Lincoln informed us that he would not remain long at Lichfield but leave to speak with Swinburn immediately after arriving home. He wanted Seth and Gus to accompany him.

They didn't need to go anywhere, however. Swinburn was waiting for us, along with Lady Harcourt. Lady Vickers looked relieved to relinquish the role of hostess to me when we entered the drawing room.

"Excuse me," she said, rising to her full, commanding height. "I must go. There's so much to do this close to the wedding."

Lady Harcourt picked at the copper colored thread embroidered into her skirt. "Speaking of the wedding, I assume I am not invited."

"You assume correctly," Lincoln said.

"I didn't think I would be, but I wanted to be certain. I may have plans for then." Lady Harcourt's tone was equal parts sweet and sour. "Now that I know I'll be free, I can go ahead with them." She wrapped her fingers around Swinburn's arm and bestowed him with a pretty smile.

He smiled back, his gaze dipping momentarily to her lush bosom before rising again to her face. She looked as beautiful as ever, but not as youthful. Small lines fanned from the corners of her eyes and the bones in her face were sharper. Worry and turmoil was wearing her down. Not that I felt sorry for her. She'd brought misery on her own head by alternately flirting with her stepson, Andrew Buchanan, and casting him aside. Their vindictive natures meant they could not leave one another in peace and so they both got hurt. She'd thrown him out of her house, even though he had a right to live there according to his late father's will. As far as I knew, he was living with his brother on the family's Oxfordshire estate. It may not be the best place for him, considering he and his brother did not get along, but it must be infinitely better than living with his stepmother. Their destructive relationship did neither of them any good.

I expected her to have shed the unhappiness Buchanan's presence inflicted on her, but looking at her now, it was clear she wasn't content. There was a certain air of victory in the way she held herself but there was no true contentment. I couldn't quite fathom it.

Lady Vickers exited the drawing room, taking Alice with her. Gus closed the door behind them and stood with his hands at his back. Lady Harcourt perched on the sofa's edge, Swinburn at her side. He was twenty years her senior with a stocky build. None would call him handsome, but that wouldn't matter to her. His wealth and connections were more important. She'd set her hooks into him two months ago, and it seemed she'd finally reeled him in after his initial resistance. I wondered what had changed his mind.

She clung to him in a way that Lady Vickers would describe as vulgar. It would seem Lady Harcourt had won her prize and planned on keeping him. That must be why she seemed victorious. He was wealthy and, although not titled, he was knighted. It was perhaps the best she could hope for, given that her background as a dancer had been made public. Her friends had dwindled in number and her prospects for another advantageous marriage dried up after the revelation. If she wanted to maintain the life she'd become accustomed to, she needed to marry a man like Swinburn. It would seem marriage might be on the cards if they were this close. Clearly it didn't concern her that he was a shape-shifting demon.

"You've been away." Swinburn eyed Lincoln with caution, as if he expected Lincoln to lash out at any moment.

"Where did you go?" Lady Harcourt asked.

"That's not your business," Lincoln said.

She stiffened. "It most certainly is! As a committee member—"

"It is not your business," he said again, punching out each word.

The muscles in her face worked as she battled not to bite back at him.

"You broke the truce," Lincoln said simply.

Swinburn held up his hands but it was Lady Harcourt who protested. "He did not! How dare you, Lincoln! How dare you suggest such a thing. Sir Ignatius has abided by the terms of the truce. That death last night had nothing to do with him or his pack."

"Swinburn?" Lincoln prompted.

"Julia is correct," Swinburn said. "That death wasn't caused by anyone from my pack. That's why I came here today—to reassure you before you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Indeed, Julia suggested I come."

"I know how you can be," she told Lincoln.

"Meaning?" Seth snapped.

She ignored him. She didn't even look his way. They'd been lovers once, after she'd been Lincoln's lover, but Seth had grown to despise her after he learned her true nature.

"I know you well, Lincoln," she went on, "and I knew you'd assume Sir Ignatius broke the truce when you read about the mauling in the papers."

