Rakes Vow

Chapter 21

Come to me later, she'd said.

Vane returned to Aldford Street just after ten o'clock.

The house was quiet when Masters let him in. His expression implacable, Vane handed Masters his cane, hat, and gloves. "I'll go up to Her Ladyship and Miss Debbington. You needn't wait up-I'll show myself out."

"As you wish, sir."

As he climbed the stairs, Vane recalled Chillingworth's words: How the mighty have fallen. The steely determination that had taken possession of him wound a notch tighter. He wasn't sure how deep the changes within him had gone, but as of this afternoon, he'd sworn off all attempts to hide his connection with Patience Debbington. The lady who would be his wife.

There was no doubt of that fact, no possibility of error, no room for maneuver-and absolutely none for negotiation. He was finished with excuses, with playing the game according to society's rules. Conquerors wrote their own rules. That was something Patience would have to come to terms with-he intended shortly to inform her of the fact.

But first, he'd set Minnie's heart at rest.

He found her propped on her pillows, eyes expectantly wide. Timms was present; Patience was not. Quickly, concisely, he explained and reassured. Then he left Timms to tuck Minnie, at ease once again, up for the night.

He knew they were grinning behind his back, but was not about to acknowledge it. Shutting Minnie's door with a definite click, he turned and strode down the corridor.

With a token, peremptory tap, he opened Patience's door and walked in, then shut it behind him. Rising from the chair by the hearth, she blinked, then resettled the shawl she'd draped over her shoulders, and calmly waited.

Beneath the soft shawl, she was wearing a fine silk nightgown, cinched with a drawstring under her breasts. And nothing else.

The blaze in the hearth roared.

One hand on the doorknob, Vane drank in the sight, luscious curves and sleek limbs outlined by the flames. The embers inside him ignited; a rush of fiery lust seared his veins. He straightened and slowly stalked toward her.

"Gerrard's with Devil and Honoria at St. Ives House." The words fell from his lips slowly, as, starting at her nightgown's hem, he let his gaze rise, noting the fascinating way the silk clung to each curve, to her long, sleek thighs, rounded hips, the soft swell of her belly, how it cradled the warm globes of her breasts. Her nipples peaked as his gaze feasted.

She tightened her hold on her shawl. "Was that part of your plan?"

Halting before her, Vane lifted his gaze to her face. "Yes. I hadn't imagined Bow Street, but something along those lines was in the cards. Someone had, from the first, tried to cast Gerrard as the thief."

"What happened?" Patience's words were breathless; her lungs had seized. She held Vane's gaze and tried not to shiver. Not with fear, but anticipation. The stark planes of his face, the silvery flames in his eyes, all screamed of reined passion.

He studied her eyes, then raised one brow. "By the time I reached Bow Street, Devil had descended and whisked Gerrard away. I followed them to St. Ives House. According to Gerrard, he didn't even have time to look around Bow Street before Devil arrived, courtesy of Sligo. He must have run all the way to Grosvenor Square."

Her eyes locked on his, Patience licked her lips. "He's really been a big help over this business."

"Indeed. As he could swear that the stolen goods were not in Gerrard's room yesterday, and nor was the sack in which they were found, the magistrate was understandably diffident over laying any charge." Vane's lips lifted. "Particularly with Devil leaning on the charge desk."

Bracing one hand on the mantelpiece, he leaned closer. Decidedly giddy, Patience tilted her chin. "I suspect your cousin enjoys intimidating people."

Vane's lips quirked. His gaze lowered to her lips. "Let's just say Devil's rarely backward in exercising his authority, especially in support of one of the family."

"I… see." Her gaze fixed on his long lips, Patience decided to let his description of Gerrard as "family" pass unchallenged. The tension investing his large frame, so close beside her, was fascinating-and deliciously unnerving.

"The magistrate decided something odd was going on. The report hadn't come from Minnie, and, of course, there was the matter of Sligo, Devil's servant, masquerading as Minnie's hired help. He couldn't understand it, so he elected to make no finding at present. He released Gerrard into Devil's care, pending any further developments."

"And Gerrard?"

"I left him happily ensconced with Devil and Honoria. Honoria told me to tell you they were grateful for the excuse to stay home. While they keep up appearances, they only came to town to catch up with the family. They'll be returning to Somersham any day."

