Inspector Jack Craig was a busy man. Malcolm took the fact for granted when he sent a messenger to Scotland Yard with a request to meet with him. But as it turned out, Craig was so busy that the best he was able to do was to meet Malcolm and Katya in passing between two undisclosed matters of even greater importance the next morning.

“But don’t you see,” Katya argued as she and Malcolm walked briskly down Oxford Street shortly before ten o’clock, “this is the perfect way to avoid any sort of suspicion this meeting might arouse.”

Malcolm sent her a flat scowl, back itching with impatience. “Are you really willing to stake your reputation on the solidity of this idea?” he asked in a grumble.

“What are the two of you talking about?” Bianca asked as she scurried along a few steps behind them.

“They won’t tell you,” Natalia answered her. “It’s probably the kind of thing Mama is constantly telling me I’m too young to hear.”

“You are too young to hear it,” Rupert answered her, sounding as put out about things as Malcolm felt.

Malcolm glanced over his shoulder at their entourage. Bianca and Natalia scurried a few feet behind him and Katya, eyes wide with excitement as they gazed around at the expensive shops and cafés lining the busy thoroughfare. Rupert escorted Cece a few feet behind them. The two of them looked entirely too cozy for Malcolm’s liking. But since maintaining secrecy about their meeting with Craig involved pretending the whole family was on an outing to shop for Cece’s coming out at the end of the week, there was nothing Malcolm could do about it.

“I still maintain this is a terrible idea,” he told Katya, reaching into his waistcoat to check his watch. “They’re going to be nothing but trouble.”

“They’ll be fine,” Katya said, not sounding convinced herself.

“Oh! Mama, look at the hat in that window over there,” Natalia gasped. “Wouldn’t that be divine with my blue organdy?”

“Ask your brother,” Katya snapped. “He’s the one holding the purse strings these days.”

Malcolm peeked at Katya with an arched brow. Chances were her short temper was due to the fact that she hadn’t slept much the night before. Their meeting at Alex’s house hadn’t adjourned until close to two in the morning, she and her children had arrived at Strathaven House before eight, and heaven knew she hadn’t gotten any sleep before the meeting was called. He didn’t know why she hadn’t just come home with him after the meeting. He’d offered. She’d refused.

“You have enough hats, Nat,” Rupert said, laughing in a way that was sure to annoy his little sister.

Sure enough, Natalia huffed the same way Cece did when Malcolm refused to buy some useless piece of frippery for her. “Mama, tell Rupert it’s not fair for him to hold the purse strings,” she said.

Katya barked a laugh, but there was little humor in it. Malcolm studied her with a sideways look again. The lines on her face betrayed more frustration than he’d picked up at first. The uncomfortable thought that it was unfair for Rupert to suddenly have control of everything that had been Katya’s until a year ago itched at the back of Malcolm’s mind. Sons assumed power when they came of age. That was the law and the way things had always been. But for a woman of Katya’s strength, it must have been a bitter pill to swallow.

Hoping to comfort her, Malcolm swayed closer to her, reaching for her hand as they walked. He just about had it in what he hoped was a comforting grip when she yanked it away.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Holding your hand,” Malcolm replied with a scowl.

Katya made an impatient sound and shook her head. “You can’t blithely hold a woman’s hand in public. This is Oxford Street. Anyone could be watching and sharpening their gossip knives.”

She had a point. “All right, then.” He offered his elbow to escort her more formally.

“I don’t need your support to walk down the street,” she said with a sigh. “I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own.”

Malcolm let his arm drop and his scowl grow. “God knows, we’re all well aware of that.”

She turned her head to stare at him with wide eyes. “What’s biting at you this morning?” she demanded, as though she were a pot calling him black.

“You tell me,” he said. “You’ve been peevish since…since I first met you.”

“I deserve every bit of my attitude,” she replied, eyes bright with anger.

“Oh, yes. Katya the Great, foiled at every turn by villainous men who want to put her in her place,” he said, knowing full well his sarcasm would hurt her.

“You have no idea,” she seethed.

“Of course not,” he said. “You’ve never deigned to tell me.”

She started forward again and picked up her pace. He kept up with her, if only to prove that she wouldn’t get rid of him so easily.

