackers may suffer a sudden return of courage, so we'd best be on our way."

Marguerite stared as the figure approached. Flora seemed as amazed as she. As it, as he came nearer, his smile of satisfaction widened into a definite grin. "You should have seen that pack skid to a halt and turn tail. But seriously, ladies, we need to depart."

Flora caught Marguerite's arm and turned towards the coach. Marguerite took two steps before her treacherous knees lost all strength. A strong arm caught her around the waist and then she found herself cradled against a broad, warm, naked! chest and carried easily across the street. Her blush seemed to warm all the bits that had frozen with fear only moments earlier, but she was not so embarrassed that she didn't wrap her arms around his neck. Such an adventure!

In no time, the three of them were within the coach and once more on their way.

"Sir, it is not possible to thank you enough for your assistance. Without your help..." Marguerite was determined to recover her dignity with propriety.

Flora, of course, ignored such considerations. "Sir, that was magnificent! Inspired! Whatever did you use for a sword?"

Their rescuer laughed. "An umbrella! I can only thank Heaven that none of the villains were closer."

"But how did you come to be there in such a costume? No one would dare wear a kilt to a masquerade."

Marguerite could swear that she could feel the heat from his blush across the width of the coach. He fiddled with the pleats over one knee. "I, ah, suffered a slight accident myself, and, ah, misplaced my clothes. So I improvised."

Flora laughed. "Misplaced your clothes and came away in - a sheet! Margo, we've been rescued by a rake!"

The coach stopped before a modest home, their rescuer stammered out something, and fled. Flora seemed to find the whole thing amusing, but Marguerite felt somehow let down to discover their heroic rescuer had merely been escaping from an irate husband. But then, her moods had been more extreme since she'd fallen ill with the wretched pneumonia. No doubt she would find it exciting and amusing herself after a good night's rest.

Marguerite opened her eyes to see pallid winter sunshine dribbling through a gap in the heavy damask curtains. It wasn't the sun that woke her. It was her growling stomach.

The guest chamber at the Seaforth House in Berkley Square was spacious and tastefully decorated, but she still wished that someone had been home at her family's London residence. Instead, the knocker had been off the door when she and Flora had arrived at the end of their journey from Bath. Of course she ought to have realized that Mama and Papa were would still be at Glendenning Abbey. They believed she was still safely tucked away in Bath.

It was right after she had she accepted Flora's sensible invitation to stay at the Seaforth residence that their carriage had been set upon by those awful men. She and Flora would surely have been stolen if it the rake hadn't abandoned his mistress' bed to rescue them. He may have had dubious morals, but he certainly had been brave. And tall and slender and surprisingly muscular. Not to mention red-gold hair and magnificent blue eyes. It was such a shame that the most handsome men always turned out to be such rogues.

Still, it had been quite an adventure, nearly as exciting as the time she had pretended to flirt with Hilary Broadbent so that Tio wouldn't be arrested by Burton Farrier. Unfortunately, by the time they had arrived at Flora's uncle's home, both she and Flora were so exhausted they could only stagger to their beds, rather than rouse the whole household to share the news.

She wasn't surprised to find that she had slept long past her usual hour of rising. It was well past noon by the time she was dressed. As she descended the elegant oak staircase she could hear Flora's voice echoing up through the vast hall. Her friend appeared to be arguing with someone in the foyer. Marguerite wasn't overly concerned. Flora was often arguing with somebody.

But Marguerite could see when she reached the ground floor that Flora was in more than her usual state of enthusiasm. Flora's face was flushed the characteristic Seaforth crimson and she was standing toe to toe with the butler who was positioned solidly in front of the closed door to the drawing room with his arms folded across his chest.

"Miss Templeton herself will assure you that it is an emergency!" Flora snatched Marguerite's hand and pulled her forward. "Go ahead. Tell him, Margo. Tell Cousins that our carriage was attacked last night and we must tell Uncle James and Ja... I mean Captain Holt about it immediately."

The butler greeted Marguerite gravely, but didn't budge from his position before the door. She tried not to laugh. Cousins had been with the Seaforth's for as long as she could remember and he was an old hand with Flora's fits and starts.