Patience licked her lips again; under his gaze, they'd started to throb. "Will that-them leaving town-create problems if Gerrard's still in Devil's care?"

"No." Vane lifted his gaze to her eyes. "I'll assume the charge!"

Patience mouthed a silent "Oh."

"But tell me." Vane pushed away from the mantelpiece and straightened. "Has anything happened here?" He started to unbutton his coat.

"No." Patience managed to find enough breath for a sigh. "Alice hasn't been sighted since this morning." She glanced at Vane. "She saw you in the corridor last night."

Vane frowned, and shrugged out of his coat. "What the devil was she doing up at that hour?"

Patience shrugged, and watched him toss his coat on the chair. "Whatever, she didn't come down for dinner. Everyone else did, but all were understandably subdued."

"Even Henry?"

"Even Henry. Whitticombe preserved a censorious silence. The General spent the entire time grumbling, and snapping at anyone who loomed in his path. Edgar and Edith kept their heads down, together for the most part, whispering. About what I know not." Vane's fingers closed about the buttons of his waistcoat. Patience drew a tight breath. "Edmond's succumbed to his muse again. Angela is quietly happy because she got her comb back. Henry, however, was idling about because he couldn't find anyone with whom to play billiards."

Patience shifted, giving Vane space to strip off his waistcoat. "Oh-there was one point of interest-Mrs. Chadwick quietly asked Minnie and me if she could search Gerrard's bureau for her missing earring. Poor dear, it seemed the least we could do. I went with her-we searched high and low, and through all the other drawers, too. There was no sign of it anywhere."

She turned to Vane-just as he freed his cravat and drew the long strip from his neck. His gaze on her, he held it between his hands. "So," he murmured, his tone deep, "nothing of any moment happened here."

Her gaze transfixed by the long strip of linen, Patience tried to speak and couldn't-she shook her head.

"Good." The word was a feral purr. With a negligent flick, Vane sent the cravat to join his coat. "So there's nothing to distract you."

Patience dragged her gaze up to his face. "Distract me?"

"From the subject we need to discuss."

"You want to discuss something?" She hauled in a breath and tried to steady her giddy head.

Vane trapped her gaze. "You. Me." His face hardened. "Us."

With a supreme effort, Patience raised her brows. "What about 'us'?"

A muscle in his jaw flickered. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clench. "I," he declared, "have reached the end of my tether."

He stepped toward her; she took a sliding step back.

"I do not approve of any situation that leaves you a target for the likes of such as the Colbys-regardless of whether said situation arises from my actions or otherwise." His lips a thin line, he stepped forward; Patience instinctively edged back. "I cannot, and will not, condone any scenario whereby your reputation is in any way sullied-even by me with the best of intentions."

He continued to stalk her; she continued to retreat. Patience longed to whirl around and scurry out of his reach, but she didn't dare take her eyes from his. "What are you doing here then?"

She was trapped, mesmerized-she knew he'd soon pounce. As if to confirm that, his eyes narrowed, and he tugged his shirt from his waistband. Without taking his eyes from her, he started undoing the buttons, still advancing, still forcing her to retreat. Toward the bed.

"I'm here"-he bit the words off-"because I can't see any sense in being anywhere else. You're mine-henceforth, you sleep with me. As you're sleeping here at the moment, ergo, so do I. If my bed is not yet yours, then yours will have to be mine."

"You just said you didn't want my reputation sullied."

His shirt fell fully open. He continued to advance. Patience didn't know where to look. Where she most wanted to look.

"Precisely. So you'll have to marry me. Soon. Which is what we need to discuss." With that, he looked down, and unlaced his cuffs.

Poised to seize the moment to dash to safety, Patience froze. "I don't have to marry you."

He looked up, and stripped off his shirt. "Not in that sense, no. But for you, marriage to me is inevitable. All we need to determine-what we are going to determine-tonight-is what it's going to take to make you agree."

His shirt hit the floor-he stepped forward.

Belatedly, Patience scurried three steps back-and fetched up against the bedpost. Before she could whisk around it, Vane was there, reaching around her, hands locking about the post behind her. Trapping her within the circle of his arms, facing him, and his bare chest.

Dragging in a desperate breath, Patience locked her eyes on his. "I told you-I will not simply marry you."

