If she had been born a man, Katya was fairly certain she would have stopped at nothing to get Inspector Craig’s job. If she hadn’t already been serving in Parliament. Then again, the boredom of an early marriage to a husband who viewed her with indifference was what had led her to take an interest in the lives of those around her in the first place. That interest had evolved past gossip into the need to figure out what was truly behind the odd behavior of the aristocracy. That had, in turn, spurred her to find ways to covertly help the innocent and punish the wicked behind the scenes.

So in a way, if she’d never been palmed off on Robert in the constricting bonds of matrimony, she wouldn’t have been strolling through Hyde Park in an expensive walking dress the day after her and Malcolm’s meeting with Inspector Craig, pretending that she was merely there to chaperone her girls and Cece, and not seeking out a clandestine meeting with Sir Christopher Dowland.

Christopher was there, wandering aimlessly along the banks of the Serpentine. Katya had made eye-contact with him a few times, but couldn’t tell if he had the first clue that she was signaling for him to approach. That was the beauty and fun of enlisting the seemingly bumbling man’s help. No one would have suspected him of subterfuge. No one would have expected him to make it across the park without tripping over his own feet. And if she were honest, she wasn’t entirely certain he’d live up to her expectations.

Katya paused to purchase a cup of tea from a man with a pushcart. The girls would appreciate them giving her a bit of space, and she needed an excuse to stay still long enough for Christopher to approach her. As she sipped the warm liquid, she watched her girls.

They clustered together near the edge of the water, tossing the leftover crumbs from breakfast that they’d brought with them at the ducks and swans. A grin tweaked the corner of Katya’s mouth. The dear things were convinced they were grown, but to her, they looked as much like children as ever when they giggled and squealed as a particularly hungry swan chased after them. One could have argued that Katya should have scolded them and reminded them they were in public, where decorum was demanded, but she was loath to bring their innocent, halcyon days to an end the way hers had ended.

Her mind wandered back to her own, destroyed youth. The only thing that had made those confusing, miserable days bright was Malcolm’s explosive arrival in her life. Even though their introduction had involved him quite literally falling at her feet in a drunken stupor at one of Robert’s lascivious house parties. He had been different than the other pleasure-seekers. He had been in mourning for Tessa, Katya had been grieving the loss of her innocence, but somehow, together they were ridiculously happy. She still wondered where that happiness went.

“Good morning, Lady Stanhope.”

Christopher’s stilted greeting snapped Katya out of her thoughts. She turned to smile at him as he inched closer to her, holding a steaming cup of tea.

“Good morning, Sir Christopher. What a joy to see you here this morning,” she said, taking a sip of her now cold tea.

For a moment, Christopher’s already laughable face pinched in confusion. “I thought we were—” He stopped and let out a breath, his shoulders dropping. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as though inwardly scolding himself. “Sorry,” he said when he opened his eyes. “I’m not used to London society.”

The emphasis he put on the last two words convinced Katya he knew what he was doing after all.

“It’s not that complicated.” She grinned, sipping the last of her tea, then moving to hand the cup back to the vendor. “It’s all just a muddle of greetings and partings with inconsequential conversation in the middle.”

“All the same,” Christopher replied, finishing his tea in one large gulp, then handing the cup to the vendor, “I’m not very good at it.”

“Why do you say that?” Katya asked, holding out her arm in an invitation for him to escort her.

He picked up on that much, jumping to offer his elbow. Katya took it, and they strolled away from the Serpentine toward Rotten Row.

“I’ve lived my whole life in the country,” he explained. “I managed my father’s land before inheriting it. I’ve far more experience dealing with farmers and tradesmen than London’s elite.”

“Then why did you stand for Parliament?” she asked, surprised that she was genuinely curious about the answer.

Christopher shrugged. “I didn’t, in a way. My father traditionally held the seat. The election campaign had already begun when he died. Before I knew it, my name had replaced his on the ballot, I won the election, and here I am.” He shrugged again, the gesture serving as bookends to his situation.

“There are so many advantages in being an unknown in these waters,” Katya said, searching for the quickest way to come to her point. The fewer people saw her walking with Christopher, the more likely he would be able to infiltrate the Black Strap Club without Shayles knowing he was a spy. She steered their steps toward a cluster of trees that would block them from full view.

“I have no issue with being unknown,” Christopher went on. “I’m rather more concerned with being thought of as a country rube.”

