Excitement swooped into Katya’s gut as Inspector Craig nodded to her and Malcolm, then turned to cut his way back through the ballroom, heading for the door.

“Wait.” She rushed after him, glad to shove aside the miserable emotional tangle that was her argument with Malcolm for the moment. “What do you mean now?”

Inspector Craig paused to study her, then gestured for her and Malcolm to follow him out of the ballroom and into Spencer House’s entryway. Rupert and Cece brought up the rear, looking as though they weren’t supposed to be there.

“My superiors have decided the time for a raid is now, before Lord Shayles or any of his associates suspect such a thing is coming. It’s thought he may still have protectors in high places, so we must act before they get wind of our action.”

“Then let’s be on our way,” Malcolm said, pushing past Inspector Craig and making for the door.

“Hold up there,” Inspector Craig darted into Malcolm’s path, holding up his hands. “This is a police operation. I only came here to inform you of our actions because it was on the way and because I felt I owed it to you to inform you what was going on.”

Malcolm glared at the man in spite of his implacable expression. “I’m going with you.”

“I am as well,” Katya added, head held high.

Inspector Craig looked as though he was second-guessing stopping by Spencer House at all. “I can’t allow civilians to interfere with police action,” he argued.

“Without us, you would have no action,” Malcolm told him, looking as though he wanted a fight.

Katya knew him well enough to see he would use his fists to break past Inspector Craig if he had to. “We can stand here arguing about it or we can get ourselves over to Kensington as quickly as possible,” she said.

Inspector Craig clenched his jaw and stared at Malcolm for several long, anxious moments. “Don’t get in the way,” he said at last, turning and marching out of the building.

Malcolm followed him, but Katya turned to Rupert. “Take care of Cece, and mind your sisters once you get home. I think it would be best not to tell them what’s going on until it’s over.”

“Agreed,” Rupert said with a sharp nod.

Cece looked worried enough to burst into tears and clung to Rupert’s arm. Katya felt sorry for her, but there was only so much she could do to shield the young people she cared about from the perils of the world. She sent Rupert a final, cautious smile before hurrying to join Malcolm and Inspector Craig.

They said little as they piled into the plain, unmarked carriage Inspector Craig had waiting. Katya sat on the opposite seat from the men, attempting to study their faces in passing flashes of lamplight as they sped through streets crowded with carriages taking revelers to and from parties and on to Kensington. The momentary semi-calm sent Katya’s thoughts spiraling back to her argument with Malcolm.

Their argument never seemed to end. It had been going on forever, or so it felt for her, and it was always the same thing. Only now, after all the time that had passed, Malcolm seemed to be on the edge of understanding everything that was truly at stake. He continued to be as stubborn as the day was long, though. Of course she hadn’t told him about Natalia’s paternity. Malcolm was a man of passion, and he would have destroyed her world and his if he’d known from the start. Natalia’s world too, and Katya wouldn’t have that. All the same, it was torture to see him in such pain, torture to know that his anger and frustration was born out of a desperation to be loved, and torture not to be able to explain as much to him and have him understand. Men were as distant from their hearts as England was from Bombay most of the time, but their lives would be so much easier if they’d simply admit their shortcomings once in a while.

The Black Strap Club sat one street back from the western end of Hyde Park, close enough to see Kensington Palace from its upper windows. Katya held her breath as they drew near, but let it out in a confused puff when Inspector Craig had his carriage turn onto a small street more than a block from the club.

“What are we doing here?” Malcolm asked in reflection of Katya’s confusion as Inspector Craig opened the door and hopped down.

Malcolm alighted after him, leaving Katya to help herself down, something she was more than happy to do. The scene that revealed itself through the dark around her sent a chill down her back. At least two dozen men dressed in the dark uniforms of the Metropolitan Police stood in the shadows, absolutely silent. The air crackled with readiness.

Inspector Craig marched straight toward a pair of uniformed officers that stood apart from the main group. “Everything ready?” he asked in a clipped Cockney accent, all attempts to sound posh falling.

“Yes, sir,” one of the men answered.

“As I’ll ever be,” a third man said in a fine accent with a hint of a Cornish lilt.

Katya blinked, then squinted through the darkness to be sure she was hearing and seeing correctly. Along with the policemen stood Sir Christopher, dressed as though he had been to one of the many balls taking place that night.