"I think I can guarantee there'll be nothing simple about our marriage."

Patience opened her lips on an acid retort-he sealed them, with a kiss so potent by the time he raised his head, she was clinging for dear life to the bedpost.

"Just listen." He said the words against her lips, as if they were forced from him.

Patience stilled. Her heart thumping wildly, she waited. He didn't straighten, or draw away. Lids lowered, her gaze fixed on his lips, she watched the words form as he spoke.

"I'm renowned within the ton as being cool under fire-around you, I'm never cool. I'm heated-I seethe-I burn with desire. If I'm in the same room, all I can think about is heat-your heat-and how you'll feel around me."

Patience felt the heat rise, a real force between them.

"I've gained the reputation of being the soul of discretion-now look at me. I've seduced my godmother's niece-and been seduced by her. I share her bed openly, even under my godmother's roof." His lips twisted wryly. "So much for discretion."'

He drew a deep breath; his chest brushed her breasts.

"And as for my vaunted, up-until-you legendary control-the instant I'm inside you that evaporates like water on hot steel."

What prompted her Patience never knew. His lips were so close-with her teeth, she nipped the lower. "I told you to let go-I won't break."

The tension, pouring off him in waves, eased, just a little. He sighed, and rested his forehead on hers. "It's not that." After a moment, he went on, "I don't like losing control-it's like losing myself-in you."

She felt him gather himself, felt the tension swell and coalesce about them.

"It's giving myself to you-so that I'm in your keeping."

The words, low and gravelly, rolled through her; closing her eyes, she drew in a shallow breath. "And you don't like doing that."

"I don't like it-but I crave it. I don't approve of it, yet I yearn for it." His words feathered her cheek, then his lips touched hers. "Do you understand? I haven't any choice."

Patience felt his chest swell as he drew a deep breath.

"I love you."

She shivered, eyes shut tight, and felt the world shift about her.

"Losing myself in you-giving my heart and soul into your keeping-is part of that."

His lips brushed hers in an inexpressibly tender caress.

"Trusting you is part of that. Telling you I love you is part of that."

His lips touched hers again; Patience didn't wait for more. She kissed him. Letting go of the post, she slid her hands up, framing his face, so she could let him know-let him feel-her response to all he'd said.

He felt it, sensed it-and reacted; his arms locked tight about her. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the emotion that held them, that flowed so effortlessly between them.

Silver and gold, it wound about them, investing each touch with its magic. Silver and gold, it shimmered about them, and quivered in their fractured breaths. It was immediate compulsion and future promise, heavenly delight and earthly pleasure. It was here and now-and forever.

With a soft oath, Vane drew back and stripped off his trousers. Released, Patience lowered her arms and let her shawl fall, then tugged the tie of her nightgown free. A quick shift and a shrug sent the silk sliding to the floor.

Vane straightened-she stepped into his arms, setting her naked limbs to his.

He sucked in a breath, then let it out in a groan as she stretched sinuously against him. He wrapped her in his arms and bent his head to hers; their lips met, and desire ran free.

He lifted her and laid her on the sheets, and followed her down. She welcomed him to her, took him into her body with joyous abandon.

And this time, there was no holding back, no reticence, no control, no vestige of rational thought. Passion and desire bloomed, then ran riot. They were one-in mind, in thought, in deed. Pleasure for one was the other's delight. They gave themselves, again and again, and still found more to give.

And over and between ran the shimmering glory, stronger than steel and more precious than pearls.

When they crested the final wave, and clung to each other as the maelstrom took them, it intensified and filled them. Until all existence became that wondrous glow; as they drifted, deeply sated, into dreamless sleep, it settled over them.

A blessing-the most desired of benedictions.

What followed was entirely Myst's fault.

Vane woke, as he had once before, to discover the small cat once again curled on his chest, purring furiously. Sleepily sated, he scratched one grey ear while waiting for his senses to refocus. His limbs were heavy with deep satiation-a drugging glow still filled him. He glanced toward the window. The sky had started to lighten.

He and Patience needed to talk.

Vane lifted his hand from Myst's ear.

The cat promptly flexed her claws.

Vane hissed-and glared. "Your claws are more lethal than your mistress's."

