“The proprietor insisted that we purchase a ticket before he would talk to us,” Emeline said. “And when we told him that we were especially interested in the rings, he became quite agitated.”

“But Emeline soothed him with a few smiles and gentle words,”

Anthony said. “And eventually he confided that his collection had been stolen.”

Tobias did not move in his chair. “When?”

Anthony recognized the lethally sharp edge on the single word.

It was a very fortunate thing, indeed, he thought, that his brother-in-law was obsessed with justice and the righting of wrongs.

Such skills in a man who was not bound by such a strict private code of honor would have been terrifying.

“The museum proprietor said that he noticed the rings had gone missing some two months back.” Anthony pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. “I asked him if he could recall anyone expressing a special interest in them shortly before the theft.”

“Excellent question,” Tobias said. “And the answer?”

Anthony glanced at Emeline and inclined his head.

She could scarcely contain herself. “A day or two before the rings vanished, the proprietor noticed a woman with yellow hair examining them quite closely.”

Lavinia scrambled to her feet. “A blond woman? Really?”

“Yes.” Anthony snapped the notebook shut. Unfortunately, the proprietor did not get a good look at her features because she wore a large hat with a heavy veil.”

“Age?” Tobias demanded in that same edgy tone. “Physical size?”

“Unfortunately, he was very vague on such details,” Anthony said.

“It has been over two months, after all. The only thing that seems to have stood out clearly in his memory was the woman’s yellow hair.”

Tobias raised his brows. “He recalled that detail, did he?”

“Quite vividly,” Anthony said.

“A lady in disguise?” Emeline asked.

“More likely a man dressed as a woman,” Tobias said.

Anthony snorted. “I must tell you, your theory that we are chasing a man who wears women’s clothes to conceal his identity strikes me as extremely bizarre.”

Tobias cocked a brow. “It is not as uncommon as one might think.”

Anthony chuckled. “You jest, sir.”

“Why should it be so startling?” Lavinia said. “Ladies’ fashions have often imitated those of gentlemen. One need only recall all those stylish little hats and jackets that resembled military uniforms a few years ago, for example. I vow, every fashionable lady owned one or two such garments.”

“Yes, but they were designed to be worn with gowns,” Anthony said. “Not trousers.”

“You know, I have often thought that there are occasions when it would be very convenient to wear trousers rather than skirts,”

Lavinia mused.

“Yes, indeed,” Emeline said enthusiastically. “So much more comfortable and practical.”

Anthony stared at her, too shocked to speak.

“Take tonight, for example,” Lavinia continued. “If I were to wear trousers when we break into the wig-maker’s shop, I could move far more freely.”

“When you consider the matter,” Emeline said, “our profession is of such a nature that there will no doubt be many occasions when trousers would be the perfect attire. I wonder if we could persuade Madam Francesca to design some for us?”

Lavinia looked at her. “What a positively brilliant notion.”

“Anthony finally found his voice. He glared at Emeline. What the devil are you saying? You know perfectly well that you cannot go about in trousers.”

“She smiled very sweetly. Whyever not, sir?”

“Uh.” The simple question brought him to a grinding halt. He looked at Tobias for assistance.

“Bloody hell.” Tobias downed the last of his sherry, got to his feet, and went toward the door. “Come along, Tony. We had best make our escape while we can. I do not believe that it would be wise for either of us to hang about for the rest of this conversation.”

Anthony took one last look at Emeline’s determined expression and concluded that Tobias was right. He was not prepared to fight this particular battle.

He quickly made his farewells and followed his brother-in-law into the front hall.

“You do not think they are serious, do you?” he asked as they went down the steps to the street. “About the trousers, I mean?”

“When it comes to Mrs. Lake I have learned to take everything she says quite seriously. I suspect you had best do the same with Miss Emeline. The alternative is to risk being taken by surprise. Never a wise position for one in our profession.”

“They were no doubt teasing us.”

“I would not depend upon that assumption, if I were you.”

Anthony hesitated and then elected to abandon the topic.

“Speaking of our profession, there is a question I wish to ask. It has to do with technique.”

“What is it?”

“How does one set about making inquiries into a gentleman’s background?”

Tobias gave him a hard, searching look. With extreme caution.

“Why do you ask?”

“I am concerned about Hood.”

“You mean that you are jealous of him, do you not?” Tobias asked in a low tone. “I assure you, there is no need.”

Anthony set his jaw. “I do not like the way he watches Emeline.”

“Calm yourself, Tony. Miss Emeline has eyes for no man but you.

Take my advice and do not go prying into Hood’s affairs. Gentlemen,

“as a rule, do not take kindly to invasions of privacy. Some would view such inquiries as extreme insults. One misstep and you could find yourself invited to a dawn appointment.”

“I just want to be assured that he is no threat to Miss Emeline.”

“Tobias was quiet for a moment. I’ll ask Crackenburne to see what he can find out about Hood,” he said finally. “He is in a position to make discreet inquiries without arousing interest or suspicion.”

“Thank you.”

“Meanwhile, I want your word that you will not do anything foolish in that direction,” Tobias said. “I am very serious about this, Tony.

“Men have died in duels for lesser cause.”

“Yes, I know.” He adjusted the tilt of his hat with unnecessary care, angling the brim just enough to keep the afternoon sun out of his eyes. “My father, for example.”

Tobias shielded the small flame of the candle with his hand and watched Lavinia work on the lock of the back door of the wigmaker’s shop. She crouched on the step, the folds of her dark cloak draped around her, and bent industriously to her task.

There was a near-full moon tonight and no clouds. The silvery light illuminated the entire city in an otherworldly glow. The beams seeped into even the narrowest alleys and lanes, making their task simpler in some ways and more dangerous in others: the same moon that made it easier for them to see also made it easier for others to see them.

There was a soft click.

“I’ve got it,” she whispered, sounding thrilled with herself.

“Hush.” He glanced over his shoulder, checking once again for shadows or signs of movement.

Nothing shifted in the night. A lamp shone faintly in a room above a shop at the far end of the street, but all of the neighboring establishments were shrouded in darkness. He listened to the silence for a few seconds and was satisfied.

“All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s go inside.”

Lavinia rose and twisted the knob cautiously. The door opened with a rusty squeak.

Stale, fetid air wafted out of the interior of the shop. It was laced with an underlying stench that was all too familiar.

“Dear God.” Lavinia gasped and tugged the edge of her cloak across her nose and mouth. She looked at Tobias, her eyes widening in appalled comprehension.

He realized that she, too, understood what the dreadful smell implied. This was not the first time they had engaged in a midnight encounter with the dead.

“I’ll go first,” he said. Lavinia did not object.

He raised the candle and surveyed the small back room of the wig shop. It was tightly packed with the articles of the proprietor’s trade.