CHAPTER 20

Spencer’s frustration only increased once they made it to Savannah. The residential streets in the better parts of the town, though sunny and stately as always, were now also eerily quiet. The skin-prickling feel was that of a city suddenly abandoned in the face of an overwhelming danger. As he, along with Victoria, Neville, and Edward, had ridden around the many squares and made the many turns that had taken them to Chippewa Square, the only sound had been their horses’ hooves striking the cobbles on those streets paved with them. Only on the outskirts of Savannah had the mounted party passed any signs of human life, and that had been a desultory showing. A few tradesmen lazily loading their wagons; a fishmonger dispiritedly leaning against his cart; and three women of color ambling slowly along with young, dark children in tow.

The carriage trade these people depended on for their livelihoods were not at home today. They were all at River’s End. Rather ironic, Spencer had concluded, since they, the honorees, had hared off to Savannah.

And now, here they all were in the quiet and tastefully decorated front parlor of a brick Italianate residence on Bull Street and facing Chippewa Square. “This is ridiculous,” Spencer said to Victoria and Edward. “Look at us. We are casting about as if we expect a clue to a villain’s whereabouts to jump out at us from behind a chair.”

“Hopefully, not this one,” Victoria said, looking to both sides of and then behind the overstuffed chair she sat on. Neville, crouching like a bored Sphinx beside her chair, frowned at his mistress’s antics.

“What I find most disturbing,” Edward said, “is this beautiful house has not the first appearance of … evil or a rottenness of spirit.”

“You will have to explain your meaning, Edward, as it has defeated me.”

Settling his gaze on Spencer, Edward explained: “I mean I half expected, given the man’s criminal bent of mind, that his home would reflect his miscreant’s mentality. A darkened cave of a house with slovenliness and rats running rampant in every room. A dungeon, maybe. Anything but this beautiful, airy, and sunny place that hides a secret. Rather frightening. I wonder if we removed the walls, would we find his true foul-smelling and cobwebbed lair?”

Spencer stared at Edward. “My dear earl, you have missed your calling. You must immediately pen a horrifically hair-raising novel for the enjoyment of the masses.”

Edward nodded his agreement. “I have thought of doing just that.”

“Lovely for you. In the meantime, could we permit our attention to linger where it is needed? We must face the truth. Except for his servants, we are the only ones present. The man is not here.”

“Did you really expect him to be, old man? Perhaps awaiting us with refreshments and a musicale for our enjoyment?”

“I know it’s hard, but don’t be ridiculous, Edward.”

Looking around, frowning, Edward absently hit his bowler hat against his thigh, producing a soft whump-whump of sound. “I feel like such an intruder.”

“That’s because we are.” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t quite know how to proceed from here. We’ve done what we can by searching the house and the grounds and questioning his staff—”

“We did far more than question them. We imprisoned them in a room on the top floor.” Edward made a face. “I didn’t really like doing that.”

“Neither did I,” Spencer admitted. “But there’s no sense in allowing them the run of the place and giving one or more of them the opportunity to abscond without our knowing it and go warn the man, if they indeed know where he is and simply won’t tell us. Even if they don’t, they’re safest where they are for the moment. Hopefully, this will soon be over and we can free them, no harm done.”

“Except to their pride. And won’t they have a tale to tell then,” Victoria said.

Spencer smiled. “Hopefully, a tale of our heroism.”

She returned his smile, but he could see the fear in her eyes. “Such a tale with my name attached? Hmmm. A new sort of gossip and scandal to embarrass my family. How fresh.”

“Yes. Heroism,” Edward cut in, clearly impressed with himself. “That should put me in good stead with Miss Lucinda Barrett.”

“First we must live through the day, Edward,” Spencer reminded him.

“Yes, there is that.” But the faraway look in his eyes told Spencer his cousin was already seeing his name in banner headlines.

“Be all that as it may,” Spencer said loudly, clamping his hands to his waist and dividing his attention between his cousin and his wife. “Where is the man? We know his absence here has nothing to do with running from us, as he isn’t aware, as far as we know, that we are on to him.”

“But he easily could divine as much, Spencer,” Edward said, for once serious. “After all, these events began last night. Plenty of time for his henchmen to inform him. And plenty of time for him to realize Miss Cicely now has no reason to remain silent. Surely, he will intuit exactly who she would first inform—and why.”

