Alice had once told me she looked nothing like her parents, and now that they drew closer, I could see why she thought she might not be their daughter. Alice had a natural grace and elegance that came with her tall, willowy figure. Her parents were both short and their gait as they stomped up the front steps was anything but graceful. Where Alice had fair hair, her father's was dark and her mother's red. Their features were unalike too, and although her mother had blue eyes, they were steely, whereas Alice's were the color of a summer sky. Not even Mrs. Everheart's anger could alter their shade that much. And she was very angry.

"Pack you things, Alice," Mrs. Everheart said as her sharp gaze darted around the entrance hall and up the staircase. "You are coming home with us. You cannot stay in this vile pit any longer. The good lord knows what debauchery you've been exposed to already."

Alice protested, but my voice rose above hers. "I beg your pardon! This is a respectable household and I would thank you not to suggest otherwise." I sucked in a breath to steady my nerves. "My name is Charlie Holloway and I am Alice's friend and mistress of Lichfield Towers. If you'd like to have a calm, rational conversation with Alice then please come with me to the drawing room and we'll have tea."

"We are not staying for tea," Mrs. Everheart bit off. "We are collecting Alice and leaving. Things have gone on too long already."

"Things?" I echoed. "What things?"

Mrs. Everheart looked around the entrance hall again, as if she couldn't bear to look at either Alice or me. "You know what sort of things. Unmarried men and women living together…it's not right in the eyes of God."

Alice bristled. "Mama! That is not fair. And I am not leaving."

"Don't argue, Child—"

"I am not a child! If I'm old enough to marry then I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

Mrs. Everheart's gaze finally locked onto Alice. "You are not old enough to marry without our consent."

"That is not the point, Mama! I don't want to get married yet, and certainly not to Mr. Crossley. He's far too old, for one thing, and as dull as a puddle."

"He is our very good friend!" Mr. Everheart spluttered. "He is sensible, responsible and godly. He's everything one could hope for in a husband."

"Then you marry him," Alice snapped.

"How dare you!"

"Living here has infected your mind." Her mother wrinkled her nose, as if she could smell the so-called debauchery. "The morals we instilled in you are corroding from idleness and lack of purpose. Do you even attend church?"

Alice huffed. "I give up. You won't listen to me, and never have. I'm tired of being treated as if I carry some sort of disease that must be cured. I am your daughter, your only child now, not someone you need to wash your hands of."

Her father thrust out his chin and gave a triumphant smile. "If we were trying to get rid of you, why are we here collecting you?"

"Because you promised Mr. Crossley I would marry him and you were prepared to wait for me to come around to the idea, but grew impatient."

Mr. Everheart's smile slipped but he kept his chin out.

"You're worried that my reputation will be tainted beyond repair because I live with a gypsy, a pugilist and a thug as your last letter pointed out. You want me to be as pure as fresh snow for my marriage. Or, rather, that's what Mr. Crossley wants and he is becoming impatient. Well? Is that how it is?"

"Lower your voice," her mother hissed. "The servants will hear you."

"There are no servants at the moment." As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I'd just given them the ammunition they needed.

Mr. and Mrs. Everheart exchanged glances. "Do you mean to say you are unsupervised?" Mrs. Everheart asked.

"Of course not," I said. "Lady Vickers is in residence. She's an upstanding pillar of society."

Mrs. Everheart snorted. "Our inquiry agent says she ran off with her footman."

"They married."

"After living in sin for several months."

"That is neither here nor there," Alice said.

"What my wife is trying to say," Mr. Everheart said, voice tight, "is that without a housekeeper, governess or other respectable woman living here, we must assume the worst."

Alice did not respond. I wondered if, like me, her father's use of "my wife" and not "your mother" had thrown her off balance. It may mean nothing, but considering Alice's doubts surrounding her parentage, the words dropped like stones at our feet. And there was the rabbit's statement about Alice's aunt, the queen, still ringing in my ears.

"The servants are usually here but have been given time off," I said to break the silence.

"Why?" Mr. Everheart asked.

"Er… Well…"

"What Charlie is too polite to tell you," Alice said, her eyes flashing, "is that the servants have been sent away for their own safety. My dreams have become more frequent and took a dangerous turn. You recall my dreams, don't you? The ones that come to life? The reason you sent me to that dreadful school?"

Neither parent met her gaze.