"Hmm?" Heavy-eyed, Patience emerged from beneath the sheets.

Vane waved at Myst. "I was about to ask if you'd consider removing your resident predator."

Patience stared at him, then blinked, and looked down. "Oh. Myst." Fighting free of the tangled sheets, she leaned over and scooped Myst up. "Off, Myst. Come on." Wriggling, Patience slid fully across Vane-her hips slid over his-as Vane sucked in an agonized breath.

Patience grinned, and dropped Myst over the side of the bed. "Off you go." She watched the cat stalk off, offended, then, entirely deliberately, wriggled back across Vane.

And stopped halfway.

"Hmm." Finding her lips level with one flat nipple, she stuck out her tongue and licked. The jolt that shook him made her smile. "Interesting."

She uttered the word as she wriggled some more, so her torso was more or less atop him, her legs sliding over his.

Vane frowned. "Patience…"

Warm flesh encased in smooth satin slithered over his hips, over the rigid length of his erection. Vane blinked, several times, and tried to recall what he'd been about to say.

"Hmm?"

Patience's tone suggested she had other things on her mind: She was busily trailing warm, openmouthed kisses down his increasingly tense torso.

Jaw setting, Vane gathered his resolve-and reached for her. "Patience, we need to-" A groan cut off his words-he was almost surprised to recognize it as his. Muscle after muscle tensed and locked. Lust roared through him-in response to her artless, inquisitive touch, to the husky chuckle she gave. Soft fingers trailed up his rigid length, then slid about him and tentatively closed. She traced and caressed, then explored further, squirming downward as she did-clearly delighted by his helpless reaction.

Rigid to his toes, Vane jerked as she circled his sensitive, swollen head. "Good God, woman! What…?" His voice suspended as she reached further still, and closed her hand. Vane groaned, and closed his eyes. The inside of his lids burned with raging lust.

He dragged in a desperate breath, and reached down, fighting through the tangled sheets to try to capture her hand. She chuckled again and eluded him easily; he slumped back, breathing too fast. His limbs had turned heavy, weighted with lust, burning with desire.

"Don't you like it?" The teasing question, clearly rhetorical, floated up from under the sheets. Then she squirmed again. "Perhaps you'd like this better."

Vane did, but he wasn't about to say so. Gritting his teeth, he suffered the hot, wet sweep of her tongue, the gentle caress of her lips. She didn't have the faintest idea what she was doing-thank God. What she was doing was bad enough. If expertise was added to the equation, he'd be dead.

He tried to remind himself that the experience was hardly new to him-the rationalization didn't work. He couldn't distance himself from Patience's touch, couldn't imagine she was some faceless lady with whom he was sharing a bed. No logic seemed strong enough to quench or control the fire she was igniting.

He heard himself gasp. He licked lips suddenly dry. "Where the devil did you get the idea…?"

"I heard some maids talking."

Inwardly cursing all wanton maids, he summoned the last of his strength. She'd gone far enough. Jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, he reached for her. Beneath the soft sheets, he found her head; he threaded his fingers through her hair, searching downward for her shoulders.

Beneath his hands, she shifted.

Hot wetness closed about him.

His fingers spasmed and clutched. The rest of his body reacted equally predictably. For one instant, Vane thought he'd die. Of heart failure. Then she released him. He groaned-and she took him into her mouth again. Eyes closed, he fell back on the pillows, and surrendered.

She had him at her mercy.

She knew it-she set about enjoying her newfound mastery. To the hilt. Extrapolating wantonly. Inventing with gay abandon.

Until, with a desperate groan, he was driven to expend his last ounce of strength and capture her, wrestle free, and find her waist and lift her. Over him. He lowered her, expertly nudging into the slick flesh between her thighs. Then he pulled her down, impaling her on the achingly urgent phallus she'd spent the last ten minutes inciting.

She gasped, then sank farther, her hands fastening tight about his forearms as she deliberately took him all. She rose on her knees immediately, pushing his hands from her, refusing to allow him to set the pace.

He acquiesced, filling his hands with her breasts instead, drawing the tight peaks to his mouth. She rode him with reckless abandon; he filled her and feasted, until, in a glorious, giddy rush, they fell over the edge of the world and, locked together, plunged into the selfless void.