Spencer rubbed his knuckles across his chin as he thought out loud. “Yes, of course. And Miss Cicely did tell us he would be here. Her gift for the sight aside, I have to agree with her. With his game being up, he can now only hope to cover his trail, first by destroying any incriminating papers he would have stored here, and then by leaving town quickly. As his personal belongings are still here and his study is not torn apart, as one would expect if he’d been in a panic to do that—and because he has had since last night as you said, Edward—then I am afraid we must assume he intends to confront us.”

“Oh, my God, Spencer.” Victoria rigidly gripped her chair’s armrests. “Jefferson. He’ll seek out my brother first.”

Spencer went to her and squatted in front of her, covering her hands with his. “No, my dear, no. Think. He could get nowhere close to your brother today without first being detected. There’s not a soul in attendance today who does not know Loyal Atherton should not be at River’s End. Besides, my love, you know it’s not your brother he wants. It’s you.”

“But that’s just it, Spencer. He doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m there. At River’s End. Don’t forget he knows every back road to the plantation that I do. And we got cleanly away. He could just as easily, and undetected, sneak in using those same routes. Why, he could already be lying in wait out there and could have been since last night after he found out—”

“Victoria, my love, calm down. If what you’re saying were true, he would have acted last night. Maybe in the middle of the night. But he didn’t. I believe he didn’t know how his plot was foiled until sometime today, if even yet. Really, can you imagine his henchmen were all that eager to report to him their failure without first making their own search? Only when it proved fruitless, as we know it did, would they tell him—”

“But his own servants said he hadn’t had any visitors today.”

“Of course he didn’t. Do you really think, my dear, given servants’ gossip, he has his nefarious meetings in his home with these ruffians? All we know, from questioning his staff, is he’s been gone since mid-morning and he left in a hired carriage. Now, we have no way of knowing how his henchmen contact him or at what intervals—”

“Pirates House!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A rough saloon and meeting house close to the river. It would be ideal. He could be there.”

Spencer rose to his feet. “Hmm. My first inclination is to rush there to catch him, the bastard. But I daresay we’d have to fight the entire place to get to him. I don’t like those odds.”

“It’s clear thinking like that, Spencer, old man, that makes you a valuable member of Parliament.”

“Thank you, Edward.” Spencer narrowed his eyes at his cousin and then focused on his wife. “I believe we have no choice but to wait for him to come to us here. This is the man’s home. He will eventually return here.” He smiled. “Besides, Miss Cicely said he would be here.”

“So we will wait,” Victoria said. “I can’t say, though, that I’m anxious to see him. Although I would like the opportunity to slap his face for the way he accosted me in my own parlor.”

Her bringing that day up suddenly brought to Spencer’s mind a question he’d meant to ask her before now. “Victoria, on that day, what did he want? I mean I know he”—Spencer’s temper flared, making him grit his teeth and swallow hard—“kissed you, but in the interim, with everything else that’s happened, I never thought to ask.”

If it were possible, she suddenly seemed even smaller than she was. She would barely look him in the eye. Spencer again went to her and squatted down in front of her, his knees spread to either side of her legs. He took her hands in his and held them. “I love you, Victoria. And I know you love me. I want you also to know that I don’t blame you for any of this. I truly don’t. You were an innocent, my sweet. But I just wonder what the man intended to accomplish by calling on you that day. Truly. It could be important.”

Her expression softening, she stroked his cheek. Behind him, Spencer could hear Edward sniff and clear his throat. No doubt, the younger man was uncomfortable in the extreme with what should be a very private, domestic moment. “You are the most wonderful of men, Spencer,” his very beautiful wife said. “And the most forgiving. I am such a lucky woman.”

Spencer captured her hand and kissed her palm. “There is nothing to forgive. And it is I who am lucky. That a woman such as you could ever love me—”

“Oh, I say, I will absolutely swoon if you keep on in this vein. For heaven’s sake, you’re already married. And yes, I know: ‘Shut up, Edward.’ But I won’t. Our villain could come home at any moment, as we have all agreed, and there our horses are—tethered right out front on the street. I daresay that three such large specimens of horseflesh would be a dead giveaway as to the man’s having company he will not be amused, to put it mildly, to see.”

Still clasping Victoria’s hands in his, Spencer pivoted around and stared up at his cousin. “Are you quite done, Lord Roxley?”

Edward pursed his lips and looked stubborn. “I believe I am, Your Grace.”

