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Shadows moved in alleyways, and it was generally considered best not to stare too long into the dark entrances of the spaces between houses. A few more respectable people were still out and about, cloaked and hooded against the rain, their heads down and their shoulders up around their ears. A few of them eyed the carriage enviously as it went by, lifting their feet high to avoid the puddles and piles of filth.

The address Mouse had given him was written on a scrap of paper, folded and tucked in his pocket.

They were nearly there.

The coach stopped at last in front of a tall, narrow house, lights shimmering in some windows.

“Wait here for me,” Stephen instructed the coachman, climbing out of the carriage. “Keep your wits about you.”

The coachman gave a nod and a grunt. He’d worked for Stephen long enough to know this already.

Drawing in a breath, Stephen walked into the house.

There was a fat landlord sitting behind a desk in the foyer, but it only took a couple of guineas to convince him to let Stephen pass and promise not to come upstairs no matter what he heard.

Leaving the traitorous landlord behind, Stephen climbed up the stairs, before pausing before one door in particular.

There were voices from inside, a male and a familiar feminine voice. He knocked, and the voices died down at once.

Click-click.

Locks turned, and the door opened an inch. An eye appeared in the crack of the door and widened when it landed on Stephen. No doubt the door would have been slammed shut at once and double-locked if he hadn’t been ready for this moment.

Stephen threw his shoulder at the door, knocking it open with acrash. The man behind the door fell back, scrambling away.

“Lord Hampton,” Stephen drawled. “What a pleasure.”

He stepped inside, slamming the door shut with his heel.

A woman rose from her seat near the fire, pale-faced. “Stephen,” she gasped.

“Cornelia, my dear, what a pleasant surprise. You should not sit too close to the fire—it is not good for the baby.”

The Marquess, still sprawled on the floor, twisted to look up at his sister. “Baby? What baby?”

Cornelia paled. She did not press her hands to her stomach. It took a moment for her to meet Stephen’s eyes, and when she finally did, she could not hold it for long.

“There’s no baby,” she muttered. “I… I said that to scare off the Duchess.”

“And you thought that the Duchess would not mention it to me? Cornelia, my dear, you are getting sloppy as you get older.”

She colored, turning away. “This is your fault.”

Stephen let out a harsh laugh. “My fault? Mine? We both know that you have plenty of money, Cornelia. I did not leave you destitute, so you can’t be angry at me over that. The Marquess here is shamed, but not impoverished, and he will surely be forgiven in time. So, tell me, what has prompted all of this?”

The Marquess scrambled to his feet, eyeing Stephen warily. “All of what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cornelia groaned, covering her face with her hands. “He’s not a fool, Mark. Don’t treat him like that.”

“Yes, my dear Marquess, donottreat me like a fool. I imagine that you two are the ones feeding the scandal sheets false information, yes? Eyewitnesses who have seen me leaving a party with Miss Thompson, for example?”

The Marquess flushed and said nothing. His mutinous silence was better than a confession, really.

Cornelia stepped forward. “That’s enough, Stephen. You should not have come here.”

Stephen glanced over at her, and her eyes met his steadily.

“You have always been the cleverest of the two,” he murmured. “I thought it odd that you would be so close when the Marquess here inherited everything without the wits to deserve it. And you, Cornelia, worth two or three times as much as this man, had to earn your money alone. It is unfair, isn’t it?”