"But if they don't hang my brother, then how can I be our father's heir? What if Dev proves his innocence?"

"Your brother will have no chance to prove his innocence, dearest," his mother explained patiently. "We have been over this before. Your brother is rash, and he will be convinced to flee England before he can even be arrested. He will never dare to come back, with the threat of execution hanging over him. Now push the dagger into Lord Jeffers's heart, dearest." She lightly touched his hand encouragingly.

The boy did as his mother had bid him, twisting the blade with some pleasure, she noted, not particularly shocked. The woman took the goblet from which her victim had been drinking, splashing the remaining contents into the fireplace, where they hissed briefly, then died away. Using her own handkerchief, she wiped the goblet free of the residue of finely ground glass and hair-the items she had used to kill her prey. Then she poured fresh wine from the decanter into the goblet, and replaced it upon the table opposite a second goblet, which she tipped over to give the appearance of both anger and haste on the part of the victim. "There," she said, well satisfied with her efforts.

Her son was growing fretful. "Can we leave now, Mother?" The boy whined impatiently.

She nodded. Taking his hand, the pair slipped unnoticed from the house that Lord Jeffers had rented when he was in residence in London. His valet, the only servant Lord Jeffers employed, had been given the night off. The woman had made certain, using one of her own serving girls, that he would not return until dawn. Even now, as she and her son mounted their horses-which had been hidden in the alley belonging to their victim's house-and rode quickly back to their own elegant abode, the woman knew her stepson would have been informed already of Lord Jeffers's demise, and encouraged to escape lest he be blamed for the crime.