The door swung open. Lord Patrick swallowed. In the doorway stood a very familiar, tiny figure. She was around five feet two, with frizzy hair and a usually charming smile. But now wasn't usual. Now, there was a loaded weapon at Lord Patrick's back and a living, breathing one right in front of him. He did his best to conjure a smile onto his face.

"Hello, Angeline!"

"Well, hello there, brother dear." His sister's gaze swept over him—then flicked to Amy, one eyebrow raised. "That one is a lot bigger than the last one you brought. It's not my birthday again already, is it? My only guestroom is already full."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. This young lady is a...concerned friend of your houseguest."

"Ah." Instant understanding flashed in Angeline's eyes. They started to dance, to a rhythm known only in the hell reserved for tortured brothers. "Patrick, you've gotten yourself into quite a pickle this time, haven't you?"

"Quite!" he squeezed out between clenched teeth, resolving that he would give her a book entitled "How to Grow Tall for Dummies" for her next birthday. Surely there was such a thing. And, if there weren't, he could always write it! "May we come in?"

"Oh yes, of course. By all means." Stepping aside, Angeline made a curtsy to his kidnapper, the little vixen, and gestured for them to enter. "Please forgive if my house looks a little bit disorderly at the moment. These are special circumstances, and—oh, how lovely!"

Lord Patrick blinked. What?

He turned his head as far as it would go to keep his eyes on his sister as she dashed past him, trying to see what she was staring at, and...

No.

No, it couldn't be, could it? She couldn't possibly be talking about...!

"What, dis old thing?" Amy the kidnapper slightly lifted the weapon poking into his back and tapped it with her free hand. It made a distinctly metallic sound.

"Don't call it that!" Angeline protested. "It looks simply enchanting! Lovely! Just what I've been looking for!"

His Lordship made a choked noise at the back of his throat.

"Really?" The lady kidnapper enquired.

"Definitely! It would look great on my nightstand."

The choked noise deteriorated into a death rattle. "I beg your pardon?" he demanded. "It would look good where?

"And the handle looks quite easy to grip, too," Angeline extolled "Just right for when I need to take one with me at night!"

"Take one with you at ni—!" Lord Patrick had always considered himself a liberal and considerate brother, but this... He tried to clear his throat. "Sister, where exactly have you been spending your nights?"

The two women ignored him.

"Aye, it's quite nice, ain't it?" admitted his captor. "Would ye like to 'old it?"

"May I?"

"Of course! I'm sure yer brother wouldn't mind."

"Oh...wonderful! Wonderful! It's just what I've been looking for! It's exactly right for when I get bored at night and can't sleep!"

Lord Patrick gave up all attempts to keep his jaw from dropping. He decided it was time to write to his mother and father. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to leave Angeline alone in the smaller family townhouse with just the servants to look after her.

"Do you know where I can buy one like this?" his little sister enquired, eagerly.

"Sorry, no. But ye can 'ave this one if ye like. I'm done with it anyway."

"Really?"

"Sure, sure."

"You're so nice! Patrick, who is this nice young lady?"

"I wouldn't know," he squeezed out between clenched teeth. "Somehow, we did not get to a full introduction, so far."

"Patrick! Where are your manners?"

Most likely still unconscious on the floor at home!

"My name's Amy," the heavily armed harpy behind him announced cheerfully. "A pleasure ta meet ye."

"The same! I'm Angeline. Angeline Day. And you're sure it's all right for me to just take this?"

Patrick blinked. No, by all means leave her with the gun she's pointing at your only brother. Why not? Sounds like a fabulous idea!

"Sure, it's all right. Just give me a piece of rope in exchange."

"Don't move! I'll be right back!"

His sister dashed off and, moments later, was back with a coil of thin but sturdy rope. The pistol vanished from Patrick's back. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief—when suddenly, his arms were twisted behind his back. Before he could move a muscle, a rope was wound around his wrists with far-too-practiced ease. There was a tug, and, voilà, his hands were firmly, completely tied.

"What the...!"

All the while, his sister was watching with interest. "May I ask what you're doing?"

The woman who had just efficiently immobilized him stepped around him and winked. "I'll lend ye some interestin' books on the subject of ropes, someday. Ye wouldn't believe 'ow many uses dere are for dose things..."