"We all came to the same conclusion when we read it," I said. "Not just Lincoln."

She ignored me too. At least I was in good company. "Lincoln, you do believe us, don't you?" Lady Harcourt clasped her hands together, an earnest frown crossing her brow. "The truce still stands. Look elsewhere for the killer."

"Gawler, perhaps," Swinburn said smoothly. Everything about him was smooth, unruffled, from his neatly trimmed moustache and slicked back hair to the curve of his lips. "The murder did occur in the East End. It seems more likely it was one of his pack than mine."

"Gawler wouldn't sanction it," Lincoln said. "He's no killer."

"We're all killers, Fitzroy. It's in our nature. Some of us suppress the instinct better than others—and for longer. Can he? Is he strong enough? Is he strong enough to control his pack?"

Gawler had lost the leadership of his pack to the shape-changer known as King, but he inherited it back again after King's death. Earning the leadership by default wasn't the same as winning it through strength, the defining trait of a pack leader. Gawler's East End pack was ripe for a stronger creature to oust him and take command. Such a person may not have the same ethics as Gawler when it came to murder. We knew it, and Swinburn knew we knew it. The curve of his lips didn't falter.

He stood and buttoned up his jacket. "If you don't mind, I'm a busy man. Julia?"

She took his offered hand and rose from the sofa. She used her left hand, not her right, and wasn't wearing gloves, which was odd. Then I noticed the large diamond ring on her finger and understood why—she wanted us to see it.

"You're getting married?" Seth blurted out.

She bestowed a condescending smile on him. "Why, yes. I wasn't going to tell anyone until The Times ran the official announcement, but we might as well inform you all now. Sir Ignatius proposed and I accepted. We'll be married a few weeks after you, Lincoln."

"Huh," was all Seth said. It was difficult to gauge his feelings on the matter from that one word.

Lincoln offered stiff congratulations and I followed suit. Lady Harcourt thanked Lincoln but said nothing to me. At least I got an incline of the head from Swinburn. While his lips remained frozen into their curve, he did not look pleased to find himself shackled in matrimony to Lady Harcourt. I didn't think that was because he knew what she was really like, but more because he was an avowed bachelor.

So what could possibly have induced him to propose? According to gossip, he never settled with one woman, preferring the carefree life of a bachelor. He hadn't shown any particular interest in Lady Harcourt in the past, so why now? Perhaps she'd simply worn him down over the last two months.

"Good luck, Swinburn," Seth murmured as the couple passed him. "You're going to need it."

Lady Harcourt's eyes flashed.

"I'm sure we'll make the most of it," Swinburn said.

He sounded like he'd lost a fortune, not gained a wife.

"I know what you're going to say, Lincoln," Lady Harcourt said.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he said.

"You were going to remind me that ministry business cannot be shared with him, even when we are married. Don't worry, Sir Ignatius understands my position. He won't ask me anything and I won't tell him anything. There. The key to a happy marriage is in those words. You should take heed of them, Lincoln, Charlotte. I have more experience than you both. I was happily married to Lord Harcourt and I shall be happily married to Sir Ignatius."

Seth snorted. I didn't bother to comment. Her definition of a happy marriage probably did not equate to mine. She was happy if her husband gave her gifts and status rather than his unconditional love. I was not.

Lincoln nodded at Gus to open the door for our guests.

Swinburn stopped and patted Lady Harcourt's hand. "I'll join you in a moment, Julia."

She blinked at him. "Ignatius?"

He smiled and shooed her on. Her nostrils flared but she complied and joined Whistler, the footman, near the staircase.

"One other thing," Swinburn said quietly to Lincoln. "I was speaking to your father—"

"My what?" Lincoln growled.

"Your father, the prince." Swinburn's lips curved up more. "Ah. You're surprised that I know. It seems you underestimated the friendship between His Highness and myself. He relies on me, you know. I give him advice on financial matters. Anyway, the point is, he informed me that Lord Ballantine's appointment as special envoy to India has been delayed."

