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us all to be humiliated and dispossessed.”
    “It certainly wasn’t what he intended; it left him heartsick at the end. And he left us everything he had so we can solve what he could not.”
    Charlie just gulped some more tea. This time Edward caught a whiff of brandy, and almost shook his head. He should have known . . . But perhaps this once Charlie deserved a little nip. “Dare I ask what happened?” he asked, looking at his brother’s leg.
    “Ah.” Something of the usual gleam returned to Charlie’s eyes. “It was quite a fight. Three of them, all monstrous brutes. I battled back two, but in the end had to flee on horseback. The horse cleared the first fence, but not the second. And as I was lying there in a daze, the last villain caught up to me and finished what he had started.” He extended his injured leg, regarding it almost proudly. “I’m quite an invalid now. I shall have a terrible scar.”
    Edward didn’t believe a word of that story. He could tell when Charlie was telling a tale. “I hope she was worth it,” he said with a straight face.
    His brother flashed a lazy grin. “Absolutely.”
    This time when Edward left, he beckoned to the valet, who slipped out of the room behind him. “How long has his leg been like this?”
    “Just over a week, my lord,” replied Barnes. “The doctor thinks it will heal well.”
    Edward nodded. “How?” Barnes hesitated, and Edward added, “I know it wasn’t a fight, nor a runaway horse. I want to know if there is any danger of a similar fate awaiting his other leg.”
    “A slip on the stairs,” murmured Barnes, glancing guiltily over his shoulder. “After a late evening out.”
    So there wasn’t a jealous husband or an angry cardsharp contemplating breaking Charlie’s other leg. Edward let out his breath in relief. “Thank you, Barnes. Do your best to keep him under a doctor’s care.”
    “Yes, my lord.” Barnes bowed and then hurried off at Edward’s wave of dismissal.
    So Charlie was truly out of the way, though not due to disinterest. Gerard had effectively removed himself from the scene, taking off on some quixotic pursuit of the blackmailer. If Durham, with all his money and steely determination, hadn’t found the villain, Edward didn’t see how Gerard could, charging off alone with only the same information that had led Durham’s investigator into a blind end. But this plan suited him rather well; Charlie was inclined to do too little, Gerard too much. Now he could deal with the solicitor unimpeded. He would be free to act as he saw fit, without having to persuade his brothers to his prudent way of thinking.
    After all, he was used to being responsible for everything, and he was quite content with that.

Chapter 3
     
    F rancesca, Lady Gordon, arrived early, which was very much against habit for her.
    She did take her usual care in dressing. First impressions were terribly important, and Francesca was keenly aware of the need to strike just the right tone this morning. She wore her gray silk with black velvet trim, a smart, sharp ensemble that played up her coloring but also signified status and position. It might have suggested a bit more wealth and dignity than she actually possessed, but that could only help. The man she needed to impress today wasn’t a politician or a lord, nor one of the society darlings she found so amusing. James Wittiers was something far more important to Francesca today: he was widely considered the best solicitor in London, fearless, tenacious, crafty, and cleverer than half the King’s Bench put together. According to his very satisfied clients, Wittiers danced right to the edge of legality in pressing their interests, and sometimes succeeded in moving the boundaries of that legality. All this suited her perfectly. She needed a lawyer, and she needed a damned good one.
    Wittiers’s success had made him selective. It had taken almost a fortnight for Francesca to secure an appointment to see the man. She