William had a smile on his face and Lady Lanora in his thoughts as he strode up to Cecilia’s door the following evening. A knock brought the maid. He hardly noticed her, hurrying upstairs to find his stepmother. He was in a rush, wanting to look into the foreman more before the theater. When he saw Lady Lanora there, he wished to have an answer for her. That she wouldn’t expect one yet only gave the idea more appeal.

The street urchins would have located Finch’s lodgings by now. Speaking to the foreman had gotten William nowhere. This time, he meant to search the man’s rooms. He strode down the hall, walls blessedly unadorned, then came to a stop outside Cecilia’s door and knocked.

“Come in.”

She sat near the window, as usual, sewing. It took only a glance to see she was making over a gown. Sorrow touched him, as it always did when he was reminded how much she gave up, what life she missed, to stay safe. There was no choice. The marquess had already killed two wives.

She looked up with a smile, indominable as always. “You’re early again. Does that mean you have letters for me?”

William pulled two envelopes from his coat with a bow, pleased to offer such happiness. “Your sister wrote, and your mother.”

Setting aside her sewing, she jumped up, claiming the letters. “I should write him an extra letter. Perhaps with his ill health, he’ll fall into a fit and die.”

William knew she meant the marquess. Sending and receiving letters was a tricky business, for the marquess devoted considerable resources to locating his wife. Fortunately, William was up to the task of outsmarting the old man, though they’d agreed Cecelia would write only four times a year. Two of those times, she addressed messages to the marquess, to ensure he didn’t declare her dead and remarry. Not to keep a hold on her title, but to spare another young woman. The letters enraged the old man.

“There’d be little harm in trying,” he said.

“Will you sit?” Her smile was warm, but her hands clutched the letters.

“I will leave you to catch up on your family. I have it on good authority, the Mediterranean was exceptionally warm this past summer, if you care to mention it in your replies.”

To preserve his reputation, the marquess told the world his wife suffered ill health that only the warmer southern climates could mitigate. William and Cecelia saw no reason to countermand the claim. William was certain, though, that most of Society at least suspected some other explanation for the continued absence of the marchioness. As he’d pointed out to Lethbridge, the old man’s poor luck with wives was too suspicious to ignore.

Cecilia smiled. “Thank you. You’re the most gracious stepson a woman ever had. Will I see you at breakfast?”

He shook his head. “I shall attend the theater. I hope to make the second act.”

She nodded, making every attempt to hide her disappointment.

He knew her too well not to see it. “Tomorrow I shall visit longer, and tell you all about the theater. As much of it as I see, that is.”

“It’s kind of you, but I know you mustn’t come too often or stay long. Who knows what your father will do if he worries you’ve fallen in love with your mistress or are disobeying his wish that you wed.”

“I’ve taken enough steps toward courting one of the women on his list that I feel we’re safe.”

Her mouth rounded, her eyes lighting up. “Who? Do tell me.”

“I’m sure it will be in the papers by tomorrow, as I took the lady for a ride in the park today and walked with her in the hedges.”

“Did you now? How deplorable of you.”

William grinned. “I’m a deplorable sort of fellow.”

“Indeed. Especially if you make your own stepmother wait to read in the paper, who it is you’re courting.”

William knew her exasperation was feigned, but relented. “Lady Lanora Hadler.”

“Lady…” Cecelia’s eyes became as round as her mouth. “The archaeologist’s daughter? She might know your friend Mr. Darington. How lovely.”

William supposed it would seem so, to those who didn’t know he’d never set foot in Egypt, never met Darington in person. He grinned, realizing that was how most of the ton would see it, making his courting Lady Lanora all the more believable.

Cecelia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t mean offense, but I’ve read she’s a diamond of the first water. A duke’s only child who stands to inherit much in the way of lands and fortune. They say she’s impeccable, even though she has black hair. How did you persuade her to ride with you in the park, let alone walk in the hedges?”

William’s grin widened. “I, step-mama, am exceedingly charming.”

Cecelia shook her head, expression amused. “I suppose you very well must be. Did you kiss her?”

“I’m shocked you would ask.”

“Only because you’re stung that I doubt your powers of seduction.”

“True, but I still won’t tell.”

“Fair enough.” Her look fond, she waved him away. “Go see to your mission.”

“Don’t forge—”

“To lock the doors.” She settled into her chair. “I know. Good fortune out there.”

“And a pleasant evening to you, my lady.”

With another bow he quit the room, going to retrieve Lefthook’s apparel and weapons. He grinned under his mask as he took in his reflection in Cecelia’s mirror. Did Lady Lanora dream of Lord Lefthook, as so many ladies of the ton did? Should he go to the Solworth house, climb through her window, and make those dreams come true?

He chuckled, crossed to the Juliet balcony, and opened the doors. Lady Lanora was as like to push a man out her window as let him climb in. She had passion in her, waiting to be released, but what form it would take in the face of an intruder, he had little doubt.

His mind on her flashing green eyes, dark locks and other attributes, William set out across the rooftops. It took him some time scouring the streets before he located one of the urchins who lurked in the shadows of the borough. When he did, it was his favorite informant. The lad, a boy of about nine whom everyone called Dodger, was crouched in an alley, intently watching a door across the lane. William dropped down behind him, silent.

“Have you learned anything of interest for me?” he asked in lower London brogue.

Dodger didn’t flinch, or take his attention from the doorway. “Can’t you see I’m working, your lordship?”

William pulled out a coin. With a flip of his wrist, he sent it sailing over Dodger’s head to drop down before his face. The lad reached out and caught it, his gaze on the door.