But before she could greet him, Malcolm marched toward the man. “You,” he said, a menacing note in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

A streetlight near the closest intersection flickered to life, allowing Katya to see Christopher’s startled look and Malcolm’s scowl more clearly.

“Inspector Craig asked me to help with tonight’s operation,” Christopher said, his surprise at Malcolm’s question making him look like the last person anyone would want taking part in a delicate raid.

“Nonsense,” Malcolm snapped. “You have nothing to do with this. Go home.”

“Sir Christopher is here on my insistence,” Inspector Craig told Malcolm, holding a hand at Malcolm’s chest level to stop him from charging Christopher, which it looked like he was about to do. “He’s gained Lord Shayles’s trust, is recognized by the guards at the club’s doors, and will make it much easier for the rest of us to gain entrance to the club.”

“I can do all that,” Malcolm insisted.

“No, you can’t,” Katya told him. “Shayles wouldn’t let you within a hundred feet of the club if he knew you were around.”

Malcolm turned to her, glaring. “I should be the one to lead this.”

“The police have the operation well in hand,” Inspector Craig said.

“I’ve been pursuing Shayles for nearly twenty years,” Malcolm nearly shouted at him. “I’ve given up my life to defeat that man and his disgusting ways. I refuse to stand on the sidelines and to let that idiot take my place at the front of the charge.”

A surprise burst of agreement squeezed Katya’s chest. “He’s right,” she said, inching closer to Malcolm’s side. “This is Malcolm’s fight as much as anyone’s.” And if he was denied the opportunity to be present when Shayles was apprehended, his pride would never recover.

Inspector Craig blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced to his men waiting in the shadows, then to Christopher, then back to Malcolm and Katya. “We don’t have time to stand around arguing about this. If you can stay out of trouble and do as you’re told, then you can be a part of things.”

“You’re damned right I can,” Malcolm said, standing straighter.

Inspector Craig gave him one last irritated look before turning to address his men in a quiet voice. “You know the plan. If everyone sticks to their jobs and goes where they’re supposed to go, this should be a quick and tidy operation. Hormel, take your unit around through the mews. Willoughby, off you go to the west side. The rest of you, with me. Let Sir Christopher walk ahead as though he’s a client.”

“I’ll walk with him,” Malcolm insisted.

“You’ll hang behind with the rest of us,” Inspector Craig told him, shaking his head.

“I can go with Sir Christopher,” Katya offered. “Shayles hasn’t banned me from the club. Quite the contrary. He’s been trying to get me to participate for years.”

Malcolm clearly wanted to make a comment on her statement, but Inspector Craig beat him to it.

“You’re staying here, Lady Stanhope,” he said. “In the carriage. Josephs, stay with her.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Katya insisted as Inspector Craig turned to gesture to her would-be guard. When he looked as though he would argue with her, Katya went on with, “I have girls in that club who know me, who are under my supervision. I want to make sure they’re safe, as well as the rest of the unfortunate young women forced to work for Shayles.”

“That club is no place for a lady,” Inspector Craig said.

Katya laughed out loud. “I know that better than you do, son.” She rushed on before he could counter her with, “I either go in with you or I stand on the corner, screaming bloody murder and alerting everyone that they’re about to be raided.”

She had no intention to do anything of the sort, not after all the trouble they’d gone through, but Inspector Craig didn’t know that. Dirty tricks were never the best way to get what was wanted, but desperate times called for desperate action.

“Fine,” Inspector Craig said at last, clearly aggravated. “But the same rules apply to you that apply to him.” He gestured to Malcolm. “Stay quiet and stay out of the way.”

Katya agreed with a nod. It must have been good enough for Inspector Craig. He had one last, quiet word with one of his men, and within minutes they were in motion.

“I’d tell you to listen to Craig and stay behind, but I know it wouldn’t do any good,” Malcolm grumbled as they fell into line with the policemen speeding through the shadows.

“So you have learned something in all these years after all,” Katya replied, too tense with anticipation to grin or tease him further.

“I’ve learned that you’re as stubborn as—”

“You?” Katya finished his sentence. “We both already knew that.”

“Quiet,” Inspector Craig cautioned them as they crossed the street and made their way along the side of the club.