“London gossip can be cruel,” Katya agreed with a nod.

“Especially when my own kinsmen whisper about me behind my back,” he added in a voice so low Katya was convinced he was talking to himself. “They’re not convinced I have a right to the Dowland name, considering the rumors that abounded about my mother.” He shook his head and grinned crookedly at her. “But that’s unpleasant talk for such a lovely day. I understand you have something you’d like me to do for you?” he asked.

“Yes. Something of vital importance.” Katya let her soothing smile melt into a look that was pure business. “You met Lord Theodore Shayles the other day, but are you familiar with his club?”

A burst of color filled Christopher’s cheeks, and he was suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I’ve heard of it,” he said, clipping his words.

Katya raised a brow. “Have you visited it?”

“No,” Christopher answered immediately. “And I’ve no wish to. From what I understand, the place is an abomination.”

The fierceness of his words was a paradoxical encouragement to Katya. Obviously, Christopher wasn’t of Shayles’s ilk, which meant that he would be the perfect candidate to provide honest, believable testimony against the club, as Inspector Craig had requested.

Katya patted his arm. “If you know the place is an abomination, then you know how necessary it is that it be shut down.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed enthusiastically. “I don’t understand why Scotland Yard hasn’t boarded up the place already.”

“Because where Shayles and his club are concerned, the law looks the other way.”

Christopher gaped at her with an expression of shock and dismay, as though personally hurt that the law could be corrupt.

“At least, until now,” Katya added with a sly grin.

Christopher frowned. “How do you mean?”

“A few days ago, the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard was removed from his position and arrested for corruption. He was the one who had been protecting Shayles’s club. The man who took his place, Inspector Craig, is not on Shayles’s payroll, and could, therefore, shut the place down for good.”

“Thank God for that.”

“However,” Katya stopped him, “Inspector Craig requires reliable, insider information that would give the police enough fuel for a raid. He needs someone who has patronized the club to break the vow of silence that Shayles’s customers maintain. Someone who would be willing to testify about what they have seen inside the walls of the club in court.”

Christopher blinked. “But I’ve never been there before. How could I—” He stopped, his mouth hanging open, and turned to her. His eyes held understanding far beyond the ridiculousness of his features. “You want me to patronize the club, gather information, and take it to the police, to your Inspector Craig.”

“Precisely,” Katya said.

Christopher let go of her arm and took a step back, rubbing his hand over his face, brow knit in thought. Katya stood patiently where she was, watching the man’s inner debate. His face betrayed his thoughts in a way that made her wonder if he was up to the job after all.

At last, he let out a breath and met her firm gaze with a serious one of his own. “You wouldn’t be asking me if there were anyone else who could do this, would you?”

“No.” Katya nodded. “You’re a newcomer in town, an unknown. Shayles knows everyone associated with me and my friends, the group that has been seeking to bring him to justice for years.”

“But he does know we’ve met,” Christopher said. “He saw us together at Westminster the other day.”

“And that wasn’t enough of an interaction to indicate we’re more than passing acquaintances.”

Christopher winced, running a hand through his hair. “What sort of evidence would your inspector need?”

“Reports of the activities of the club,” Katya said. “Documentation, if you can get it. I’m uncertain if Shayles has such a thing as a contract his customers sign.”

“I wouldn’t have to…do anything, would I?” he asked, writhing with discomfort. “To those poor girls, I mean.”

“That would be up to you,” Katya said, finding it sweet that the man wouldn’t want to take advantage of the situation. “Chances are you would only need to spend an hour or so with a girl behind closed doors. I could give you the names of the girls who are my contacts on the inside, if you’d like.”

Surprise lit Christopher’s expression. “You’re in contact with those poor girls?” He shook his head. “Why not get them to testify?”

“We plan to, but the court gives more weight to a man’s testimony, especially when the court trying Shayles will ultimately be the House of Lords itself.” Katya couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “My girls are there to keep the other girls from greater danger than they are already in, and to get them out when they can.”

Christopher seemed to understand, but he also looked as though he might be sick. “When do you need me to do this?”

A burst of hopeful relief filled Katya’s heart. He would help them. “The sooner the better. Tonight, if possible.”

Christopher made a sound as though she’d asked him to wade into the sewers. In a way, she had. “I’ll see what I can do. But, Lady Stanhope….”

Katya waited for him to go on, but had to prompt him with, “Yes?”