"The fewer people near me at the moment, the better. So you see, if I leave here with you, it's likely you'll wake up to soldiers on your doorstep tonight. Is that what you want? Are you able to defend yourselves against Wonderland's army?"

Mr. Everheart paled. "Army?" he whispered.

Mrs. Everheart clutched the collar at her throat. She stared off into space. "We should never have taken you in," she murmured. "We thought we were doing our Christian duty, but…what if it was the devil that led you to us?"

Alice gasped and staggered back. I took her hand in mine and steadied her. "I am…" She gulped and began again. "I am not your child, am I?"

"Why did we do it, Mr. Everheart?" Mrs. Everheart asked her husband. "Why did we take them in?"

"My brother and I…" Alice said again, her voice firmer. "We were adopted, weren't we?" Alice had told me about her little brother and how he'd died young. She'd adored him and his death had affected her deeply.

Mrs. Everheart reached a hand toward her husband. He caught it and patted it vigorously. "I feel faint," she muttered.

"The parlor," I said quickly, leading the way to the closest adjoining room. I directed Mr. and Mrs. Everheart to sit together on the sofa then drew close to Alice. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I feel as though I might finally get some answers." She sat on an armchair and addressed the couple sitting opposite. "Who are my real parents?"

Mr. Everheart looked to his wife and said something I couldn't hear.

"Pardon?" Alice pressed.

"We don't know," he said, louder. "You were found sitting on a pew at our church one morning. You were about three years old but could tell us nothing about yourself except that your name was Alice and that you were told you could not go home. We took you in while the authorities tried to locate your parents, but…" He shrugged. "No one came forward and there were no reports of missing children matching your description. The odd thing is, no one saw you arrive in the village. So we simply kept you."

"And did not think to tell me the truth?"

"It was better if you thought we were your real parents."

"Better for whom? Not for me, I assure you." Alice got to her feet and paced the room. "I have long suspected you were not my parents." She stopped abruptly. "What about Myron? Did you adopt him too?"

Mrs. Everheart dabbed the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. "My poor boy."

Mr. Everheart nodded. "He was found in the same way, in the church, but as a baby. He couldn't have been more than a few weeks old."

Alice suddenly plopped back down onto the chair. "Perhaps that was why he was never very strong…he was taken from his mother so young."

"We didn't take him." Mrs. Everheart's voice cracked and she dabbed her other eye.

"Alice didn't suggest we did." Her husband patted her hand again, but it was ineffectual in offering comfort. Mrs. Everheart's eyes continued to water.

"Have you received any communication about Alice or her brother?" I asked. "Either recently or in the past? Anything at all?"

Mr. Everheart shook his head then lowered it and slumped back in the sofa. He looked like a beaten man, as if he'd spent his entire life running only to stumble at the end of the race. He blinked dry eyes at Alice. "We'll never see you again, will we?"

"No," she said without hesitation.

Mrs. Everheart sniffed. Her husband passed her his handkerchief and she continued to dab the corner of her eyes.

"That has nothing to do you not being my true parents," Alice said, "and everything to do with how you have treated me since my dreams became real."

"You can hardly blame us for that," Mrs. Everheart said.

Alice rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps it's just as well that we part ways now considering…" Mrs. Everheart waved her hand to encompass the room, the house, and probably me.

Alice stood again and peered down her nose at the people she'd once called Mother and Father. "I think it's time you left."

Mr. Everheart assisted his wife to stand and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. After a hesitation, he gave Alice a nod. "Goodbye," he said simply.

Mrs. Everheart did not offer any parting words, but she did allow a tear to slip down her cheek as she walked out with her husband. I thought the tears meant she was sad to part with her adopted daughter, but her next words banished that notion.

"What will we tell Mr. Crossley?" she said to Mr. Everheart. "Will he insist on compensation?"

I walked them to the front door then rejoined Alice in the parlor. She stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around her body. She stared unblinking into the empty grate.

I touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Her chin quivered but she nodded. "I think so. I'm not too shocked, since I have long suspected, but to hear it from their own mouths…it's still unsettling."

"And for them to leave on such poor terms too." I glanced toward the door. "I'm sure they love you but are just frightened of you and your dreams."

She shook her head and returned to staring into the grate. "You're kind to say that, Charlie, but I don't think you're correct. They never quite accepted me as their own."

I hugged her. "I was adopted too, remember. I know my adopted mother loved me. My father, too, before he learned I was a necromancer."