Eyeing his cousin with what he hoped was a clear threat in his narrowed eyes, Spencer said, “Good. Then why don’t you go move the horses around back where they’re not so obvious?”

“And if our villain returns through the alley—and there I am out there with the horses? What do I do then?”

“Clearly, you shoot him,” Spencer said seriously before returning his attention to his wife.

But Edward apparently wasn’t done. “And if I shoot him and kill him, will you vouch for me with the police?”

Spencer exhaled, smiled at Victoria, whose eyes had rounded—her most usual expression when he and Edward got into it—and again gave Edward his attention. “No, I will not. I will allow you to rot here in jail, and I will tell your mother you were lost at sea on our voyage home, much to the relief of many an anxious husband in England. Does that answer your question?”

“Quite admirably, yes.”

“Good. Then please go see to the horses and be careful, will you? I’ve no heart for a gun battle in the streets of Savannah to defend your person.”

His expression pinching into a sour snit, Edward stuffed his hat down on his head, pivoted sharply on his heel, and wordlessly marched out of the room. He slammed the parlor door behind him, stalked loudly down the short hall, jerked open the front door and then, going by the sounds and the dictates of logic, stepped out and slammed it behind him.

Spencer showed his long-suffering expression to his wife. “The silly fool gave not one thought to Loyal Atherton’s possibly being right out front, did he?”

Victoria grinned. “You love him dearly, don’t you?”

“Oh, quite so, but I must never let him know. I’m the only person in the world he’s afraid of and so will mind. Now, my dear, what were you going to tell me about what our absent host had to say on the day he came to call?”

The mirth bled slowly from Victoria’s expression. As he waited for her to speak of something he knew would be hard for her, he raked his loving gaze over her delicate features. She was incredibly beautiful with her wonderfully pale skin and high forehead and her rounded chin. Like a porcelain doll. Her unruly deep auburn hair cascaded in waves around her face and shoulders, emphasizing her large blue eyes and the shadow of the hollows under her cheekbones. Her pink lips, so very kissable, were just then thinned into an anxious line.

She lowered her gaze to where Neville crouched. “He said he’d just known I’d come back to him, I remember that.”

“He’d known? He didn’t mean literally, I presume. Unless he too has the Sight.”

She managed a fleeting smile. “No, of course not. But I believe he was counting on the letter, which did work in getting me back here.”

“Yes, it did.” Spencer’s heart nearly leaped right out of his chest with fear for her. Dear God, she’d been so dangerously vulnerable until he’d arrived here. He thanked the heavens that she’d been at River’s End where the man was not welcome and therefore could not have easily got to her himself.

Victoria’s expression crumpled as she leaned forward to rest her forehead on Spencer’s shoulder. “I was such a fool, Spencer. How could I have—”

“Shh. Don’t.” He put his arms around her and held her, feeling her shoulders shake as she quietly cried. Intense anger shot through Spencer for the man who could have hurt her so badly, who used her so terribly and then hadn’t stood by her—But wait. Had he wanted to stand by her? And had he been prevented from doing so? Spencer remembered wondering that before, but he hadn’t asked her, fearing, as he had, her answer. But now he knew she loved him and so had nothing to fear from this other man. At least, not where his wife’s feelings were concerned.

Shot through with urgency, Spencer eased Victoria back, holding her by her arms. Her tear-stained and reddened face, with damp tendrils of hair clinging to her skin, nearly tore Spencer’s heart loose from its moorings. He helped her wipe away her tears and the hair from her face. “Victoria, could it be that Loyal Atherton fancies he loves you? What I mean is once you were, uh, compromised, did he state his wish to do the honorable thing and offer you marriage?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I see. Then, why did that not happen? No one more than me is happy that it did not, but it seems such a neat solution—and much less scandalous than your being dragged off to England. Thank God you were, because now you’re mine. But why didn’t your parents go that easier route?”

Looking suddenly shy, she absently tugged yet another strand of hair behind her ear. “By all rights, it should have happened that way. Loyal was a dear friend of Jefferson’s until … that happened to me. He was also a welcome guest at River’s End and almost a part of our family.”

“Was he courting you?”

“I suppose. But I was never serious about him, Spencer, not as he was about me. I wasn’t casual, by any means, but I wasn’t thinking marriage, that’s for certain. But then that happened … I mean the…”

The catch in her voice had Spencer squeezing her hand reassuringly. “It’s all right. I know what you mean.”

