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“O h, Belinda—did you do this?”

Belinda, who’d been preparing to go to the Lyon’s Den for the final time, stared at the letter in Caroline’s hand.

“Did I do what? What’s that you have there?” She’d never seen Caroline so upset.

Caroline’s hand shook as she handed Belinda the letter, but she didn’t wait for her to read it.

“It’s a summons from the Earl of Aylsham.

I’m urgently required at Forty Court. My parents have had a similar letter asking for my services as a teacher.

I’ve been offered accommodation and a good wage, and Mama and Papa are content to let me go, so long as I return to see them regularly.

Everything has been decided without consulting me! ”

“Of course I didn’t have anything to do with it!

Don’t fret, Caroline—is it so very bad? We’ll see each other at Forty Court soon enough.

I’m planning to return home anyway since my grand London Scheme for Getting a Husband has fallen on stony ground.

I’ll spend some time with my sister and her husband while I decide on my next move.

It will all be so much more enjoyable if you’re there, too. ”

Caroline was close to tears. “But I want to stay in London. I... I can’t tell you why. Well, maybe I can, but I don’t want to upset you. You’ll think I’ve been deceitful, and I’d hate for you to think ill of me.”

A sliver of unease slid down Belinda’s spine. Caroline had been deceitful? How could someone who knew how hard it was for Belinda to trust anybody, let her down like this?

“Deceitful? Is it about the Lyon’s Den?”

Caroline wrung her hands. “Yes, it is. And no, it isn’t. I mean, partly. If we return to Forty Court, I won’t be able to see a certain person again.”

Belinda frowned. Did Caroline mean Mr. Darvill? She’d had a vague suspicion previously, but there had been no indication of attraction since. Caroline was usually so sensible—it wasn’t like her to fall in love with somebody so far above her station. Words failed her.

“I don’t know why this has happened, so out of the blue! Has somebody been spying on me, or is it absolutely as it appears to be—that the earl needs a good teacher at Forty Court and one that he knows?”

Belinda thought out her next question carefully. “If someone had been spying on you, what would they have seen, Caroline?”

Caroline flushed. “Nothing improper. I mean, the gentleman and I have merely sat and talked, whenever he was able to get away. He brought me tea and refreshments and despite his rather large size and fearsome appearance, he’s a lovely man.

I... I fear I’ve developed a tendre for him.

But I don’t know if he has for me. He may just have been acting kind and I may be reading all manner of things into his actions that aren’t there. So, I shouldn’t fret, should I?”

Large size and fearsome appearance? It sounded as if Caroline was not talking about Mr. Darvill. A small sigh of relief escaped Belinda.

“So—you’re telling me that somebody who works at the Lyon’s Den has been talking to you, and you may have grown fond of each other. Is that the case?”

It would explain why Caroline didn’t want to move away from London.

All relationships took time to develop, as Belinda had discovered with William.

Although, things might not have progressed quite as far had their meetings occurred in public.

Secrecy and the anticipated disapproval of Minty and Lord Lamb had added savor to their relationship.

Oh, but how badly it all ended! She wasn’t sure if she could ever trust herself to fall in love again.

It wasn’t William’s fault that he’d drowned, but if he’d cared for her enough, he wouldn’t have returned to the Army, especially when she’d begged him not to go.

He would have stayed and looked after her.

“Oh, but I can see you don’t approve of me talking to the gentleman. It can’t be because he’s a veteran—you like those. Is it because he works at the Lyon’s Den? But then again, you do, too. Did you tell the earl, so he could separate us?”

Belinda blinked. It was most unlike Caroline to rattle on, or accuse her of betrayal. She must like the mysterious gentleman very much.

“Of course I didn’t write to the earl. Why would I, when I didn’t even know you were forming a friendship?”

Caroline took her hand. “Forgive me—why indeed? It must have been Roland Chetwynd then, wanting to curtail our freedom.”

“I’m certain it’s nothing but coincidence—the earl wouldn’t have said he needed you at Forty Court if he did not. I do understand that you’re upset, however.”

It was as if their roles had been reversed, and Caroline had become Belinda, and Belinda, Caroline.

Caroline was now the anxious one, not knowing which way to turn, or who to blame—if anyone at all.

