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that weekend.”

Etta gasped. “Lord Daverell, Sir Hartly, and Mr. Barrington. All three very politically ambitious bachelors. And all are vying for a position in the prime minister’s cabinet, I believe.”

“They are. As is Lord Chilton, which is why he hosted such a politically minded house party that weekend.” The three men’s names had been rolling around in her head since seeing them. Was one of them the man who seduced Alice? Only then to possibly push her from the roof once he learned of her pregnancy, in an effort to eliminate any scandal attaching to his political ambitions? “I’ve already sent Fenton a note requesting the men be investigated.”

Kat’s butler was ever efficient and had promptly replied, advising he would task some of his best informants with the job.

“Excellent,” Etta replied. “We should be able to ferret out some information tonight at the Wernham ball, for I know Lord Daverell and perhaps even Mr. Barrington shall be there.”

If anyone could discover gossip at a ball it was Etta, for she had a talent for blending in and going unnoticed. A talent which had greatly assisted in gathering a lot of information on the bachelors so far.

“Actually, I have other plans to attend to tonight.” And quickly she relayed the rest of her visit with Lady Chilton and of the blackmail attempt to take place tonight.

“Are you mad, Livie?” Etta declared. “I cannot let you go alone to a cemetery at midnight.”

“I must go alone, otherwise Mary may flee before I’m even able to talk to her.”

“Well, then, I shall come but stay in the carriage,” Etta insisted.

“And what good will that do me?” Livie pressed a hand upon her friend’s. “You must trust me, I’ll be fine. In any event, hopefully Sebastian will arrive and be there to assist me, though he’ll have to stay hidden in the shadows.”

“And what if he doesn’t attend?” Etta bit the bottom of her lip.

“I’ll have my cane and my pistol with me,” she reassured her friend. “Not to mention Kat has taught us some defensive moves. I will be fine, Etta. You must go to the ball and see what you can find of those three men.” Then she told Etta of Alice’s pregnancy, watching as her friend’s eyes welled with moisture.

“Poor Alice,” Etta murmured. “She must have felt so frightened.”

“I’m sure she did, at least at first,” Livie agreed. “But then she took charge of her situation and was going to start anew in America. But someone whisked that chance away from her. Do you see now how important it is we find out who the scoundrel is?”

Slowly, Etta nodded.

“Which is why you must go to the ball and see what you can discover. Then, along with the information Fenton’s informants are able to gather, we might just be able to work out the identity of the man who destroyed Alice, and then we will destroy him right back, in the very first edition of the gazette.”

Chapter Nineteen

With a quick nod, Seb gave Rowan the signal to continue, while he and his other man, Croucher, watched on. In response, Rowan swung back his fist and slammed it into McGinchy’s cheek.

The man’s head whipped sideways, blood and spittle flying across the room, as he grunted at the impact. His hate-filled eyes sought out Seb’s in the dimness of the basement. “I ain’t saying a word to the likes of a devil worshipper like ya!” he spat out. “Ya can keep me in this hellhole for hours more than ya already have, and yar Curs can keep beatin’ me, but in the end, my leader and God will avenge me and send ya savages to Hell.”

Defiance radiated from the man, while sweat dripped down his head and back, mingling with the blood trickling from the punches to his face to soak into the cream shirt he wore, staining it with patches of red and pink.

On Seb’s orders, the man had been left alone in the dark basement, without a light and with some rats for company for several hours, before his men had started questioning him, which they’d been doing for the past few hours, yielding no results. The man still refused to give up his leader’s name.

Returning to the basement only a short time ago to see if he could get any answers out of him, Seb had sized him up in an instant as a zealot. Such people couldn’t be tortured; they had to be made to fear that which they were most terrified of—their own mortality and sins.

Interesting, he hadn’t realized the Lads were religious. Such a thing, though, was clever, as it would inspire devout and unquestioning followers.

Seb stood and walked over to where the man was strapped to a wooden chair in the center of the room, with his feet bound to the chair legs and his hands tied behind the back of it.

Rowan moved aside to allow Seb to crouch down in front of McGinchy.

“You’ll be receiving no help from the Divine here, I’m afraid. God abandoned this place and me long ago.” Seb smiled without humor and watched McGinchy flinch as if he’d been struck. The man was afraid of him. Good, and so he should be. “Now, if you don’t wish to see his alternate counterpart, then I suggest you start talking and do so now. Unless you want to see what sort of a devil I can be.”

“I already know you are Satan’s spawn!” McGinchy jutted his chin out, a lock of his oily brown hair falling in front of his eyes, which were flashing with feverish contempt.

“Well, that I cannot deny,” Seb agreed. His father had been a vile creature from Hell, after all. “But even I think your God would damn you for playing a part in trying to kill an innocent young lady.”

“Innocent?” the man spat out. “She can’t be too innocent consorting with the likes of you, now can she?”

There was such vehement righteousness in the man’s

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