Understanding dawned in Cary's expression. “You're right. He took his sister and fled to the continent.”

“That's the one. Can you imagine someone hurting Nellie, Cary?”

At the mention of Cary's beloved teenaged sister, his jaw tightened. “Fine.

You win. Women shouldn't be treated this way.”

“Right.” Christopher dipped his chin in a curt nod.

Cary shook off the heavy topic. “So, would you like to go for some dinner tonight?”

Christopher shook his head. “I can't. I promised I would attend a musicale this evening.”

“What?” Now instead of confused, Cary looked incredulous. “Not the one

we talked about last week?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn't want to go,” he protested.

“Now I do,” Christopher replied blandly.

“Why?” his friend demanded.

“There's someone I want to see,” Christopher said, remaining deliberately

vague.

“Not that one your mother arranged…” Cary rolled his eyes. “Oh, Lord,

Bennett. You're going on purpose to see Katerina Valentino?”

“Yes,” Christopher replied simply, but a hint of irritation spiked.

“Why?” Cary asked, and his tone had the air of asking why someone would

hand over a whip and remove his shirt.

“She's intriguing,” Christopher said, willing his molars not to grind.

“She hasn't got anything to say,” Cary protested.

Christopher's mouth tightened. His eyes narrowed. “True she's not inclined to

prattle, but when she does speak, she's articulate and intelligent.”

Finally noticing Christopher's reaction, Cary softened his tone. “You got her

to talk?”

“Yes.”

“About what?” he demanded.

“Music.” Christopher snapped, not giving an inch. You never took a second

to try, did you? You waited for her to speak and when she didn't, you dismissedher.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Hence the musicale.” He raised one eyebrow, daring Cary to comment

further.

Cary conceded with a wry twist of his lips. “Well, good luck to you then. I'll

see you next week.”

Christopher accepted the capitulation with a parting shot. “Yes. Try to find something more uplifting next time, would you?”

“I'll try.” The men shook hands, but the gesture lacked any hint of

friendliness.

Christopher left the townhouse and hailed a hansom cab to drive him across

town. A hefty bay horse pulled the shiny, black-lacquered vehicle along on two

oversized wheels, controlled by a driver seated high on the back, behind the passenger bench. Christopher climbed into the open-sided conveyance and

tucked his hands under his legs, thinking longingly of his missing gloves.

Outside the cab, the shabby row houses gave way to a series of shops: a tobacconist, a grocer, a milliner. He grinned at the sight of the wildly-feathered

and brightly colored hats in the window. The shops flowed into another row of

homes, this area much statelier than Cary's neighborhood. They pulled to a stop

in front of the one on the farthest end of the street; the home of a wealthy, middle-class couple, where a trio would be entertaining guests on harpsichord, voice, and flute.

He arrived a little late, and the music had already begun when he handed his

greatcoat to a footman and slipped into the parlor. Walking softly so as not to disrupt the performance, he approached the seated guests. Several were ignoring

the performers and conversing softly amongst themselves.

It only took him a moment to locate Katerina. She perched in a corner alone