He winced, shifting uncomfortably. “I…I hope that you would be willing to do something for me in return.”

Katya’s stomach clenched, not over whatever Christopher would ask, but because Malcolm had been right. Christopher wanted something in return for his assistance. She squared her shoulders, ready for the worst. “What can I do for you?”

Once again, Christopher seemed unable to meet her eyes. His face turned beet red. “I’m new to my title, such as it is. It’s not anything as grand as yours. It’s small enough that I can still serve in Commons. But it does have a certain amount of responsibility to it,” he rambled, dripping discomfort. “And as such, there are certain expectations on me. Marriage, for instance.”

Katya’s brow shot up. “I’m well past marrying age, Sir Christopher, and if you need an heir, which I assume you do—”

“No, no!” He glanced to her in alarm. “I wasn’t proposing. I just wondered if you could introduce me to some suitable young women who wouldn’t be completely repulsed by me.”

The innocence in his eyes and the implication that most women would be repulsed by him touched Katya’s heart. She smiled, feeling a burst of maternal affection for the man, even though he couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than her. She took his arm and resumed their stroll.

“Of course I’d be willing to make a few introductions for you,” she said. “In fact, I can think of a few young women who would be lucky to have you.” Victoria Travers, for one. Mariah deVere’s younger sister had been holed up at Starcross Castle for more than a year, unwilling to reenter society after the debacle with Peter’s horrid nephew, William. Christopher was just the sort of gentle soul a frightened doe like Victoria needed. And Christopher’s estate was close to Peter’s.

She was already making plans to bring the two young people together as she and Christopher turned the corner at the end of the trees, following the path as it arched toward the Serpentine again. Her matchmaker’s smile vanished in an instant as she spotted Malcolm pacing at the water’s edge, not far from where her daughters and Cece were giggling like fiends while staring at a pack of young bucks on the prowl. Malcolm saw them. His expression darkened.

“He isn’t going to challenge me to a duel, is he?” Christopher asked, a note of genuine terror in his voice.

“No,” Katya laughed. “But I might have to challenge him.” She narrowed her eyes as Malcolm grew near. “All the same,” she went on, letting go of Christopher’s arm, “it would be better if we weren’t seen together.”

Christopher nodded. “I’ll let you know what happens with…the thing.” He turned and strode off in the opposite direction, sparing a final, wary glance for Malcolm.

Katya continued forward, meeting Malcolm at the intersection of two paths.

“I see your young conquest doesn’t have the chops to face a real man,” Malcolm said.

Katya rolled her eyes and took Malcolm’s arm when he offered it. “Please tell me you’re only saying that to maintain the illusion that my interest in Christopher Dowland was something other than the task we need him to do.”

Malcolm grumbled, the sound neither confirming nor denying her statement.

“Honestly, Malcolm,” she huffed. “Jealousy in a man of your age is unbecoming.”

“Just as flirting with young men at your age is obscene.”

She pursed her lips and stared sidelong at him. “Are you saying I couldn’t have a man of Christopher’s age if I wanted him?”

Malcolm remained silent, his expression darkening further. Because, of course, he knew she was fully capable of seducing any man she wanted. Young men of a certain ilk were particularly eager to learn from their elders. What Malcolm failed to understand, however, was that she didn’t, in fact, want a dozen young, virile men in her bed. Quite the contrary.

“You’re too competitive,” she told him, facing forward and smiling at the sunlight glinting off the Serpentine. “That’s always been your problem. You can’t stand to feel as though you’re capable of being bested in anything.”

“That’s not true,” he argued. “I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie.”

Katya laughed. “It eats away at you to think of anyone winning at your expense, whether it’s a vote in Parliament or a woman’s affections or even a hand at cards.”

“Nonsense,” he barked. She had a feeling he would have used a far more colorful word if they’d been in private. “I’m fully capable of losing.”

“Really?” Katya arched a brow at him. “Prove it.”

They had reached Bianca, Natalia, and Cece at the water’s edge. Katya held out her hand, eyes fixed on the reticule of breadcrumbs that Natalia carried. Natalia handed it over. Katya opened it and scooped out a small handful, depositing it in Malcolm’s hands. She kept a bit for herself, then handed the reticule back to Natalia.

“Do you see that swan out there?” She nodded toward the center of the lake, where a particularly majestic swan paddled, eyeing the people on the bank with suspicion. “The first one to lure that swan to the side of the lake wins.”

