Anna yelped as cold metal pressed to her temple. She froze momentarily and then twisted in an attempt to flee. “Let me go!”

Wade hissed but his hold on her only tightened. “Not until your husband sets aside the pistol he’s pointing at me.”

She looked at Gilbert in surprise. He had a pistol in hand and was slowly prowling closer. “You carry a pistol?”

He nodded curtly. “Seemed a wise precaution. Let my wife go now, Wade, if you wish to be treated fairly.”

“Not until you listen to me,” Wade demanded.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is ridiculous!” Portia exclaimed loudly from some distant part of the house. There was a rumble of something crashing and breaking beneath their feet. “Oh, bother,” Portia complained.

“Portia!”

“This house will kill her before anyone else stands a chance,” Lord Wade grumbled under his breath. “Will you be careful down there,” he yelled.

“Portia!” Anna twisted again in Lord Wade’s grip, struggling to break his hold. “Where are you?”

“In the wine cellar,” Portia called. “Give me a moment to find a way out again.”

Anna turned to look at Lord Wade. “What have you done?”

He didn’t answer but kept his attention on Gilbert. “The pistol, or I’ll steal a kiss from your bride before you shoot me.”

Gilbert lowered the point of the weapon slightly, frowning. “Touch your lips to any part of her and you will die, slowly, painfully.”

Lord Wade chuckled. “Told you he was the jealous sort. Put the pistol on the floor and kick it farther into the kitchen, my lord. Then follow us after you shut the door,” he said as he edged backward, dragging Anna with him as a shield and out into the hall again.

Anna remembered the layout of the house fairly well. He was leading her toward the entranceway to the cellar, where Portia was trapped.

Gilbert and Carmichael were out of sight for a moment but they quickly followed, stalking after them with matching grim expressions. Gilbert still held his pistol but loosely at his side now.

“If you hurt her, I will skin you alive, Wade,” Carmichael threatened.

“Goodness!” Portia exclaimed as she suddenly appeared at Anna’s side, unbound and grinning. Her hair was half falling down and she had a smudge of dirt across her cheek. “You’re certainly a bloodthirsty one these days.” She smiled at Lord Wade next. “Put the pistol down, Wade. You know it’s not loaded. Didn’t I say my best friend would be the one to find me?”

The press of cold metal vanished from her temple. To Anna’s relief, Gilbert immediately turned the point of his weapon away too.

“So you did,” Wade grumbled, sliding the pistol into his coat pocket, looking decidedly unhappy about that. “But her new husband brought a pistol along to your tea party, too. I’m sure it is loaded.”

“Shame on you, my lord,” Portia chided Gilbert. “That is the height of bad manners.”

“A pistol seemed appropriate since your father was under the impression you were abducted by a murderer,” Gilbert told her.

“So was Wade, unfortunately.” Portia shrugged. “He followed us here.”

“Us?”

“Did you really think I’d stand to be abducted?” She giggled behind her hand. “I ran away from home with my maid.”

Wade’s grip loosened on Anna and she flew across the room into the safety of Gilbert’s arms. She looked back at Lord Wade, but he was grinning at her now.

“What a pretty sight,” Lord Wade said as Gilbert hugged Anna tightly against him. He smiled as he turned his attention back to Portia. “Damn foolish idea anyway, to think you could hide in the city. Everyone seems to have deduced where you’d gone.”

Gilbert set Anna aside but kept hold of her hand. “You followed Portia to protect her?”

He nodded. “Trying to. Her father certainly wasn’t up to the job.”

Portia’s maid appeared from the cellar. “Miss Hayes, do you want another bottle of claret brought up or not?”

The maid was just as dusty but appeared happy enough.

“Yes, thank you. Since we have guests, we might as well bring a pair of bottles, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid disappeared into the murky downstairs again.

“It is so dreary down here. The drawing room is much nicer. Come on.” Portia pulled Anna away from Gilbert and moved toward the obscured staircase that would lead them up to the drawing room. “I’m so glad to see you. What is it like being a married woman?” Portia whispered as the men fell behind.

“Wonderful. What were you running away from?”

“My parents, of course,” she said blithely, as if it were something she did every day.

“You would be safer with them than here,” Anna promised. “Don’t you realize the danger exists only at night? Fridays in particular.”

“Of course I know that. I read the papers, too. And if you might think I’m safer at home then you would be very wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My father had the most brilliant idea after watching you wed Lord Sorenson. He has decided to marry me off too before the very next Friday ball.” Portia crossed her arms over her chest. “Absolutely intolerable.”

