A flash of black caught Meena’s attention an instant before the parasol smashed her straight across the face.

She crumpled forward, hands covering her nose, eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.” Briar dropped her own umbrella and rushed to her side. She guided Meena to the bench at the edge of their small back garden.

“Not your fault.” Meena’s assertion was more of a muffled jumble than a statement as it came from between her cupped hands. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Let me see.” Briar gently coaxed Meena’s hands away from her face.

“Is it bleeding?”

“No. I think we’ve escaped without breaking anything.” Briar let go of Meena’s fingers and stood. “I’ll get you a cold cloth. Don’t move.”

Pain stabbed the bridge of her nose, radiating out beneath her eyes with every breath. Meena leaned back against the wrought iron bench. She wasn’t sure she could move had she wanted to. She blinked away the tears of pain.

Still, her vision refused to clear. The black image of her own parasol seemed to wobble in her watery vision.

She braced her palms flat on the bench and gave her nose and experimental wiggle. More of a dull ache than a sharp pain already. No damage done. This time.

God, but she needed to stop being so wooly headed.

She needed to stop thinking about Spencer.

It had been almost a week.

Meena closed her eyes. She hadn’t counted on the memories. Hadn’t anticipated the countless small moments that surfaced throughout the day. Like Briar’s parasol, they smacked her with vivid recollections of his tenderness, his surprising playfulness, his searing passion.

Meena jumped to her feet. How long did it take to get a cold cloth, anyway?

She strode toward the house, allowing her irritation to build into a good head of anger. Anger was far more invigorating than the vacant, broken emptiness she felt when she contemplated the future without him.

She’d almost reached the back door when Briar flew out. “You have a visitor.”

Meena’s heart gave a silly little stutter.

Briar winced. “Not him.”

“I was thinking the inspector,” Meena lied. “It’s past time we should hear something about White’s arrest.”

“It’s no one you would have expected.”

Meena raised an eyebrow and followed her cousin back through the door. A new case then. Exactly what she needed. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep, calming breath, and wiggled her nose one last time.

“Meena!”

A bundle of energy wrapped in dark blue surge and frothy lace enveloped her in a warm hug. She grabbed the young girl’s shoulders and set her back at arm’s length. “Alicia?”

“I hope you don’t mind.” Spencer’s sister twisted a pair of summer gloves this way and that as she shifted from foot to foot, as if unsure of her welcome. “I had to see you. My brother is an idiot.”

“Is everything all right?”

Alicia’s skirts swirled around her as she twirled away, raising her hands in an impatient gesture. “No. It’s not all right.” She pursed her pretty lips. “My brother was supposed to bring you home with him.”

Meena had no idea what to say. Alicia’s youthful enthusiasm caught at her heart. She remembered a time when life was so black and white. The worldview did hold a certain appeal. “Does Spencer know you’re here? Or your aunt, at least?”

Alicia shook her head. “They think I’m on a school trip.” She sniffed.“My class is at the London Museum. This is far more important.”

“The London Museum? You didn’t walk all this way?”

“I used my lunch money. It was just enough to pay for a hansom.”

Meena sank down on the sofa. “I’ll have to take you back. The teachers will be frantic.”

Alicia give a ladylike snort. “In an entire class of girls? They won’t miss me until at least luncheon.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Meena patted her hand. “But I must take you back.”

Alicia studied her hands. “Do you think you and my brother will mend this?”

Meena was silent for a long moment. Somehow, speaking the words seemed too final. But she owed Alicia an explanation. “I don’t believe so.”

“What an utter imbecile.” Alicia’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean you.”

Meena smiled. “I believe I know who you mean.”

“It’s so unfair. You suit so well.” Alicia ducked her head. “I mean… I’m going to miss you so terribly.”

Tears pricked at the back of Meena’s eyes. She turned her head away, not wanting to distress Alicia. “I shall miss you greatly as well.”

She swallowed twice more, hoping to clear the thickness from her voice. “We can still be friends, you and I.”

Alisha’s smile was colored with regret. “I’d like that very much.” She shook her head so hard, her bright curls danced about. “Why does my brother have to be such a horse’s ass?”

Given her own feelings on the subject, Meena thought it wiser not to reply. She squeezed Alicia’s hand. “I think it’s time to get you back to your classmates.”

And then she recalled, the Hapgoods had taken the carriage for the afternoon. That gave her a moment’s pause.

Alicia drooped.

