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She was in his bedchamber.

She put it to the back of her mind. "I've come to ask your help, Mr. Ferncliff. If you assist me, I will do all in my power to sort out the problems about your marriage to Francis's mother."

"That is a strong inducement," he said, but with a great deal of suspicion. "What is it you want me to do?"

Serena paced, keyed up by nerves, by outright fear, but also by the excitement of finally doing something. "My brothers are staying in this inn. They have some pictures of me, pictures I want destroyed. I have to find a way to steal them before half past six."

He looked startled, as well he might. He pulled out a watch. "It is already gone half past five, Lady Middlethorpe! Besides, surely this is a matter best handled by your husband."

Serena had not expected to find him so stuffy. "Very likely, but he is out and I could not reach him. Will you assist me?"

Ferncliff held up his hands. "My dear lady, I am willing to help, but I am not an adventurer. How are we to commit this daring burglary?"

She had hoped he would have some ideas, but it clearly was not to be. It was up to her to find a plan.

"My brothers have taken rooms number eleven and twelve. Do you have any idea whether that will be two bedchambers, or a bedchamber and a parlor?"

"Almost certainly the latter. Why would they need two bedchambers? It would be unusual."

At least the man had some knowledge to contribute. "Very well. At the moment, my brother Will is below stairs in the tap. I assume Tom is in his parlor awaiting mc. We will have to draw him out by some means so that I can slip in and take the pictures."

"Good heavens. We are both likely to land in the watch house!"

"Let us pray not," said Serena tardy. "I hope to prevent scandal, not cause it."

Ferncliff shook his head. "Do you have any plan in mind to draw your brother out of his room?"

"No," Serena admitted.

"And what is likely to happen if half past six comes without success?"

"I will have to pay them and buy another day's grace. I have with me the price they demanded, but I would much rather not give them a penny. Perhaps we could cry fire...."

"No," Ferncliff said firmly. "The chances of someone being injured in the panic are too great."

Serena paced the room fretfully. "I have to try
something!"

"What would draw your brother away from his appointment, do you think?"

Serena pondered it. "Tom is pretty fond of Will after his own fashion and in the habit of looking out for him. What if Will were to get into trouble?"

"A fight? My dear young lady, I am not engaging in fisticuffs even for you."

Serena eyed him. "Not even for Cordelia?"

He groaned. "No, not even for her. I am not a man of violence, Lady Middlethorpe, or I would have faced your husband weeks ago and drawn his cork!"

"You most certainly would not," Serena declared, "for he wouldn't have permitted it!"

He opened his mouth, then said, "Let us not fall to childish squabbling."

Serena glared at her reluctant accomplice. "I don't think you
deserve
Cordelia. You're a pudding-heart."

"A man is not a coward for wanting to avoid violence."

Serena sighed and looked for a way to achieve her ends without drawing blood. "We don't actually need for there to be a fight. If Tom were told Will was drunk and in a dangerous fight, he would have to act, wouldn't he?"

"And I am to do the telling, I assume. On what pretext?"

"An innocent well-wisher?"

"I know neither man."

"Oh, do stop being so difficult! Tom cannot possibly know that. The question is, what will he do with the portfolio when he goes downstairs?"

"Take it with him in all likelihood, so your plan would come to naught."

"No, he couldn't do that. It is about two feet by two feet. He'll either just leave it or hide it. The trouble is that I will only have moments to search..."

"I really doubt this plan will work," said Ferncliff, not without relief.

"Yes it
will,"
said Serena fiercely. "I will make it work. What if I were already in the bedroom when you come to bring Tom the news. I'll be able to peep through the door to see where he hides it."

"Good Lord, what a flimsy plan. What if the door is shut?"

"I'll open it."

"What if it creaks?"

"What if the sky falls? Mr. Ferncliff, I am desperate! This is the price I demand for promoting your connection with Cordelia. Stop being so difficult."

Ferncliff looked at her with dislike. "You may want to consider what you will do if he decides to hide this portfolio in the bedroom."

"I'll duck behind the curtains!" Serena declared with exasperation. "I don't know what I'll do, but this is the best chance we have." She saw that arguing was not at all helpful. "My dear sir," she said as piteously as she could, "the results of failure could be disastrous, I assure you."

He sighed. "Very well, Lady Middlethorpe. But I have the feeling I am going to regret this. How do we proceed?"

She opened the door and peered out. The narrow corridor with doors on both sides was deserted, though there was plenty of noise—snatches of conversations from behind some doors, louder talk and laughter floating up from the tap, and hangings from the kitchens.

The doors were numbered in order, so numbers eleven and twelve were just down the corridor toward the end. The question was, which was the bedchamber, which the parlor?

She ducked back into the room. "Do you think it possible that the even numbers are bedchambers and the odd parlors?"

"Possible, I suppose. There are travelers requiring parlors who do not intend to spend the night, and those wanting a bed without need of a parlor."

"Very well," said Serena. "You will stand knocking at number eleven. You're big enough to conceal me from a casual glance. As soon as he opens the door, I'll slip into the bedchamber."