Patrick's jaw nearly fell off its hinges. Good Lord! What kind of "lady" was this Amy person he'd brought into his sister's house?

"Well, on with ye!" Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, his captor pushed him forward. "Let's see if ye've been tellin' the truth!"

A bossy one, apparently.

"Move!"

"Yes, Ma'am," he ground out between his teeth.

"Oh, and 'ere ye go."

Suddenly, the pressure against his spine disappeared.

"Thank you! Thank you, Miss Amy!"

Patrick sucked in a breath. Had she just...had she really just handed the gun to his sister? Then maybe, if he was quick enough and the ropes were not too tightly bound, he could break free and...

Breathe! He ordered himself. Breathe deeply and calmly. On three!

One...

Two...

Three!

He whirled around!

***

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Amy watched as the young woman called Angeline pressed the candleholder to her bosom like a newborn babe. "This is just what I've been looking for! My gas lamp has been acting up all week, and besides, it's just so much more comfy and atmospheric to read in bed by candlelight, don't you think? Brother, don't you agree?"

"Gnk," said the aforementioned brother.

"Aye, ye're so right!" Amy nodded solemnly. "I could suggest a few books to ye, if ye'd like."

"You could?" The young woman's eyes shone as if she'd just been offered the keys to the Garden of Eden. "I've been combing the libraries, but lately I haven't found any interesting stories I hadn't read already!"

Amy glanced around at the wholesome, cheerful living room, with the vase painted with flowers and little bunnies on the table, and the family pictures on the mantelpiece. "Well, I can pretty much guarantee dat I've got some ye 'aven't read yet."

Eyes gleaming, the woman clamped onto Amy's arm like a limpet. "You," she declared without hesitation, "are my new best friend!"

Her brother made a noise as if someone was trying to clean his throat with a lavatory brush. Which, come to think of it, was actually a tempting idea.

Something was obviously wrong here. Amy had long since learned to judge people by a glance. In the East End, it was a necessary survival skill. And she only needed to take one look at this young woman to know she was as pure as the driven snow. How could this be the sister of a sadistic sexual deviant? How could this be his secret lair?

Time to find out!

"You!" Grabbing Prince Pervert by the collar, Amy pulled open a nearby door and shoved him inside. "Inside!"

"Miss! I must protest! This is a misunderstanding! I am a peer of the realm! You cannot just—"

Amy slammed the door shut behind him.

Angeline watched the whole thing with interest. "Err...just so you know, that's not a room. That's a broom cupboard."

"Oh, I know dat." At least 'e can do no 'arm in dere. Amy gave her new best friend a bright smile. "I've 'eard 'e's bin workin' so 'ard lately. 'e'll be able ta take a nice rest in dere."

Angeline clapped her hands together, her eyes shining for some reason. "You're such a kind, lovely girl!"

"Ehem..." Is this girl for real? Amy watched her face and realized, apparently, yes. Bloody hell! She was as sweet as sugar floating in syrup! Amy had no idea whether this girl was involved in this caper herself—but no matter! She was going to pump her for every bit of information she could get!

"So..." She cleared her throat. "Yer brother..."

"Oh, you have no idea how happy I am for the two of you!"

Amy blinked. "Da two of us?"

"Yes! I'm thrilled he's finally found someone after so long. Not many people really understand Patrick, you know? He always acts so high and mighty, and everyone judges him by that, and never bothers to look deeper."

This is my chance!

"Speakin' of looking deeper..." A charming, innocent smile appeared on Amy's face. And not the cheap version for sixpence, but the one she only used for special clients, for a sovereign or more. "I'd love ta know more about 'im. 'e's such a quiet person..." Particularly while tied up and gagged. "Why don't ye tell me a little bit more about 'im?"

Like where 'e keeps all 'is innocent victims!

"I'd love to!"

Triumph flickered in Amy's eyes.

I've got ye! Just ye wait! By da time I get me 'ands on ye, I'll 'ave uncovered yer every dirty secret, pervert!

***

"...and then he climbed up on the tree and saved the cute little puppy! He made sure to find a home for it, too. I still visit them on the weekends."

"So...was dat after 'e 'elped da old lady across da street?"

"No, no! That was several weeks earlier. After that, he chased away those bullies who were after those three poor little children."