"I know his Lordship will be anxious to hear about the attack on the carriage last night, Miss, but his orders to me were quite explicit." The butler's tone was firm. "He and his guests are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. No matter what."

"But surely he didn't mean me," Flora pleaded.

Cousins shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid he made specific reference to yourself, Miss Flora. In a sentence which included Hades freezing over and my hide for a saddle."

"Oh," Flora said.

Marguerite smothered her smile.

"I believe it was something about it not being a proper subject for young unmarried folk, Miss Flora," the butler said soothingly and added in an undertone that if it might comfort Miss Flora to know that Master Theo had been sent out of the house on an errand and so was not in attendance at the meeting either.

"We could eat breakfast and speak to your Uncle afterward," Marguerite said, grinning at the wily Cousins. Marguerite watched her friend's expressive face as Flora debated continuing the battle. It would be fruitless, Marguerite knew, but that wouldn't influence Flora.

Marguerite was wondering how much of her friend's persistence was due to the presence of the dashing Captain Holt when Flora suddenly seized her arm.

"Yes, Margo, let's eat, I'm famished." Flora spoke quickly and began dragging Marguerite down the paneled hall to the next doorway. "Have breakfast sent here, please Cousins," she said over her shoulder, as she pushed Marguerite into the room and quickly slammed the door shut before the butler could respond.

"Breakfast in the library? You're up to something Flora." Marguerite threw herself down into the sofa in front of the fireplace and giggled. She hadn't had so much fun since Amy's Uncle Ab had burned down the green saloon. Life had been so dull lately, with Tio and Amy so preoccupied and Michael finally settling down to his studies. She had forgotten how amusing it was to get into scrapes with Flora.

"Well of course I'm up to something," Flora said, grunting as she dragged a heavy brocaded armchair away from the wall that the library shared with the drawing room. "Give me a hand with this."

Marguerite helped Flora move the armchair and the occasional table that had been next to it, listening to her friend grumble about how cruel it was of her uncle not to have held the meeting in the library in the first place, as it was no trouble at all to eavesdrop on people in the library.

A footman brought hot coffee and freshly baked muffins and rolls and Flora assured him that they could serve themselves. As soon as the door was shut behind him, Flora flung herself down on the ground and wedged her head along the bottom of the wall. Even with the moderate hoops of Flora's morning dress, her skirt bobbed gracefully in the air as she lay on her stomach. Marguerite admired her friend's undergarments. French lace. Flora had always had such excellent taste.

Marguerite poured herself some coffee and buttered a muffin. Heaven knows what Flora would hear. Mayhaps she thought that Captain Holt had come to offer for her.

"It sounds like there a lot of them in there," Flora whispered. "That's August Falcon and Gwendolyn Rossiter and... I think that's Gordon Chandler. Along with Uncle James and Aunt Anne and Jacob Holt."

Marguerite smiled at the quaver in Flora's voice when she had announced the last name. There were a lot of guests in the drawing room but it sounded like a perfectly ordinary company making a morning call, although Marguerite conceded that the Marquis' insistence on privacy was odd. Perhaps it was merely that this morning's gossip was particularly salacious.

"Marguerite! You'll never guess!" Flora hissed, waving her hand but keeping her ear pressed to the wall. "Your brother's here! And his wife."

Marguerite grabbed another muffin and threw herself down on the floor next to Flora. Tio and Amy in at the Seaforths! They must be staying in the little house they had rented in Brook street, rather than in the earl's London home. She could stay with them. Whatever were they doing here, meeting the Marquis and Captain Holt? Marguerite frowned and sipped her coffee. The servants would have told the Marquis that she had stayed the night. How odd that Tio and Amy hadn't come looking for her before they settled down to their coze with the Seaforths. It would have been nice to tell Tio about last night's attack.

Flora kept her ear pressed to the tiny hole in the wall. "They're talking about your parents' house, and how it's close to Cecily Tilbury's. They want your brother to move there so they can get tea back." Flora looked up in puzzlement. "Why are they worried about Cecily Tilbury's tea?"

"Let me try." Marguerite tucked a ringlet behind her ear and put her head to the little hole. At first it was difficult to make out what was being said, but soon she was able to distinguish the individual speakers.

