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The phrase sent a chill through her. Enemy lines. As if they were at war. And perhaps they were.

"We should call on your brother-in-laws," Elias said, watching as she dipped her pen in ink. "The Duke of Sherton has connectionsthroughout London. Wilds is a bit of a recluse, but influential in his own right."

"Yes," Abigail said, pulling out pen and paper. "I'll send word to both of them and I’ll have the Countess and my mother come here." She wrote quickly, the scratch of her pen against paper the only sound for several minutes.

"No one will get past the Countess," Elias observed with grim humor. "That woman could intimidate a cavalry charge."

"Precisely." Abigail managed a wan smile.

She scribbled an additional note to Beacon House, warning them to be vigilant and to lock their doors, but to watch for Graham in case he sought shelter there.She was sealing them when James entered.

"Have these delivered with all haste," she instructed, handing him the letters. "And ready the carriage. The doors to the house are to be locked and opened for no one save family.”

James bowed. "At once, Your Grace."

When the door closed behind him, Abigail turned to find the admiral watching her with undisguised approval.

"Graham is a lucky man," he said after a quiet pause.

"Not if we don't find him," Abigail replied, reaching for her shawl. The faint smell of his cologne still clung to it from where he’d held her, kissed her.

The admiral nodded, his expression hardening. "I'll help you search every corner of London if need be."

Abigail gathered her resolve around her like armor. "Then let's begin."

Admiral Birkins hauled himself back into the carriage, his knee cracking audibly as he settled onto the leather seat opposite Abigail.

"Nothing?" Abigail asked, though his expression had already delivered the verdict.

"No sign of him at the Lamb and Flag." Elias tugged his gloves tighter. "But I may have found something."

Abigail straightened, hope flaring in her chest like a struck match. After hours of fruitless searching, despair was creeping in despite her best efforts. They’d criss-crossed London twice over, checking hospitals, gentlemen’s clubs, and a string of increasingly desperate places without so much of a whisper.

"The proprietor—McNair—said the fire inspector took someone at the scene and took them to Bow Street earlier today."Elias's weathered face was grave in the shifting light. "He couldn't swear it was Graham, mind you. Just that there was a commotion."

Abigail glanced out the window at the grimy tavern Elias had just exited. A pair of men lounged against the wall, passing a bottle between them. A woman with hollow cheeks hurried past, clutching a threadbare shawl around her shoulders.

What fresh madness is this?

"At least it's a direction." She rapped sharply on the roof. "Driver! Bow Street, with all haste!"

The carriage lurched forward, wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Abigail braced herself against the sudden movement, her mind racing ahead to Bow Street, to Graham.

"If Graham has been arrested, why haven’t we heard from him, or at least Mr. Nedley?” She mused as they rattled along.

“I cannot say, but it does not sit well, does it?” The admiral glowered out the window. “I told him to steer clear, but he never was one to listen.”

The carriage swayed as it rounded a corner, sending them sliding across the seats. Abigail steadied herself, gripping the leather strap. Her stomach churned with a nauseating mixture of hope and dread. She

stared out at the darkened streets, at the scattered lamplights glowing like distant stars.

"Graham's always been clever," Elias said after a long silence. "Sometimes too clever for his own good. Though this time..." He trailed off, fidgeting with the gold buttons on his coat.

"This time what?"

"This time, I fear his concern for you blinded him. Made him reckless." The admiral's voice softened. "Love can do that to a man."

Abigail's chest tightened. "I'm not so sure about love."