Delayed! Where was the justice? Ballantine had tried to trick the Prince of Wales's son into marrying his daughter. It hadn't worked, but the royal family had been furious at the blatant manipulation. We suspected Swinburn, as leader of the pack Ballantine belonged to, was the one behind the scheme, but the Prince of Wales and his brother, the Duke of Edinburgh, refused to blame Swinburn. They'd organized it so that the Foreign Office would post Ballantine to India, essentially exiling him. It seemed Swinburn had successfully persuaded them to change their minds.

"Why?" Lincoln asked, not sounding at all surprised by the announcement.

"You would have to ask His Highness," Swinburn said. "Perhaps he just had a change of heart. He can be somewhat fickle like that, haven't you noticed? Or perhaps not. You don't know your father well, do you?"

"As well as I wish to know him."

Gus stepped aside and allowed Swinburn to walk ahead of him. He escorted them both down the stairs and Seth shut the drawing room door.

"What an arse," he declared.

"Which one?" I asked.

"Both. I can't believe they're getting married! Has he lost his mind? Has she? He's a bloody wolf, for Christ's sakes!"

Gus returned and threw himself into a chair. "I didn't think Swinburn and the prince were close enough to share that kind of secret. Seems he treats Swinburn like a brother. That's worrying."

"I'm not so sure." Lincoln leaned against the mantel and crossed his arms, as casual as can be. "Swinburn didn't actually say the prince told him he was my father."

"True," Seth said, nodding. "He led us to think that's who told him but never confirmed it."

"Nor do I believe the prince would have told anyone outside the family. It's highly sensitive information, and he's no fool."

"He did vehemently defend Swinburn when we accused him of Protheroe's murder," I pointed out. "As did his brother, the duke."

"Defending a man's reputation is one thing. Trusting him with this information is another entirely. Besides, the duke likes his brother. He wouldn't risk his reputation, no matter how much he respected Swinburn.

"That's not why I think the prince and duke are innocent, however. Swinburn sent Julia from the room for a reason."

"Blimey," I muttered as it dawned on me.

"Bloody hell." Seth flopped into a chair and his hair fell across his forehead. He swept it back and slumped. "You think she told him, but he didn't want her to know that he was telling us?"

"She probably asked him to keep the information to himself," Lincoln said.

"Bloody traitor!" Gus growled. "Are you sure, though? She's got too much history with the ministry. She knows it'll be a betrayal."

"It was her," Seth said heavily. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. She must have given him the information in exchange for marriage. I did wonder why he agreed to it. The man's a womanizer. He wouldn't settle down unless he got something out of it."

"The nerve of her!" I stormed to the door and wrenched it open.

"They're gone, Charlie," Gus said.

"She's a fool if she thought we wouldn't work it out," Seth said. "A bloody fool. And he's a fool for agreeing to the union. Give it a year and he'll decide the information wasn't worth it. What's he going to do with it, anyway? Go to the papers? It might cause a scandal, but only until the next scandal comes along. What will he gain?"

"Leverage for blackmailing me," Lincoln said simply.

I sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"She has to be ousted from the committee," Seth said.

"Aye," Gus agreed.

I looked to Lincoln and he nodded. "I'll do it tomorrow," he said. "A committee meeting will need to be held to inform the others."

The notion of cutting Lady Harcourt loose appealed to me. Without her on the committee, there'd be no more reason to associate with her. We'd be rid of her completely, since we rarely moved in the same social circles. "I'll come with you when you tell her," I said to Lincoln. I didn't want to miss this.

Seth stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles. "She told me I was going to take her place on the committee if anything happened to her. Looks like I'm moving up in the world."

Gus rolled his eyes. "It don't give you any real power, you pompous prig. It don't pay, neither. Does it?" He looked to Lincoln.

Lincoln shook his head.

We sat in silence a few moments as we each contemplated Lady Harcourt's reaction to the news that she was off the committee. At least, I thought that's what we were all thinking.

"I wonder if Buchanan will be invited to their wedding," Gus said.