"'e did, did 'e?" Amy felt a headache coming on. What she'd been forced to listen to for the last half hour or so...was it supposed to be a joke? She stared at Angeline's happy, harmless, freckled face and decided, no, it couldn't possibly be. This was bloody ridiculous! She made the bastard sound like Saint Virtuous of Worthington."

Time to get to the bottom of this.

"So..." Amy narrowed her eyes. "'e likes children, does 'e?"

Angeline giggled. "Not really. He doesn't have a clue what to do with them. Whenever anyone under twenty comes within ten feet of him, he puts on this haughty expression like an eagle sitting high upon a mountain, overlooking the lowly human insects below him. It tends to keep children at a distance." Her face suddenly turned sad. "And anyone else, for that matter."

She didn't sound like the minion of a monster. She sounded like a sister, concerned for her brother.

Enough!

Tearing open the door to the broom cupboard, Amy stepped inside and, in the tiny, dark room, found him sitting perfectly calm and composed on an upturned bucket, as if it were a throne and he the king of England.

"Well?" he arched an aristocratic eyebrow. "I gather you are ready to listen to me now?"

"Where is Flo?" Amy shot back.

"Here. Safe. Angeline?"

Amy turned her head in time to see Angeline nod. "Flo...that is the little girl's name, right?" The sadness in her expression deepened. "She's been through a lot, hasn't she? But don't worry, Miss Amy. She's upstairs now, sleeping in the guestroom. Can you tell me who she is? Patrick won't say a word."

One corner of Amy's mouth turned up into a smile with as much humour as a funeral procession on Doomsday. "I'm not really surprised."

Then, before anyone could say anything, Amy rose and headed upstairs. No matter how innocent Angeline's face was, Amy wasn't about to trust anyone with Flo's fate. Not ever!

Fortunately, this place wasn't nearly as much of a palace of luxury as a certain pervert's domicile. There were "only" four bedrooms upstairs, and in the last and farthest away from the busy street, she found the figure of a little girl, curled up into a ball under her blanket, not much more than her nose peeking out from the folds of white linen. Flo was sleeping peacefully, looking more sweet and innocent than she ever had before.

Amy felt a tug at her heart.

No bloody time for that! She's safe! Time ta get down ta brass tacks!

Stepping out of the room, she reached down to the key and considered locking it—but in the end, what was the point? The key she was holding probably wasn't the only one.

Anyway...the only real danger to Flo would be with her!

Turning around with eyes flashing, she stalked down the stairs and past Angeline, who was watching the drama with mounting curiosity. Amy headed straight for Lord Patrick Day, who, now, was standing tall and proud in the middle of the drawing room, his dark eyes challenging. Someone with whom she was going to have a few words later on had removed the bonds from around his wrists.

"Well? Is she safe and unharmed?"

"Aye!" Eyes glittering, she marched towards him, hands on hips. "What I can't figure out is why? What da bloody 'ell is going on 'ere? She's up there, lookin' more 'appy and well fed dan a piggy in a pie store! Why da 'ell did ye drag 'er 'ere in da first place?"

His Lordship gave her a haughty look. "I consider myself a man of honour. What honour would I have left if I didn't stand up to injustice?"

Amy would never have thought she'd be grateful for her well-trained jaw muscles. Now, however, they were the only thing preventing her jaw from hitting the floor.

Is this bugger for real?

"Stand up for injustice? You bought a kidnapped ten-year-old girl!"

"Only with the noblest of intentions. I swear on my honour as a gentleman."

"You can take your honour as a gentleman and stuff it up your tight, aristocratic—"

But, where exactly he could stick his honour, Amy never had a chance to say. Because, a moment later, an ear-piercing scream shook the drawing room.

"Amy!"

***

"Amy!"

The squeal behind him made Lord Patrick whirl around, his fists instinctively rising to defend. Moments later, he was shoved out of the way, and a scrawny figure dashed across the room, running straight to his erstwhile captor.

"Amy! I thought I 'eard someone from upstairs, but I didn't dare believe...couldn't imagine... Thank God ye're 'ere! Take me away from this place, please! Dese people are 'orrible! Dat woman made me take a bath! Then she stuffed me in deese clothes dat are all silky and bulky and bonkers, and made me eat vegetables! Fresh vegetables!"