Meena patted her on the shoulder. “Come on now, friend. We’ll take a cab back to the museum. We might have to stop on the way, however. There’s a delightful café around the corner from the museum. If we hurry, I think we might have time for lunch before I return you.”

Alicia dredged up a half-hearted smile.

In a tick, Meena had gathered up her purse and gloves. She thought about retrieving her parasol from the backyard, but it seemed too much trouble.

“Briar?” Meena raised her voice, to be heard up the stairs.

Her cousin poked her head out of her room above. “Yes?”

“I’m taking Alicia to lunch, then we’re off to the museum.”

Meena swung open the front door. “Shall we?” She held the door wide for Alicia.

The younger girl bounded down the front steps with all the youthful enthusiasm of a summer day. Meena followed, feeling more like an old maid, drained of her useful vitality, than a woman still well on the short side of thirty.

Someday perhaps when her heart had mended, she’d find that lightness again. In the meantime, she tried to act like there were not great sandbags tied to her body.

“Your neighborhood is lovely. I wish we could live in the city. Brighton is fine and all that, but I’m all for the city.” Alicia prattled on as they strolled beneath the canopy of trees lining the street. “I love the bustle. I love the busyness.”

“Mmmm.” Meena let the girl’s soft voice wash over her. “Perhaps he’ll see your point of view.”

“I can’t imagine.” Alicia sighed dramatically. “Spencer is such an old stick. Sometimes he acts more like an elderly grandmother than a brother.”

“He loves you. I know he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I think he likes to think of you tucked safely away at the seaside.”

“Where nothing is any fun at all.”

“Oh?” Meena arched a brow. “What about Edward? He seems grand.”

Alicia’s cheeks pinked. “You have me there. But if it weren’t for Edward, I’d move to London in an instant.”

“I would love that.” Meena grinned at her. “We’d be able to see each other much more often.”

“That would be grand.”

Meena smiled to herself. At least someone seemed eager for her company.

She glanced up at the leafy canopy overhead, enjoying the way the sunlight brought out the intensity of the greens. It was early yet. There were few pedestrians about, and her street, generally quiet anyway, was all but deserted.

Which was why she took immediate notice of the two large, angry-looking toughs stalking down the pavement toward them. The way they moved—quiet, intent, determined—set off her internal alarms.

She grabbed Alicia by the arm and moved to cross the street. Unfortunately, two more thugs were already cutting across to intercept them. Meena froze, trying to calculate how she might defend them both, looking for a doorway, a stout stick, a scrap of metal, anything to use as a weapon.

“What is it?” Alicia’s eyes widened as she took in the men now surrounding them.

Meena whirled around, facing back toward the house. Yet another man, with flat eyes—and a rather large pistol—was almost upon them.

“Blast it all to hell.” Meena tightened her grip on the girl’s arm. “I’m afraid we’re in for a bit of adventure.”

* * *

Manners be damned.

Spencer took the stairs to the Sweets’ home two a time in the fading evening light, and burst straight through the door. Alicia had been missing for hours. The train ride to London had aged him ten years, he was sure.

The police were searching the area near the museum, of course, but he had to do something himself.

And he only knew of one place to turn.

Edison rushed into the parlor from the back of the house. His hair stood on end and his collar bent away from his neck. He looked as if he’d been in the center of a cyclone. “Crane? What the devil?”

“It’s Alicia. She’s missing. I thought Meena could—”

With a sharp shake of the head, Sweet cut him off. “She’s not here. We’re beginning to worry.”

His stomach clenched. This could not be a coincidence.

Briar hurried into the room, the Hapgoods straight on her heels. Her expressive face was pinched with worry. “Alicia was here.”

The unexpected news rocked him back on his heels.

“She came this morning to see Meena. It was before luncheon. They left quickly. I assumed Meena was seeing her home.”

Spencer pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to think. “She was on a school trip. The London Museum. Studying some damned Greek statues.”

Mrs. Hapgood shouldered her way through the group. She took Spencer by the arm. “Come into the kitchen. We were just sitting down to construct a plan.”

His mind frozen into inaction, Spencer allowed himself to towed along. He could hardly think, for the fear seizing him. Long evening shadows were already seeping through the parlor windows, only adding to his worry.

Alicia was out there in the dark.

Alone.

He swallowed a lump of bile.

“This can’t be coincidence.” Sweet drew out a chair and sank down. “Both of them gone. They must be together.”

