Page 5 (1/2)

Chapter One

Oh, Miss Whitmore Just look at this horrid place"

As she alighted froe between ts of warehouses "It looks like an alleyway, Anna"

"It smells of blood Lord preserve us We'll be murdered"

Clio bit back a ss, but her capacity for ination was truly unmatched

"We will not be ht, she added, "At least, not today"

Miss Clio Whitood parents, with the benefits of education and close attention to propriety, and she was engaged todiploo skulking about dodgy alleyways at ht with an unloaded pistol in her pocket, in search of London's most infamous scoundrel

No, that would not do

When Clio struck out in search of London's most infay alleyith a foot And she didn't carry any weapons at all

Really, what could be the purpose? When the hter, an unloaded pistol wouldn't be any help The lethal weapons in the irl could only hope they were on her side

Rafe, please be on my side Just this once

She led the way down the dank, narrow alley, hiking her lace-edged he care that her half boots didn't catch on the uneven pavement

Anna skipped from one to another of the cleaner cobblestones "How does the second son of a marquess end up here?"

"On purpose You o He delights in anything brutish or coarse"

Inwardly, Clio wondered The last time she'd seen Rafe Brandon, the rave wounds Not only the physical aftermath of the worst-- career, but the blow of his father's sudden death

He'd looked low Very low But not so low as this

"Here we are" She rapped on the door and lifted her voice "Lord Rafe? Are you there? It's Miss" She bit off the name Perhaps it wasn't wise to announce herself in a place like this "I need only a few minutes of your time"

That, and his signature She clutched the sheaf of papers in her hand

There was no answer

"He's not at home," Anna said "Please, Miss Whitmore We need to be on our way if we're to reach Twill Castle by nightfall"

"Not just yet"

Clio leaned close to the door She heard sounds cos across a floor The occasional hollow thud

Oh, he was in there And he was ignoring her

Clio was painfully accustoiven her years of practice

When she was seventeen, Lord Piers Brandon, the handso heir to the Marquess of Granville, had obeyed the wishes of their faone on bended knee in the Whit on her third finger To Clio, it had felt like a dream

A drea career in foreign diploing a household They had all the tiement, did she?

"Of course not," she'd said

Looking back, perhaps she should have given a different answer Such as, "Define 'long' "

Eight years--and no weddings--later, Clio was still waiting

By now, her situation was a public joke The scandal sheets called her "Miss Wait-More" The gossip trailed her everywhere Just what could be keeping his lordship froland and the altar, they all wondered? Was it ambition, distractiondevotion to his duty?

Or devotion to a foreign mistress, perhaps?

No one could say Least of all Clio herself Oh, she tried to laugh away the rumors and smile at the jokes, but inside

Inside, she was hurting And utterly alone

Well, that all ended today Starting this er

The brass door handle turned in her gloved grip, and the door swung open

"Stay here," she told the servants

"But Miss Whitmore, it isn't--"

"I will be fine Yes, his reputation is scandalous, but ere friends in our childhood I spent sued to marry his brother"

"Even so, Miss Whitnal"

"A signal?"

"A word to shout if you're in distress Like 'Tangiers,' oror perhaps 'muscadine' "

Clio gave her an a with the word 'help'?"

"Iwell, I suppose not"

"Very well" She smiled, unable to bear Anna's look of disappointment " 'Muscadine' it is"

She passed through the door, walked down a di, empty space What she found made her blood turn cold

Oh, muscadine

She blinked and forced herself to look again Perhaps it wasn't him

But there was no ed slope of a nose healed fro jaw, the impressive breadth of his shouldersThat was Lord Rafe Brandon himself, perched on a crossbeam some dozen feet above the bricked floor He had a rope in his hands, and he was knotting it securely to the beam At the end of the rope was a loop

A noose

Apparently, his spir

its hadn't fallen as low as she'd feared

They'd sunk lower

And she'd arrived not a moment too soon

Her heartbeat went into a panicked stutter, who in her chest "My lord, don't Don't do this"

He glanced up "Miss Whitmore?"

"Yes Yes, it's esture of peace "It's Miss Whitmore It's Clio I knoe've had our differences I' but differences But I' of you, please reconsider"

"Reconsider" He gave her a hard look "You mean to stop me from"

"Yes Don't do soret You have so much to live for"

He paused "I've no wife, no children Bothterms for nearly a decade"

"But you have friends, surely And many fine qualities"

"What would those be?"

Drat Clio should have known that was co she knew of his life in recent years Most of it came from the newspapers, and nearly all of it was horrid Rafe Brandon had earned a reputation for being ruthless in a boxing match and shameless everywhere else His endurance in the bedroo They called him the Devil's Own

"Strength," Clio offered "That's a fine quality"

He cinched a knot tight "Oxen are strong Doesn't save thehter when they can't pull anymore"

"Don't speak that way Perhaps you're no longer the charoped for soave sos to a s' fund Isn't that true?"

"Probably"

"Well, then There's that Charity is the best of virtues"

He finished tying off his knot and pulled on it to test the strength "It's no use A stray good deed or two could never balance my sins What of all those women I've seduced?"

"I" Oh, heavens How did one speak of such things aloud? "II'm sure a few of them enjoyed it"

At that, he laughed It was a dry, low chuckle--but a laugh, nonetheless

Laughter was a good sign, wasn't it? Laughingthe at her