"Bloody 'ell!" The young woman, Amy, couldn't keep the smile off her face as she hugged the little girl to her. It was the first time Lord Patrick had ever seen her smile—and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Gently, she reached down and stroked the girl's hair. "Vegetables? Dat's 'orrible! Don't ye worry. I'll protect ye from dose bad, bad people. If ye don't wanna stay 'ere, ye don't 'ave to."

"Oh, thank ye, Amy! Thank ye so much! And...and..." Suddenly, the little girl gazed up at the woman, her eyes wide open and vulnerable. Patrick swallowed. "And my little sister?"

Dear God.

The girl had a sister? A little sister? Lord Patrick felt like slapping himself! He had never even considered...

His eyes flickered over to Angeline.

Just then, Amy hugged the little girl against her. "Jo is just fine. I've got a good friend lookin' after 'er. She's fine."

Lord Patrick felt his heart unclench in relief.

Yes! Thank you! Thank you!

Then he realized—Had he, Lord Patrick Day, last descendant of a noble line that reached back all the way to the time of William the Conqueror, thanked a woman who had tied him to his own bed with knitting yarn and kidnapped him using a candlestick?

What in God's name was happening to his life?! This was not how things were supposed to go!

***

"She...she's fine? She's really fine?"

Flo's eyes were sparkling with moisture. Amy pretended to ignore it and looked the little girl straight in the eye, speaking as if she were just another adult.

"Aye. She is."

To that, the little girl didn't say anything. She just squeezed Amy so hard that she nearly couldn't breathe. Amy had the feeling that there were quite a few complementary matchboxes in her future.

"Let's get out of 'ere!" Flo growled, glaring past Amy's shoulder. Amy could guess at whom.

"Not quite yet, Flo." Amy turned to face the person Flo had been shooting fiery glares at. There he stood, tall and far too proud, his perfect countenance shining with inner strength. But Amy didn't let herself be deceived by the shiny exterior for an instant. "I've got a few things to talk over with dis gentleman 'ere, first." Narrowing her eyes, she took a step forward. "I think it's time we 'ave a little talk."

His Lordship stiffened.

"Ma'am...Miss, I don't think—"

"Don't ye 'ma'am' me! Or 'miss' me, for that matter!"

From underneath a strand of golden hair, the man sent her a dark look. "Believe me when I say this, I very much doubt that I would ever miss you."

Amy's eyes narrowed into slits. In her long career, she had learned a very effective cure for people who tried to play clever word games. Too bad she didn't have a gag with her right now.

"Ye owe me an explanation, and ye're goin' to give me one!" She took a step forward. "I wanna know what's goin' on. What da 'ell made you buy Flo from a filthy gang of slavers? And, I warn ye 'ere and now, if I don't get a good answer, I'll bash yer 'ead in with my parasol!"

The arrogant son of a bachelor scrutinized her for a long moment—then he squared his shoulders.

"Very well." His face suddenly turned grim. "If you insist."

***

Wordlessly, Lord Patrick walked over to a nearby armchair and sat down facing the young woman, who was still holding the little girl clutched against her. His back was straight, his eyes dark as pitch. They stared at Amy—not with any particularly friendly feelings, true, but not with real hostility, either. Damnation, he wished he could feel hostile towards the dratted woman! But with the way she was holding the little girl...

He swallowed.

Yes, she had threatened him—but how? With a candlestick! And all because she had been terrified for a child who, besides her, probably had no one in this world.

Brave.

And now, because of her bravery, she had stumbled into something that was far beyond her. She was in over her head.

Could he reveal the truth to her? Could he unfold those dark secrets in front of an innocent lady?

You have to. She deserves to know. If for no other reason than to know to stay far, far away from this matter.

All right. But, at least, he could try and cut the damage he would cause in half.

"Angeline?" he asked. "Would you be so kind as to bring us a cup of tea?"

"Oh, we've got the servants for that, don't we?" His sister gave him one of those smiles that had made him want to throttle her when he grew up. Unlike the urge to pick his nose in public, this one had not disappeared along with puberty. "Besides, I'd very much like to hear what you have to say."

"Please." He didn't look at her, instead keeping his gaze firmly focused on Amy. "Make some tea. And take your time doing it."