"If he loved you, he would have overlooked that. He would have continued to love you anyway. I'm sorry if that hurts you, Charlie, but that's how I feel about my parents. If they truly loved me, they would help me, not abandon me."

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Anselm Holloway never did truly love me, but I was quite sure my adopted mother would never have treated me as cruelly as he did. I was blessed in her love. Perhaps it was time to visit her grave again and pay my respects.

"We're your family now, Alice. You'll always have a home here, and people who care about you."

She hugged me back. "Thank you, Charlie. Now, the question is, who are my real parents? And where am I from?"

"According to the rabbit, you're niece to the Queen of Hearts from Wonderland." I drew away and gave her my sternest glare. "And no, you are not going there to learn more about yourself, so put that thought from your mind."

"I already have. I'll stay here."

The unspoken "for now" hung between us like a guillotine blade.

---

Lincoln returned in time for dinner so we were able to inform everyone together of the visit from Mr. and Mrs. Everheart. A profound silence followed Alice's pronouncement that she was adopted. No one even chewed.

"Someone say something," Alice said, nervously.

"So the rabbit most likely spoke the truth," Lincoln said. "You were once in Wonderland and the queen is your aunt."

Alice nodded at her plate. "It seems that way."

"Bloody hell," Gus muttered.

"You not be from this world?" Cook asked.

"It seems I am from that other realm," Alice said.

Gus studied her anew then waggled his knife. "If I cut you, will your blood be red?"

"Yes!"

Seth thumped his arm. "Idiot."

Gus blushed and apologized.

To my surprise, Alice laughed. "It's absurd, isn't it? Don't worry, Gus, the same questions that are going through your head have already gone through mine. As far as I am aware, I am physically like all of you. I don't shift shape as Harriet does, and I can't set things on fire like Mr. Langley. I am quite normal."

"Perhaps Wonderland is just like here," Seth said.

"Except for talking rabbits," Gus said pointedly.

"You must want to go with the rabbit now," Lincoln said, focusing on his dinner again. "But I urge you to reconsider. We know nothing about Wonderland, and it seems as though you would be immediately placed on trial if you went. We don't know if their justice system is a fair one or not. I insist you stay here."

"We've already discussed it," I told him. "Alice agrees."

"I'm not leaving," she assured him.

"Good," Seth said. "Because I would have to insist on coming with you and I don't want to miss the wedding."

"Seth!" Lady Vickers cried. "You are not traveling to strange places, so put that from your mind immediately."

He picked up his glass and saluted her. "You traveled to a strange place."

"There are no talking rabbits in America."

We discussed the fortification plans as well as what Lincoln had learned from his informants. Unfortunately, it amounted to very little. Lady Harcourt had visited Swinburn in the evening and stayed the night. This morning, he'd gone to his club. The duke was already inside, as was the MP, Mr. Yallop. They'd emerged separately an hour later. Harriet visited Swinburn in the afternoon and left a short time later. As to the rest of Swinburn's pack, they'd gone to their various places of employment as they usually did, although the Ballantines remained indoors. They rarely left their residence nowadays, preferring to keep a low profile after angering the royal family.

"And Gawler's pack?" I asked. "What are their movements?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "They're also spying on Swinburn, but they don't have the numbers to watch the entire pack. They all have jobs to go to. If they don't work, they don't eat."

Lincoln and I volunteered to wash the dishes after dinner. Seth and Lady Vickers assisted us to carry the plates and glasses into the scullery. As we left the others behind, she said to Seth, "She is certainly not a candidate for marriage now. She's not even human."

"Mother," he said on a sigh. "She is human. She's just not from this realm. Anyway, I don't care. If anything, it has only made her more intriguing. She is, after all, related to royalty. Don't you want me to marry a princess?"

His mother stopped in her tracks to gawp at him. We left her behind.

---

"I like doing the dishes with you," I told Lincoln when we found ourselves alone in the scullery.

"Why? Because I do this?" He flicked water at me.

"Very mature."

He grinned so I dipped my hand in the water as I leaned in to kiss him. Then I slid my wet hand down his cheek. I pulled away and smiled. "Now we're even."

He looked at the pail of water sitting by the door.

"Don't you dare!" I cried, passing him a stack of dirty dishes to keep his hands occupied.

"So why do you like doing the dishes with me?" he asked.

"We don't get time to talk in private much lately. This forces us to take the time."

