Rakes Vow

her, pulling up a vacant chair.

'Tell me.'

Minnie did, her voice lowered so the others, now gathered in groups about the room, could not hear. Aside from Minnie with Timms beside her, and Patience hovering, only Gerrard remained at the table, alone at the other end. As Minnie whispered her news, Vane's face hardened. He exchanged a charged glance with Gerrard.

Glancing up, Vane met Patience's eyes, then he looked back at Minnie. 'It's all right-a good sign, in fact.' He, too, spoke softly; his words reached no further than Patience. 'We know there's nothing in Gerrard's room. Sligo searched only yesterday. And Sligo's very thorough. But this means something, at long last, is afoot.'

Minnie's look was tremulous.

Somewhat grimly, Vane smiled. 'Trust me.' Minnie drew in a breath, then smiled, weakly. He squeezed her hands, then stood.

He turned to Patience. Something shifted in his face, in his eyes.

Patience lost her breath.

'I apologize for not arriving this morning, but something came up.'

He took her hand, raised it to his lips, then changed his grip and grasped firmly; Patience felt warm strength flow into her, around her. 'Anything helpful?' she asked.

Vane grimaced. 'Another blank wall. Gabriel heard of our problem-he has some surprising contacts. While we learned nothing about where the pearls are, we did learn where they haven't been. To wit, pawned.' Patience opened her eyes wide. Vane nodded. 'It was another possibility, but we've exhausted that avenue, too. For my money, the pearls have never left Minnie's household.'

Patience nodded. She opened her mouth-

The door swung open and the Runners returned.

One glance at their triumphant expression, and Patience's premonition returned with a vengeance. Her heart stopped, chilled, then sank. Vane's grip on her fingers tightened; she curled her fingers and clung.

Carrying a small sack, the senior Runner advanced portentously on Minnie-then spilled the contents of the sack onto the table before her. 'Can you identify these baubles, ma'am?'

The baubles included Minnie's pearls. They also included everything else that had gone missing.

'My comb!' Gleefully, Angela swooped down and plucked the gaudy trinket free.

'Dear me-there's my pincushion.' Edith Swithins poked it aside.

The items were nudged apart-Timms's bracelet, the pearls and their matching earrings, Patience's bud vase. Everything was there-except-

'Only one.' Agatha Chadwick looked down at the garnet drop earring she'd separated from the pile.

Everyone looked again. The Runner upended the sack, then peered into it. He shook his head. 'Nothing here. And there wasn't any goods left lying in the drawer.'

'Which drawer?' Patience asked.

The Runner glanced over his shoulder-to where his comrades had taken up position one on either side of Gerrard's chair. 'The drawer of the bureau ih what I 'ave been told is Mister Gerrard Debbington's bedchamber. Which bedchamber he has on his own, not sharing with anyone else.'

The Runner made that last sound like a crime in itself. Her heart constricted, sunk to her slippers, Patience looked at Gerrard. And she saw he was struggling not to laugh.

Patience stiffened; Vane pinched her fingers.

'You'll a-have to come along of us, young gent.' The Runner advanced on Gerrard. 'There's some serious questions the magistrate'll have for you. You come along nice and quiet, and we won't have no fuss.'

'Oh, indeed. No fuss.'

Patience heard the suppressed laughter in Gerrard's voice as he obligingly stood-how could he be so flippant? She wanted to shake him.

Vane shook her-her hand, at any rate. She glanced at him; he frowned at her and shook his head fractionally.

'Trust me.'

The words reached her on a whisper, a mere thread of sound.

Patience looked into his eyes, calmly grey-then she looked at Gerrard, her young brother, light of her life. Drawing in a steadying breath, she glanced back at Vane and almost imperceptibly nodded. If Gerrard could trust Vane, and play out his alloted role, how much more reason had she to place her trust in him.

'What's the charge?' Vane asked, as the Runners formed up around Gerrard.

'No charge as yet,' the senior Runner replied. 'That's up to the magistrate, that is. We just lay the evidence before him and see what he thinks.'

Vane nodded. Patience saw the glance he exchanged with Gerrard.

'Right then.' Gerrard grinned. 'Which round house is it to be? Or do we go directly to Bow Street?'

Bow Street it was. Patience had to bite her lip to stop herself from intervening, or begging to go, too. Sligo, she noticed, at a nod from Vane, slid out in the Runners' wake. All the rest of the household remained in the dining room until the front door clanged shut behind the Runners and their charge.

For one instant, the tension held, then a sigh ran through the room.

Patience stiffened. Vane turned to her.

'I said it again and again, but you would pay no heed, Miss Debbington.' Righteously patronizing, Whitticombe shook his head. 'And now it's come to this. Perhaps, in future, you will take more note of those with more years in their cup than yourself.'

'Hear, hear,' came from the General. 'Said it from the first. Boys' tricks.' He frowned at Patience.

Emboldened, Whitticombe gestured at Minnie. 'And just think of the sore distress you and your brother have so heedlessly caused our dear hostess.'

Color high, Minnie thumped her cane. 'I'll thank you not to get your causes muddled. I'm certainly distressed, but my distress, as far as I can see, has been occasioned by whoever called the Runners down on our heads.' She glared at Whitticombe, then at the General.

Whitticombe sighed. 'My dear cousin, you really must see the light.'

'Actually.' Vane's drawl, laced with an undercurrent of sharpened steel, sliced through Whitticombe's sugary tones. 'Minnie needs do nothing. A charge is not a conviction-indeed, a charge has yet to be made.' Vane held Whitticombe's gaze. 'I rather think that, in this case, time will reveal who is at fault, and who needs adjust their thinking. It seems somewhat premature to make sweeping conclusions just yet.'

Whitticombe tried to look down his nose contemptuously; as Vane was a half head taller, he didn't succeed.

Which irritated him even more. Face setting, he eyed Vane, then, deliberately, let his gaze slide to Patience. 'I rather think you're in no position to act as defender of the righteous, Cynster.'

Vane tensed; Patience locked her hand about his.

'Oh?'

At Vane's quiet prompt, Whitticombe's lips curled. Patience inwardly groaned and shifted her hold to Vane's arm. Everyone else in the room stilled, holding then' collective breaths.

'Indeed,' Whitticombe smiled spitefully. 'My sister had some very interesting-quite riveting-insights to offer this morning. On you and Miss Debbington.'

'Is that so?'

Deaf to anything but his own voice, Whitticombe failed to hear the warning in Vane's lethally flat tone. 'Bad blood,' he pronounced. 'Must run in the family. One a bald-faced thief, the other-'

Belatedly, Whitticombe focused on Vane's face-and froze.

Patience felt the aggression lance through Vane; under her hands, the muscles of his arm locked, rock-hard. She clung, literally, and hissed a furious, 'No!'

For one instant, she thought he might shake free and then Whitticome might just be dead. But she'd set her sights on living in Kent, not in exile on the Continent.

'Colby, I suggest you retire-now.' Vane's tone promised instant retribution should he decline.

Stiffly, not daring to take his gaze from Vane's face, Whitticombe nodded to Minnie. 'I'll be in the library.' He backed to the door, then paused. 'The righteous will be rewarded.'