A soft rustling came from the bedchamber he had decided belonged to Lavinia. He moved to the wall and flattened himself against it, listening intently.

The slight noise came again. Someone was moving about in that chamber.

Stealthily, he made his way to the edge of the door and looked into the room at an angle. A handsome screen covered in panels decorated with scenes of Roman gardens stood in his line of sight. It concealed whoever was on the other side, but he could hear the soft crackle of a fire on the hearth and a soft splash.

An elegantly arched bare foot appeared beneath the bottom edge of one of the screen panels. It settled on a towel that had been spread on the floor. There was another little splash and a second foot materialized.

The cold tension inside him evaporated. It was immediately replaced by another kind of awareness. He bent slightly to sheath the knife, straightened, and went through the partially open door.

“I would be delighted to assist you with your bath, madam,” he said.

There was a soft gasp from the other side of the screen.

“Tobias?” Lavinia peeked around the edge of one of the panels, a thick towel clutched to her breasts. Her eyes widened at the sight of him standing in her bedchamber. “Good heavens. What are you doing here?”

He looked at her and felt his blood heat. Her hair was pinned up into a knot on top of her head. Wispy tendrils trailed down the length of her bare neck. Her face was flushed and rosy from the combination of the warm water and the flames of the fire. The voluminous folds of the towel she grasped draped gracefully to her small ankles.

“I’m certain that there is something poetic and romantical that I ought to say at this moment,” he muttered. “But I’m damned if I know what it is.”

He left the doorway and crossed the room to where she stood at the edge of the screen. She smiled at him, her eyes as brilliant as the flames on the hearth.

“I’m wet,” she warned him when he reached for her.

“That is extremely fortunate for both of us.” He picked her up and started toward the bed. “Because I am aching to sink myself into you.”

Her husky laugh was the most alluring music he had ever heard.

He put her down on the bed and took hold of the towel that veiled her body. Gently, he tugged it aside and tossed it onto the floor. He had thought himself already fully aroused, but the heavy excitement he was feeling became almost painful at the sight of her gently curved breasts and the triangle of tight curls at the apex of her thighs.

He reached down and curved his hand around her hip. She shivered at his touch and his mouth went dry. This was, he realized, the first time he had ever experienced the luxury of seeing her entirely nude. The very nature of their affair limited such opportunities. All of their previous trysts had been hurried encounters conducted in locales that did not allow for complete disrobing.

He knew from the way she watched him strip off his shirt, trousers, and boots that she was thinking the same thing.

“Do you realize,” he whispered thickly when he came down on top of her, “that this is the first time we have ever shared a bed together?”

“That thought did occur to me, yes.”

“I trust you will not find the experience too dull or boring. I know how fond you are of exotic locales and a touch of novelty when it comes to this sort of thing.”

She smiled up at him and put her arms around his neck. “I must admit that there are certain advantages to having a bed. It is considerably more comfortable than a stone bench or a coach seat or the top of my desk.”

“Comfort is not my primary concern when I am with you,” he whispered against her throat. “But there is something to be said for it.”

He raised his head, found her mouth, and kissed her deeply. She returned the embrace with a sweet hunger that ravished his senses. The knowledge that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her was the most intoxicating drug imaginable. Need pounded through him, a driving urgency that was far more intense than mere passion. The hot brew flooded his veins and tightened every muscle.

He would never let her go, he vowed silently, not to Hudson or any other man.

He stroked the length of her body from bare breast to bare thigh. Her skin was soft, sleek, and wonderfully resilient to the touch. She arched beneath him. He plunged his fingers into her warmth.

“You are, indeed, very wet,” he said into her mouth. “Perfect.”

She moaned and twisted against him, closing her thighs around him. He could feel the fullness of the small button at the top of her cleft. He stroked lightly until she sank her nails into him.

He could wait no longer.

He eased slowly, deliberately into her snug, warm passage and groaned aloud at the raw satisfaction.

He felt the edge of her teeth on the skin of his shoulder. She clung to him so tightly that he thought they surely must be bound together for all time.

Anthony felt the tiny jolt of electricity across the back of his neck again. No doubt about it, the flower-seller was following him. He caught sight of the now-familiar shape of the massive gray bonnet at the edge of his vision. It disappeared quickly behind a farmer’s cart, but he was sure it was the same flower-seller he had spotted a few minutes ago in the square.

A tingle of anticipation, a heightening of all his senses arced through him. He suddenly felt more alert. Objects, buildings, and the people around him appeared to be more sharply focused.

He wondered if this odd excitement was one of the lures that drew Tobias to the business of conducting private inquiries. The sensations were certainly vastly more stimulating than those that came with placing a wager or watching a boxing match, he thought.

There was no time to contemplate the philosophy of his new profession. The goal now was to identify the person who was spying on him.

“Thank you for your assistance, miss.” He handed the streetwalker a few coins. She was the youngest woman he had talked to today. He guessed her age to be fifteen or sixteen at the most. “Something for your trouble.”

“No trouble at all, sir.” She giggled and made the money disappear into the front of her shabby gown. “Glad to help.”

Her laughter made him uneasy. For a moment or two she sounded like an innocent young chit who ought to be in the schoolroom, looking forward to being launched into Society, not a hardened prostitute with no hope of a future. He wondered what sad fate had brought her here to this corner.

He touched the brim of his hat politely in farewell. The girl broke into another gale of giggles. Evidently the notion of a man offering her a small gesture of gallantry struck her as vastly entertaining.

He shook off the depressing ruminations that had been brought on by the interview and turned his attention to thinking of ways to get a closer look at the flower-seller. This could be a turning point in the case, he thought. If he handled this situation carefully, he might turn up a nugget of useful information.

The thought of proving that he had a real talent for this profession was an added incentive. If he came back with a clue, Tobias might even stop dropping hints about the advantages of pursuing a career as a man of business.

He moved quickly through the maze of twisted lanes and walks. The task of interviewing the prostitutes had drawn him into this mean neighborhood an hour ago. It was a place where the principal businesses were gambling hells, dingy taverns, and establishments run by fences who dealt in stolen goods.

He turned a corner and saw the shadowy opening of a small alley. The smell-a mix of urine, foul refuse, and some decaying animal parts-hit him with the force of a slap. He held his breath and slipped into the narrow passage.