She inhaled deeply and exhaled softly. “I don’t think you do. Not entirely. You see, being with him … like that … was not something I wanted, Spencer. I want you to know that. He was a houseguest at that time and came into my room at night and … as much as seduced and coerced me into the act. It happened before I knew it was, really. He wasn’t brutal, but neither would he take no for an answer. I was quite overpowered.”

“The bastard!” This story was one of the hardest things Spencer had ever had to listen to—not for his sake, but for hers. “Where was Neville? He damned near killed me when I as much as threw you on the bed—quite mistakenly, too.”

The dog, apparently upon hearing his name, sat up alertly and woofed at Spencer. Victoria reached over and rubbed the bloodhound’s ears. “He was out hunting.”

“Of course. Did your father know that? About the attack, I mean?”

She gave her head a vehement shake. “Dear God, no. I couldn’t even scream; I was so shocked … during. But afterward, I was afraid to tell Daddy. I was afraid he would kill Loyal and go to prison for it. I couldn’t have stood that.”

Spencer stared into her guileless, innocent blue eyes. She had already borne so much, and he had significantly added to her load in the past few months. Why, he was no better than Loyal Atherton and in more ways than he cared to admit. “And so, instead, you poor girl, you bore in silence the knowledge of this unwanted attack on your person.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “You make me sound so noble.”

He tipped her chin up until she was forced to look into his eyes. “You were. You still are. But, tell me, Victoria, why wouldn’t your father simply allow the marriage with him—But hold on. You said you didn’t tell your father what happened to you. Who did?”

“Loyal, of course. He was the only other one who knew. The very next morning, he went to my father and said that we had … consummated our relationship.”

“The very next—? That you—? The bastard!” A surge of shock and outrage had Spencer on his feet before he even realized it. Neville came to his feet and growled low in his throat. “Oh, shut up, Neville. I wouldn’t hurt her for anything in the world, and well you know it. Now, sit down.” When the dog did, Spencer blinked and met his wife’s wide-eyed gaze. “Amazing. But still, Victoria, I don’t understand. If Loyal Atherton was a friend of the family, why wouldn’t your father simply allow him to marry you?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Victoria’s lips. “He was willing that I should. He even demanded it. But I refused. I said I would run away and live in the swamp with Miss Cicely before I’d marry Loyal Atherton.”

Completely taken aback—and just as surprised that he would be, knowing his wife’s spirit—Spencer chuckled. “I should have known. But perhaps it works differently in America than it does England. You could simply refuse and your father would allow that?”

“Oh, there was nothing simple about it. Over the next few days, there were many scenes and harsh words and tears and fights and threats to lock me in my room until I consented.”

“I say. Did he ever actually lock you in your room?” Once again, Spencer found reason to chastise himself. Like her father, he too had attempted to lock her away until she cooperated. He began to be concerned for the entire male species’ brutish tendencies. It was a wonder any woman anywhere had anything to do with any man anywhere at any time, he mused.

“Yes, he locked me in once,” Victoria was saying. “That was following a particularly bad fight after he found out that Loyal had told everyone in Savannah that I had invited him into my bed and then refused him marriage.”

Spencer fisted his hands at his waist. “I must say it again—the bastard! But did he—I mean your father—let you out when he calmed down?”

“No. Sometimes Daddy doesn’t calm down for days. I couldn’t risk that, so I climbed out the window and down the oak tree that grows outside my bedroom window.”

Horrified, Spencer stared at her. “If any of our children takes after you, Victoria, I shall have no recourse except to drown myself.”

“Understood.” She, too, wore a very serious expression.

Spencer fought a grin. “But what did you do once you had reached the ground? Did you run away to Miss Cicely?”

“No, silly. She would have sent me right back to River’s End. Instead, I went around front and knocked on the door, just to let Daddy know I could get out if I chose to. You should have seen his face when he opened the door, one of the rare times that he ever did.”

Spencer began to be very afraid for himself. “I shall hazard a guess here. That was when he conceived of his plan to bring you to England, wasn’t it?”

Looking very prim and harmless, she said: “We left the very next day.”

For long seconds, Spencer could only stare at her. But then he gave a great laughing whoop of joy that startled her and Neville. Spencer snatched his wife up from the chair, held her close and slowly swung around with her, much to the bloodhound’s baying protest. Ignoring the dog, Spencer kissed his wife and laughed as he never had before in his life. She’d flung her arms around his neck and laughed and kissed him and cried out her happiness—

The sharp report of a gun being fired out in the quiet street startled a yelp out of Neville and stopped Spencer abruptly. He still held his wife to his chest and off her feet, but now he stared, horrified, into her frightened blue eyes as her beloved face filled his vision.

