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Peregrine grabbed a fresh scrap of foolscap, a quill, and ink and opened the ledger to the list of names and numbers.

He jotted them down, then dusted sand over the paper.

When he was certain the ink was dry, he put the note in his pocket and stored the ledger in the wall safe he’d had freshly installed after his return from the front lines. He had given no one the combination.

During the ride to Mayfair, Peregrine could not stop himself from peering into every passing carriage.

Though he saw blonde hair aplenty, none had the golden shade he realised he was unconsciously looking for.

And the world grew more colourless yet at the thought that he might never get to touch that hair again.

An old, familiar feeling swamped him. A desperate, listless melancholy, that made him question why he was struggling against the tide that wished to lay him low.

What was the point of existing at all, when he had nothing but this empty life to sustain him?

The society games, the secrets, the schemes—none of it was enough to stop the ennui that had been sinking into his bones day by day, hour by hour.

Not when there was no passion or pleasure. Nothing to moor him to this earth, because he could not care about anything except in the most superficial ways. Because he had put his emotions away like the children’s toys he had outgrown.

Right up until she had joined him on that balcony, that first day, and he felt something. A real connection to someone, formed hard and strong. The first time he had felt it in years.

You forgot that all that you have, all that you are—it belongs to me.

Your love. Your loyalty. Your very life.

Is it any surprise that I cast you out? You snapped my lead on you, and here you are.

Your pathetic tendencies to be driven by emotion forged your shackles anew.

And now you tie yourself to the daughter of my enemy.

How dare you offer your love to her instead of me?

His hands froze on the reins. He had never wanted to name these dangerous feelings that had been growing between him and Charity. But now that his mother’s voice had, a quiver of fear ran along the length of his spine as he realised it to be true.

In a dozen ways, Charity now held the power to deal him a fatal blow. It was even more certain than the night he had put the knife in her palm. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret that he had placed himself at her mercy.

He would rather live and die at Charity’s hand than be pinned beneath his mother’s.

Resolute now, Peregrine gripped the reins tightly in his gloved hands and urged his mount to quicken its pace. To his surprise, the front door of Atholl House opened before he had even dismounted. Pritchard stood waiting, stiff-backed as ever.

“Lord Fitzroy. They are expecting your arrival,” the butler said, bowing as he took Peregrine’s coat and gloves with professional efficiency.

Peregrine stilled, something in his chest tightening. “ They? ” he asked, his voice sharper than intended.

“Lord Ravenscroft is here, with Viscount Sidmouth and one other gentleman.” Pritchard’s expression flickered ever so slightly. “They are in the drawing room.”

Even from the hall, Peregrine could hear Ravenscroft’s voice—sharper than usual, with the clipped edge of his French accent showing through.

Pritchard rapped once on the drawing room door and opened it with quiet ceremony. “Lord Fitzroy,” he announced.

Ravenscroft was talking with a guard. Peregrine locked eyes briefly with Sidmouth, who was off to one side of the drawing room. And Perry, walking into the room, nearly missed a step as he recognised the dusky skin of the third man.

Xavier was here.

The guard inclined his head and departed, stepping around Peregrine, as Ravenscroft let out a small noise of irritated relief to see him. “There you are! When no one could find you, I thought you might have gone to drown your sorrows.”

“I have been occupied more productively than that,” Peregrine said neutrally, flicking his eyes towards the others. “Why is everyone here?”

Ravenscroft ran a hand over the back of his head. “Given what has happened, the Regent and his Queen mother thought it best I establish a headquarters, of sorts, here. In case we received a ransom demand for the duchess.”

That might explain the Home Secretary’s presence, but— “I know Sidmouth, but I do not believe I have formally met your other acquaintance.”

Xavier smiled, white teeth showing against his darker skin, but he played along. “Call me Xavier. I have turned myself in to the Home Secretary as a member of the Order, Lord Fitzroy. I have agreed to help catch the person committing such treasonous offences to prove my innocence.”

Peregrine caught the barest emphasis on the word member. Sidmouth was unaware, then, Xavier was part of the inner circle.

Sidmouth crossed his arms. “Indeed, perhaps we can dispense with pretending that none of us are aware of the Order’s existence and instead finally trust one another to pool our resources and stop this threat to Parliament.

Xavier has exchanged information from the continent with me for years.

And I already am keenly aware that you are acquainted with Lady Normanby. ”

“—Who also appears to be missing,” Ravenscroft interrupted.