Whereas she was thinking it all through in a level- headed way and trying to work out what was going on.

Perhaps Miss Belinda Bellamy was growing up at last!

“Who is this gentleman? Is he tied to the Lyon’s Den for life? Surely, he could visit you at Forty Court if he chose to do so, or at your parents’ house when you go to see them?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m afraid that if I don’t see him every day, as I have been doing, he will lose any affection he might have for me.

There are so many prettier ladies than myself in Town, some of whom undoubtedly pass through the doors of the Lyon’s Den.

” Caroline paused to glance sorrowfully at Belinda.

“After your past experiences, I don’t know if it would be wise to trust any man. ”

Belinda tilted her head. She still wasn’t good at trusting people, despite her efforts to the contrary.

She’d trusted William Coyle and look what had happened!

They should have conducted their affair properly—he was old enough, and experienced enough, to know that he should have approached her guardian directly and requested her hand.

Even if her guardian had been her sister’s first husband, the drunken and debauched Lord Lamb.

She trusted Roland, of course, for he was too straightforward to deliberately fail anybody.

Then there was Mr. Darvill, who’d dogged her footsteps from the first moment she met him.

Had she entirely misread his motives? Did he, in fact, really like her and was he trying to save her from herself?

If only she could trust him. No. He’d already ruined her plans—even though he hadn’t known what they were—and tried to manipulate her.

He was not the sort of man upon whom one could rely, or to whom one should reveal one’s secrets.

“Don’t despair, Caroline. Sometimes what appears to be a catastrophe is actually the best thing that could happen.

It brings things to a head and makes people show their hands.

Although I may not be the best person to advise you, I suggest you tell this gentleman that you may be leaving town and see if you can elicit a declaration from him.

Or at least some sign that he’s too attached to you to let you slip through his fingers. ”

“Very well. I shall be brave and hope for the best outcome. Please forgive me for thinking you had anything to do with it—my recall to Forty Court, I mean. It was foolish of me. I hope it won’t affect our friendship, and if it turns out that Mr. Starveling does like me, I don’t want us to drift apart, whatever happens. ”

Belinda tied her bonnet under her chin. “Let us make this important visit to the Lyon’s Den, then. By tonight, I’ll be free of its hold over me, and you’ll be free of my hold over you!”

It was in this optimistic frame of mind that Belinda helped her friend down from the carriage on the street adjacent to the Lyon’s Den for what must be the last time.

She would continue cooking at home, of course—but she’d be choosing the ingredients herself and not be at the command of an exacting head cook.

She was still smiling cheerfully to herself as she and Caroline rounded the corner, and the smart frontage of the gambling club came into view.

Suddenly she froze, bringing Caroline to a halt as well.

“What is it?”

Belinda edged out of sight, taking her friend with her.

“There’s something peculiar going on. Do you remember that urchin, Tom Haggar, who I thought had tried to steal my reticule when we saw the balloon ascent?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Well, he’s standing in the doorway of the main entrance to the Den, you know—the one the gentlemen use. He’s not alone.”

“Oh—I suppose he must be with Mr. Darvill. We suspected that Darvill used him as an errand boy on occasion, did we not?”

“Not Mr. Darvill. He’s deep in conversation with Roland.”

Caroline’s expression mirrored her own astonishment.

What on earth was going on? Belinda’s optimism fled, and all she could think about was the significance of this association. Something untoward was going on and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s kitchen and the soup were going to have to wait while Miss Belinda Bellamy tested her skills at espionage.

“Caroline—would you mind waiting here a moment? I don’t want to go in straight away—I want to hear what those two are saying to each other.

And I don’t wish to walk into the Lyon’s Den right under Roland’s nose, even though he knows all about it now.

Can you bear to be apart from your Mr. Starveling a little longer? ”

“You’re going to eavesdrop on them? Oh dear, Belinda—I thought you were above that sort of thing.”

Belinda chuckled. “You sound like my guardian, not my friend. Don’t worry—I can hide behind that brewer’s dray and pretend I’m having difficulty with my bonnet or something.”

“You won’t hear much of the conversation, not with those barrels thundering down into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s cellar.”