“Don’t worry, Kat,” he said quietly once he was striding by her side. “Everyone knows that you’re the one who puts men in their place. And that there’s a line at your door every night, waiting for that privilege.”

She stopped abruptly, pivoting toward him so fast Malcolm flinched. Fury lit her expression. “There’s banter, Malcolm, and then there are insults. Kindly learn the difference.”

“I’m just giving you something to smack me around about later,” he said, in spite of the sharp regret that pinched his insides. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but it was so easy when every step she took felt like she was stomping on his heart.

“Look at the two of you,” Cece giggled as the children caught up to them. “Bickering like an old married couple.”

“What an apt description,” Bianca said, then leaned over to whisper something in Natalia’s ear. Natalia laughed, clapped a hand over her mouth, and turned pink.

Malcolm was in no mood for their youthful high spirits. “We should have sent the lot of you to finishing school,” he grumbled. “In Argentina.”

“We?” Cece asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Rupert, take the girls somewhere for tea,” Katya ordered, clearly at the end of her patience.

“Yes, Mama,” Rupert said with a nod, facing Cece and his sisters. “Right, you lot. In there.” He pointed to a café a few doors down.

The young people went one way and Katya marched on in the opposite direction. Malcolm sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and hurried after her. He could practically feel the heat of anger rippling off of her. The words “I’m sorry” hung on his lips, but pride wouldn’t let them come out.

“Inspector Craig said he’d meet us in that café there,” he said instead, pointing across the street.

Katya didn’t say a word, didn’t even acknowledge him. She paused at the corner only long enough to let the bustling traffic thin, and then marched across the street. Malcolm was nearly mowed down by a speeding wagon in his efforts to keep up with her.

“I’m not insulting you,” he said when he finally caught up with her. “I’m merely stating fact. I thought you were proud of the number of conquests you’ve made.”

Again, she whirled to a stop and glared at him. “Proud? Like a man would be proud of all the women he’s bedded?”

Malcolm blinked. “Yes?”

She made a disgusted sound and marched on, yanking the café door open so hard he was surprised it didn’t fly off its hinges.

“If you want to know why we’re not married, Malcolm, look no further than your own arrogance,” she said, dodging between tables and heading to the back of the café.

“I’m not the only arrogant one.”

It was the last shot he was able to get in before a man in a simple suit stood from a table near the back to greet them. Malcolm’s brow went up. Inspector Craig was as young as Rupert had said he was, and yet there was a distinct weariness in his dark eyes and a touch of premature grey at his temples. His appearance was at odds with the curt way he greeted Malcolm and Katya as they reached his table.

“Lord Campbell and Lady Stanhope, I presume,” he said in a strange accent, like someone who had been raised on the streets attempting to speak in posh tones but failing.

“How do you do.” Katya held out a hand, turning on all her charms. But there was still a hint of smoldering fury in her smile.

Craig took her hand and bowed as though he weren’t used to the formality, then gestured for her to sit. As she did, he quickly shook Malcolm’s hand. Malcolm sat as well, but Craig’s gaze returned to Katya.

“I understand you have a matter you’d like me to investigate,” he said.

Malcolm sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. A tiny bit of his nose was out of joint that Craig would assume Katya was driving their inquiry, but the fact that the man had sensed in an instant to whom he should speak, regardless of the fact Katya was a woman, raised Malcolm’s opinion of him.

“The Black Strap Club,” Katya said, getting straight to the point. “Have you heard of it?”

“Yes,” Craig answered with a grim nod. It was hard to tell just how much Craig had heard.

“We want to bring it down,” Katya went on.

“More specifically, we want to bring down its owner, Lord Theodore Shayles,” Malcolm added.

“Viscount Shayles.” Craig nodded. “Scotland Yard is aware of him.”

Malcolm clenched his jaw. Clearly Craig was a harder nut to crack than Katya. “We believe he’s been protected in the past by the man you’ve replaced and by several others in the Metropolitan Police.”

Craig merely stared at him, his face implacable.

“The activities of The Black Strap Club are disgusting and abusive,” Katya went on. “I’ve had contacts working inside for years, girls whose sole purpose has been to protect the innocent as much as they can, get them out when possible, and record the atrocities they’ve been forced to endure. Women have died there.”

