EARLIER in the evening, just after Nicholas and Regina arrived at Mrs. Hargreaves’ in the West End, a short, stocky fellow named Timothy Pye hailed a passing hack and gave the driver the address of a tavern near the waterfront.

Timothy did odd jobs, from an honest day’s work on the docks to slitting a man’s throat. He admitted to a partiality for easy jobs, and this one was about as easy as they got. His friend Neddy was working with him. All they had to do was follow this nabob wherever he went and every so often report the lord’s whereabouts to their employer.

It was Timothy’s turn to report, and it didn’t take long to reach the better-class tavern where the bloke was staying. Upstairs, he pounded on the door. It took only a moment to open.

Two men were in the room. One was a tall, thin fellow with a huge, bushy red beard. The other was a young man of medium height, a boy really, pretty in a girlish sort of way, with black hair and darkest blue eyes. Timothy had seen the younger fellow only once before in the half-dozen times he had reported to the older man. Their names had never been given, nor did Timothy care to know who they were. He simply did as he was paid to do, no questions asked.

“ ‘E’s settled in fer the evenin’, so it ‘pears,” Timothy began, speaking to the red-bearded one. “Some party o’er the West End. Lots o’ fancy hacks linin‘ the street both sides.”

“Alone?”

Timothy grinned here. “Brought the fancy piece wi‘ ’im in his carriage, same as before. Took her inside. I saw ‘em.”

“Are you certain it’s the same lady, Mr. Pye, the one who left without him last time?”

Timothy nodded. “Can’t rightly ferget that’n, sir. She’s a bleedin‘ beauty, she is.”

The younger man spoke. “Must be his mistress, don’t you think? Me father said he’s not the type to waste his time on anyone he’s not beddin‘.”

“Blast it, boy!” Red beard growled. “My father. My, not me. Why is it you never make these slips when your old man is around? It’s only my ears that are cursed.”

The young man flushed red all the way down his chest, a fact revealed by his loose shirt. His dark blue eyes averted in embarrassment, he moved over to a table where a deck of cards was spread out next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. He sat down there and shuffled the cards, intending to ignore the rest of the report after being humiliated.

“You were saying, Mr. Pye.”

“Right, sir.” The “sir” came naturally, for the bloke might not look exactly like a gentleman with that bushy red beard, but he talked like one. “I know’d ye want ter be ‘earin’ ‘bout the fancy, ’case she leaves wi’out ‘im agin’t’night.”

“How is the lighting on the street?”

“Fair. But not so bright me and Neddy can’t take down the driver nice an‘ quiet-like.”

“Then perhaps tonight is the night.” Red beard smiled for the first time. “You know what to do if the opportunity presents itself, Mr. Pye.”

“Right, sir. You don’t want the fancy involved, I know, sir. If ‘e comes out alone, we ’ave ‘im.”

The door closed behind Pye and Conrad Sharpe laughed. It was a deep resounding laugh for such a thin man. “Oh, don’t sulk, lad. If all goes well, we may be on our way home tomorrow.”

“You didn’t have to go correcting me in front of the likes of him, Connie. My father don’t correct me in front of others.”

“Doesn’t,” Conrad corrected again. “Your father is a fairly new father and, so being, he takes pains to spare your feelings, Jeremy.”

“And you don’t?”

“Why should I, brat?”

There was genuine affection in the older man’s manners, and young Jeremy grinned at last. “If they get him tonight, will I get to go along?”

“Sorry, lad. It will be a messy business that your father won’t want you to see.”

“I’m sixteen!” Jeremy protested. “I’ve lived through a sea battle.”

“Just barely.”

“Regardless—”

“No,” Conrad said adamantly. “Even if your father agreed, I wouldn’t let you. You don’t need to see your father at his worst.”

“He’s only going to teach him a lesson, Connie.”

“Yes, but because you were hurt, the lesson will be harsh. And his pride is involved, too. You didn’t hear the slurs and taunts the young lord rubbed into the open wound. You were flat on your back with a near-mortal wound.”

“Thanks to him! Which is why—”

“I said no!” Conrad cut him short again.

“Oh, all right,” Jeremy grumbled. “But I still don’t see why we’ve gone to all this fuss and bother, having him trailed in Southampton to no luck, then wasting two weeks here in London doing the same thing. It would have been much more fun just to sink one of his ships.”

Conrad chuckled. “Your father should hear your idea of fun. But as for that, this lord may have only six ships to his merchant line, but losing one wouldn’t tickle his pocket. Your father is determined to even the score on a more personal level.”

“And then can we go home?”

“Yes, lad. And you can get back to your proper schooling.”

Jeremy made a face and Conrad Sharpe laughed. Then they heard a female giggle coming from the room next door, where Jeremy’s father was, and Jeremy’s grimace turned to a hot blush, making Conrad laugh all the harder.