After the frustrating encounter with Edwin, Niall was in no mood for playing cards and trying to unmask counterfeiters. But that hardly mattered. He’d promised Fulkham. And too much was at stake if he stopped doing this now. So as he strode into the Star and Garter, he attempted to hide his agitation.

He hadn’t even reached the taproom before he ran into someone he knew.

“Good day to you, Mr. Payne,” he said as Sir Oswald’s brother strode into the hall.

The man looked startled to see him. “Are you playing again, then? Since they already have four, I figured you’d seen the light after one game with my hapless brother and his ridiculous friends.”

“I believe some of us are merely watching tonight, since we’re expecting six players. Would you want to join our merry band after all? We might be able to drum up a fourth for you and get two games going.”

He snorted. “Not on your life. I merely came to retrieve some funds from Oswald that I need for a business venture.”

Odd. “I thought you were generally the one loaning money to him. Or so your niece told me.”

A bland smile crossed the man’s face. “Precisely why I had to retrieve funds. The fellow is always borrowing and has tapped me out. Fortunately, he’s been flush lately, so I figured I’d get my money while I could.”

“Very wise.”

“Well then,” Payne said, “enjoy your game. I understand that I have you to thank for Oswald’s good fortune, so try to make sure he wins again, will you? He still owes me money, and the longer he keeps winning, the more chance I have of getting it back.”

“I’ll do my best,” Niall said with a rueful smile.

He watched as Payne hurried from the inn, obviously in a temper. Not that Niall blamed the man. This was what Bree had endured all these years from her father, a man who would take from everyone in his circle until they bled. It was a wonder Payne had put up with it so long.

For Payne’s sake, Niall hoped he’d “retrieved” genuine notes from his brother and not counterfeit ones. Assuming that Sir Oswald was the counterfeiter. Niall began to pray otherwise. It would make matters easier for Bree and Silas.

Silas? God, he was already thinking of the imp as his charge. And the odd thing was, the idea of that didn’t alarm him as much as it had two days ago.

The boy was lively, to be sure, but not as difficult as one would have thought. Silas would make an excellent older brother to the children Niall intended for him and Bree to have one day.

Which reminded him of Lady Pensworth’s outrageous remarks, and the rest of their journey home. He was still smiling over that when he walked into the taproom.

“Here he is!” Sir Oswald was already shuffling the cards. “I told you he’d be here in time, Raines.”

Raines gave a long-suffering sigh. “I never doubted it, sir.”

Sir Kenneth was there, too, and Pitford, whom Sir Oswald immediately introduced to Niall. Apparently Dunsleigh was the only one who hadn’t arrived.

“So,” Niall said as he sat down opposite Bree’s father, “which of you three is playing tonight?”

“Dunsleigh is ill, so he’s out,” Sir Kenneth said. “And I told Raines I’d sit out, too, since he’d like to play. After last night, I’m not sure I wish to take on you and Sir Oswald again, Margrave.”

“Fine by me.” Niall removed a card from the pack that Pitford had cut and laid it faceup on the table. “But your luck might change.”

“I’ve stayed solvent all these years by not clinging to that gambler’s hope,” Sir Kenneth said.

“Very wise of you.” Or very cautious. Niall wasn’t sure which.

They each chose cards until the first diamond showed up, which determined who dealt. It turned out to be Sir Oswald.

“Besides,” Sir Kenneth said, motioning to a taproom maid, “I prefer to drink, especially when a chit as fetching as that one is bringing the tipple.”

The saucy girl sashayed over with a smile that said she knew Sir Kenneth was most interested in a tipple from her nipple, and she meant to satisfy his thirst.

“Then it’s probably just as well you’re sitting this out,” Raines drawled as Sir Oswald began to deal the cards. “With a distraction like her, you’re bound to play badly, eh, Pitford?”

Pitford winked at the barmaid. “Ah, but it would be worth the distraction.”

“Not if we lose,” Raines said irritably.

“If you don’t want to partner me, step out so my cousin can step in,” Pitford said. “Otherwise, let me have my little enjoyments.”

Raines hunched over his cards. “Fine. Just see that you pay attention to the game.”

Interesting. Why was Raines so determined to play? Perhaps so he could pass off some counterfeits?