Seth crossed his legs at the ankles. "It could prove to be quite the spectacle if he is. Makes me wish I was getting an invite after all."

Gus snorted. "You're the last person she'd want there, along with Buchanan. Past lovers don't make good wedding guests."

"Then half of the nobility will be missing."

"You're both wrong," I said. "I'm the last person she'd want attending her wedding, just as she's the last person I'd want at mine. Anyway, I can't think of a single reason why she'd invite Andrew Buchanan."

"I can." Seth looked at me as if it were obvious. When I shrugged, he went on, "Her new husband won't allow her to have lovers. Swinburn's not the sort who likes to be cuckolded. Buchanan has lost, and what better way to rub his nose in it than have him at the wedding so he can see what a big fish she caught. How she would love to twist that vindictive knife of hers further into his heart."

That I could believe. "You sound as if you feel sorry for him."

"Part of me does. He wasn't always such a turd." Seth huffed out a humorless laugh. "And there but for the grace of God go I."

"You were never like him," I said. "Perhaps your circumstances were, but you, as a person, are not."

"Charlie's right," Lincoln said. "If you were like Buchanan, I wouldn't have employed you. You are his opposite in almost every way."

Seth straightened and his cheeks pinked a little. "Almost every way?"

"You're a peacock. You have that in common."

Seth's face fell. Gus roared with laughter.

I made my excuses. It had been a long journey from Hertfordshire and I still wore my traveling outfit. I didn't get far up the staircase when a strong arm circled my waist. I hadn't heard Lincoln's footsteps.

"Can you spare me a moment?" His voice rumbled through his chest to my body, and his breath warmed my ear.

I turned and looped my arms around his neck. I teased the hair tied back with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck. "I can spare several for you." I kissed him lightly on the lips but found it wasn't enough and deepened the kiss.

His hands splayed across my back, holding me firmly in place, and he kissed me, thoroughly and completely. We were in danger of being seen, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered except Lincoln and his mouth, his body, and my visceral reaction to him. I ached for him, for more than mere kisses. Our wedding night couldn't come soon enough.

He pulled away and filled his lungs with a deep breath. He touched my cheek with the back of his hand. "I've missed you, Charlie."

"I was with you the entire time," I said, laughing.

"Not the entire time. I never did find a secret passage to your room."

"You wouldn't have entered even if you had. You're far too much of a gentleman, despite what you want people to think."

"Don't let Seth and Gus know." He took my hand and led me upstairs, out of view of the drawing room. "I'm enjoying their attempts to both lecture and threaten me. Gus said he'd castrate me if I ever upset you."

"That's positively medieval. Good for him. And good for you for taking it in your stride. Once upon a time you would have growled and snapped at them."

"And they would have feared me. Unfortunately, my reputation is ruined and I'm left with finding amusement instead."

"That's the spirit."

"Until they bore me. Then I'll send them on futile errands into dangerous slums."

We reached my bedroom and he kissed me again before disappearing along the corridor to his own rooms. It wasn't until I closed my door that I realized I hadn't asked him the plan of action. We needed to find out more about the victim, and the attack, and perhaps question Gawler. Lincoln found him easy to read, with his seer's senses, and would know if he was guilty or not. I'd speak with Lincoln after dinner.

I changed and went in search of Lady Vickers. I found her in the parlor, enjoying the last of the afternoon sunshine before dusk settled in. She opened her eyes and patted her hair. Finding several strands loose, she clicked her tongue.

"That Briggs," she muttered. "She's quite hopeless. I don't know what to do with her." Bella Briggs was Lady Vickers' maid, and a previous mistress of Seth's. I was surprised she was still in her employ, since Lady Vickers complained incessantly about her ineptitude. "You ought to get rid of her, Charlie."

"Me? But she's your maid."

"You are the mistress of the house."

"Seth employs and pays her. Ask him to dismiss her." We both knew he would not. He may no longer have dalliances with Bella, but he was much too good-hearted to dismiss someone he'd known intimately.