“Edward!” Spencer whispered, shock and fear robbing him of his strength. He had sent Edward out front to move the horses.

*   *   *

In an instant, Victoria was free of Spencer and on her feet. “Could that be Edward who fired his gun?”

“I am about to go find out. Stay here.”

Victoria made as if to bolt for the door, but got no farther than one step before Spencer pulled her back. “No!” He grabbed her arm. “It could be a trick, a way to get us to stupidly step outside where we’d be—”

“But Edward could be hurt—”

“I am aware of that. But I must first think of you.”

“Me?” Victoria tugged against her husband’s hold on her. “I am not in danger. It’s Edward who is. We have to help—”

“I am trying to do exactly that. Do you have your gun?” His voice brooked no argument.

Victoria stilled in his grip and frowned at him. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Then draw it and keep it ready to use. Hold it like this.” Releasing her, standing between her and the door across the room, he demonstrated by pulling his gun from its holster and holding it pointed toward the ceiling, his elbow bent. “Don’t let anyone but me or Edward into this room—”

“I’m not going to be in this room.” Victoria pulled her gun out of her waistband.

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up, making him look like a parent whose child had sassed him. “Yes, you most certainly will be.”

She watched him worriedly glance over to the windows that showed a framed view of the street outside. Already, in his mind, Victoria could tell, he had dismissed her and was several steps ahead in his thinking. And whatever he was envisioning, it did not include her. Stubborn to the end, she announced, loudly: “No, I will not be here, Spencer. I am going with you.”

Tall, dark, muscular … armed and dangerous … he snapped his gaze back to hers and held it in a viselike glare. Clearly he hadn’t expected a second round of disobedience. “I have already spoken, and I expect—”

Neville bayed, lending the sound an impatient tone. Spencer jerked around to face the dog. By sidestepping her husband, Victoria saw the bloodhound had his sensitive black nose pressed hard to the closed door’s jamb. He whined and shook all over in clear impatience to get outside.

Spencer turned again to Victoria, showing her he looked cool and determined. He gripped her arm firmly as though to emphasize his point. “I am ordering you to stay here.”

She yanked her arm from his grip. “And I am telling you I will not.”

Spencer shoved a hand through his hair. “For God’s sake, Victoria, I am trying to think of you and Edward. And you should be thinking of the baby, if you won’t think of yourself.”

“I always think of the baby. Have I hurt it yet? No. The baby is perfectly fine. I’m also thinking of you—and Edward, whom we both care deeply about. So if you’re going out there, John Spencer Whitfield, then I am going with you. What if you leave me here and rush out there alone and get yourself killed, and Edward is already wounded or worse? There will be no one left to defend me. Have you thought of that?”

“Madam, that is the most convoluted bit of thinking I have ever—”

“Is it? Well, then, for another thing—and I have told you this once already today—if you get killed, then I don’t want to live, either. So there.” She pursed her lips together stubbornly and stared, unblinking, at her husband.

Spencer gritted his teeth … no doubt to keep a shout of frustration in check. Then he said, very quietly: “All right, you win. Let’s go. But you stay behind me.”

“I intended to do just that. You make a much bigger target and a better shield than I do.” Frowning in concentration, Victoria checked her weapon, wondering how the devil these things worked. She’d only fired one once or twice before and that was with Jefferson taking care of all the catches and hammers and whatnot. Victoria suddenly realized it was awfully quiet in the room. She glanced up to see Spencer, a dubious expression on his face, watching her actions with the weapon.

“Do you actually know how to use a gun, Victoria?”

“Of course I do.” She held it up as he’d just shown her to do. “I’m ready. And don’t you dare let anything happen to Neville. I’ve loved him a lot longer than I have you.”

Spencer muttered something under his breath that Victoria judged not to be an endearment. Immediately, he drew his own weapon, turned, and crossed the room in no more than four or five bounding steps. Victoria was right on his heels. With Neville nosed against the jamb, he was first out in the hallway as Spencer wrenched open the parlor door that Edward had slammed behind him not more than five minutes ago. Victoria could hardly stand to think about the dear earl, so afraid was she of seeing his bleeding body on the ground outside. And poor Spencer, what he must be going through with the same thoughts.