"And where is Alexander?" She thought that was Gordon Chandler who asked.

It was the Marquis of Seaforth that answered. "We sent him and Theo out to the Tilbury place this morning. Tummett's man was keeping watch on it last night and he never returned."

There were a number of indistinguishable murmurs of concern. Marguerite looked up and nodded when Flora tapped her on the shoulder and gestured to the French doors and said she was going to try the old-fashioned method, as there wasn't room for them both at the wall.

Marguerite watched Flora edge out onto the terrace and then returned her attention to the drawing room. They seemed to be trying to decide what to do about Cecily Tilbury. Marguerite hadn't noticed anything particularly sinister about the woman who had been their London neighbor for over a year. But then again, she had hardly seen her, especially since her father had died.

Flora's Aunt Anne's governessy voice was easy to understand. "I think that we have left poor Mr. Tiele in my cousin's clutches for long enough, although it's still not clear to me how he got there in the first place."

"It was totally unexpected," Captain Holt began.

"That's right," August Falcon interrupted, "who would have thought that a friend of Chandler's would have had such a delicate skull?" There was a loud snort.

She reached up and took a gulp of her coffee and returned just as Amy began to speak.

"What I think, Tio dear, is that I should go to her house, get her alone, and then just pull out me trouble and strife - "

"You won't be going anywhere near Cecily Tilbury with or without a knife!" Tio shouted.

Amy's reply of "Oh, Tio darling," was followed by a moment of quiet which continued until August Falcon groaned something about there being no necessity for such a ridiculous demonstration of newlywed rapture.

"Is it unnecessary, August?" Tio asked. "I think we should ask Gwen. Mistress Gwendolyn, do you think your betrothed requires further demonstration, or do you think the poor dolt can get it right on his own."

"Oh, don't tease him so, Tio," Gwendolyn said. "Papa is still insisting that we must have a two year engagement to make sure we are meant for each other, and since August refuses to take me to Gretna Green we've still got another year to wait."

Marguerite munched her muffin as she listened to the exclamations of sympathy from the company. Another year. Poor Gwen. Sir Mark Rossiter would never welcome August Falcon as a son-in-law. Too high in the instep, Papa kept saying. Not like our family and Amy.

"You poor gudgeon," Gordon Chandler was saying, "Now I have a better understanding of your temper of late."

"If you have all finished your irritating and completely irrelevant review of our private lives," August snarled so loudly that Marguerite had no difficulty making out every syllable, "I propose that we cease this endless tittuping about and proceed with my plan. I say we storm the Tilbury house at swordpoint and search the rooms one by one until we find the damned block. There ain't a man in that viper's nest who could best us, even without Mathieson able to fight."

Marguerite heard murmurs of "Poor Roly" and "How was the dear boy?" from the women, but couldn't make out the answer. She hoped Roly Mathieson wasn't seriously injured. She liked him, although Papa didn't think much of him, of course. Then again, come to think of it, Papa didn't think much of any man under the age of fifty.

Gordon Chandler spoke up. "That's just the sort of cockeyed scheme that a man in your condition would come up with, Falcon," he said. "And exactly the kind of stupidity that will get Tiele's throat slit and the rest of us clapped up in the Tower."

Marguerite couldn't understand every one of Falcon's curses. She reached up and put a bit more butter on her muffin and took a quick sip of coffee before settling herself down on the floor once again. Really, this was turning out to be quite educational. Not that she would want to do this in her own home, of course. Just the thought of listening to what Papa and Mama had to say when no one else was around made her shudder. She chewed contentedly and wriggled into a more comfortable position.

It was while she was listening to Gordon Chandler explain the need for caution lest the entire game be given away to soon that Marguerite felt the draft of cool hair wafting over her exposed legs. With a sudden feeling of dread in her stomach, she scrambled into a sitting position and battled her billowing skirt.

A gaping footman held the door open for a gentleman who stood in the entrance to the room. A tall, slender, extremely handsome gentleman with hair a red-gold and with freckles and fine calves who seemed transfixed by her ankles.

"I beg your pardon," the man said, "but I must see Jacob Holt immediately and..." he stopped speaking and Marguerite could see the recognition dawning in his clear blue eyes.