Any other man would have difficulty prying information out of her that she didn’t wish to share. But when the raspy-voiced pirate became cajoling, he was impossible to resist. With his golden hair and skin, thin yet carnal lips, and jeweled irises, he reminded her of an angel, for certainly only a celestial being could be formed so perfectly from head to toe.

The only outward sign of his mortality were the lines that rimmed his mouth and eyes, signs of a life that was fraught with stresses. They’d softened a great deal since his marriage to her sister, but they would never fully dissipate.

“I noted a man’s uncommon interest. He noted that I’d noted, and approached me to explain.”

Christopher leaned back in his black leather chair and pursed his lips. Behind him was a large window that overlooked the rear garden, or what would have been a rear garden if they’d had one. Instead, they had a flat, brutally trimmed lawn that made stealthy approach of the manse impossible. When one had a great deal of enemies, as St. John did, one could never lower their guard, especially for frivolous aesthetic reasons. “What explanation did he offer?”

“I reminded him of a lost love.”

He made a sound suspiciously like a snort. “A clever, sentimental ruse that almost embarrassed Ware and caused a terrible scandal. I cannot believe you fell prey to it.”

Flushing with renewed guilt, she nevertheless protested. “He was sincere!” She did not believe anyone could pretend melancholy so well. That was not to say that she wasn’t aware of something amiss, but she did believe his emotional response to her.

“My men followed him last evening.”

Amelia nodded, expecting as much. “And?”

“And they lost him.”

“How is that possible?”

St. John smiled at her astonishment. “It’s possible if one is aware that he is being followed and is trained in how to evade shadows.” His smile faded. “The man is no lovelorn innocent, Amelia.”