They had no time to talk, no time to speak, no time to discuss anything at all. When, with the house waking about them, Vane, mildly irritated, left her, Patience was incapable of conscious thought.

Some four hours later, Patience sat at the breakfast table. Smiling. Glowingly. She'd seen the sight in her mirror, but hadn't been able to find any expression capable of disguising her joy.

She'd woken to find the tweeny quietly cleaning her grate, and Vane nowhere in sight. Which was undoubtedly just as well. The last sight she'd had of him would have driven the tweeny into hysterics. Lolling in her bed, which had looked like a whirlwind had struck it, she'd considered going and telling Minnie her news. But she'd decided against saying anything yet, not until she and Vane had discussed the details. From what she'd seen of the Cynsters, and what she knew of Minnie, once they made an announcement, things would simply happen.

So she'd lolled some more, replaying Vane's declaration, committing every word, every nuance, to memory. No doubt of the veracity, or the strength of his feelings, could ever assail her-not with memories like that. She had, indeed, started to wonder if her desire to hear that particular assurance stated, in words, might, in the end, be too much to ask, an unrealistic expectation from a man like him. Men like the Cynsters did not set their tongue to that four-letter word lightly. "Love" was not something they gave readily, and, as Minnie had warned her, even once given, they did not easily acknowledge it.

Vane had.

In simple words so laden with feeling she could not doubt, could not question. She'd wanted that, needed it, so he'd given it. No matter the cost.

Was it any wonder her heart was light, singing joyfully?

In contrast, the rest of the household remained subdued; Gerrard's empty place cast a pall over the conversation. Only Minnie and Timms, at the other end of the table, were unaffected; Patience beamed a happy smile up the board, and knew in her heart that Minnie understood.

But Minnie waggled her head at her and frowned. Recalling that she was supposed to be the anguished sister of a young sprig hauled off to face justice, Patience dutifully tried to mask her glow.

"Have you heard anything?" Henry's nod to Gerrard's empty chair clarified his question.

Patience hid her face behind her teacup. "I haven't heard of any charges."

"I fancy we'll hear by this afternoon." Whitticombe, his expression coldly severe, reached for the coffeepot. "I daresay the magistrate was not available yesterday. Theft, I fear, is a common enough crime."

Edgar shifted uneasily. Agatha Chadwick looked shocked. But no one said anything.

Henry cleared his throat, and looked at Edmond. "Where shall we go today, do you think?"

Edmond humphed. "Not really in the mood for more sights today. Think I'll dust off my script."

Henry nodded glumly.

Silence fell, then Whitticombe eased back his chair. He turned to Minnie. "By your leave, cousin, I believe Alice and I should return to Bellamy Hall." Patting his thin lips with his napkin, he laid it aside. "We are, as you know, somewhat rigid in our beliefs. Old-fashioned, some might call it. But neither my dear sister nor I can countenance close association with those we believe transgress acceptable moral codes." He paused long enough for his meaning to sink in, then smiled, unctuously patronizing, at Minnie. "Of course, we appreciate your position, even applaud your devotion, misguided though it sadly seems to be. However, Alice and I seek your permission to repair to the Hall, there to await your return."

He concluded with an obsequious nod.

Everyone looked at Minnie. There was, however, nothing to be read in her unusually closed expression. She studied

Whitticombe for a full minute, then solemnly nodded. "If that is what you wish, then certainly, you may return to the Hall. However, I warn you I do not have any immediate plans to return there myself."

Whitticombe raised his hand in a gracious gesture. "You need not concern yourself with us, cousin. Alice and I can entertain ourselves well enough." He glanced at Alice, all in black. At no time since she'd entered the room had she looked anywhere but at her plate. "With your permission," Whitticombe continued, "we'll leave immediately. The weather looks like turning, and we have no reason to dally." He glanced at Minnie, then looked up at Masters, standing behind her chair. "Our boxes could be sent on."

Minnie nodded. Tight-lipped, she glanced up at Masters, who bowed. "I'll arrange it, ma'am."

Bestowing a last unctuous, ingratiating smile on Minnie, Whitticombe rose. "Come, Alice. You'll need to pack."

Without a word, without a glance, Alice rose and preceded Whitticombe from the room.

The instant the door closed behind them, Patience looked at Minnie. Who waved her to silence. To some semblance of discretion.