"It's not his place," Lady Vickers said. "You should speak to Mrs. Cotchin. While Bella isn't under her jurisdiction, it's acceptable for the housekeeper to dismiss the ladies’ maid if the mistress permits it. Ask her to place an ad on your behalf for a new maid. It's time you got one. We'll keep her busy between us, and there's Alice too, for now."

It would seem she was economizing on her son's behalf. Although Lincoln had increased Seth's wages to cover the expense, I doubted he would decrease it accordingly after Bella Briggs left.

"So many rules!" I perched on the window embrasure and stared across the lawn. "Who can and cannot dismiss staff, who speaks to whom and when. What to eat and drink, and when. How will I remember them all?"

"You'll grow into your role, my dear. Until you do, I'll help you. Just think how lucky you are."

"I know I am, and I'm grateful to you."

"Many young brides have to put up with a mother-in-law who still rules the house. You have the best of both worlds. You get the benefit of my wisdom, yet you are the unchallenged mistress here."

I laughed. It wasn't quite why I thanked my good fortune. "You're right, Lady V. Thank you for all your assistance with the wedding preparations."

She patted the sofa beside her. "Come sit by me. I've got an idea for your gown. Have you thought about a bow on each sleeve?"

"The gown is almost finished. I can't change anything now. The dressmaker would skin me alive."

"Tosh. Of course you can change anything, and right up to the day. It's your right as a bride to have exactly what you want."

"I do have what I want. I love my wedding gown."

"Wait until you see this." She plucked a periodical from the embroidery basket at her feet. "It arrived this morning from Paris." She flipped pages until she came to the one she wanted. "If you'd been away any longer I would have sent a request to the dressmaker on your behalf."

It was fortunate I'd come home when I did. The bows on each of the capped sleeves on the dress in the picture were excessive. "I think I prefer it as it is."

"No bows?"

"No bows."

She sighed. "Very well. Now, what about the guest list?"

"What about it?"

"Do you really need to have Lord Gillingham?"

"He's married to Harriet, whom I consider a friend."

She whipped out a copy of the seating arrangements from her basket. "Then he cannot sit next to me."

"But you're such a good conversationalist, Lady V. Your charm and wit are second to none, and you always know the right thing to say. You're comfortable talking to people from the upper classes. Imagine if I sat him next to Gus!"

"Flattery won't work this time, my dear. I can't sit next to him because he's much too small."

I spluttered a laugh. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"We'll look ridiculous seated beside one another. No man likes to feel small and weak, and no woman likes to feel like a giraffe. You'll have to put him next to his wife. She's the only one who'll put up with him. Besides, it's her fault he'll be at the wedding at all."

"So be it."

"With any luck, he'll come down with a sore throat and won't be able to come."

"Or perhaps he'll simply think of an excuse and let his wife come alone."

She scoffed. "I doubt he'll do that. Your wedding will be the event of the year, and he'll want to be included. Everyone is already talking about it."

"Who?"

She waved her hand. "All my friends. Several have requested an invitation, and of course I've had to tell them it's extremely exclusive. Or I will, at the last moment. Until then, I'll enjoy their luncheons and teas and other attempts to pander to me."

"Why is everyone so interested in us?"

"Mr. Fitzroy was highly sought after, at one time. His air of mystery, his good looks and wealth made him popular when I first arrived back in London. You were away at school then. Those girls who didn't need or care for a title threw themselves at him at every opportunity. When he went off the market, several wanted to claw your eyes out."

I stared at her.

"Seth is still popular, of course," she went on. "If only he would attend more parties, he'd have his pick of girls. Some of them are even heiresses. Of course, he'd have to secure them quickly, before their parents remembered why the Vickers name has mud attached to it." She sighed. "His father ruined everything for poor Seth. Do you think you could bring him back for me so I can kill him again?"

I threw my head back and laughed. She did not join in. "Oh. You're not joking. Lady V, you do know people only die once?"

"Can't you banish his spirit to hell?"

"No!"