"You want to talk to me? About anything in particular?"

"Yes, as it happens."

"Alice?"

"No."

He stopped washing the plate and looked at me. "Is this to do with Lady Vickers telling you what to expect on our wedding night?"

"No! It's about what you were doing today. Did you only speak to your informants?"

He resumed washing. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you were gone a long time and you smell nice."

"I don't usually smell nice?"

"Not after returning from the slums then settling the horse in the stables."

"I washed my hands in the stables before coming inside."

Keeping a cake of lavender soap in the stables did not seem like something Lincoln would do and I was about to question him further when Gus entered the scullery brandishing a newspaper. Seth followed close behind.

"This evening's edition of The Star just arrived," Seth said.

"Gawler is named as a suspect in the attacks," Gus added.

I groaned as I read it. "What an irresponsible thing to do! Do you think Yallop and Fullbright will arrest him now?"

Seth shook his head. "They don't have any evidence."

"Spoken like a toff," Gus said. "The police don't care about evidence. If they want to arrest a cove, they'll arrest him."

"And miraculously find the evidence later," I added. Like Gus, I had little faith in our constabulary. I'd seen too many innocent people in the slums get arrested for crimes they hadn’t committed because the police couldn't be bothered to investigate properly.

Seth took the newspaper from Gus and slapped the article. "Swinburn's got a nerve feeding Salter this information. He's putting one of his own kind at risk. It's madness."

"That's Swinburn to a T," I said. "Mad. What will you do now, Lincoln?"

"Check on Gawler," Lincoln said.

"To make sure he hasn't been arrested?"

"To make sure he hasn't gone after Swinburn in retaliation."

---

The four of us paid Gawler a visit the following morning but he wasn't at his home in Myring Place. His neighbor told us that he'd angrily stormed off after "a toff lady" visited. Further questioning proved Harriet was the visitor. She'd carried a newspaper under her arm and sported a grim expression, and she had departed separately to Gawler.

We traveled on to Swinburn's townhouse in Queen's Gate, Kensington, where he lived next to Lord and Lady Ballantine. They and the rest of the pack had moved to London from Bristol when Swinburn decided to move his shipping company's operations to the nation's capital. He was the first of his line to win leadership of the pack after Ballantine's ancestors had held it for generations. Seeing their townhouses side-by-side, identical down to their black doors and brass knockers, I wondered how Lord Ballantine felt about losing pack leadership to the grandson of a sailor.

"Gawler's here," Lincoln said as we stood together on the pavement. "I can sense his presence. But not inside."

"He's most likely watching from that alley over there," Seth said with a nod at the gap slicing through the row of grand townhouses. "He'd be a fool to go inside anyway. No wild creature would enter a closed enemy space for fear of being trapped."

"And Swinburn?" Gus asked from the driver's perch of our conveyance. "Can you sense him too, Fitzroy?"

Lincoln shook his head. "I've never been able to sense him. Some I can, some I can't."

"Then lets urge Gawler to go home before he does anything rash," I said, setting off toward the alley.

"He'll simply return tonight," Seth said, falling into step with me. "Perhaps that's a good idea. Let them fight and get it over with."

Tonight would be better than now. There were too many people about. A maid pushed a perambulator and two gentlemen hurried on their way, intent on reaching their destinations quickly. Coaches passed by and a footman stood on a stoop only a few houses down from Swinburn's. Gawler couldn't do anything today except watch. It was far too busy.

Lincoln caught my elbow and jerked me to a stop. "Wait."

Seth stopped too. "What is it?"

Lincoln's head cocked a little to the side and his gaze focused on the entrance to the alley. "Growling."

I listened but heard nothing.

Seth shook his head. "They won't confront each other in their wolf form now. They'd be seen."

The two gentlemen, walking in opposite directions to one another, drew closer to the alley entrance. They would not only see an attack, they would hear it too, and perhaps be in danger themselves.

"Charlie, stay here." Lincoln strode off toward the alley. Seth followed and I followed him.

Then I heard it too. Growling, low and deep. Deeper than a dog's growl. The sound vibrated through me. There was only one growl, not two.

Both gentlemen stopped and turned toward the sound.

Lincoln broke into a run.

"Get away!" Seth shouted at the gentlemen.

Either they didn't hear him or they chose to ignore him. One stepped into the alley while the other squinted into the shadows.

A shot rang out, its echo ricocheting off the walls.