Patience bit her lip, and munched her toast, and waited.

A few minutes later, Minnie heaved a sigh and pushed back her chair. "Ah, me. I'm going to rest for the morning. All these unexpected happenings." Shaking her head, she rose and looked down the table. "Patience?"

She didn't need to be summoned twice. Dropping her napkin on her plate, Patience hurried to assist Timms help Minnie from the room. They went straight to Minnie's bedchamber, summoning Sligo on the way.

He arrived as Minnie sank into her chair.

"Whitticombe's making a dash for the Hall." Minnie pointed her cane at Sligo. "Go fetch that godson of mine-fast!" She shot a glance at Patience. "I don't care if you have to drag him from his bed, just tell him our hare has finally bolted."

"Indeed, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Sligo headed for the door. "Even in his nightshirt."

Minnie grinned grimly. "Right!" She thumped the floor with her cane. "And not before time." She looked up at Patience. "If it does turn out to be that worm, Whitticombe, behind it all, I'll disown him utterly."

Patience gripped the hand Minnie held out to her. "Let's wait and see what Vane thinks."

There was one problem with that-Vane couldn't be found.

Sligo returned to Aldford Street an hour later, with the news Vane was not at any of his habitual haunts. Minnie sent Sligo back out with a flea in his ear and a dire warning not to return without Vane.

"Where could he be?" Minnie looked at Patience.

Mystified, Patience shook her head. "I'd assumed he'd gone home-to Curzon Street."

She frowned. He couldn't possibly be walking the streets with a creased, reused cravat. Not Vane Cynster.

"He gave you no hint as to any lead he might be following?" Timms asked.

Patience grimaced. "I was under the impression he'd run out of possiblities."

Minnie humphed. "So was I. So where is he?"

No one answered. And Sligo didn't return.

Not until late afternoon, by which time Minnie, Timms, and Patience had reached the end of their collective tether. Whitticombe and Alice had departed at noon in a hired carriage. Their boxes were piled in the front hall, awaiting the carter. Lunch had come and gone, the household marginally more relaxed. Edmond and Henry were playing billiards. The General and Edgar had taken their usual constitutional to Tattersalls. Edith was tatting with Mrs. Chadwick and Angela for company in the drawing room.

In Minnie's room, Patience and Timms took turns by the window; it was Patience who saw Vane's curricle bowl up and stop before the door. "He's here!"

"Well you can't run downstairs," Minnie admonished her. "Just contain your transports until he gets here. I want to hear where he's been."

Minutes later, Vane strolled in, smoothly elegant as ever.

His eyes went straight to Patience, then he bent and kissed Minnie's cheek.

"Where, by all that's holy, have you been?" she demanded.

Vane raised his brows. "Out. Sligo told me Whitticombe's left. What did you want to see me for?"

Minnie stared at him, then swiped at his leg with one hand. "To find out what comes next, of course!" She glared at him. "Don't try your high-handed Cynster ways with me."

Vane's brows rose higher. "I wouldn't dream of it. But there's no need for any panic. Whitticombe and Alice have gone-I'll follow, and see what they get up to. Simple."

"I'm coming, too," Minnie declared. "If Humphrey's nephew's a bad egg, I owe it to Humphrey to see the proof with my own eyes. After all, it's me who'll have to decide what to do."

"Of course, I'll go with Minnie," Timms added.

Patience caught Vane's eye. "If you think I'm staying behind, think again… Gerrard's my brother-if Whitticombe's the one who knocked him on the head…" She didn't finish her sentence-her expression said it all.

Vane sighed. "There's really no need-"

"Cynster! Have to show you-"

With a clatter of boots, the General, followed by Edgar, burst into the room. Seeing Minnie, the General flushed, and ducked his head. "Apologies, Minnie, and all that, but thought you'd all be interested. Best see this."

Crossing the room, he bent and awkwardly slid a small object from his large palm onto Minnie's lap.

"Great heavens!" Minnie picked the object up, and held it to the light. "Agatha's earring." She looked at the General. "The other one?"

"Must be," Edgar put in. He glanced at Vane. "We found it in the elephant sitting in the front hall."

"The elephant!" Vane looked from Edgar to the General.