“I wish we could know that for certain.” Spencer shook his head as Mr. Hapgood waved him to a chair. He was far too nervous to sit. He stood behind the empty chair, hands gripping the railing.

Mr. Hapgood gave Spencer a level look. “So your sister got herself here from the London Museum in good shape.”

Spencer swallowed, and nodded slowly. He needed to calm himself, needed to think clearly. “Yes. She arrived at the gallery with her classmates. After that, no one recalls seeing her until the girls lined up to return to the train station. That was around three.”

Mr. Hapgood folded his arms over his chest and stared up at the ceiling. “And the girl arrived here eleven-ish, you think?”

“It was a quarter till.” Briar was winding a hank of curly hair around an index finger. “I had whacked Meena in the face with my parasol. I noticed the time as I came into the kitchen for a cool cloth. I’m positive about that.”

The houseman grunted. “And then the two of them left not long after?”

“Exactly. I went up to my room to give them a bit of privacy, so I don’t know what they discussed.”

Spencer rested his forearms on the back of the chair and sagged forward. “I’m sure Meena would have escorted her back to the museum. The police are searching the area around the museum. They sent men to the train station, in case Alicia was trying to return home. But no one’s searching here.” He eyed the group. “We didn’t know Meena was missing.”

“So they never made it to the museum,” Edison pointed out. “And no one has looked between here and there.”

Spencer dug his fingers into the hard oak of the kitchen chair. He wanted to hit something. Anything to mask the horrible fear. At least Meena was with her. The thought brought a rush of relief, but made him feel like a cad. He had no right to wish her any harm.

But Meena was an exceedingly capable woman, far more capable than most men, when it came to it. And Alicia was…

A child. Beautiful and headstrong and complicated. And not nearly as streetwise as she considered herself.

Edison jumped up from his chair, sending it toppling back. “We need Burke. He seems a sharp man.”

“Agreed.” Spencer nodded.

“For a peeler,” Briar added on her way out of the room.

Edison circled his hands around the back of his neck, making his stiff collar bow out even further. “Mrs. H, I’m thinking we send you to the station for the inspector?”

The older lady nodded eagerly. “Happy to go. That makes sense. The rest of you could be out searching. I’ll get my things.” She bustled out of the kitchen toward her rooms.

“I’ll take her in the carriage.” Mr. Hapgood announced. “Get her there all the faster. It’s not so far from the museum. I can start there and work my way back here.”

“Excellent.” Edison looked across the table at Spencer. “I say the three of us start here. Follow a path toward the museum. We can spread out as we see necessary.”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. His thoughts were running in circles, getting him nowhere. At least the Sweets seemed to be at their sharpest. There wasn’t a one of them that wasn’t calm and cool and quick-witted.

He only hoped his own brain would begin functioning sometime soon.

Briar hurried back into the room and spilled an assortment of pistols onto the table. She wasted no time in handing them out. “Better safe than sorry.” She held out a rather delicate derringer to her brother. He frowned in distaste before accepting the weapon.

For him, she chose a stocky revolver. Spencer didn’t favor guns as a way out of trouble any more than the inventor, but now the cold steel felt oddly reassuring in his grip.

Mr. Hapgood checked the loading on his own long-barreled pistol and slipped it into the waistband of his trousers. “That’s it then. Meet back here in an hour? The missus should be back with Burke by then.”

“That sounds—”

A sharp wrap on the front door interrupted Spencer’s response.

As the rest of them hid their weapons in various coat pockets, Briar hurried to answer it. She returned carrying an ostentatious bouquet so large it hid her from the waist up. The sickly smell of lilies made Spencer’s stomach turn.

They smelled like death.

Briar set the bouquet down on the table and grabbed the ivory envelope sticking out from the center.

The paper trembled in her fingers. She read it quickly, her face blanching white as the flowers. When she looked up, the fear in her eyes threatened to fill the room.

“They’re…” She put a hand to her chest, taking a deep breath before beginning again. “They’re together.” She tried to smile, but only achieved a ghastly grimace. “White has them.” She dropped the card on the table and slid it toward Spencer.

Even as he snatched it up, he was making note of every tiny detail. Expensive card stock. Neat, unhurried writing.

I have what you want. You know what I desire in return. Will be in contact.

L.W.

The card fell from his fingers.

“What is it?” Sweet squinted at the note.

“The recording.” Spencer thrust a hand into his hair. “White wants the recording.”

