"Sir?"

Allday said harshly, "Sir Richard Bolitho, matey!"

The footman bowed himself into the splendid hallway, which Bolitho noticed had been completely redecorated with new claret-coloured curtains instead of the others he had seen on his last visit. Those had also been new at the time.

He heard the murmur of voices and laughter from the dining-room upstairs-hardly what he had been expecting.

"If you will wait here, Sir Richard?" The footman had recovered his confidence a little. "I will announce your arrival."

He opened a door and Bolitho remembered this room too, despite more expensive alterations. Here he had confronted Belinda about her connivance with Viscount Somervell, Catherine's dead husband, how they had planned to hold her under false charges in the notorious Waites prison until she could be deported, disposed of. He would never forget Catherine in that filthy jail, filled with debtors and lunatics. Catherine could never be caged; she would have died first. No, he would not forget.

"Why, Sir Richard!"

Bolitho saw a woman standing in the open doorway and somehow knew she was the "messenger," Lady Lucinda Manners, presumably one of Belinda's close friends, who had left the brief note at Catherine's Chelsea house. Piled fair hair, a gown cut or pulled so low it barely covered her breasts… She was watching him, an amused smile on her lips.

"Lady Manners?" Bolitho gave a curt bow. "I received your letter on my arrival in London. Perhaps-"

"Perhaps, Sir Richard, I will suffice as your companion until Lady Bolitho is free to leave her guests?" She saw Allday behind the door for the first time. "I thought you would be alone."

Bolitho remained impassive. I can well imagine. The delicious predator: another attempt at compromise.