The game began, and Niall had to fight to keep his mind on his cards. He didn’t necessarily have to win this time. He’d brought plenty of assorted banknotes so he could switch out his good ones for those in play, no matter how he and Sir Oswald did at the tables.

Now he just had to pray that something turned up. He was tired of waiting for things to happen. This group could go for weeks without his so much as seeing a fake pound note, which was maddening.

Several hours of play later, Niall finally got his wish. Or he thought he did, anyway. Sir Oswald laid down a twenty-pound note that looked slightly off, though it was hard to tell in such dim light. Fortunately, Niall and his partner won that time, so he raked the note over to his side and made sure to mark it and then exchange it for a good one, sliding the suspicious one into his coat pocket.

He would have to show it to Fulkham to be certain, but if it were indeed a counterfeit, then Sir Oswald was probably part of the criminal enterprise.

Damn it all to hell. Niall had been praying that Sir Oswald had merely passed on counterfeit notes he’d received from someone else at these games. But Niall had seen the man take the note out of his own purse. Since it was highly unlikely that the man had received such a large note in change somewhere, and equally unlikely that he’d picked it up at his bank, Sir Oswald was at best distributing the notes and at worst producing them.

Either way, it was getting harder to believe that Sir Oswald didn’t know they were counterfeit.

So that must be the next step in Niall’s investigation—learning where Sir Oswald had gained the notes. With the exception of Sir Kenneth, who hadn’t been in town long enough, any one of these men could still be a suspect, since they were his friends.

The rest of the game went by in a fog, with Niall scarcely caring whether he won or lost. Because now he had a decision to make, one he hadn’t anticipated having to make before.

Should he tell Bree?

She was on this mission with him, so he ought to tell her. But how would she react? Sir Oswald was still her father—she might not be so sanguine anymore about seeing him arrested.

Edwin’s words kept clattering about in his head: No matter what Fulkham promised, if her father proves guilty, there will be a trial and, no doubt, a conviction. She’ll have to endure gossip and rumor. . . .

Damn Edwin. And Fulkham. And bloody Sir Oswald, for being a bastard who didn’t give a farthing for his family. Niall wished them all to blazes.

“You’re not playing as well tonight, Margrave,” the arse had the nerve to complain. “Mind your cards, for God’s sake, or we’re going to lose the pot.”

Niall grunted some answer and tried to concentrate.

But it was no use. A short while later, they lost it all.

“Shall we play again, gentlemen?” Sir Oswald asked hopefully as Raines gathered up the winnings and began to split them with his partner.

“I’m done in for the evening.” Pitford grinned. “As my cousin here says, it’s always best to quit while one’s ahead. Eh, Sir Kenneth?”

Sir Kenneth didn’t answer, too busy nuzzling the ample breasts of the barmaid who sat giggling on his knee.

Raines frowned. “I’m surprised you could keep your mind on the game, Pitford, with your cousin making such a spectacle of himself. Might as well end the night. I can’t stand one more minute of this nonsense.”

“Indeed,” Niall said. “Ah, well, Sir Oswald. Perhaps tomorrow night we can get some of our own back, eh?”

Sir Oswald glared at him. “Only if you promise to play better.”

“I’ll play better if you bring enough luck for the two of us,” Niall said mildly. “I had abysmal cards.” He rose. “Well then, fellows, I’m off.”

“Me too.” Raines stood up. “I’ll walk out with you, Margrave.”

As the two of them strolled out of the Star and Garter, Niall wondered if he should take another stab at assessing Raines. The man could be in league with Sir Oswald. Raines was, after all, a banker.

“I suppose I’ll see what’s going on at St. George’s,” Niall said. “Care to join me?”

“I’ll walk that way with you, but I’m not going in. Fulkham is supposed to be there tonight.”

Why would the man assume that? Could Raines have caught on to Niall’s association with the baron? Was he feeling Niall out on the subject? “Ah, did he say he would be there?”

“Not exactly. I . . . er . . . heard it from someone close to him.”

What could that mean? Was there someone spying on Fulkham? “Oh? Who?”

Instead of answering that, Raines tensed and said, “You seem to know the man relatively well. What do you know of his . . . relationship to Mrs. Vyse?”