“That’s completely ridiculous,” Malcolm grumbled.

His grumbling stopped when Katya stepped away from him, scooting along the Serpentine’s bank to get clear of the cluster of waterfowl waiting to be fed by passersby. “Here, swanny,” she called out to the large bird. “I’ve got a nice handful of breadcrumbs for you. Here, swanny, swanny, swanny.”

“Come here, you big bastard,” Malcolm called out from the stretch of bank on the other side of the girls. He tossed crumbs out into the water, nearly hitting the swan as he did.

“Here, swanny,” Katya called a little louder, casting her crumbs as far out into the lake as she could, nearly reaching the bird. “Lovely, fine, swanny.”

The rest of the ducks and geese sensed something was afoot and swam madly to snatch up the crumbs that the large swan was suspicious of. He paddled this way and that, closer to Malcolm then closer to Katya. Katya was sure he thought humans were a strange and ridiculous lot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Malcolm snapped when the swan drifted closer to Katya’s side. “My crumbs are better than hers.”

“That’s a good boy, swanny,” Katya cooed, worried that she was running out of crumbs. “Come to mama.”

“Good Lord, Mama. You realize it sounds as though you’re propositioning that poor swan,” Bianca laughed.

Katya straightened and glared at her daughter. As she did, Malcolm sent a flurry of tempting crumbs sailing at the swan. It turned its head and looked as though it would choose Malcolm over here.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, resuming her efforts to lure the swan to her.

The rest of the birds quacked and squawked and fluttered. The girls laughed uproariously along with them. More than a few pedestrians had stopped to see what was going on and were laughing too. But Katya was glad to look like a fool if it meant she could prove a point to Malcolm.

“There’s a good boy,” she cooed as the swan made a definitive break toward her. “Ha!” She turned to Malcolm with a triumphant grin.

A moment later, the swan let out a ferocious honk and sped toward her. The move was so unexpected that Katya reeled back with a yelp. The other birds parted, leaving the swan free to charge up the bank in pursuit of her.

With another outburst that was something between a shout and a laugh, Katya dashed to the side. She wished she’d brought a parasol to defend herself with, but as it was, her only option was flight. The swan charged after her, long neck extended, honking up a storm.

Malcolm had stepped away from the water’s edge, so Katya ran straight toward him. “I’ve got you,” he said, extending his arms as though he would fold her into a protective embrace.

Katya reached for him as well, but the moment they made contact, the swan charged. Instead of playing the hero and clasping her to his chest, Malcolm shouted a curse and leapt back, tugging Katya with him. The two of them turned and ran, bursting into laughter.

They didn’t stop until they were on the other side of a stand of bushes that reached out into the water. Completely abandoning dignity, Katya laughed like a woman half her age, sagging in Malcolm’s loose embrace. He snorted with laughter along with her, his face red with embarrassment and amusement.

“This proves nothing,” he said, glancing back to make sure the swan wasn’t still chasing them.

“It proves that we’re a pair of old fools,” Katya said.

Malcolm made a sound of agreement, slipping his arm around her waist. He met her eyes with bright joy and lust. “If we weren’t in the middle of Hyde Park on a busy morning, I’d drag you into that bush and ravish you until you honked like that swan.”

Katya laughed louder, the ache of arousal heating her. “As I recall, you’re the one who sounds more like that swan when you come,” she murmured close to his ear before backing to a respectable distance. Several people were watching them, and age and titles could only protect them from social scandal to a point. It wasn’t as if most of London didn’t know what was between them anyhow. All the same, neither of them would be invited to a church bazaar any time soon.

“Really, Mama, you’re an utter embarrassment,” Natalia said in imitation of Katya’s scolding tone as she, Bianca, and Cece approached.

“What kind of an example are you setting, Papa?” Cece asked.

But it was Bianca who squinted off in the distance and said, “Is that Sir Christopher Dowland talking to Lord Shayles?”

Katya caught her breath. She and Malcolm turned in unison to glance across the Serpentine. There, on the path that led toward Kensington Gardens, was Christopher walking side-by-side with Shayles. It was too far to judge Christopher’s expression, but Shayles had a hand on his back.

“I do believe the plan is working,” Katya said, the thrill of victory zipping through her.

“Shayles’s days are numbered,” Malcolm agreed with a menacing grin.