The coin disappeared somewhere in his grimy clothes. “He’s put up at Herald House, third window in from the left on the second floor, and he usually stays at the pub till it closes, your lordship.”

“Good work,” William said. As silently as he’d come, he returned to the rooftops.

Herald House was known for being nearly respectable. It stood on the edge of the borough, almost in a decent area. Not decent enough to have streetlamps, fortunately.

Once he reached the roof of Herald House, William lay silent for a time, listening. The London evening was dark, the low hanging smog bringing early night. William took in raucous laughter. Somewhere below, a child cried and a mother’s voice soothed. A creaking wagon rolled by, drawn by a horse so old William didn’t know if it would make it to the end of the street.

Eventually, deeming no one inside the third window in from the left on the second floor, he climbed down the side of the building. Bracing himself on the window ledge, he used his knife to slip open the latch on the shutters. As with many buildings in the borough, there was no glass. William slipped inside.

He stood still, allowing his eyes and ears to adjust. It was a single room, meant for sleeping and little else. Across from him was a door into the hall. There was no desk, but he could discern a small table piled with food scraps, empty bottles and a mug.

He crossed to the fireplace and stirred the coals, coaxing a bit of light from them. Staying near the wall so as not to be visible from outside, he went back around to the shutters and swung them shut. Then he began his search.

It wasn’t long before a loose floorboard gave way to a heavy sack. Inside was enough coin for a man to live well in the borough for several months. It was not, however, enough to fund the building. William put coin, sack and board back in place. The foreman was likely skimming off the top, but the money he had didn’t account for much of what was missing.

Further searching revealed nothing more, and William let the coals die. He would have to investigate Lethbridge’s office tomorrow to ascertain if Darington’s letters had ever arrived. His mind drifted back to the charred page in the grate, but he couldn’t imagine Lethbridge as a thief. The man made a good living and was too much a toady. It took daring to steal. Lethbridge didn’t have it in him. William shook his head. He would have no answers for Lady Lanora that night. Hopefully, his charming smile would be enough.

He went back out the window and hoisted himself onto the roof. He grinned as he made his way back across the rooftops, picturing Lady Lanora in his box with him at the theater, permitted by her apparently approving Aunt Edith to join him. Would Lanora be bold enough to steal kisses in the dark? She was brazen enough to request one in a sunlit garden.

An angry voice caught William’s attention. He shook his head, clearing it of visions of Lady Lanora, and realized he was nearly back to the alley where he’d located his best informant earlier. He issued a silent curse, disgusted with his lack of attention. A man who wandered the borough with his head in the clouds was soon to be a dead man.

“I’m saying, she didn’t come out this way.” It was Dodger’s voice, half angry, half distressed.

“She must have. My brother was watching the other side and he swears the chit didn’t leave,” a man growled. His accent labeled him as country born, and William didn’t recognize his voice. Likely new to London, then.

“Then your brother’s a liar.”

“If you was really here all evening, where I hired you to be, you’ll turn out your pockets. I know you didn’t have a scrap on you when I left you here.”

“My pockets are my own,” Dodger said, but William could hear the fear in his voice.

“Turn ‘um out or I’ll shoot you dead and go through them before you’re cold,” the man said.

William slid to the edge of the roof overlooking the alley. He crouched there and peered over. Dodger was boxed in near the back of the alley, walls on three sides. A large, broken-nosed man stood between him and freedom, pistol at the ready. Dodger was shaking hard enough William could see it. Knowing the boy’s pluck, William concluded the big man had already shown himself to be brutal.

“I’m telling you, I was watching all night till you came barging round,” Dodger said.

The man shifted. He was about to shoot.

William launched himself over the edge as the pistol fired. He landed in front of Dodger. The bullet tore into William’s side. Pain seared him, nearly mind-numbing.

“Bloody hell,” the man barked. With a roar, he tossed his spent pistol and rushed William.

Reflex brought William’s hands up. He ducked the onrush, pivoting away. The big man’s momentum carried him past. His body behind the blow, William slammed his fist into the side of the man’s head.

The big man stopped. He shook his head like a confused horse. William teetered. Hot blood ran down his side. He struck a second time. His fist slammed into the man’s head, sending him over. He toppled, hitting the wall of the narrow alley. He slid along the brick and landed on his side with a thud.

Like a starved pup, Dodger leapt atop the body. Nimble fingers rummaged through the man’s clothes, pulling out coins. He looked up, eyes bright. “That was something, your lordship. No one’s ever done nothing like that for me before.”

William took a staggering step backward, arm pressed to his side. He leaned against the opposite wall of the narrow alley. “Happy to oblige.”

Dodger’s hands stilled. “You hurt? He never landed a blow.”

“I’m afraid his pistol did.”

“You been shot?”

“It does seem that way.” William forced himself away from the wall. It was a bloody wound. Deep. The bullet was still in there. He required skilled hands to remove it, and stitching. “If you’ve need of a few more coins, I have the feeling I’m going to require assistance.”

At his side in a blink, Dodger looked up with a mixture of worry and devotion. “Anything you need, your lordship. Should I be taking you to the sawbones?”

“That won’t be necessary.” William would need to risk trusting this lad. He had to get back to Cecilia. She was the only person who knew his secret. She could mend him well enough. The trouble was reaching her chamber unseen. The marquess’s spies were out front, servants within, and William was in no shape to climb anything, let alone leap between rooftops. “I have a place to go. I’ll need your help to enter unseen, and your word you’ll never tell a soul about where I’m going to take you.”

“I can do that, your lordship.” Dodger’s expression became resolute. “You saved my life. No one’s done nothing like that for me before. I’ll see you’re put right.”

William nodded. He certainly hoped so.