"Indian contraption. Recognized it instantly. Seen ones like it in India, don't y'know." The General nodded. "Couldn't resist opening it-showed it to Edgar here. One of the tusks is the catch. Twist it, and the beast's back opens up. Indian wallahs used the things to store treasure."

"It's full of sand," Edgar said. "Fine, white stuff."

"Used for weight," the General explained. "The sand stabilizes the beast, then the treasure's settled in the sand. I grabbed up a handful to show Edgar-sharp eyes, he has-spotted the gleam of that trinket in the pile."

"I'm afraid we made rather a mess unearthing it." Edgar looked at the earring in Minnie's fingers. "But it is Agatha's, isn't it?"

"Isn't what?"

They all looked up; Mrs. Chadwick entered, followed by Angela, with Edith Swithins trailing vaguely behind. Agatha Chadwick grimaced apologetically at Minnie. "We heard the commotion…"

"Just as well." Minnie held up the earring. "This is yours, I believe."

Agatha took it. The smile that broke across her face was all the answer anyone needed. "Where was it?" She looked at Minnie-who looked up at Vane.

Who shook his head in amazement. "In Alice Colby's room, in the elephant she kept by her hearth." He glanced at Patience-

"There's sand all over the front hall!" Mrs. Henderson swept in, a galleon in full sail; Henry, supported by Edmond and Masters, hobbled in in her wake. Mrs. Henderson gestured at him. "Mister Chadwick slipped and nearly broke his head." She looked at Vane. "It's from inside that evil elephant!"

"I say." Edmond had focused on the earring in Agatha Chadwick's hand. "What's going on?"

The question drew a spate of garbled answers. Recognizing opportunity, Vane edged to the door.

"Stop right there!" Minnie's order brought an abrupt end to the cacophony. She waved her cane at Vane. "Don't you dare try to leave us behind."

Patience swung about-and glared daggers at Vane.

"What's afoot?" Edmond demanded.

Minnie folded her arms and snorted, then glared at Vane. Everyone turned and looked at Vane.

He sighed. "It's like this." His explanation-that whoever attempted to return to the Hall without the rest of the household was odds on to be the Spectre, and said Spectre was almost certainly the villain who'd coshed Gerrard in the ruins-even stripped to the bare bones, still raised everyone's hackles.

"Colby! Well!" Henry straightened, and eased his full weight onto his wrenched ankle. "First, he coshes young Gerrard, then he makes out Gerrard's the thief, and then he gloats so… so… superiorly." He tugged his coat straight. "You may count me in-I certainly want to see Whitticombe get his just desserts."

"Blissful thought!" Edmond grinned. "I'll come, too."

"And me." The General glowered. "Colby must have known his sister was the thief-or perhaps it was him, and he used his sister's room as a store. Whatever, the bounder talked me into sending for the Runners-wouldn't have entered my head but for him. He should be strung up!"

Vane drew a deep breath. "There's really no need-"

"I'm coming, too." Agatha Chadwick lifted her head high. "Whoever was the thief, whoever has so grievously wronged Gerrard, I want to see justice done!"

"Indeed!" Edith Swithins nodded determinedly. "I even had my tatting bag searched, all because of this thief. I'll certainly want to hear his-or her-explanation."

It was at that point Vane gave up arguing. By the time he'd crossed the room to Minnie's side, the whole household, bar only Masters and Mrs. Henderson, had resolved to follow Whitticombe and Alice back to the Hall.

Bending over Minnie, Vane spoke through his teeth. "I'm taking Patience-I'll pick Gerrard up on the way. As far as I'm concerned, the rest of you would do well to remain in London. If you want to hie across the counties with the weather closing in, you'll have to organize it yourselves. However!"-he let his exasperation show-"whatever you do, for God's sake remember to come up the back track, not the main drive, and don't come closer to the house than the second barn."

He glared at Minnie, who glared belligerently back. Then tipped her nose in the air. "We'll wait for you there."

Swallowing a curse, Vane grabbed Patience's hand and strode for the door. In the corridor, he glanced at Patience's gown. "You'll need your pelisse. There's snow on the way."

Patience nodded. "I'll meet you outside." She hurried down the steps minutes later, rugged up against the deepening chill. Vane handed her into the curricle, then climbed up beside her. And sprang his horses for Grosvenor Square.