Carmichael laughed suddenly. “I heard him talking about that. He was quite taken with the notion, wasn’t he? Unfortunately, he kept looking at me, for some reason.”

Portia aimed a warm smile at him. “Well, you are known to be unmatched and available now.”

“So you came here?” Anna continued when Carmichael’s face paled. “With just your maid for company?”

“Last night, as soon as my father finished his little speech about my future, I began to plot my escape. We were intending to stay here, in very happy solitude I might add, until this one broke in and started bleeding all over the place,” she said, pointing at Lord Wade.

“Bleeding?” She looked at Lord Wade more closely, and only then noticed his left hand was bandaged. That explained why he’d hissed when he’d held her. “You’re hurt?”

“A scratch that will heal soon enough.”

“He fainted,” Portia confessed with another giggle. “I never before met a man who would.”

Anna glanced up at her husband, one brow raised in question. “How could Lord Wade ever be a suspect if he faints at the sight of blood? There’s always so much of it.”

“I concede to your greater wisdom, sweetheart,” Gilbert murmured, crossing the room to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Anna blushed a little at the endearment and burrowed into his embrace once more. All this handholding and touching in public would make her swoon soon. “Of course Lord Wade isn’t the killer. He’s not at all vicious enough.”

Portia shook her head, a teasing smile on her lips as she watched Anna enjoy the embrace of her new husband. “Wade told me you probably suspected him, so I let him stay, provided he made himself useful.”

“I do apologize for suspecting you, Lord Wade, and beg your forgiveness,” Gilbert offered, holding out one hand.

Wade held up his bandaged hand rather than offer it to shake. “Granted.” Wade glanced at Portia. “If you’re not expecting any other callers for a while, you will excuse me. I’d better get back to my work before my brother tries to fall asleep again.”

He spun about and stalked from the room.

“What work?”

“Oh, he’s keeping busy clearing out my uncle’s study. It’s the only room I don’t wish to sort through, not after the first love letter I found. So I left him and his brother to clean it up in return for feeding them.”

Anna laughed softly. “Not a bad idea to give someone else the task.”

Portia shrugged. “He finds it amusing.”

“This sounds intriguing. I think I’ll join them in the study,” Carmichael murmured, and left, too.

“Up the stairs, down the hall and to the front of the house,” Portia called. “Make yourself at home.”

Once they were gone, Gilbert rounded on Portia.

“You have scared your parents almost to death, young lady,” he scolded.

“Mother knows where I am,” Portia told them, appearing unconcerned.

“She does?”

“I told her where I was bound, but not my father. Couldn’t have him knowing our secret hideaway, too.” When Gilbert gaped at her, she rushed to add, “Where do you think I got the idea to come here? When she and father are at odds, you can almost always find her here, wishing she’d never married most likely.”

Gilbert nodded. “And Lord Wade?”

“Mother does not know about Lord Wade, and I wish to keep it that way,” Portia said, eyes pleading Gilbert to silence. “Besides, his aunt would tan his hide if he so much as put a foot wrong in this house.”

Anna gaped. “His aunt came too?”

“Aunt and brother. Chaperoned the whole time, and vastly entertained I have been, too.” Portia laughed softly. “She’s not quite as frightening after you see her fall asleep ten minutes after she arrives. She drinks like a fish every other moment, though,” Portia muttered under her breath. “My uncle’s wine cellar will be cleared out by the end of the week.”

Gilbert inhaled and exhaled very slowly. “Where is she?”

“Drawing room. Drinking her way through another bottle from my late uncle’s cellar. They were old friends, she says.” Portia’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “In their youth, they might have been more, I suspect, given the way she describes him in such glowing terms.”

They all trouped upstairs, interrupting Mrs. Lenthall from imbibing a glass of claret.

The old lady saluted them with it. “It’s a tiresome prospect, chaperoning this one, Lady Sorenson. I’ll be more than happy to hand the chore over to you in the future.”

“Thank you for being here,” Anna told her sincerely. The old lady’s presence added a layer of protection around Portia’s reputation that could not be matched.

“Couldn’t have my Wade compromising the chit.” She nodded sagely. “I told him she was just as headstrong as her uncle. Best to have her bedevil some other gentleman first before she’s worth pursuing.”

Portia’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, so you have said already.”

