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“D on’t be so hasty, Chetwynd, or do something you might later come to regret. You’re upsetting the ladies, which is unacceptable.”

Piers brought his cane up and pressed it firmly against Roland Chetwynd’s chest. The young man had a great deal to learn about propriety and the niceties of behavior when in public. It was a great pity his brother the earl had left Town, leaving the man in sole possession of their townhouse.

Not just the house, but Miss Belinda Bellamy, too.

“Oh, Roland! Please don’t make a scene.”

Miss Bellamy had taken hold of Chetwynd’s sleeve and was trying to tug him away from the crowd. Fortunately, the spectacle of the balloon was attracting more attention than their hostilities. The fellow just needed to calm down and everything could be resolved.

“Let me take you to a hostelry, Chetwynd,” Piers offered, “where we can discuss our differences of opinion like gentlemen rather than barbarians.”

“Nothing would make me happier than to get you as far away from Miss Bellamy as possible. Remove your cane from my coat front, lest I be inclined to punch you for your impertinence.”

Bravo! That was the response of someone with a bit of backbone.

Piers felt more inclined to like the young man than wish him any harm, and from a practical point of view, it would be unwise to make a foe of the Earl of Aylsham.

He didn’t want to make an enemy of Miss Belinda Bellamy, either; they had unfinished business, and his mind was still full of questions.

Entering into a pitched battle with Roland Chetwynd would not result in those questions being answered.

Piers removed his cane, and squared his shoulders, making sure his adversary was aware of his superior height and breath.

Chetwynd wasn’t known for pugilism, but Piers had indulged in the sport and was known to be an indomitable sparring partner.

He was hoping Miss Bellamy’s would-be savior was aware of that fact.

She came between them again and pushed at Chetwynd. Piers resisted the urge to place his hand in the small of her back once more, partly protectively and partly to reassure her that he had the situation under control.

He leaned forward. “Miss Bellamy, please continue to your destination. Tom will go with you—you can deal with the little miscreant as you see fit. Your protector and I will repair to a private snug and continue our conversation. Don’t be alarmed.

We’re both gentlemen, are we not, Chetwynd?

Perfectly capable of resolving our differences to everyone’s satisfaction without drawing blood. On that, you have my word.”

He bowed and fought the urge to seize Miss Bellamy’s gloved hand and kiss it. No! He mustn’t allow himself to be drawn to her, and he certainly wasn’t interested in her good opinion. He had more important matters to deal with than a young woman with a penchant for trouble.

He surreptitiously bribed Tom to accompany the two women back to their carriage.

He doubted Miss Bellamy would have time to deal with the boy—nobody kept Mrs. Dove-Lyon waiting.

And Belinda was unlikely to hand him over to the authorities—he could tell she was merely pretending to be fierce.

The chit was good at deceiving, and anyone who tried to understand her true character would struggle; she was a consummate actress.

He was just turning back to give the angry Mr. Chetwynd his full attention when realization struck him like a thunderbolt.

He stared at Chetwynd, then at Miss Bellamy’s retreating back.

“Ah! I see it now. Why I failed to do so before, I can’t imagine.

The lady has an ability for play-acting that would make a thespian jealous.

I realize now that it was she whom you brought into the Lyon’s Den, dressed as a man.

How you can be so hypocritical as to denounce me for laying a protective hand on her after she’d nearly been robbed, I don’t know.

The way I look at it, your crime is far greater.

Did I put her in harm’s way? No, I did not.

Did you risk her safety—not to mention her reputation—with your scandalous escapade?

Definitely—yes. We’ll talk no more of duels and getting even.

I think we need to trade opinions, and at least find some resolution that means we needn’t be enemies.

Come. They do an excellent game pie at The Wheatsheaf. ”

By the time they reached the tavern, Roland Chetwynd was out of breath. Piers had set a cracking pace, quite deliberately, to make sure Chetwynd didn’t kick up a fuss and draw anyone’s attention.

Once safely indoors, Piers tipped the landlord and secured a private room.

Having quickly established that Chetwynd was, unfortunately, far too wound up to accept a slice of game pie, Piers ordered a pint of porter for each of them, then took out his pouch and offered the young man a pipeful of his best tobacco.

“I know what you’re doing, Darvill.”

Piers raised an eyebrow. “Do you, indeed?”

“Yes. You’re trying to butter me up. But it won’t work. I know all about your reputation for dalliances. You always have a lady on your arm but have never offered to marry any of them. To think of all those disappointed young women and their mamas! Shame on you. Leave Miss Bellamy alone.”

“I can’t promise that. She intrigues me, and I’m already in possession of some of her secrets—secrets that could be harmful if they were revealed. Things she keeps even from you. ”

Chetwynd took a deep draught of his porter. “Now it seems you’re trying to threaten me. Which is it to be, please, friendship or blackmail? I’m confused.”

“Let me clarify. I do not intend to meet with you to exchange blows, cuts, or pistol shots at dawn—I mean to be of use to you. Not just by keeping Miss Bellamy’s secrets to myself, but by getting you reinstated at the Lyon’s Den.”

“Since it was you who got me thrown out of it in the first place, that’s the least you can do.”

“So, you knew it was me. Those masks are rather pointless, aren’t they?

No one’s identity is truly concealed when one is so often in the company of the Den’s members.

Miss Bellamy had me fooled for a while, though.

If I didn’t think it would make you even crosser, I’d advise you to put her on the stage. ”

“Yes, it would make me even crosser. But she did a rather fine job, didn’t she?”

“It did take me some time to work out the identity of your fair companion. Now—you believe I owe you something, so let’s agree to a trade. I’ll tell you what else Miss Bellamy has been up to if you take back your challenge. Agreed?”