* * *

Fingers touching only the edges of the card, Inspector Burke slid the envelope into another, larger envelope. Then he slammed a fist down on the Sweets’ kitchen table. “It was his damned solicitor. The man knows every magistrate in the city. Owns most of them. White was bailed out before I finished reading him the charges.”

A fresh wave of anger roiled through Spencer’s stomach. “We should have expected that.”

“You’re right.” Burke bowed his head. The casement clock in the parlor ticked away the seconds. “I’m sorry.”

Spencer waved away his apology. “I have far more to regret than you do.”

The inspector raised his head and locked gazes with Spencer. “We’ll get them back.”

“I know.” Spencer tried to assure himself.

The muscles in Sweet’s jaw pulsed. “White won’t live out the day.”

The three men shared a long look.

The intensity of their rage warmed Spencer’s heart. With a good deal of luck, White might make it past one of them, but he’d never escape them all. He prayed he’d be the one to kill the miserable sod. Not that it would do a thing to erase the guilt twisting his gut.

It was his fault, his own, blasted pride that had gotten Meena and Alicia kidnapped.

If only he’d been able to look past Meena’s criticisms, to see them for the fears they were.

If only he’d had the courage to talk her out of her misgivings.

She’d be at his side now.

And Alicia would be safely home, nose buried in her school books.

Spencer stared across the kitchen table, littered with the remains of a hasty meal, and page after page of foolscap covered with lists, maps, and diagrams.

The kitchen resembled more of a war room than a home.

The inspector was eyeing their scribblings. He tapped a finger on one of Briar’s lists. “He won’t give you any time to set up. He’ll pick somewhere far enough away that you’ll have to rush just to make the meeting.”

“That’s what we figured. We’ll only be able to use what we can carry with us.” Edison’s smile dripped more than a little venom. “We can carry a lot.”

Burke nodded. “Good thinking. Not much profit in spending your time searching for them. Could be anywhere. White will come to you. You’re best served planning for your meeting.”

“He has plenty of manpower.” Sweet traced a finger over one of the drawings. “He could’ve moved them out of London entirely. It’s what I would have done.”

Burke nodded. “I have a couple men I trust. I’ll have them do a discrete search anyway. We could get lucky.”

“I bet he moves tonight.” Briar was testing the points of a throwing star with the pad of her finger. “Dark is always best, and there’s a wicked fog brewing. Cuts down on observers.”

The inspector shot her a faint grin. “I’m glad we’re not on opposite sides of this thing.”

Spencer studied their faces. Sweet, all intensity and focus. Mrs. Hapgood, deadly intelligence and bravery in an unassuming package. Her husband, ferocious skills and a razor-sharp mind. And Briar, the face of an angel and armed to the teeth. At least he wouldn’t have to face White alone.

Just the rest of his life, once this business was done.

There was that.

Which he could dwell on later, once Alicia and Meena were safe.

The inspector picked up the envelope with the ransom note and slid it into the inner pocket of his suit coat. “I’ll get my men out looking directly. I don’t have high expectations, however.” He scooped his hat off the end table. “I’ll be at the station. Send a message when you hear. I’ll join you.” The door closed behind him.

Spencer planted his fists on table and leaned his weight on his arms. Four solemn faces stared back. “White’s going to want me to bring the recording. He won’t expect me to be alone.”

Sweet went back to fiddling with his gramophone. He looked up, shaking a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I say we give the man exactly what he’s expecting.”

Mrs. Hapgood was checking the sight on a small derringer. “Oh he’ll get everything he’s expecting and a great deal more, if I have anything to say about it.” She lowered the pistol and eyed the cylinder for bullets. Her expert movements made Spencer wonder just how many times she’d done it.

Her husband caught Spencer’s attention. “Our Philomena will keep that girl safe.”

“Of that, I haven’t the slightest doubt.” Spencer pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. He’d been on his feet for hours. He'd do the women no good at all if he was exhausted. “Let’s go over our preparations.”

“I’ve got the carriage stocked with as many disguises as I could fit in. Wigs, capes, hats.” Briar ticked the list off on her fingers. “There’s no telling what we’ll need.”

Sweet set his tools aside. “I’ve got a few surprises for White. Most of them pocket-sized. Just need a little more time for some adjustments on the gramophone.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

Sweet cocked his head to the side, surprised at Spencer’s thickness. “He’s going to make you play the cylinder.”

Spencer ran a hand over his face. Of course. Of course he would.

