A Rogues Proposal

She slanted him a glance-only to find him watching her. He blinked, a frown forming in his eyes. Even as she looked, his face hardened.

He looked ahead. "I thought you might like to know what we've discovered about Bletchley."

Guilt struck. In the whirl of the past days, caught up in her own discoveries, she'd forgotten Dillon and his problems. "Yes, of course." Strengthening her voice, she looked ahead. "What have you learned?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Demon grimace.

"We've confirmed Bletchley arrived on the Newmarket coach. It stops at Aldgate. We checked, but he isn't known in the area." They reached the flowerbeds and turned onto the gravel path beside the display. "Montague-my agent-is organizing a watch on the venues gentlemen use to meet with the riffraff they occasionally hire. If Bletchley appears, we'll pick up his trail again."

Flick frowned. "Is this Mr. Montague the same man you came down to see before?" Demon nodded; she asked, "Has he learned anything by looking for the money?"

"Not yet, but there's a large number of possibilities to check. Stocks, bonds, deposits, foreign transactions-he'll check everywhere. He has finalized the approximate sums we're looking for-the amounts taken from each fixed race over the autumn season, and the first race this year."

"Is it a lot?"

Demon met her gaze. "Enormous."

Reaching the walk's end, they turned back across the lawn, passing close by a number of other couples. With easy grace, Demon exchanged cool nods, distant smiles and steered her on. Flick mimicked his politesse with a calmly serene expression.

Once they were free, Demon glanced at her, then lengthened his stride. She kept pace easily, but wondered why he was hurrying.

"The total amount taken is simply so huge," he continued, "it's utterly inconceivable that it won't show up somewhere. That's one encouraging point. Luckily, we've still got a few weeks before informing the stewards becomes imperative."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No." He glanced down at her, his expression impassive. "I'll check with Montague in a day or so, if he doesn't contact me." He hesitated, then added, "I'll let you know when we learn anything to the point."

She had to nod-they were almost at the carriage. Glancing at Demon's face, she noted the languidly bored mask that seemed to slide over his features, sensed the steely control that infused his movements, making them appear lazily indifferent. She assumed it was his London persona-his wolf's clothing, as it were.

But she didn't understand why, when he handed her into the carriage and bowed gracefully, he didn't meet her eye.

Horatia tapped his arm. "You'll receive your invitation to an informal ball Louise is giving today. The ball's early next week-I'll expect you to escort myself and Felicity."

Demon blinked. "Won't Papa escort you?"

Horatia waved dismissively. "You know your father-he'll want to call at White's on the way."

A grim expression flashed in Demon's eyes, then was gone. Resigned, he inclined his head. "As you wish."

As he straightened, his eyes touched Flick's, just for a second, just long enough to reassure her. With a bow to Horatia and Helena, he turned away.

"Don't be late!" Horatia called after him. "We'll be dining there."

A wave showed he'd heard. Taking the reins, he leapt into his curricle, then gravel crunched, and he was gone.

Chapter 16

"Just look at them!" Amanda hissed disgustedly in Flick's ear, then gracefully twirled away,

Amelia took her place. "Even if they're dancing, they still sneak looks." She dipped and swayed, and continued sotto voce, "And there's usually one standing on the sidelines, like Demon is now, so if we rip a flounce or tear a ribbon and try to slip away, they still catch us!"

Flick smiled at her partner and linked hands-she gave no sign of having heard the twins' grumblings. They were whirling and twirling their way through a country dance; about them, Louise Cynster's ballroom was filled with all the family presently in London, together with family friends. As the ball was informal, and most guests related to one another, an air of easy gaiety prevailed. There were many younger people present-girls like Heather and younger males, too-which underscored the feeling of a family celebration.

Flick dipped under her partner's hand and smiled at the i

In the days since she'd first met them, they'd spoken at length on the watchful propensities of their male cousins, but Flick hadn't entirely believed them. Now she did. They did watch-she could see how the twins would find it irksome.

While Gabriel and Lucifer had both taken to the floor, they could occasionally be glimpsed through the press, checking on the twins. As for Demon, he stood at the side of the floor, not even bothering with the guise of chatting, his gaze fixed, distinctly intimidating, on their set.

At first glance, it was a wonder any male with an ounce of self-preservatory instinct would dare invite them onto the floor. However, the younger gentlemen-those not much older than the twins themselves-seemed impervious to any threat. As they were truly i

Of course, such i

When the dance ended, and they'd thanked and dismissed their too-youthful cavaliers, she linked arms, a twin on each side. "They're only trying to protect you-they've met too many bounders, and so want to warn all such men away from you."

Amelia sighed. "That's all very well, but their definition of 'bounder' is rather wide."

Amanda snorted. "If they think a gentleman has had so much as a single impure thought-a single mental flirt with any less-than-proper idea-then he's a bounder."

"Which tends to thin the ranks rather drastically."

"And is absolutely no help in our campaign."

"Campaign?" Flick stopped beside an alcove hosting three large potted palms.

Amanda glanced about, then took her hand and tugged-they all slipped into the shadowy space behind the palms.

"We've decided…" Amanda started.

"…after discussions with Catriona," Amelia put in, "the lady of the vale-a sort of wise woman-"

"That we're not going to wait patiently, doing nothing but look pretty while suitable gentlemen look us over and debate whether or not to make an offer-"

"No." Amelia lifted her head. "We're going to make our own choice."

Amanda's eyes glittered. "We're going to look them over, and decide who we'll choose, not wait to be chosen."

Flick laughed-an arm about each, she hugged them. "Indeed, from what I've seen thus far, it would definitely be wise to take the matter into your own hands."

"So we think," Amanda declared.

"But tell us." Amelia drew back to study Flick's face. "Did you choose Demon, or did he choose you?"

Flick looked across the ballroom to where Demon stood, to her eyes the most superbly handsome man in the ton. He was wearing black, with ivory shirt and cravat; under the glow of the chandeliers, he looked even more dangerous than in daylight. He was chatting to a gentleman; despite that, Flick knew he knew exactly where she was.

Her lips slowly curved-he looked, and to her senses was, the embodiment of her dream, her desire, a far better reflection than any sculpture, any picture in a book.

She glanced at the twins. "I chose him." She looked across the ballroom. "I was only ten at the time, so I didn't really understand, but… yes, I definitely chose first."