haunts.'
'Still, isn't it like looking for the proverbial needle?'
Demon hesitated, then grimaced. 'There might be another way to identify likely members of the syndicate independent of any meeting, which should make it easier, if a meeting does occur, to track someone to it-and so identify all the syndicate.'
'Another way?'
Flick's eyes were firmly fixed on his face. With his gaze on his speeding horses, he outlined his discussions with Heathcote Montague, and what they hoped to discover.
At the end of his explanation, Flick sat back. 'Good. So we haven't given up on helping Dillon-it's just that our investigations have changed direction.'
'Speaking of Dillon, does he know you've left Newmarket?'
'I sent a message with Jiggs-I told him to tell Dillon that we had to follow up clues in London, that I didn't know when we'd be back, but that he should stay in hiding until we returned. I promised I'd write and tell him what we discover. Jiggs will deliver my letters.'
Demon nodded. If nothing else, he'd distanced her from Dillon-while in London, she could concentrate on him, and herself. He was certain his mother would encourage her in that endeavor, while at the same time helpfully denying Flick-a young lady in her charge-the license she would need to pursue Bletchley, the syndicate, or any other villain. Despite the fact both Bletchley and the syndicate were in London, he felt perfectly sanguine about taking Flick there.
As for the danger posed by Lord Selbourne, that was, at least temporarily, in abeyance; his lordship had gone directly into Norfolk to visit with his sister.
The curricle sped south through the bright morning, wheels rolling smoothly along the macadam. Despite losing Bletchley, despite having to revise his plans to accommodate a certain angel's stubbornness, Demon felt in remarkable charity with the world. Their current direction felt right-this was obviously the way to get Flick to say yes. She was, beyond question, already his, but if they had to go through a formal wooing, he was content to remove to London. It was, after all, his home ground. He was looking forward to showing her about-showing her off. Her bright-eyed innocence continued to delight him; through her eyes, he saw aspects of his world he'd long considered boring in an entirely new light.
He slanted a glance at her; the breeze was tugging at her curls, setting her bonnet ribbons twirling. Her eyes were wide, her gaze fixed ahead; her lips, delicate rose, were full, lush, lightly curved. She looked good enough to eat.
Abruptly, he looked ahead, the memory of the taste of her flooding him. Gritting his teeth, he willed the distraction away. He was going to have to keep his demons caged for the foreseeable future-there was no sense in teasing and taunting them. That was the one drawback in placing Flick under his mother's wing-she would be safe from all others, but also safe from him.
Even should she wish otherwise, which was an intriguing, potentially helpful, notion. Mulling over the possibility, he sent his whip out to tickle his leader's ear and urge his horses on.
Beside him, Flick watched the countryside roll past with a keen and eager eye. Anticipation grew with every mile-it was hard to preserve a proper calm. Soon they would reach London; soon, she would see Demon in his other milieu, his other guise. She knew he was considered a rake extraordinaire, yet, until now, her knowledge of him had been restricted to Demon in the country; she had a shrewd notion his tonnish persona would be different from the one she knew. As the miles sped past, she spent the time imagining,, envisioning a more graceful, more elegant, more potent presence-the glittering glamor he would assume when in society, a cloak donned over his true character, all the traits so familiar to her. She couldn't wait to see it.
Despite losing Bletchley, it was impossible to remain sober. Her mood was buoyant, her heart light-she was looking forward to life in a completely new way-facing in a completely unlooked-for direction.
Marriage to Demon-it was a dizzying thought, a dream she had never dared dream. And now she was committed to the enterprise-totally and absolutely. Not that she entertained any doubts about success. In her present mood, that was impossible.
From all she'd heard of London, it would provide the setting-one with the best opportunities-for her to encourage Demon to give her his heart. Then all would be perfect, and her dream would come true.
She sat beside him with barely concealed impatience, waiting for London to appear.
When it did, she blinked. And wrinkled her nose. And winced at the raucous cries. The streets were packed with carriages of every description, the pavements teeming. She had never imagined such close-packed humanity-fresh from the broad plain of Newmarket Heath, she found it disturbing. She felt hemmed in on every side with the sheer weight of humankind. And the noise. And the squalor. And the urchins-everywhere.
She'd lived in London for only a short time before, with her aunt at her London house. She couldn't remember any sights such as those she now saw, but it had, after all, been a long time ago. As Demon concentrated on his horses, deftly tacking through the traffic, she edged closer until she could feel the warmth of his body through her pelisse.
To her relief, the fashionable areas were more as she recalled-quiet streets lined with elegant houses, neat squares with fenced gardens at their centers. Indeed, this part of London was better, neater, more beautiful than her memories. Her aunt had lived in Bloomsbury, which was not nearly as fashionable as Berkeley Square, which was where Demon took her.
He reined in the bays before a large mansion, as imposing as the most imposing she'd seen. As Gillies took the reins and Demon stepped down, Flick stared up at the three-storeyed facade and suddenly knew what 'being not quite up to snuff' felt like.
Then Demon took her hand; stilling her fears, she shuffled along the seat and let him hand her to the ground. Clutching her parasol's handle tightly, she took his profferred arm, and climbed the steps beside him.
If the house was imposing, slightly scarifying, the butler, Highthorpe, was worse. He opened the door to Demon's knock and looked down his beaked nose at her.
'Ah, Highthorpe-how's the leg?' With an affectionate smile at the butler, Demon handed Flick over the threshold. 'Is her ladyship in?'
'My leg is quite improved, thank you, sir.' Holding the door wider, Highthorpe bowed deferentially; he closed it after them, and turned, his starchy demeanor somewhat softer. 'Her ladyship, I believe, is in her sanctuary.'
Demon's smile deepened. 'This is Miss Parteger, Highthorpe. She'll be staying with Mama for the nonce. Gillies will bring her bags around.'
It might have been a trick of the light beaming through the fanlight, yet Flick could have sworn a gleam of interest flashed in Highthorpe's eyes. He smiled as he bowed again to her. 'Miss. I'll mention to Mrs. Helmsley to prepare a room for you at once-I'll have your bags taken there. No doubt you'll wish to refresh yourself after your journey.'
'Thank you.' Flick smiled back-Highthorpe suddenly sounded much more comfortable. Demon drew her on.
'I'll leave you in the drawing room while I fetch Mama.' He opened a door and ushered her inside.
One glance about the elegant blue-and-white room had her turning back to him. 'Are you sure this is a good idea? I could always stay with my aunt-'
'Mama will be delighted to meet you.' He made the statement as if she hadn't spoken. 'I won't be above a few minutes.'
He went out, closing the door behind him. Flick stared at the white painted panels-he didn't come back in. Sighing, she looked around.
She considered the white damask settee, then looked down at her plain, definitely old, outmoded pelisse. Putting one in contact with the other seemed like sacrilege. So she stayed on her feet and shook out her skirts, trying vainly to rearrange them to hide the creases. What would Lady Horatia-the lady who presided over such a well-appointed drawing room-think of her in her far-from-elegant attire?
The point proved academic.
The latch clicked, the door swung wide, and a tall, commandingly elegant lady swept in.
And descended on her, a huge smile on her face, her eyes alight with a welcome Flick could not imagine what she'd done to deserve. But there was no mistaking the warmth with which Lady Horatia embraced her.