Her heart in her throat, and herself right behind her husband, who was right behind Neville, they again bunched up at the closed front door. Cursing, Spencer steadily prodded, with a booted foot, at Neville, trying to get him behind him with Victoria. “Madam, hold on to your dog so I can get to the door!”

For once obedient, and more than a little frightened about what truly awaited them out in the street, Victoria grabbed Neville’s scruff and hauled back on him. In the same second, Spencer ripped open the front door. As she had expected him to rush outside, she was already in motion, and her forward momentum was such that she and Neville collided with her husband’s back as he stood immobile in the doorway. In the next second, Victoria realized what he’d done. He’d stopped cold to keep her and the dog behind him until he could see if they faced any immediate danger.

The man stupidly and bravely intended to take any bullets that might have been coming their way. Victoria’s soul twisted itself into knots. “No, Spencer!” She let go of Neville and pounded helplessly on Spencer’s back with her open palm. “Don’t you dare—”

“It’s all right, Victoria. Come on.”

How could it be all right? They’d heard gunfire. In the second it took Victoria to think that, Spencer and Neville vacated the doorway and were gone, darting to their left across the abbreviated porch with its decorative wrought-iron railing. That way led to the steps down from the elevated main entrance to the sidewalk, Victoria knew—and Spencer was leaving her behind.

Waving her gun wildly, she took off after him, all but stumbling down the steps and holding on to the iron handrail. She achieved the sidewalk and squatted behind Spencer, who was crouched behind the hedges that fronted the steps. With Neville standing alertly in front of him, Spencer raised his head only enough to be able to rove his gaze over the street and the square across the way. After several seconds of this, he was apparently satisfied that they were safe because he said: “Come on. Stay behind me and keep your weapon ready. And try not to shoot me.”

Victoria forswore comment as she inched out of their cover and followed his careful stalking northward up the street, looking in every direction at once, it seemed, until they were about two houses away from the Atherton abode. There, he stood in the middle of the street, looking both ways. Victoria surmised that oncoming traffic was not his concern, but any sudden and sneaking movements were. But it was the oddest thing: The street was quiet and empty. And no bleeding body littered the ground … thankfully, of course. “We did hear a gun being fired, didn’t we, Spencer?”

He turned slowly in a circle, looking, always looking. “Yes.”

“Where do you suppose Edward is?”

“God alone knows. But wherever he is, he will have heard the shot, too, and will be taking precautions.”

She felt so vulnerable, being out in the middle of the street. “Shouldn’t we go check on him, just to be sure?”

Now facing south, back toward the corner-situated Atherton house, Spencer directed a long-suffering look her way. “I would love to go check on Edward, who is presumably out back with the horses. However, with you insistently one step behind me I am reluctant to investigate until I know what is afoot. As there have been no other shots fired, the one we heard could simply be someone … just shooting off his gun.”

“That doesn’t seem likely, Spencer.”

“I am aware of that, Victoria.”

Given the irritated tone of his voice, Victoria decided a wiser policy might be to help her husband survey their surroundings. In doing so, she happened to look up and over to her right. Her attention arrested on the frightened faces of the Atherton servants on the third floor. All bunched around one closed and narrow window, their eyes rounded, they gesticulated wildly, as if trying to tell her something. “Spencer, look up there. Why are they doing that, all that gesturing?”

He directed his gaze to where she indicated. “No doubt, they believe we are leaving them locked up there and wish to remind us of their presence.”

Victoria searched Spencer’s face, wondering if he made more of their antics than he was saying. He’d do that, she knew, not to worry her. But he also wouldn’t tell her that was what he was doing. So there was no sense in asking him. Just then, Neville crossed in front of them and trotted over to the parklike square on Victoria and Spencer’s left. His tail wagged as he quickly nosed around the grassy areas and the beds of shrubs and flowers.

“Neville doesn’t seem too concerned,” Spencer said, sounding as if he meant to reassure himself as much as he did her.

“No, he doesn’t,” Victoria replied, just as absently. Indeed the dog merrily nosed every bush or tree trunk he passed. To Victoria’s experienced eye, Neville looked more to be searching for an appropriate place to relieve himself than he did for the telling scent of a bad man. Sure enough, Neville hiked his leg against a carefully chosen tree. Exasperated, she turned to Spencer, opening her mouth to remark on the dog’s—

“Stay where you are—I have you surrounded! Drop your weapons!”