"And if the door he opens is the one by which you are hovering?"

Serena shrugged. "He'll be expecting me. I'll give him the price he asked, and we'll have at least postponed disaster. You can come back here and forget all about it."

He smiled ruefully. "You make me feel a very feeble fellow. Very well, I hope the plan works."

Serena smiled back at him. "Thank you. Then you tell him of poor Will's plight. After that, we can only hope that it will work as expected."

He shook his head. "You are a rather frightening young woman."

"Frightening?"

"Resourceful, brave, decisive, and far too beautiful. Your husband showed remarkable courage in choosing you."

Serena sighed. "Perhaps it was just fate. Ready?"

"Just one more thing. I'm not making difficulties, but when you have these pictures, what do you intend to do with them? I fear it will not take your brother long to realize he has been tricked and to come in search of me."

Serena was keyed up for action and in no mood to hesitate further. She heard a clock strike quarter to six. "I will burn them," she declared, "and then Tom can do his worst."

"Not here," Ferncliff said, indicating the small hearth. "That would surely set the chimney on fire. The best thing is for you to leave immediately with your loot. But not, I think, by the main entrance."

"What other way out is there?"

"A side stairs at the far end of the corridor, which leads down to the coach yard."

"Good. I have a footman, though, down in the entrance...."

"Once the deed is done, I will speak to him. Tell him to meet you in the coach yard." He suddenly smiled. "That will have the added advantage, you see, that if your irate brother comes after me, he will find me in a very public place."

Serena smiled and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "Wonderful. And I will do all in my power to assure your happiness with Cordelia. Ready?"

"Yes."

Just as they emerged into the corridor, a potboy came up the stairs with a tray and headed down the other arm of the corridor to knock at a door. "Do we wait?" asked Ferncliff quietly.

"No." Serena could not bear any more delay.

They went to number eleven. Then, screened by Ferncliff, Serena hovered by the door of number twelve. Ferncliff knocked, and Serena listened. She heard someone going to answer the door to number eleven and gathered the courage to turn the knob of the door in front of her. It opened without noise, and she slipped into the room.

It was empty.

She let out a sigh that was nearly a gasp. Despite Ferncliff's words, she was not feeling particularly brave, just frantically determined. The only light in the room was from the fire, and so she was very careful as she crept over to the adjoining door and pressed her ear to it.

Tom's voice: "Yes?"

Ferncliff's voice, rather loud: "I believe you are Sir Thomas Allbright."

"What of it?"

"I am afraid your brother is in difficulties below, sir." In the middle of this, Serena turned the knob and opened the door the slightest crack. The catch clicked, but the door did not squeak. By now her heart was pounding like a team of galloping horses, so she felt as if Tom should hear it. The small crack did not allow her to see the men, but their voices were now louder.

"Difficulties? What d'you mean, sir?"

"To be blunt, sir, drunk and belligerent. He is picking a fight with a brawny boatman. I thought you might want to know."

Serena held her breath and eased the door open another inch. She had to be able to see more of the room. When she saw the red portfolio on a chair, she almost let a sound escape.

"Devil take the young fool," Tom muttered, but then said, "Thank you, sir. I'll see to it."

Serena heard the door shut, presumably with Ferncliff on the other side of it. She kept her eyes on the pictures.

Tom came into view and picked up the portfolio. He scanned the room, still muttering curses. Serena froze as his eyes passed over the door, but nothing about it seemed to bother him. With an irritated grunt, he shoved the pictures on the windowsill behind the curtains. Then he slammed out.

Serena was into the room in a flash. She grabbed the portfolio, then froze, wondering if Tom had other pictures in items such as the snuffbox. It was unlikely, and a miniature picture was much less identifiable anyway. She needed to be away to destroy what she had. She whipped out into the corridor, checking swiftly.

Empty.

Ferncliff poked his head out of his door. "Got them?"

"Yes!"

He grinned quite boyishly and came toward her, intending to go down to alert her footman. Serena clutched the portfolio under her cloak out of sight and headed past the stairs toward the other end of the building. A bellow froze her just short of the stair head.

Tom!

He had realized too soon.

She turned, and she and Ferncliff fled back to his room and closed the door.

The man groaned. "I knew I was going to regret this! He'll be here in a moment!"

"Do you not have a pistol?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, you
should
have."

Serena pressed her ear to the door. Ferncliff crowded behind her and they both listened to Tom's footsteps pound past, then to the crash of his door as he charged back into his room.

"Now!" Serena said, and flung open the door.

They came face to face with Francis.

He, it seemed, had been in hot pursuit of Tom, but now he focused entirely on her.

The moment seemed cast in a sculpture of ice. Francis took his hand out of his pocket, bringing a pistol with it, which he pointed with deadly intent at Ferncliff's head.

Chapter 20

Ferncliff and Serena backed up, and in moments they were inside his room again. It was only when the door clicked shut that Serena realized someone else was present.

Lucien.