For the first time, Craig’s expression showed emotion. “You have records?”

“My contacts do,” Katya confirmed with a nod. “I’m sure I can find a way to get them to you.”

“Do that,” Craig said, then paused. His expression darkened. “The evidence of women won’t be enough for my colleagues to act on.”

Malcolm saw fury flash through Katya’s expression out of the corner of his eye. He shared that fury, but knew Craig was right. “What will it take, then?”

Craig glanced to him. “Solid information. Testimony from someone the courts are likely to respect. Not just the courts. Lord Shayles is a peer, and if he is indicted, he will be tried in the House of Lords. I need someone on that level to provide evidence.”

“A man,” Katya said, her jaw tight.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Craig turned back to her. “Though anything your insiders can provide will be helpful. Their testimony can be valuable, but you and I both know that, as much as we would have it otherwise, the law finds it too easy to throw out accusations made against men, particularly noblemen, by lower-class women. Particularly if they can label those women as whores.”

Malcolm’s brow shot up. Few people he knew would speak so freely and use such language in public. Craig watched Katya as if to see how she would react. When she showed nothing but determination, the corner of Craig’s mouth tweaked in what could have been a smile. More importantly, a firm sort of confidence came to his eyes.

“So you’re saying you need one of Shayles’s clients to come forward with rock-solid evidence,” Katya said.

“I am.” Craig nodded.

Katya turned to Malcolm, one dark brow raised. Malcolm felt the implication of her look down to his core. Prickling heat filled him.

“My association with Shayles’s club was nearly two decades ago,” he said, “when I was newly returned from the Crimea and…troubled.”

“I need someone who currently patronizes the club to come forward,” Craig said, his expression holding no judgment for what Malcolm had just confessed. “Without that sort of testimony, I could have the club raided, but the chances of Lord Shayles being arrested would be slim.”

All three of them were silent in thought for a moment. Ghosts of Malcolm’s past knocked at the doors in his soul where he’d shut them away. He wasn’t the man now who he had been after the war. Tessa had changed him, and, if he were honest with himself, so had Katya. Perhaps even more than Tessa. But Tessa was the one he fought for, even though she’d lost her battle eighteen years ago.

“What if we send someone into the club with the expressed mission of finding evidence that could bring Shayles down?” Katya asked at length.

“What, a mole?” Malcolm blinked at her.

“Yes.” For the first time since their earlier argument, she looked at him, the light of determination in her eyes. “Someone new, someone whom Shayles doesn’t already have under his thumb and whom he wouldn’t be able to blackmail.”

“Is there such a person?” Malcolm asked.

“I think there could be.” The excitement in Katya’s expression grew.

“I’m willing to listen to whatever ideas you have,” Craig said.

Katya broke into a smile. “Sir Christopher Dowland.”

Malcolm’s gut clenched with jealousy. “What, that idiot you were flirting with yesterday?”

Katya let out an impatient sigh and glared at him before turning to Craig. “Sir Christopher Dowland is newly elected to Parliament. He hasn’t been in London long. We’ve only just met ourselves, but that will work to our advantage. Shayles wouldn’t know there was a connection between us.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Dowland is a fool.”

“Dowland looks like a fool,” Katya corrected him. She turned to Craig. “He has the kind of face that makes you think he’s a harmless buffoon, but, in fact, from everything I’ve heard, he’s brilliant.”

“Where have you heard this?” Malcolm asked.

“From Peter,” she told him. “Dowland’s estate is near Starcross Castle.”

All Malcolm could do in response was hum. If Peter thought well of the man, then perhaps he’d misjudged him. And if he had….

“A new lord in London who is smarter than he appears to be,” Craig said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. “One Lord Shayles doesn’t know is associated with you.”

“He’s not associated with us,” Malcolm said. Suspicion itched down his back, and he narrowed his eyes at Katya. “Unless you’re more associated with him than you’ve let on.”

