The more she learned of Adam, the more mysterious he became.

"Unfortunately, by the time I arrived on Delmont's doorstep to confront her the other night, she was dead and the diary was gone" He glanced at Caroline. "As you know, one thing led to another and that was how I happened to turn up here"

"Caroline explained about the list of sitters that you found," Milly said. "Her name was on it."

Adam switched his attention back to her. "I was soon satisfied that she had nothing to do with the affair and said as much to her." He drank some tea and lowered the cup. "Imagine my surprise when I walked into the lecture hall at Wintersett House today and saw that she had chosen to at-tend Irene Toller's demonstration of spirit writing"

Milly and Emma looked at Caroline.

"Not being a great believer in coincidences," Adam added, "I realized immediately that she had decided to conduct her own investigation. I do not feel that it is at all necessary, but I am under the impression that I cannot persuade her to leave this business to me."

Emma frowned. "I fear the three of us have excellent reasons for being extremely cautious about the potential for scandal, sir."

"Indeed," Milly said. "You appear to be sincere, Mr. Hardesty, and I believe you when you say that you no longer harbor any suspicions about Caroline's connection to the murder or the stolen diary. But what if you change your mind?"

"I am highly unlikely to do that." He turned back to Caroline with a nerve-shattering gaze. "Unless, of course, there is something you have not yet told me about this situation."

The teacup in her hand rattled gently against the saucer. She set both down very quickly and tried to organize her thoughts. He wanted some explanation for her stubborn refusal to step aside and leave the field to him. She sensed that he would not leave the matter alone until he was satisfied. She decided to risk giving him part of the truth but not all of it. The secrets were hers, she reminded herself. He did not have the right to demand all of them.

"I will be blunt, sir," she said, raising her chin. "I was involved in an extremely unpleasant scandal three years ago in, uh, Bath. The three of us simply cannot afford an-other such experience. It might well prove to be disastrous for my career. My aunts and I are dependent on the income from my writing."

"I see"

As far as she could tell, he had no reaction whatsoever to the news of her scandalous past. Of course, he did not know the precise nature of the sensation, she reminded her-self. He no doubt assumed that she had been involved in some sort of illicit liaison. As a man of the world, he could overlook that sort of indiscretion. He considered her an experienced widow, after all. She had no intention of disabusing him of that notion.

If he were to learn the details of the events that had very nearly got her killed and had made it necessary for her to invent a new identity for herself, however, he might be far less inclined to view her in an innocent light.

She drew herself up determinedly. "I intend to remain involved in this matter until you have found that diary, sir. That is the only way I can look out for the best interests of my aunts and myself."

He contemplated the tips of his shoes for a moment be-fore meeting her eyes. "Will it satisfy you if I promise to keep you informed of the progress of my inquiries?"

"No," she said. "I'm afraid not."

He gave her an unreadable smile. "You do not trust me, do you?"

She flushed. "It is not that," she assured him quickly. Too quickly, she realized.

"Yes, it is exactly that" He did not appear offended. "But I will not quarrel with you over the matter. If I were in your place, I too would hesitate to put my trust in a person whom I did not know well."

That was probably a veiled way of reminding her that he knew no more about her character than she did about his. Neither of them had any reason to trust the other.

Emma squared her already very straight shoulders. "We appreciate your understanding, sir."

He inclined his head and helped himself to another tart.

Milly smiled cheerfully. "Well, I'm glad that much is settled. I believe you will find Caroline's assistance quite helpful, sir. The world of psychical research is a difficult one for outsiders to penetrate. Caroline has become accepted within it, however, and knowledge of the community of mediums and the Society of Psychical Investigations will no doubt prove invaluable to you."

"At the very least, she can save you a great deal of time and make your investigations more efficient," Emma said.

Adam smiled his enigmatic smile. "It seems we are going to be associates in this affair, Caroline."

It was sheer luck that he had recognized Adam Hardesty today. Bloody damned luck, that was all.

But then his luck had always been better than that of most other men, Julian Elsworth thought. Or at least, it had been until recently.

He unknotted his silk tie, poured himself a restorative dose of brandy and dropped into the chair near the hearth. Another shudder went through him. He took a long swallow of the spirits to suppress it.

If not for that casual encounter the other evening with a patron who happened to be a member of one of Hardesty's clubs, a man who had pointed out Hardesty as they were leaving the theater, he would never have known that the formidable-looking Mr. Grove was flying under false colors this afternoon.

The questions came fast and furiously. Why was Hardesty in the company of the very attractive Mrs. Fordyce? Why had he used a name that was not his own? Why had he attended Irene Toller's demonstration of the planchette?

But there was only one logical answer. He could not escape it. Hardesty was on his trail. Unless he could be turned aside, it was only a matter of time before he stumbled onto certain secrets.

Julian closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair, summoning up an image of the death scene. So much blood. And the terrible odor of it all. Who would have thought that murder would have been such a messy business?

He opened his eyes and looked at his expensively furnished lodgings. After all these years he was finally where he deserved to be, mingling with the wealthy and the powerful in the glittering realm of Society. It was the world that should have been his from birth but that had been denied him because his highborn father had cast an inconveniently pregnant governess out into the streets.

He had worked hard to achieve the heritage that should have been his from the start, Julian thought. Damned if he would let Hardesty bring his carefully constructed life tumbling down around his ears.

An hour later Adam walked into his study and sat down be-hind the large mahogany desk. His thoughts were consumed with Caroline. She was keeping secrets, he reflected. Fair enough. He understood the necessity. He held some closely guarded secrets of his own.

He admired her determination and tenacity. He had been right in his initial assessment of her character. She was a lady of resolute spirit.

Nevertheless, he did not like dealing with the unknown. In his experience, it never failed to lead to complications. A knock sounded on the door.

"Enter."

Morton appeared in the opening. "Mr. Filby to see you, sir."

"Thank you, Morton. Please send him in."

Harold Filby—plump, bespectacled and fashionably at-tired in checkered trousers, a striped waistcoat and a dashing cutaway morning coat—bustled into the room.

Harold dressed as well as—some would say a good deal more fashionably than—his employer. But then, Adam mused, when one hired a man to keep one's confidences, one paid him enough to ensure that he was inclined to do so.