“It was your decision to agree to assist Tobias in this matter,”

Anthony growled from the other side of the alley. “No one forced you to volunteer.”

“March said there was a life at stake. But I must tell you that it is extremely difficult to envision a hairdresser as a cold-blooded murderer-for-hire.”

“Perhaps that is why he has been successful thus far,” Anthony offered dryly. “No one suspects him.”

“Huh.” Dominic sounded struck by that possibility. “Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“I think Tobias has a few doubts about this theory too,” Anthony said. “But he has learned not to discount Mrs. Lake’s intuition.”

Conversation lapsed. They went back to watching the front door of Pierce’s lodgings in silence. Moonlight and a sprinkling of weakly glowing gas lamps lit the narrow, night-shrouded street. The occasional hackney or nightman’s wagon rumbled past now and again, but otherwise it was quiet.

Anthony was aware of tenderness and swelling in the vicinity of his eye, and his ribs ached in numerous places. He suspected that he would have some bruises by morning. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Dominic was almost certainly nursing similar mementos of their skirmish.

“Mrs. Lake is an exceedingly strong-minded lady,” Dominic said after a while.

Anthony almost laughed at that comment. But he stopped, wincing, when he felt the cut on his lip open and dampen with blood.

“Tobias frequently makes a similar observation. But not usually in such restrained terms.”

He raised the cloth soaked in clear, strong spirits that Mrs. Lake had given him and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. Dominic had a similar spirit-drenched cloth. Mrs. Lake had insisted upon ordering one for each of them from the harried club porter before she had allowed them to be driven here to take up their posts.

After a moment he heard Dominic unwrap the packet of meat pies that Mrs. Lake had also commissioned from the porter.

“She may be somewhat forceful in her temperament,” Dominic said, but I’m glad she thought about the pies.” He paused. “Do you want one?”

Anthony realized that he was famished. “Yes.”

Dominic handed him a pie and took one for himself. They ate without speaking for a few minutes.

Dominic brushed crumbs from his hands. “What was he like?”

Anthony knew whom he meant. “I do not remember a great deal about him. He got himself killed shortly after I turned eight. Mother died later that same year. Ann and I went to live with relatives for a few months.”

“You must recall something about him.” Dominic sounded angry.”

“Ah, yes, I comprehend the full scope of your crafty scheme now.”

She leaned her head against the back of the chair and smiled slightly. “Force the pair of them to spend several hours together and hope that they start talking to each other. Very clever of you, sir.”

He gazed into the fire. “We shall see.”

“How did you know that Dominic would agree to assist you by keeping watch with Anthony?”

“Young men of that age yearn for a quest that is important and fraught with meaning. I was almost certain that, unless he was a complete scoundrel, the possibility of saving a life and helping to trap a murderer would override his need to avenge his mother. At least for a while.”

She examined the sherry in the firelight. “Do you believe that is the source of Dominic’s resentment toward Anthony? He feels that he owes something to his mother’s memory because of what happened all those years ago?”

“I suspect it is a bit more complicated than that. He is also no doubt having problems dealing with the knowledge that he was not told the truth about his past. He is angry, and Anthony is the only one left on whom he can vent his pain and frustration.”

“But vengeance is not possible in this instance. Anthony’s father is long dead. There is no way that Dominic can achieve any sort of justice at this late date.”

“Tobias sipped his brandy and lowered the glass. Young men are rarely inclined to take a practical view of life. They are far more apt to let fanciful ideals, a too-refined sense of honor, and a passionate notion of what constitutes right and wrong interfere with logic and common sense.”

“Perhaps.”

“There is no perhaps about it.” Tobias tilted his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. “I have seen the same tendencies in Anthony often enough to recognize them on sight. I shall have to find a way to ensure that both he and Dominic learn they do not carry the burdens of old sins on their shoulders.”

She smiled, lowered her glass, and got to her feet. Tobias opened his eyes halfway and watched her come toward him.

She sank slowly down onto her knees on the carpet in front of his chair and rested one arm on his right thigh. The skirts of her lavender-blue gown crumpled around her legs.

“I do not think that Anthony and Dominic are the only ones who sometimes fail to take a perfectly practical view of the world.” She could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his trousers. “You are a fine man, Tobias, a man of ideals and honor with a passionate, deeply rooted sense of right and wrong. Do not rail too harshly against such attributes. They are among the many reasons that I love you with all my heart.”

Surprise and then dark passion stirred in his partially shuttered eyes.

“Lavinia.”

With a soft, urgent groan, he reached for her, drawing her up into his arms so that she lay cradled against his chest. His mouth closed over hers, compelling and fierce and heavy with desire. She spread her fingers across his shoulder and returned the kiss with all of the intense emotion that he inspired in her heart.

She had judged him near to exhaustion, but when his arms closed around her and his palm covered her breast, she concluded that she had been wrong. It was as though he had drunk some reviving tonic rather than brandy. His arousal was swift and complete in a matter of seconds.

She felt his fingers on the back of her gown, and a moment later he lowered the bodice to her waist. His thumb glided across her bare nipple. Her breath caught in her throat. This was certainly not the first time that he had touched her like this, she thought, but he never failed to achieve the same effect. He somehow managed to steal her breath on each occasion.

The rough costume he had chosen to wear tonight did not include a cravat. She edged her hand beneath his shirt and savored the play of muscle beneath skin. Gliding her fingertips lower, she found the fastenings of his trousers. When she freed him, he thrust his member against her palm. She encircled him with her fingers and stroked him until he made a hoarse sound. Hastily, he covered her hand with his own, stilling her fingers.

He made to ease her off his lap. She knew that he intended to put her down on the floor in front of the hearth and make love to her.

“No,” she whispered against his throat. “Let me do this for you tonight.”

“Lavinia”

She silenced him with another little kiss. Then she slid back to her knees on the carpet between his thighs and took him into her mouth.

The air left his lungs in a low, heavy groan and his hands locked in her hair.

Within a very short time she felt the muscles of his thigh tighten into steel bands. Once again he made to halt her lovemaking.

“I cannot wait any longer,” he muttered.

She released him briefly, her fingers cupping him. “I do not want you to wait.”

She took him between her lips again. His hands fell away from her hair. He gripped the arms of his chair. His entire body went rigid. His head tipped back.

She felt his climax pulse through him in a series of surging waves. He made almost no sound. It was as though he abandoned himself so completely to the release that he had no energy left to whisper or even groan.