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Nate wasn’t certain he liked having to ask Harry Sinclair for help. For one thing, the man turned out to live in a large stone house in the finer section of town where the streets were wide and well swept, bright with gaslight. It was the home of a man with money, and even though Angelique said it was all from his wife’s family, Nate was well aware that money had a powerful influence on a person’s point of view. This Sinclair might have been as common as Nate at one point, but now he’d clearly moved up in the world.

“You go first,” Angelique murmured after she stepped down from the hackney behind him. She was dressed as a man for this visit. With her hair hidden under a blond wig and her chest bound under a padded coat, she somehow managed to look enough like a young man that Nate had blinked in astonishment at first. Her eyes would never be mistaken for a man’s and her mouth was too lush, but hopefully it was too dark for anyone to see either of them that well. Nate didn’t know what would happen if word somehow got back to Stafford what they were up to.

The hackney rattled away, leaving them alone on the wide pavement in front of the house. The windows were lit, but there was no noise of a party within. He hoped that meant Mr. Sinclair was at home. The more times they had to call, the greater the chance Stafford would discover it. With more than a little foreboding, he strode up the steps and rapped the knocker of the door, Angelique a subservient step behind him.

“Lord Wroth to see Mr. Sinclair,” he told the footman who let them in.

The servant took the card Nate gave him and went to see if Mr. Sinclair would see them. In grim silence they waited, until the butler came and showed them into a small parlor. It was very handsomely furnished, but Nate could barely see it, and prowled restlessly about the room. It made his skin itch to approach this fellow, no matter what Angelique said about him. For her part, she perched mutely on the edge of a sofa, a sure sign that she was as tense as he was.

Too late Nate thought of more arguments against coming here; what if Sinclair suspected they had come from Stafford and wouldn’t see them at all? What if he missed whatever message Angelique had sent with the spurious card, and turned them away? What if he was acquainted with Selwyn—friendly, even—and warned the man people were making inquiries?

The door clicked behind him. Angelique sprang to her feet. Nate turned to see a tall, well-dressed man about his own age with dark hair and sharp hazel eyes in a lean face. For a moment they all stood in silence, Mr. Sinclair looking from Angelique to Nate and back again. Nate realized the muscles of his back had tightened in anticipation of an attack—of what sort he couldn’t imagine—and tried to breathe normally. Angelique had said this man would understand.

“I was once Lord Wroth.” Sinclair had the calling card in his hand, and now held it at arm’s length, studying the name printed on it. “It gave me a bit of a start, seeing the card again. How have you been, Angelique?”

A smile—of relief as well as pleasure—broke across her face. “Very well,” she said. “And you, Harry?”

One corner of his mouth crooked upward, bringing a sudden flash of humor and easiness to his expression. “Blissful. Please, won’t you be seated?” He extended one hand.

Warily Nate sat beside Angelique on the small sofa. Mr. Sinclair took a chair opposite them, drawing it close. “I need your help, Harry,” said Angelique quietly.

Sinclair’s eyes flickered toward Nate. “You, Angelique, or your companion?”

“Both of us. This is… Nathaniel.” Nate said nothing, just returned Sinclair’s assessing glance. “I cannot tell you more, except that you can trust him as you do me.”

From the inscrutable expression on Sinclair’s face, Nate wondered how much trust that involved. Angelique had told him very little about this man, and it was stretching his nerves as tight as a bowstring to sit here and depend on him. She didn’t seem bothered by it, although she did add, “I must ask for your discretion, Harry. You mustn’t tell anyone we were here.”

Their host’s expression stilled at her emphasis. “That sort of help. What’s the matter?”

Nate did like that; at least he got right to the point.

Angelique also breathed easier. She knew that look on Harry’s face. “I need information,” she told him, then corrected herself. “We need information. I will understand if you cannot help me, but I swear to you it is urgent.”

“It’s that important?” Again Sinclair’s eyes flicked to Nate, who still hadn’t said a word. Angelique could feel the tension between the two of them. She had worked with Harry only a few times, but he was as clever as the devil and even more perceptive. She was fairly certain he would take her word for it that Nate could be trusted, but it wasn’t absolute certainty.

Once, Harry had trusted her every word, but now she didn’t know. He was married to an earl’s daughter, and she’d heard he planned to stand for Parliament. She didn’t want to cause trouble for him by dragging out a part of his life he doubtless wished to leave behind, but she knew of no one else able to find out what she needed to know as quickly as Harry could.

“Vital,” she replied to his question. To her relief, if seemed to be enough for Harry.

“All right.” He shot another unreadable glance at Nate before turning back to her. “What do you need to know?”

“Gossip,” she told him. “Nothing terribly secret. You are the only one I know who might be able to discover it without drawing too much attention to the search.”

“I cannot promise without knowing more. My entry to the ton is quite recent, you know. It’s very likely I’ve never heard of the people or events in question.”

“Selwyn,” Angelique whispered. “Do you know Earl Selwyn?”

Harry’s expression grew alert. “We’ve met. Why?”

“Is he married?”

“I think so, but I could be mistaken.”

Beside her, Nate didn’t make a sound. She dared a quick look at him; he was staring fixedly at the floor, his mouth set. “Does he have children?” she asked, forging on.

“I don’t know.” Harry’s gaze was locked on Nate now, thoughtful and sharp.

“I need to know who his wife is and when he wed her. If he was married before, perhaps years ago, and what happened to the first wife. And if he has any children, from either marriage.”