Mrs. Lenthall looked up at Anna and gestured to a vacant chair. “Sit and have a drink with us, Lady Sorenson. The gel and I were just speculating on the murderer’s identity.”

“The matter is under investigation,” Gilbert promised as Anna settled into a chair and accepted a glass of claret. Just to be sociable. Ordinarily, she’d never touch a drop at this hour.

“Yes, I’m sure you have interrogated every possible suspect and still failed to see the most likely culprit is right under your nose all along,” Mrs. Lenthall declared, and then took a hearty sip from her glass. “Drink up, gels.”

Anna dutifully took a small sip.

Gilbert leaned against the back of Anna’s chair. “Why do you say that, madam?”

The old woman’s eyes lit up. “After you have studied all the evidence at hand, you concluded the killer is a man, yes?”

Carmichael returned at that moment, his expression as troubled as it always was when suspects were discussed in front of him. “Yes. Someone with an interest in Lord Carmichael’s future.”

“Yes, an easy enough conclusion, given the way his past amours have met their grisly ends. But why conclude it is a man?”

“The methods used to dispatch the victims. It takes great strength to kill someone the way it was done.”

“That is where you are quite wrong.” Mrs. Lenthall smiled sadly. “When I was a girl, we had a visitor come to our home. He took an unnatural interest, un-encouraged, in one of our little housemaids. He caught her alone one day in the garden. He would have had his way with her, too, without a doubt.”

“What happened to stop him?”

“She caved his head in with a marble garden statue. Ordinarily, much too heavy for such a slight little thing to lift.”

“Rage could make a difference,” Gilbert whispered, appearing shocked as he looked about the room. “You suggest the killer is a lady.”

“And a furious one at that, though she must hide it well to have escaped detection for so long.” The old lady sipped her wine. “I bet you’ve spent the bulk of your investigation studying the male members of the ton. You’re after a fiend who befriends her victims, not an outcast. She doesn’t have to hunt them, they come to her for their end.”

Anna covered her mouth. “But why?”

“Who can say why anyone does anything? Perhaps she was disappointed in her youth, married poorly, and now out of misguided concern, seeks to ensure Lord Carmichael makes the right match. Perhaps she was born to kill.”

“My right match was Angela Berry. Whoever believes she wasn’t does not care about my happiness at all,” Carmichael protested.

“Many men love more than once in their lives,” Mrs. Lenthall offered sympathetically. “Some never get over heartbreak.”

“I will not,” Carmichael declared, furious.

“Every love is different.” The old lady held her empty wine glass to her cheek and closed her eyes. “What we need is a guaranteed way to draw this lioness out into the light, and quickly, before anyone else gets hurt. Make them think you have already moved on to another pretty face. It would have to be just the right woman, too, to make the ruse believable. Someone daring and brave and, well…rather obviously smitten by your pretty self, Lord Carmichael.”

Lord Wade stepped into the room, scowling. “Aunt, don’t you dare make such a suggestion,” he warned.

“I haven’t suggested anything yet, my dear boy. I’m sure these young people will reach the same conclusion as we have in due time.”

Portia sighed, and then looked over at Lord Carmichael.

He was shaking his head. “I won’t put anyone else in danger.”

A sense of foreboding filled Anna as Portia’s expression changed to one of grim determination. She turned to Gilbert. “What is being suggested?”

“Baiting the killer,” Lord Wade answered sourly. “She will not hesitate to strike down another woman that gets in her way. Not if she read that article in the paper.”

“The article suggested a male villain at work, not a woman,” Gilbert said slowly. “She might still believe herself undetected and safe from suspicion. What if the potential victim knew what might happen and agreed to accept the risk?”

Lord Wade shook his head. “Foolishness, and I’ll have no part of it.”

Portia scowled at him. “But if you’re watching, too, they stand a better chance of catching her in the act. Proof will be required and you will make an exceptional witness.”

“The last time was a blade across the throat and a stab to the heart,” Lord Wade growled. “You do not know how to protect yourself from that.”

“But you can help me prepare,” Portia decided, standing. “We have time to practice together.”

“No.” Lord Wade spun about and stalked off into the house.

“He’ll do it,” Portia promised, seating herself again. “He’ll do what I want in the end.”

“Portia, are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I want revenge for Angela, Lydia, Myra and all the others.”

“You’ll need to do more than deflect a blade,” Gilbert suggested. “If it’s a woman, it will be well hidden. The timing must be just right to catch them in the act of attacking you. Carmichael?”