Christopher was already at the door, knocking in a peculiar pattern to gain entrance. The door opened and he stepped inside as Inspector Craig’s men strode closer, as if they were merely uninterested passersby. One of them climbed the steps after Christopher, stopping the unseen attendant from closing the outer door. Katya knew from her girls that there was a second, inner door that would be much harder for anyone who wasn’t on the inside to get through, but before she and Malcolm had reached the steps leading to the entrance, there was a shout, and in a coordinated burst, Inspector Craig and his men surged forward.

Within seconds, everything was movement and pandemonium. Katya was caught up in it as she and Malcolm stormed the club alongside the police. As soon as they stepped into the outer foyer, it became obvious that whoever was attending the inner door had opened it to allow Christopher in, and once that barrier was breached, the club was infiltrated by sheer force.

“Where is Lord Shayles?” Inspector Craig was in the middle of demanding from the sinister, wiry butler as Katya hurried into the heart of the club.

“He’s not here, he’s not here,” the butler insisted.

Katya didn’t believe him for a moment, but she wasn’t interested in Shayles. She searched the front hall for a familiar face, finally spotting Bess, one of her girls, peeking around a corner to see what was going on.

“Bess.” Katya marched right toward her. “The police are here. We need to get the girls to safety immediately.”

“Yes, Lady Stanhope,” Bess said, her eyes going wide. She dashed around the corner, and Katya followed her deeper into the club.

Malcolm roared into The Black Strap Club, fists balled, ready to fight anyone, including Craig, who would keep him from exacting his final revenge on Shayles. He was immediately assailed by old memories of his early days, right after returning from the Crimea, when his mind and heart had been so damaged by the devastation he’d witnessed and been part of on the battlefield that he was willing to do anything to distract himself. The scent of the place hadn’t changed—candle wax, exotic spice, sex, and fear. It sent a chill down his back that had him trembling with bottled-up energy.

But his own fear burst wide open when he saw Katya disappear around a corner.

“Katya,” he called, starting after her.

He stopped dead when he heard Craig saying, “Arrest every man you find in this building. High and low, I don’t care. And find Shayles.”

Teeth on edge and heart beating in his throat, Malcolm turned away from the hall Katya had run down to march up to Craig’s side. “I know where he hides,” he said.

Craig glared at him, but the man’s frustration was eclipsed by determination. “Take me there.”

It had been decades since the dangerous days when Malcolm had called Shayles a friend, since Shayles had first purchased and refurbished The Black Strap Club, but Shayles didn’t change the way he thought or his core actions. Malcolm launched ahead of Craig and his men—barely noting that the idiot, Dowland, followed with them—taking a small set of spiral stairs that led down. Shayles left the grandeur of his club for his customers, saving the underground warren of passages and dungeons for himself.

“What the devil?” a man asked from one of the dank side caverns as the parade of policemen whipped past. A middle-aged lord Malcolm knew all too well from the halls of Westminster stepped into the doorway, naked and erect. A woman’s pleading cry came from the room behind him.

“Arrest that man,” Craig said with barely a sideways glance. “Help the woman. Arrest every man you find down here.” Disgust and fury were thick in his tone, but he marched on.

Within seconds, the dungeons exploded with shouts and panic as half a dozen dungeons were split open and their occupants dragged out into the hall. Shouts and thumps sounded from above as well. Malcolm could only imagine that the entire club was disgorging every manner of evil. He only hoped the men Craig had brought with him were enough to sweep up the mess.

“Down here,” Malcolm said, pushing on to a small, arched door at the end of the hall. “This is where he hides.”

Craig pushed ahead of Malcolm as they reached the door, three burly men behind him. He didn’t stop to knock, and a fiery sort of fury blared from him that gave Malcolm pause. Craig tried the handle of the door, and when it seemed to catch, he took a half step back and kicked the door so hard it clattered off its hinges.

The sight that met them in the small dungeon room was everything Malcolm could have hoped for and more. Shayles was there, and he was engaged in an act so foul—and with a young woman who was barely more than a child—that half of Craig’s men turned away. One burst into a sob. But it wasn’t the act Shayles had been caught in or the age of the girl, or even the humiliation of Shayles being completely naked, it was the way the bastard’s eyes went wide with fright and his body snapped rigid with fear. They’d caught the blackguard completely by surprise.

“Lord Theodore Shayles,” Craig said, gesturing for his men to grab Shayles and hold him, “You are hereby under arrest, by order of Her Majesty and the Metropolitan Police.”