That threw Niall off. “She’s his sister-in-law.”

“I know that,” the man said irritably. “But do you think there is something more between them?”

“Something romantic, you mean? I doubt it. I suppose they could have an affair, but they could never marry. He’s her brother-in-law.”

“They could marry, if no one in the family objects. It’s only the Church that forbids it. And there are ways around that.”

“Even so, he wouldn’t do it. Fulkham’s career is everything to him. He would never risk that to marry his brother’s widow, knowing that the world sees it as incest.”

“Still, he and she are very close.”

“I suppose.” And why did the man care anyway? Then it dawned on him. “So she’s the woman whose family doesn’t know of your interest. The woman you’re courting.”

Raines stared grimly ahead. “It’s not so much courting as . . . God, I don’t know what it is, except that she’s driving me insane. She’s dragging her feet on the subject of marriage, yet she acts as if she cares about me.” He muttered a curse. “Please don’t tell anyone, especially Fulkham.”

So Raines’s avoidance of Fulkham had nothing whatsoever to do with the counterfeiting. He just happened to be a banker who fancied Fulkham’s relation.

Although that raised other questions. “Why don’t you want Fulkham to know?”

“Because she says we must keep it secret, that he won’t approve.” They were nearing the club, so Raines slowed his pace. “But I’m worried that her reason for keeping our . . . association quiet has more to do with her feelings for Fulkham than anything else.”

“I’ve not seen any indication of that, but I don’t know the two of them well. And the only way you’re going to know for certain is to ask her.”

“And risk losing her for good? If she does want him, I can’t bear it. I can’t share her. I know some men do that, but not me.”

“So you’d rather not know the truth?”

“Yes. No.” He grimaced. “Once I know . . . it’s over. I’m not ready for it to be over.” Raines halted just short of the entrance to St. George’s. “I suppose you think I’m acting like a fool.”

“No. I think you’re acting like a man smitten by a woman. Women are devilishly tricky creatures, and sometimes one can’t help but be at a loss as to how to catch them.”

Raines snorted. “Clearly, that doesn’t apply to you. You’ve caught your woman.”

He forced a smile. “I’m not so sure. I won’t be sure until the day we stand at the altar and say our vows.”

A day that he feared might never come. He and Bree still had so many difficulties to get past—the situation with her father, her inability to trust him, his inability to reveal his secrets . . .

“My point is,” Niall went on, “dealing with a woman is hard enough without adding needless speculation about what might not even be a problem. Ask her for the real reason she’s dragging her feet with you. Just be prepared for the consequences if the answer isn’t one you want to hear.”

A pity he couldn’t take his own advice. Because he knew why Bree was dragging her feet. He just couldn’t do anything about it without betraying his family’s confidences. And the vow he’d made to his father.

Not that he much cared about that anymore. If Father had broken his promise, Niall could damned well break his.

“Thanks for the advice, old chap,” Raines said. “I’d best be going. I daresay the ball that Mrs. Vyse was planning to attend is still going on. And given that her pesky brother-in-law will not be there—”

“You plan to play while the cat’s away. Good luck.”

After Raines left, Niall hesitated at the entrance to St. George’s. He ought to go in and report to Fulkham. They needed to discuss whether the banknote was indeed forged, and whether Fulkham had learned more about Sir Kenneth’s reasons for being in town. The man might even have some advice on how to proceed with uncovering Sir Oswald’s cohorts.

The trouble was, Niall didn’t want to talk to Fulkham tonight. He wanted to talk to Bree first. Edwin’s words about what her father’s arrest might do to her and Silas still haunted him. It had been one thing to postulate such a thing when Niall had misunderstood her past actions and when Sir Oswald’s guilt was more uncertain. But now, with what he’d found out about how she’d suffered at the man’s hands . . .

He had to see her before this went any further.

Consulting the damned watch he was keeping for Warren, he grimaced. Past 2:00 a.m. She was probably tucked up cozily in her bed, dreaming of Wedgwood vases and fields of flax.

Or him. God, he hoped she was dreaming of him.

Then again, she could still be awake. Unlikely, but a possibility. And thanks to young Pip, Niall knew which room was hers.