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For the first time, Bram understood why it was a terrible idea to get on the wrong side of Uriel Hazard. The man looming over him at the threshold of his hotel room—quite a feat given the man was barely two inches taller than Bram himself—bore no resemblance to the amiable man who had danced him around a dozen ballrooms. This man looked like he ate thunder for breakfast and washed it down with a shot of disdain.

The man’s eyebrow arched so high, it was in danger of drifting away. “Would you care to explain how I just got word that my nephew and his terrible blonde wig have been sighted in the company of the ruffians who were employed to ambush the man who kidnapped Lord Hallam’s daughter, or, as she is currently being referred to, Lord Vernon’s fiancée?”

It was at that moment that Bram spotted two things at once: the large, hessian sack gathered in Uriel’s fist, and the woman standing behind him.

“May we come in?” the woman asked, when it became clear that Bram was only capable of gaping like a fish.

He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Of course.”

“We shall wait until my nephew returns, I think,” Uriel said. “This shall be good.”

Bram was certain Armando would not agree with Uriel’s assessment. “Is he all right?”

“He escaped without being recognised, though his name has now been linked to yours by virtue of your having gone missing at the same time.”

Oh.” Bram sank onto the settee. “That is less than ideal.”

“Less than ideal is one way to put it,” Uriel said. “But forgive me. Where are my manners? Lady Adelaide, this is Bram Goodfellow, a dear friend of mine who dabbles in trouble.”

Bram blushed as he stood again. “Pardon me, I’m not usually so rude. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

The woman smiled as she removed her gloves, her keen eyes roaming Bram’s face. He wondered if he looked as stiff as he felt. He had, after all, met Adelaide Vandelin at dozens of balls over the last three years. In fact, the woman had helped him fix up a tear in his dress once. If Armando were to be believed, her plight was no less precarious than his own as she and her husband were conducting an illicit affair with none other than Uriel Hazard himself.

“And you, dear. I’m here only to look after the child while you deal with the latest catastrophe to befall poor Armando.” She patted Bram’s hand. “She’s in her room?”

“Yes, I’ll introduce you.” Bram led the woman to Cecilia’s room at the end of the hallway and poked his head round the door. “Lady Adelaide, this is Cecilia Rose.”

Cecilia’s eyes widened as she catapulted off the bed and attempted a curtsey. “Pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Lady Adelaide clasped her hands together at her chest with a broad smile. “Aren’t you a charming young thing?”

Bram held in the choke trying to get out as Cecilia offered a shy smile. She’d have the woman’s jewellery off her by the time she left.

“Your uncle and I have some business to attend to, so Lady Adelaide will keep you company while we’re gone.”

Raised voices alerted him to Armando’s return, so he closed the door and rushed back to the sitting room.

“You look like you’ve just waded out of a swamp,” Uriel complained. “I suppose I should be grateful you weren’t wearing the last of the clothes I bought for you.”

“We escaped, so what is the problem?” Armando grumbled.

“Oh, Armando, thank goodness you’re all right.” Bram hugged his regrettably damp friend. “I’ve been so worried.”

“We were fine. Feltham got me out of there without a hitch.”

“Without a hitch?” Uriel scoffed. “You were bloody ambushed.”

“We knew we were walking into an ambush, Uriel. Goodness, what do you take me for?”

“You really do not want to hear my answer to that question,” said Uriel.

“I lost my wig in the brook at Cockfosters, but I was out of sight by then. Everything went as planned, I assure you.”

“I assume that’s what you had Davy do?” Uriel asked. “Send a ransom to Hallam?”

“Yes,” said Bram. “And I knew my father would not pay it, which is why I had Davy deliver a second package the next day.”

“You did?” Uriel asked.

“A plait of hair,” he told him. “I know my father. No matter what we sent first, he’d assume I ran away, that the ransom was a dramatic ruse, which is why we sent the patch of dress first. It is a little dramatic.”

“And not without precedent,” Uriel added.

“Indeed. Now, the hair would make him think twice. Would his daughter really chop off her hair? He doesn’t know me well enough to answer the question, but my mother would persuade him that I would never have done such a thing. My mother considers a woman’s hair her crowning glory, and like everything else I did to make my life with them easier, I followed her lead when it came to dressing. In this regard at least, she believes I feel as she does.”

“So, this will escalate?” Uriel asked. “You have a next step planned.”

“Not exactly,” Bram admitted. “But I’m working on it.”

“I have an idea to end it once and for all,” Uriel said.

“Does it have anything to do with what’s in the bag?” Bram asked.

“This bag?” Armando prodded the bag with his foot then loosened its ties. Laughing at whatever was inside, he turned to his uncle. “You are obsessed with shoes.”

“Bram, I hate to do this to you, but I need you to put on that dress,” Uriel said.

Are sens

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