“Or at least, she was not found at the house where General Billingham told others at Whitehall he was taking her. Since no one can find the general either , we are assuming he has also been corrupted. I swear, Canary, you had the worst timing in your disappearance. It has been utter madness since yesterday afternoon. ”

Shock snapped Peregrine’s head up, causing him to ignore the rest of the magpie’s words. “Selina is missing also?”

“Yes.” Sidmouth’s expression was closed, and Peregrine wondered exactly what sort of relationship had existed between the marchioness and the prickly Home Secretary.

An unrequited affection on his part, perhaps?

“Focus, Fitzroy. We know nothing about what happened after your trip to the bank, except that the guards say you found Goldbourne dead.”

Ravenscroft gave him a telling look. “You came to the palace and immediately left again. Where did you go?”

He had rather lost his head, nearly. “I went to see one of my contacts in the rookeries. The bounty on Duchess Atholl is still unclaimed.”

“That’s one piece of news, at least,” Sidmouth muttered.

“But also, I went to ask him about counterfeiters in London,” Peregrine added, pulling the list from his pocket and laying it on the nearby table, pointing to Vesey’s name.

“We found this list of names and numbers in a hidden spot in Goldbourne’s office. Mr Vesey’s brother, the viscount, keeps an account at Goldbourne’s bank. Also, conveniently, the bank that he went to, to obtain the funds to repay Mr Vesey’s gambling debts.”

Sidmouth nodded, sighing. “Eldon said before his death Shedford accused Vesey of falsely paying the debt. It seems it would have been quite easy for Goldbourne to ensure that some funds were bad.”

“The only guess I have is that the numbers reference other counterfeit bills.” Peregrine said. “Perhaps the final digits.”

“It is possible,” Sidmouth agreed slowly. “But it seems strange to track the numbers of a few small bills. I would like to copy this. If nothing else, it may give us a list of the politicians being targeted.”

As Sidmouth copied out the list, Peregrine stalked closer to Xavier, who studied Perry just as carefully as Peregrine studied him.

“In my, er, discreet snooping, I discovered some of your mother’s correspondence to the Order,” Xavier murmured. “I hope you can see why I did not trust you right away, Lord Fitzroy. She has been dangerous to our interests for years, and you were her son.”

“And yet,” Peregrine said bitterly, sick of being painted as his mother’s stooge, “it seems two of your own proved to align more with her than the good of England.”

“Sadly, this is true.”

“It is done. Nothing matters to me right now except bringing both the duchess and the marchioness home safely. Goldbourne is dead. So who has them? Chandros, or Pembroke?”

“The Duke Chandros.” Xavier said. “He rubbed shoulders at Whitehall. It wasn’t well known, but he was General Billingham’s patron. So he could force or bribe Billingham to put the marchioness elsewhere.”

“Perhaps you will excuse my skepticism. You are absolutely certain Pembroke is not involved? Because an assassin is performing housekeeping at my mother’s behest, and I have learned he is quite expensive to retain.”

“Pembroke is currently holed up in his country house, terrified,” Ravenscroft said drolly. “It is safe to assume the killer is not in his employ.”

Peregrine fought back the urge to pace. “And where is His Grace?”

“We do not know yet, Lord Fitzroy,” Sidmouth said slowly, his eyes following Peregrine. “We held off in sending the guard to the duke’s properties because we were worried that a knock on the wrong door could have dire consequences.”

Peregrine ran his hands through his hair, frustration making his body shake. The need to do something warred with the knowledge of how very little he could do.

“But…” Sidmouth continued slowly, worrying his copy of Peregrine’s list between his fingers.

“When the guards who went with you told us about Goldbourne, we sent people to question the banker’s staff.

Goldbourne’s carriage driver said he often requested to be dropped off at the Archbishop’s Horseferry.

Where Goldbourne went once he crossed the Thames is unknown.

We thought maybe a club, maybe a mistress?—”

“—Maybe a counterfeiting operation.” Peregrine said, thinking of the industrial buildings near that marshy, riverside area. “I think I will send my associate’s men to investigate. I should let him know to send further news here, anyway.”

Sidmouth stood. “Then Xavier and I will go speak with the men on this list. If we shake enough trees, perhaps we shall knock loose something fruitful.”

“If you are looking to question Mr Vesey,” Peregrine told them, “he is at my townhouse on Neal Street.”

“Then we are left to make a decision.” Xavier did not look happy about having to suggest it. “Do we continue waiting, or do we take the risk and send the guard to knock on the doors of the duke’s properties and look for the women?”

Peregrine felt sick. “I think we have no choice but to start knocking.”