“It seems you were correct. Mr. Dennis Small is very much alive, and given the description you furnished, following the Dalton’s about London, I’m afraid,” Mr. Banks told him after a perfunctory greeting in Quinn’s drawing room.

Quinn clenched his fists at his sides. “What is to be done to stop him?”

“There is no law against a man merely following a woman about.”

“There should be, if he thinks he can touch one hair on her head.”

“We must be vigilant.”

Quinn would be more than vigilant. He’d never let Theodora out of his sight again. And if he caught sight of Dennis Small anywhere near her, they’d have more than a few words said between them. “What else did you learn about him?”

“A few things. Small has taken lodgings at the White Goat tavern. It’s a mean place, and he only talks to one other man staying there. Keeps to himself, but they do walk past this house each day, which is quite a distance from his lodgings.”

Quinn ground his teeth. That was more often than he’d considered likely. “What’s the other fellow look like?”

“Big, terrible smell about him, and one of my men concluded he’s not quite up to snuff in the intelligence line.”

Quinn remembered another man beside Small on the night of the fire. He’d thought them strangers at the time, but he suddenly remembered Small had prevented the other man from speaking for himself. “What would a former secretary be doing with someone like that?”

“Nothing good, given the way he treated the fellow last night. Small is the brains of the pair. The other hasn’t the wits to stay out of the rain when it’s falling.”

“And Small is most likely the most dangerous of the pair,” Quinn reasoned.

“You still wonder about the fire, don’t you?”

“I do. Even more so now that I’ve learned Mr. Small faked his own death. He hasn’t fled London. He followed us from Maitland House to Newberry House, and follows Theodora when she’s in my carriage. I would say I have reason to wonder what more he might manage if she and her mother were making calls on their own.”

“There’s absolutely no evidence to point in his direction about the fire.”

That was the worst of it. Small couldn’t be convicted without presenting evidence of his crime. Their hands were tied unless Small made a move against the Dalton women. “I know.”

“The gems would certainly have been motive, but he didn’t get them, did he?”

It made no sense to light a fire to drive everyone out so he could steal, and then remain in the vicinity weeks after. “I wonder if Mr. Small didn’t know where the gems were that night. There are not too many men who would wear their wives’ jewels about their neck instead of keeping them under lock and key.”

“I agree that he might not have known.” Banks smiled quickly. “I doubt that was Dalton’s intention when he donned them. Most likely he planned to reveal them to his wife later, in the privacy of the bedchamber. It is a good thing they are safe now. Do be careful with them.”

But Quinn didn’t have the gems anymore. Mrs. Dalton had requested them back last night after his engagement dinner, and he’d gladly deposited them in her hand before he’d retired to bed with Theodora.

Now, he was a little worried about the matter of their safekeeping. A greedy servant could be bribed to steal unsecured items of value. It was an unpleasant thought. But there was a safe upstairs in another room he could make available to Mrs. Dalton for their continued safety. He would offer the use of it to Mrs. Dalton immediately.

He stretched out his hand to Banks. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course, my lord. Always a pleasure to be of service. Do keep an eye out, and when you can, please convey my apologies to Miss Dalton. I doubted her telling of events, but what she said might have merit.”

“I will do so.” Immediately. Theodora would like to know her instincts about the night of the fire were right.

He waited for Banks to leave the building then made a beeline for the study, ignoring the whine of Mrs. Dalton’s dog above him.

Theodora wasn’t at her desk, and he looked to the other secretaries. “Sever, where is Miss Dalton?”

“I’m not certain, my lord.”

“Kemp?”

“She never does say where she goes, my lord, but I believe she and Mrs. Dalton went out some time ago.”

Quinn stilled. “Do you know why, or where they went?”

“No milord.” Kemp stood. “Miss Dalton prefers not to confide in us.”

Quinn wasn’t surprised by that. Kemp had proven himself particularly disapproving of females who work. He would deal with the man later, but for now he was more concerned about where Theodora and her mother had gone. “Mother will know,” he muttered, and hurried upstairs to his mother’s private sitting room.

He found Mother, Sally and Hastings, and, surprisingly, Lord Deacon sipping tea and ale together. Mrs. Dalton’s pup, leashed unhappily to the leg of mother’s chair, whined pitiously.

He got straight to the point. “Where is Theodora?”

Hastings smirked. “Chasing her already?”

“I haven’t seen her since breakfast,” Sally advised. “Shouldn’t she be working?”

“No, she and her mother went out.” He glanced at his mother, who was frowning in silence. “Mother, where are they?”

“Gone to sell Mrs. Dalton’s gems, I’m afraid.”

“Now?”

“Indeed. Very rash, I thought. I told her she needn’t bother with another house. We have plenty of room here. I expected them back by now, too.” She glanced sourly at the dog pawing at her for attention. “Miss Dalton claimed I’d need to amuse Soot only an hour.”

Quinn grew cold. “When exactly did they leave?”

“A little after ten. Mrs. Dalton is determined to waste no time in buying a little house for herself.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Christ.”

“Language, Quinn,” Mother chided.

He stared at Hastings. Theodora was nothing but efficient. If she was considered late, then it was entirely out of character for her. He had an uncomfortable feeling about the reason for her late return.

Hastings stood. “What is it?”

“I was right. Mr. Small lives, and he has been watching the house.”

Hastings swore, and then kissed his wife. “I have to go out, love.”

“I’m coming, too,” Deacon said, as he stood and joined them without being asked to come along.

“Why? Devil take it,” Sally protested. “What is going on? Who is this Mr. Small you speak of, Quinn?”

“It is complicated, but it seems Mr. Dalton’s secretary faked his death, most likely killed Theodora’s father, and has taken to following my betrothed about.”

“You never said you had found a bride, too,” Deacon complained.

“I couldn’t find you. I intended to mention it when I finally tracked you down,” Quinn promised. “And ask you to stand up with me at the wedding.”

Deacon beamed. “I couldn’t be prouder to.”

“Oh, dear heavens, Quinn,” Mother gasped. “They’re defenseless.”

“They will be fine, Mama. I’m probably worrying for nothing. My men are with them.”

“I couldn’t bear to lose either of them,” she claimed, bursting to her feet with the dog now wrapped tightly in her arms. “You must hurry.”

“I will,” Quinn promised. He strode for the door and rushed downstairs—only to be confronted by one his own men, his coachman, staggering through the front door, holding his head.

“My lord, I have grim news. We were attacked, and the carriage was stolen.”

“And the ladies?”

“Taken with the carriage.”

Quinn grabbed the man by his coat. “Why didn’t you follow them?”

“I’m the least capable. They hit me hardest,” the fellow warned.

Quinn quickly released him as he noticed dried blood at the man’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. They took us by surprise. The others are in pursuit, along with the fellows from the merchant your betrothed patronized this morning. We could have news at any moment.”