"Somewhere similar, then. A place where there's fire and brimstone and horrid diseases. And ugly women. That would be his kind of hell." She patted my knee then used it to push herself to her feet. "There must be books in Mr. Fitzroy's library about banishing spirits to hellish places. Reading up on it will take your mind off the upcoming wedding."

"I don't need to take my mind off it. I'm looking forward to it."

She picked up her embroidery basket and rubbed her back as she straightened. "That reminds me, we need to have a talk before your wedding night. But not today."

Thank God for that. It wasn't a conversation I wanted to have with her, ever. Considering what I'd seen while living on the streets, I suspected I knew more than she did about the things a man and woman could get up to on their wedding night.

I went to the kitchen to speak to Cook but he was busy barking orders at his assistant while basting a leg of lamb and stirring the contents of a pot. "Find me later and we'll discuss wedding food," I said to him.

He stopped stirring and basting. "Something be wrong with the menu?"

"No." I winked and lowered my voice. "I haven't seen you for two days and wanted to catch up on news."

"Right you are. You there!" I thought he was shouting at me, but it was a maid who'd caught his attention. "What is it you want, Annie? Get it and go. It's too crowded in here for anyone who ain't kitchen staff."

"I'm looking for the cutlery," the girl said. I liked her pluck. She wasn't frightened of Cook in the least.

"The cutlery in here be for staff only. You be wanting the silver for the dining room. Ask Mrs. Cotchin."

Annie bobbed a curtsy and hurried off.

"She's new and still learning," Cook said to me with a shake of his head.

"Her hair was done nicely," I said.

He returned to his stirring and basting. "So?"

"I wonder if she did it herself. If so perhaps she'll make a good ladies’ maid. Don't tell Bella yet."

"Lady V finally had enough, eh?" He chuckled. "I knew Seth's choice would come back to bite him on the—" He glanced at the girl stirring a mixture in a bowl at the table. "Speaking of Lady V, you can learn a lot from her, Charlie. She's got taste. I don't mean in clothes and the like, but this." He poked out his tongue. "She knows what sauce goes with what, and the like. Comes with being so well traveled."

"You ought to tell her that."

"She's too grand to speak to me, except when you be away and she gets hungry."

I patted his shoulder and assured him she wasn't like that. But, in truth, she was quite the snob. She rarely stepped foot in the service area, and it required a great inducement for her to put even a toe into the kitchen. Considering her second husband had been a footman in her household, it was strange that she kept her distance from the staff. Perhaps that was why—she didn't trust herself not to cross that line again.

I left Cook to his work and found Alice. We walked around the walled garden with its rambling vines and on through the apple orchard, my favorite part of the estate. Dusk hadn't yet rolled in and the day was still warm enough that we didn't need wraps. The air smelled clear and fresh here, compared to the cloying denseness of the city where I grew up, although not nearly as fresh as the air at Hertfordshire.

Alice and I spoke quietly, mostly about her dilemma but about the wedding too. After a time, I noticed she was distracted and followed her gaze. Ahead, the gardener studied one of the trees lining the drive.

"Is something the matter with our gardener?" I asked her.

"Not at all." She nudged me with her elbow. "He's quite handsome, isn't he?"

She was admiring a "quite handsome” gardener when she had a very handsome lord at her disposal? Was she blind, foolish or both?

"Not as handsome as Seth," I pointed out.

She sighed and tore away from me. "Don't spoil it, Charlie."

"Spoil what?"

"Our walk, our friendship…everything."

"I didn't think I was spoiling anything, merely pointing out that Seth is more handsome than the gardener."

She strode ahead. "Perhaps that's the problem."

I hurried to catch up. "Alice, what's the matter?"

She sighed again. "I don't really know. All I know is, I'm tired of everyone thinking Seth and I would make a handsome couple. Everyone except Lady V, that is. I just want to be his friend at the moment. Indeed, I can't even think about anything else, with any man, until I know how to fix my predicament." She stopped and waited for me to catch up. "Do you understand, Charlie?"

I took her arm in mine. "Completely. I won't mention Seth's good looks to you again."