Carmichael stood motionless, staring at nothing. He hadn’t added much to the conversation, and Anna worried that he was completely against the plan.

“Carmichael?” She went to him when he didn’t answer. “Price, what is it?”

He blinked slowly and focused on her face as if he’d not even been listening. “I’ll stop her.”

He glanced at Gilbert, and then dropped his eyes. “I’ll stop her.”

“We’ll all stop her,” she told him. “This will draw her out, but it will be dangerous for you, too. I want you to be careful.”

Carmichael smiled sadly. “I’m not the one in danger.”

“I’ll be watching you both the whole night,” Gilbert promised.

“So will I,” Anna insisted.

“I’ll need a little time to arrange things,” Carmichael murmured, shaking his head. He looked at Portia, frowning. “You’ll have to be very convincing.”

“Oh, I’m halfway in love with you already, don’t you know?” She grinned. “Everyone will believe I’ve thrown myself at you by the end of the evening.”

“I have already sent my acceptance to the Bertram ball. I will speak to the hosts to make sure that you all have been invited, too, Miss Hayes. Reserve me two dances on your dance card, make sure the most important ladies, the ones who gossip, know that I have.” He clenched his jaw. “Be flirtatious with me, even from across the dance floor. A footman will hand you a note early in the evening. Blank paper is all we need for this game. Make sure you blush when you pretend to read it. If anyone asks, it is a love note from an ardent admirer. Keep it and then slip away to Lord Bertram’s library, as if you intend to meet with me there. We spring our trap while everyone else is at supper.”

“This is madness!” Lord Wade insisted, having returned to hear the last of the discussion.

Carmichael turned about. “You must shadow Miss Hayes wherever she goes.”

Wade’s jaw clenched. “If one hair on her head is harmed, I’ll hold you accountable.”

“I hold myself responsible already. This is my fault. If there is nothing else,” Carmichael asked, looking around at everyone. “I’m expected at a luncheon today and cannot be late. It would be best not to give the game away to anyone, so act naturally around friends and family, especially. I will see you all again on Friday night.”

“Be careful,” Anna called after Carmichael, but he was gone before she heard any answer.

“I suppose I will have to return to my parents’ house before the ball arrives,” Portia said glumly, looking about the room with longing. “I do love it here.”

“Carmichael might call on you at home, too, so his singling you out won’t seem so sudden at the ball. Society does love to gossip about budding romances,” Mrs. Lenthall remarked to Portia, as if that would cheer her up.

“Indeed they do.” Portia grimaced. “I’ll go home early tomorrow. I’ll slip into the house before sunrise and convince my father I’ve been at home all along,” she promised. “He’s fallen for that before.”

“He’s not that foolish,” Gilbert protested.

“You have no idea how dumb he can be,” Lord Wade muttered under his breath. “It’s staggering what she gets away with.”

Portia approached Lord Wade, her lower lip trembling a little. She set her hand on his folded arms. “I’ll be counting on you.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, looking away quickly. “Don’t pretend that you’re not happy to know you’ll have Carmichael’s attention all night long. Your agreement in this little trap has very little to do with catching a killer.”

“Fine,” she said, dropping her hand. “You think you know me so well. Just don’t get distracted by the other pretty faces you like to watch.”

He scowled thunderously then. His jaw worked but he kept his mouth shut.

Portia shrugged. “You’re so stubborn.”

“So are you.” Anna punctuated that statement by poking her friend’s arm. “Are you not afraid?”

“Yes, and no.” She chewed on her lip. “This is the right thing to do. Flirting with Carmichael will bring the killer out of hiding. Mrs. Lenthall and I discussed it over tea this morning, and we both agree it is worth the risk.”

“But you could be hurt, killed even. I couldn’t bear to lose all my friends this season.” Anna hugged her tightly. “You must be careful.”

Portia drew back, nodding. “Wade will teach me to defend myself. He’ll be in the shadows as he always is. I’ll be as safe as I can be.”

“And after?”

Portia kissed her cheek and turned Anna toward the staircase. “We will see what happens after the ball. We’ll talk again after this is all behind us.”

“If you survive, we might,” Wade muttered as they passed.

She glanced back at Gilbert. He’d stopped behind them, staring off into space. “Gilbert? Is something wrong?”

He looked at her sharply. “Yes, and no. Let’s get home. We have a lot to do before the next ball.”