“I’ll take my chances. Now, then—are you prepared to wait a little longer? Go for a stroll down the street if you wish—I doubt I’ll be more than a few minutes.”

Her heart raced in excitement as she slipped along the shadowy side of the street and took up position close to the stationary dray.

From there, she could see Tom’s face, but only the back of Roland’s head.

Whether she’d hear anything was, as Caroline had said, a long shot, but she might learn something of value, so it was worth a try.

“So, I tells him that I’ve seen the boy. He looks well enough, although it seems his ma washes his hair more than is natural.”

“How would you know what level of cleanliness is considered natural, young Tom? I bet you haven’t had a scrub behind the ears for a month.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up. “A month? If I had a wash every month, that would be—” He counted on his fingers. “Twelve times a year! No, no need to do it that often. I suppose gentry folk might think it necessary, for all the balls and things they go to.”

A barrel was rolled down the ramp at that point so Belinda couldn’t hear the next bit of the conversation. But since it seemed to have directed itself to matters of cleanliness, she wasn’t missing anything vital.

As the barrel rumbled away into the depths, she heard Roland saying, “You’ll get your just deserts.”

Tom’s face paled in the patches visible beneath the dirt. “That doesn’t sound very nice, mister.”

Roland’s next utterance was drowned out by the dray horses stamping irritably and whinnying to one another.

Belinda resisted the urge to edge closer—she’d already been here too long, and if anyone happened to be looking out of the windows of the Lyon’s Den, she’d be in plain view.

One of the veterans was bound to emerge to find out what she was up to.

“Do you think his ma will give up the boy?” Tom was asking, still looking anxious.

What was going on? Had Roland threatened him? No—that wasn’t like Roland. But it sounded as if there was another boy whose life was about to change.

Then she heard Roland say “Darvill” and her heart beat even faster. She edged as close as she dared.

“Mr. Darvill can be very persuasive. He has the right, anyway.”

“Shall I come with you, sir?”

“I don’t think I’ll have any difficulty finding an address in St. Giles.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but I think you will, especially after dark. There’s not all lamps and lights and things like there is round here. You’ll need someone what knows the place if you’re not meeting until after nine.”

“When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it, you young whippersnapper.

And I shouldn’t think it’s too difficult to find Number Three, Garrett’s Lane.

It’s not going to be very far down the street.

Best you don’t come, Tom—Darvill and I can look after ourselves.

He’s extremely good with his fists, I understand. ”

“And I’m good at kicking coves where it hurts—if you get my meaning.”

“No. You stay round this area when we set off tomorrow. Don’t think you can go to ground—I’ve become exceedingly successful at sniffing out your whereabouts.”

Belinda sucked in her breath. She could hardly believe what she’d heard—not only was Roland conspiring with Darvill to abduct some poor woman’s little boy, but he was also planning to do something unpleasant to Tom.

They weren’t going to turn him over to the authorities, surely?

If so, she’d have something to say about it.

It was time to go, before the man and boy concluded their conversation and one of them spotted her. She turned her back on them and walked swiftly away through the shadows and back to the street corner where she met up shortly thereafter with Caroline.

“Well? Did you hear anything interesting?”

“Yes. Very interesting. I know where they’re going, and what they’re planning. It’s despicable.”

“Oh, yes?” Caroline was looking past Belinda’s shoulder. “Both Mr. Chetwynd and Tom have left. Do you think it’s safe to go into the Lyon’s Den now? Starveling might be missing me.”

Caroline evidently had other priorities, so Belinda decided to say nothing further.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted Caroline involved because the plan she was hatching would certainly meet with her friend’s disapproval.

Sneaking around London at night and spying on people’s private meetings?

Intolerable! Alternatively, Caroline might insist on coming, but if she couldn’t keep her mind on the task at hand because she was mooning over her gentleman, she’d ruin everything.

Tomorrow night, Belinda would go alone and stop Piers Darvill in his tracks.

She’d offer once more to give Tom a place in the orphanage, and she’d make sure that the woman mentioned did not have to give up her son.

Darvill might not know how precious the bond between mother and child could be, but she certainly did, and she didn’t want anyone else to lose a child.

Tomorrow night, the top-lofty Mr. Piers Darvill was going to get his comeuppance.