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The door opened, and Nate had to force himself not to whirl about at once. Deliberately he got to his feet and turned, almost holding his breath. If any of their information had been wrong…

It was not. Facing them was a perfectly ordinary-looking man of medium height and build. His brown hair was combed back from his face, and he moved with confidence and ease. He had grown a small beard, but otherwise Jacon Dixon was exactly as Nate remembered him. Only his eyes betrayed any kind of anxiety, flitting back and forth as he walked, never lingering but always surveying.

“I am Mr. Chartley,” he said. “You wished to see me?” He hadn’t quite got the last trace of servility out of his manner.

“Avery, Nathaniel Avery.” Nate swept one hand toward Angelique. “My wife, Mrs. Avery. A great pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Dixon froze in place at Nate’s voice. “You are Americans?” he asked, his eyes sweeping from one to the other and back again.

Nate laughed. “Everyone can tell! Right you are—from Boston. Although my lovely wife is originally from Paris.”

“Bonjour,” said Angelique, her voice a throaty purr heavily tinged with French, when Dixon looked at her. “How delightful to make your acquaintance, Monsieur.” She dipped a curtsey, and finally Dixon’s eyes settled in one place, right on her bosom. The gown she wore didn’t look immodest, but when she curtsied, her breasts swelled up almost out of the neckline. Nate couldn’t resist looking for a moment, too, before forcing his attention back to Dixon.

“Yes,” said Dixon, still distracted by her breasts. “Erm… Hurst sent you, did he?”

“Not willingly.” Nate grinned proudly. “We met Mr. Hurst through the aid of Mr. Smythe, of Sewell and Smythe, jewelers in Bond Street. There was mention of a fine emerald necklace you might consider parting with, for a decent price.”

“Yes,” said Dixon again. “I confess myself surprised. Mr. Hurst assured me of his discretion⁠—”

“So he did!” Nate winked. “But when promised his usual commission, and upon my insistence on meeting the owner of such a set myself, he gave in.”

“I see.” Dixon’s eyes resumed their survey of the room, passing often over Angelique’s bosom. “But you must understand, I asked Mr. Hurst to handle all the details himself, so I would not be inconvenienced.”

“But I insist on seeing the jewels before purchasing them. I’ll not have paste around my wife’s neck.”

That caught the other man’s attention. He drew himself up in affront. “It isn’t paste—on the contrary, sir. In fact, given its size and quality, I shan’t part with the set except on exceptional terms.”

“But you do wish to sell it?”

Dixon hesitated, but finally nodded. “On exceptional terms only.”

“Of course! Wouldn’t expect anything else. Come, be seated, and we’ll discuss those terms.” Nate strode to the sofa and threw himself on it, and Dixon sank into a chair, still looking guarded but less so. “Would you ring for some refreshment, my love?” he said carelessly to Angelique. With a flicker of her lashes she went to the bell on the wall near the door, passing right by Dixon so that her skirts swished against his chair. Dixon watched her from the corner of his eye.

Nate could have laughed at how easy this was going to be. His heart thumped hard in anticipation. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Hurst said you might have some other jewels as well. I can’t help but pamper my wife—isn’t she a lovely creature? A woman like that deserves diamonds and rubies, don’t you agree?”

“Erm… Yes.” Dixon had been watching Angelique, but now he focused on Nate, a glint of greed in his eyes. “Rubies, you say?”

“Indeed I do. Show me your finest pieces, because that’s what she deserves.” Nate chuckled, sending a leering look toward Angelique. She had her hand on the bell but was tugging at her sleeve. “Have you any sapphires?”

“A few,” said Dixon, and then he choked and gasped. Angelique had thrown her black rope around his neck and twisted.

Had she been alone, Dixon might have got away from her, flailing about as he did, but Nate leaped on him at the same moment. Angelique whisked out of the way, and the two men rolled to the floor. Dixon fought desperately, but Nate had the element of surprise on his side. He held off his opponent’s wild punches with one hand and pressed the other hand over Dixon’s nose and mouth until the man went limp.

For a moment Nate stayed where he was. His blood coursed hot and fast through his veins, making him want to roar in triumph. Instead he staggered to his feet, regarding his unconscious victim with relish. Then he turned to Angelique, who was coiling her rope.

“We’ve got him!” he said in a fierce whisper. “We’ve got him, my darling!” She laughed, and he grabbed her to press a hard kiss of exultation on her mouth.

“There is no doubt he is your man, I take it.”

Nate smiled grimly. “None at all! He looks just as I remember, and I would never forget that voice. Now let’s get him out of here.”

She was already nodding. She took a flask from her reticule and poured gin all over Dixon’s face and shirt until he reeked of it. They hoisted Dixon to his feet, and Nate draped the man’s arm around his own shoulders. Angelique checked the corridor outside the room, and when it was clear they walked quickly out through the side door, where deliveries were made. At the end of the alley stood the hackney they had hired to wait for them.

“Here, need a hand?” exclaimed the startled driver as Nate heaved Dixon inside.

“Thank you, good man. My brother, poor soul!” Nate shook his head, affecting a censorious frown. “Much the worse for drink even at this hour. My mother bade me save him from his ruinous habits.” He shook his head. “We shall try to save him yet.”

“’Tis hard when the drink gets a man,” agreed the driver. Nate clapped one hand on his shoulder and gave him the direction before swinging into the cab himself.