“Now is not the time,” Katya seethed.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” Craig said, holding up his hands to stop whatever scrap Malcolm and Katya could have gotten into. “Coleman was taking a lot of bribes from a lot of people. I have my hands full with cleaning up his messes. I wasn’t an obvious choice to replace him, and I have a lot to prove. My job is on the line. The only reason I’m willing to consider acting against Lord Shayles and his club is because I have a personal interest in bringing pimps to justice.” The sudden burst of unadulterated menace in the man’s eyes was enough to convince Malcolm that Craig had a painfully specific interest. “If this Dowland friend of yours is willing to infiltrate the club and find evidence we can use to arrest Lord Shayles and close the club for good, I’ll help you pursue that. But we would need to act fast and be discreet.”

“Understood,” Katya said. “I’m sure I can convince Sir Christopher to help us.”

Malcolm wanted to ask how she was sure, but he wasn’t a big enough fool to let his jealousy get in the way of what might have been their best chance in two decades to bring Shayles to justice.

“Fine.” Craig nodded and stood. “Speak to your friend, then let me know the outcome. I’ll be waiting.”

Malcolm and Katya stood as well. They hadn’t had a chance to order tea, so there was nothing to keep them from heading for the door and back onto the busy sidewalk, where they were greeted immediately by Cece and Rupert, Bianca and Natalia.

“Mama, really. Tell Rupert that he must give me a few pounds at least.” Natalia accosted Katya right away. “I might not be the one coming out on Friday, but I still need new clothes.”

“Oh, hello,” Bianca said, but not to Malcolm or to her mother. Her eyes were fixed firmly on Inspector Craig, and they were filled with stars.

“Good morning,” Craig nodded to her. He kept moving, but didn’t seem to be able to pry his eyes away from Bianca in spite of his momentum. His expressionless face twitched into a devilish smile over his shoulder, and before he turned forward, he winked.

“For Pete’s sake,” Malcolm grumbled. Craig was exactly the sort of rough, dangerous man girls like Bianca Marlowe found attractive. He shot a warning look to Katya.

Katya was miles ahead of him. “No,” she told Bianca, grabbing her arm and turning her away from Craig.

“Mama, who is that?” Bianca whispered, a pink flush coming to her face.

“No one you need to know,” Katya replied.

“Oh, but Mama, you’re wrong,” Bianca said, twisting to glance at Craig’s retreating back, even as Katya pushed her on. “I very much need to know him.”

“No,” Katya repeated.

“I’ll make my debut next year,” Bianca went on. “And then you won’t be able to stop me from knowing whatever man I want to.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, wondering if Bianca knew how her words could be taken and if Katya had had the same attitude when she was that age.

“I’ll be able to stop you,” Katya replied with a grim smile. “Don’t give me a reason to.”

Bianca huffed in frustration and broke away from Katya to walk on with Natalia. Malcolm picked up his pace until he was at Katya’s side once more.

“Do you really think you can convince Dowland to stick his hand in a viper’s pit to help us?” he asked.

“What other choice do we have?” she asked, a darker edge to her frustration than before the meeting. “The girls I have positioned in that hell of a club are depending on us.”

Malcolm nodded. “We have to bring Shayles’s villainy to an end.”

“Then you have to trust me,” she said, stopping.

The children were in front of them and continued walking, giving Malcolm and Katya space.

“I do trust you,” Malcolm said, though it felt like a lie.

Katya saw right through him. She shook her head. “You see only what you want to see, Malcolm, and that doesn’t reflect well on either of us.”

“You’re going to seduce him to get him to help us.”

She pursed her lips so hard they turned white around the edges. Her eyes were like steel. “It always comes down to seduction with you, doesn’t it?”

“It’s what we have in common,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“There are other ways to live, Malcolm,” she said, a surprising burst of exhaustion in her voice that hinted at her experience. “There are other ways to interact with people and to win them to your side.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, beginning to feel weary and ancient himself. “But it is a rare man who is willing to put himself into danger without getting something in return.”

To his surprise, Katya laughed. “And you claim not to know why I haven’t accepted your offer of marriage.”

His frown darkened. “What does me wanting to marry you have to do with it?”

She shook her head. “If you knew that, we could stop having this argument. We could stop having every argument.”

He was too baffled by her statement to answer.

“Mama, are you coming?” Rupert called from halfway down the sidewalk.

“I am,” Katya called back to him. She turned, shaking her head sadly at Malcolm, then walked on.

Malcolm stood where he was, watching her retreating back and wondering how, after all these years, she could still leave him feeling like a confused amateur.