"Well, the drought's broken." Looking up as Vane walked through his library door, Devil grinned. "Who is it?"

"Colby." Vane nodded to Gerrard, perched on the arm of a chair beside Devil, who was sprawled on the rug before the hearth.

Following Vane in, Patience noted that last with surprise, until, moving closer, she saw the small being rolling on the soft rug, fists and feet waving madly, protected from any chance of a flying cinder by Devil's large body.

Following the direction of her gaze, Devil grinned. "Allow me to present Sebastian, Marquess of Earith." He looked down. "My heir."

The last words were infused with such deep and abiding love, Patience found herself smiling mistily. Devil scratched the baby's tummy; Sebastian cooed and gurgled and batted clumsily at his father's finger. Blinking rapidly, Patience glanced at Vane. He was smiling easily-he clearly found nothing odd in the sight of his powerful, domineering cousin playing nursemaid.

She looked at Gerrard; he laughed as Sebastian latched on to Devil's finger and wrestled.

"Vane?" All turned as Honoria swept into the room. "Ah-Patience." As if they were already related, Honoria enveloped Patience in a scented embrace and touched cheeks. "What's happened?"

Vane brought them up-to-date. Honoria sank onto the chaise beside Devil. Patience noted that, after a quick glance to check, Honoria left Sebastian in Devil's care. Until, recognizing her voice as she questioned Vane, Sebastian lost interest in Devil's finger and, with a cry, waved his arms for his mother. Devil passed his heir over, then glanced at Vane.

"Is Colby likely to prove dangerous?"

Vane shook his head. "Not in our terms."

Patience didn't need to ask what their terms were. Devil got to his feet, and the room shrank. It was clear that, if Vane had said there'd be danger, Devil would have accompanied them. Instead, he grinned at Vane. "We're going back to the Place tomorrow. Head our way once you've finished tidying up for Minnie."

"Indeed." Honoria seconded her husband's edict. "We'll need to discuss the arrangements."

Patience stared at her. Honoria smiled, openly affectionate. Both Devil and Vane shot Honoria, then Patience, identical, unreadable, masculine looks, then exchanged a long-suffering glance.

"I'll see you out." Devil gestured to the hall.

Honoria came, too, Sebastian at her shoulder. While they stood chatting, waiting for Gerrard to fetch his coat, the baby, bored, fell to tugging Honoria's earring. Noticing his wife's difficulty, without pausing in his discussion with Vane, Devil reached out, scooped his heir out of Honoria's arms, and settled Sebastian against his chest, so the diamond pin anchoring his cravat was level with the baby's eyes.

Sebastian cooed, and happily grasped the winking pin in a chubby fist-and proceeded to destroy what had been a perfectly tied Trone d'Amour. Patience blinked, but neither Devil, Vane, nor Honoria seemed to find anything remarkable in the sight.

An hour later, as London fell behind and Vane whipped up his horses, Patience was still mulling over Devil, his wife, and his son. And the atmosphere that hung, a warm, welcoming glow, throughout their elegant house. Family-family feeling, family affection-of the sort the Cynsters took for granted, was something she'd never known.

Having a family like that was her dearest, deepest, wildest dream.

She glanced at Vane, beside her, his eyes fixed on the road, his face a mask of concentration as he drove his horses into the lowering night. Patience smiled softly. With him, her dream would come true; she'd made her decision-she knew it was right. To see him with their son, lounging by the fire like Devil, caring without even stopping to think-that was her new aim.

It was his aim, too-she knew without asking. He was a Cynster-that was their code. Family. The most important thing in their lives.

Vane glanced down. "Are you warm enough?"

Wedged between him and Gerrard, with, at his insistence, two rugs tucked firmly around her, she was in no danger of taking a chill. "I'm fine." She smiled, and snuggled closer. "Just drive."

He grunted, and did.

About them, an eerie twilight fell; thick, swirling clouds, pale grey, hung low. The air was bitter, the wind laced with ice.

Vane's powerful greys drew the curricle on, wheels rolling smoothly over the macadam. They raced through the evening, into the night.

On toward Bellamy Hall, to the last act in the long drama, to the final curtain call for the Spectre and their mysterious thief. So they could bring the curtain down, send the players on their way-and then get on with living their lives.

Creating their dream.