Mr. Hapgood squeezed his shoulder from behind. “Easy, lad. We’re all done in. But that’s why White doesn’t stand a chance. It’s all of us against the one of him. No chance at all.”

It truly was all of them.

Spencer saw that now.

He was so use to carrying everything on his own shoulders. So used to being disappointed when those who should love him let him down.

Meena had the power of her whole, ragtag family behind her. It was a power he had badly underestimated.

He sighed. “So now we wait.”

“You can wait, or you can learn how to operate this thing.” Sweet slid the wooden box across the table toward him. “You’re the one he’s going to want. Best if you know how to use it.”

Spencer reached for the box. Having something to do would be a godsend. If he were left alone with his own dark thoughts too much longer, he’d be no use to anyone.

He undid the latches and pulled the cover off the machine. Then he froze, his blood suddenly pumping so hard the acrid taste of copper filled his mouth. “But we don’t have the cylinder. The inspector— We forgot—”

Sweet shook his head. “Don’t need it.”

Spencer blinked at him, unable to think.

The inventor grinned. “I made a copy.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I said it would be difficult to make a duplicate. I didn’t say it would be impossible.”

Spencer sagged back in his seat. They could still get White. Should he escape, Burke could still bring him up on charges.

Sweet watched him think it through. “One way or another, White’s finished. Especially once you use this.” He set another, smaller box atop the table and flipped it open. Two more brass cylinders were nestled inside. Spencer could see that both were covered in the same kinds of scratchings, as if they’d been recorded as well.

“More duplicates?”

“White will think so. He’s going to ask you for the rest of them.”

Briar rose up on tiptoe, studying the cylinders. “But these cylinders come with a surprise, don’t they?”

The inventor attempted to look modest. “Quite a nice little surprise.”

He turned the case, so the narrowest side faced Spencer. Each corner was studded with a brass nail. He pointed at the top corner. “This one’s a switch. You’ll need to be careful. There’s a bomb inside.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not a real bomb. Don’t want to blow you up. For now. It’s apricot pie. Sorry Mrs. H,” he gave the cook a sheepish look. “Opens with a nice big pop. Should scare the living tar out of anyone within ear shot.”

Spencer scratched his head. “Apricot pie.”

“What?” The inventor looked defensive. “Could have used kitchen scraps, but I thought you’d prefer something better smelling.”

Spencer scrubbed his face with his palm. Facing down White and his goons with an apricot pie. He’d been in worse scrapes. And not as capably armed.

Not with his sister though. Not when her life—and Meena’s—was on the line. He nodded to himself, trying to swallow around a throat dry and tight as the Sahara. He’d use any damn means at his disposal.

And he would win.

Sweet tapped the case above the button. “Once you push that, you’ll have ten seconds before it detonates.”

“Understood. How do I start this thing, then?” Seeing that the cylinder was already in place, Spencer reached for the metal handle of the gramophone.

“Don’t!” Edison grabbed his arm. “You don’t want to touch that.”

Spencer yanked his hand back. “So how am I supposed to demonstrate it?”

“Let White do it.”

“If I can persuade him.”

“What does this look like to you?” Sweet turned the machine so that the wide horn with its cylindrical opening was facing Spencer’s chest.

Amazing.

Spencer blinked in surprise. “It looks like the business end of a gun.”

Sweet grinned. “I’d say so. Once you turn it toward him, I doubt White’ll give you the chance to operate the thing. Let him crank it. When you detonate the bomb, the full force of it hits him right in the face.”

Spencer gaped at the inventor.

Sweet shrugged. “Smarter than I look, aren’t I?” He swiveled the device back around.

“And vastly smarter than Leyland White.”

Sweet dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “As to that, I’ve got a few more little baubles for each of you. We might as well go over them now. I’ll be right back.” He headed back to his workshop.

Silence fell over the room again as the others slumped down in their own chairs. Nothing more to do now but wait.

And suffer.

There was always that.

He slid down in his chair until the back of his head rested on the top rung. He’d been so convinced—so damned certain—there was no such thing as real love that he’d slapped it away, even when it was staring him straight in the face.

How ironic.

If they were so ill-suited, why had he been so blasted miserable this past week? Why was it all he could think about was the way her smile warmed his soul?

He closed his eyes against the painful memories. She was afraid to be played for a fool. Afraid he’s stray. Fair enough, he had to agree.

But his omission had been larger. Large enough to sink them.

He’d been so afraid he couldn’t measure up to the man she wanted, he lost the chance to be the man she loved.