The dinner gong rang out from the house. "Already?" Alice said. "But we haven't changed."

"I wasn't planning to change again. I already have once today."

"Lady Vickers won't like it. She says if a lady doesn't wear at least three different outfits a day she's being idle."

I laughed. "Come on. Let's shock her with our idleness."

---

Lincoln didn't change for dinner either as he arrived back at the house after the gong. He'd snuck out without telling me he was leaving.

"You've been to see Gawler, haven't you?" I asked as we sat at the table.

"Yes," he said. "And you can stop scowling at me like that. I didn't avoid you on purpose. You weren't around when I left."

My scowl deepened. He picked up his knife and fork and tossed me a smile, which only proved to me that he had purposely avoided me so that I wouldn't insist on going with him.

"What did Gawler say?" Seth asked.

"Do we have to discuss this at the dinner table?" Lady Vickers chided. "It's vulgar."

"It can wait," Lincoln said when Seth opened his mouth to disagree with his mother.

We congregated in the sitting room after dinner, joined by Cook. Lady Vickers pursed her lips when he entered and he turned to leave again, but I called him back. Honestly, she was such a stickler for rules despite knowing how things were at Lichfield. She'd long ago given in to having Gus associate with us; she could bend the rules for Cook too.

"Come sit by me," I said to Cook. "Gus, poor a brandy for him."

Cook had removed his apron but he brought the smells of roasted meat with him. He sat beside me and sighed like a man who'd been on his feet all day. Lady Vickers gave him a curt nod, her way of apologizing for her rudeness. He nodded back.

With that out of the way, I said, "Lincoln was just about to tell us what Gawler said when he questioned him about the murder. If Lady Vickers doesn't mind such a discussion, that is."

"I don't mind." She sipped her sherry slowly, peering over the glass in my direction. Or was it Cook's direction?

"Gawler denied any wrongdoing," Lincoln said. He sat in a chair near the window, looking relaxed yet alert. "He questioned his pack mates this morning, after he heard about the mauling, and they too denied any involvement. He believes them."

"Did you believe him?" I asked.

"I didn't detect a lie, but without questioning his pack, I can't vouch for their honesty."

"It might be worth speaking to Harriet. She ought to have some idea if any of them are murderously inclined."

Lady Vickers made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat but offered no comment.

"Gawler is worried about the blame being laid at his feet," Lincoln went on. "He knows how it looks. The murder happened one street from his own residence."

"I hate the Old Nichol," Gus grumbled. "It's packed with human scum. It don't surprise me that someone got murdered there."

"Murders happen there all the time," Seth agreed. At his mother's and Alice's raised brows, he added, "So I hear. Very gruesome murders. Mother, you'll probably want to leave before you hear any more."

"My constitution is quite strong, thank you," she said. "Do continue."

Seth muttered something under his breath but I couldn't hear it. Why was he trying to get his mother to leave? I glanced at her, only to see her looking at me again. No, not me. At Cook. He, however, didn't notice. I smiled into my glass.

"If his pack didn't do it, who does Gawler think is responsible?" Alice asked.

"A random attacker?" Seth offered.

Lincoln shook his head. "He believes Swinburn did it and is trying to blame Gawler's pack, with the intention of forcing us to take action and disband it. Gawler thinks it's a power play by Swinburn."

"To become the top wolf pack in the city," I said, nodding. "It's a sound theory and fits with what we know of Swinburn."

"We need to talk with him again," Seth said.

Lincoln lifted a finger from his glass to halt the suggestion before it gained momentum. "I need to learn more details from the police first—the victim's name and place of residence, as well as the exact nature of the injuries. I want to know if they match those of Protheroe in the Hyde Park attack."

Lady Vickers set down her glass. "I think I'll leave you to it after all." She rose and all the men stood until she exited.

"I can raise the victim's spirit to find out more," I said as they sat again.

Lincoln gave a single nod and we set out our plans for the following day. A day that would begin with the most difficult task of all—confronting Lady Harcourt and advising her that she was off the committee.