Piers met Chetwynd’s stare unblinkingly, and eventually, the young man caved in. “Very well. Tell me.”

“She’s been working in the kitchen at the Lyon’s Den.”

He waited, eyeing Chetwynd over the top of his tankard, to see what effect the information would have.

Chetwynd choked on his drink. “Why would she do that?”

“I have no idea—unless she’s somehow beholden to Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

People often are. This could be why she’s remained in London instead of going to the country with the earl and countess.

She won’t thank me for sharing this information, and it may be best to say nothing for the moment because I don’t believe Miss Bellamy to be in any danger. She’s an excellent cook, by the way.”

Chetwynd narrowed his eyes. “You seem to think highly of her. An excellent cook, a good actress... She is many, many things, I can tell you, and sometimes everything at once. It can be a nightmare keeping up with her line of thought. But I don’t want to discuss her past. It’s her future which now concerns me.

If what you say is true, then I have not taken good care of her, and Leo will murder me.

Not that that would be anything new,” he added, gloomily.

Piers felt a moment’s sympathy for him. It must be hard being a younger brother, particularly one who had, as yet, found no direction in life.

But sometimes, when people didn’t know where to go, and weren’t aware of what was best for them, a little push from another person could make all the difference.

Piers smiled. Why shouldn’t he be that someone?

“What if I were to find out why Miss Bellamy has been working at the Lyon’s Den for you? Would that be valuable information?”

Chetwynd nodded.

“And if I had you reinstated as a member of the Den, that would be beneficial for you too, would it not?”

“I’ll say. It’s the best place to meet other chaps and find out what’s going on. Not that we gossip like the tabbies or anything—but you know what I mean.”

“Let’s assume that I know what you mean. Now, if I do these things for you, will you rescind the challenge that you issued at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens?”

Chetwynd looked self-conscious. “I was, perhaps, a bit hasty there. Sorry.”

Piers waved a hand. “It is of no matter. I do, however, want something in return. The first part concerns Miss Bellamy. Permit me to take her out in my high perch phaeton. I’ll behave with the utmost respectability—how could I do anything else under the eagle eyes of the ton?

It will annoy some of the matchmaking mamas, but that’s all to the good.

I would like to find out from Miss Bellamy’s own lips what she’s doing in the Lyon’s Den kitchen.

If I cannot get it from her, then I have a small spy in my employ who should be able to find out for me. ”

“You mean, you’re not just going to ask Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”

“From my previous experience with the lady, she has her own agenda, and we mere mortals cannot fathom what it is. If I asked her directly, she’d give me a riddle, and we’d dance around in circles like pugilists in the boxing ring.”

Chetwynd nodded. “Or like people at a country dance.”

“Exactly. Anyway—do you agree to my first proposal?”

“I don’t know that it would be good for Belinda to be seen about town with a renowned rake like you. Leo wouldn’t be impressed. I’ll have to think about it.”

Piers inclined his head. “Very well. Now then, if I’m soon to be appraised of one of your family secrets, it’s only fair that I should trust you with one of mine.

I am going to have to put you to some trouble, I’m afraid.

While my diminutive but very able spy is keeping an eye on Miss Bellamy, he won’t be doing the task for which I mainly employ him. I’m looking for someone.”

He took a swig of his porter. Why did his throat always become tight when he thought of Charlotte and the boy?

“I’m looking for an actress called Charlotte Lavoisier.

You don’t need to know my reasons at this stage but you need to understand how difficult it will be to find her.

She’s worked with various London theatrical companies, but as soon as the weather improves, these troupes travel all round the country.

My only link with this woman is a lawyer’s clerk who won’t tell me her whereabouts because she’s threatened to vanish for good if he does. ”

The smoke from Chetwynd’s pipe was dwindling, the embers of the tobacco dying in the bowl.

He seemed to have forgotten his drink, too.

Well—it was hardly surprising that he’d find Piers’s story of interest. It was something only he and his adoptive parents knew.

At this stage, he wasn’t prepared to divulge why he needed to find Charlotte.

Although he was making a gentleman’s agreement with Roland Chetwynd, it was risky to tell him too much.

“You want me to find an actress in a traveling company.” Chetwynd stared up at the ceiling and drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.

Piers realized he’d gripped the handle of his pewter tankard so hard he’d bent it, and he released his hold.

So much was riding on this new scheme to locate Charlotte. What if Chetwynd refused to help?

“I say—that sounds like quite the adventure. Town can be somewhat boring. Same old, same old, don’t you know?

I don’t owe anyone any money at the moment, and I haven’t set my cap at any fresh damsels, so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t leave the place.

But I’d have to send Belinda back to her sister, first.”

“That would be wise. One way of keeping her out of trouble, certainly.”

It would mean Piers would be unable to see her, which would be a pity. But he had more urgent matters at hand. Perhaps, one day...

“So—are we agreed? You’ll undertake my commission, and I’ll undertake yours?”

Chetwynd held out his hand eagerly, and they shook on their bargain.

“We are agreed, sir. You must give me any information you have that will help me find your Charlotte Lavoisier. Full description, age, known haunts and suchlike.”

This was going rather well. Piers hadn’t expected Chetwynd to be quite so keen. The fact that he was demonstrated the value of membership of the Lyon’s Den.

“I’ll endeavor to get that information to you. Expect an undernourished urchin by the name of Tom to deliver it. Send him away with a shilling, no more. I shall be paying him, too—don’t let him tell you otherwise!”

So, there was only one more thing to arrange right now and he was already in two minds about it. He was going to be squiring the charming, frustrating, incomparably beautiful Miss Belinda Bellamy round the town.

He’d have to behave himself, or he wouldn’t get a word out of her. It was going to be a delight.

Or an utter torment.