Bobby found he had to put far more effort that usual into opening his eyes, and when he finally succeeded it took several more minutes before he realized where he was. Even when he recognized Preston's little room, he couldn't quite recall how he got there.

Slowly, he became aware of his throbbing foot and with the pain, the memory of his panicked rush from a charnel house. He sat up quickly, jarring his foot and wrenching a cry of pain from him.

Instantly, both Sheila and Preston were in the room and at his side. "Macushla!" Sheila had one hand on his forehead and the other arm around him in a smothering hug while Preston moved the blankets from his injured foot.

"Sheila!" Bobby tried to get his story out in as few words as possible. "Bedad, Sheila! It's a tomb..! Th'bleedin' divil! Musha, he had t'be a divil! A room o'the dead, he has, Sheila!"

"Hush..." Sheila hugged him closer. "Faith, and yer safe now, mavourneen. He'll not be after hurtin' ye again."

"I believe the swelling has gone down," Preston said. "With any luck it will be well enough to set later today." He covered the foot again and stood up. "He could probably do with some food and a new bandage. And I believe the swelling may have gone down enough to set the foot."

"Wait!" Bobby fought his way free of his sister's arms. "Listen t'me words! He was wearin' a mask, he was! And Hank--Hank..."

"Aye, Bobby," Sheila soothed. "Hank was at the Masque. Calm yerself, now."

"Nay!" Bobby shoved off the blankets and tried to get his good foot underneath him. "Bedad, if we don't have t'be goin' back t'Kelthorne Hall!"

"Nay, laddie, nay." Sheila gently pushed him back down. "Yer t'stay here while I'm after gettin' ye somethin' t'eat."

"I'm not wantin' any food!" Bobby struggled free of his sister's hands again. "Faith, yer not listenin' t'me!"

Preston added his restraining hands to Sheila's, "Bobby, please be still." Then he turned to her, "Do you suppose I should give him a dose of laudanum?"

Bobby went still at Preston's words. He knew he had to stay awake and get to Kelthorne Hall to raise the alarm at all costs. If Sheila and Preston were not going to listen to him, Bobby made up his mind that he would get to Kelthorne on his own. With that in mind, Bobby forced himself to sound calm and even helpless. "Faith," he kept his voice low. "Feared out of me mind, I was. Musha, I'm better, now."

"Aye, Bobby," Sheila looked very relieved that her brother was coherent once again. "Ye've been burning wi'fever and pain. 'Tis not a wonder." She began smoothing his hair again. "And no doubt ye'll be wantin' somethin' in yer belly."

"Aye, I'm that hungry, Sheila."

"There's some stew left in the kitchen," Preston said. "If you get that, I'll get something for fresh bandaging and the makings of a splint."

Bobby could barely keep from grinning that everything was working out so neatly. Instead, he leaned back again and tried to look as though he had no intention of moving. The moment they were in the kitchen, however, Bobby was up on his good foot and hopping--albeit unsteadily--to the small window that opened to the street. Bobby knew it would be a tight fit for him--Preston, slim though he was, could not get through the rusted opening. He managed to get the grate opened with little noise and was then faced with the problem of boosting himself up and out. He tried to jump and nearly fell over. He was just considering whether or not he would be able to lift himself out with his arms when he heard his sister's shriek. Within seconds, there were arms around his chest and dragging him away from the window.

Then came a second set of footsteps. "Sheila? What in the world is happening?"

"Musha, he tried t'go out th'window, Preston!"

Bobby stopped struggling when Preston's restraining hands joined Sheila's. He forced himself to calm down for fear that they would dose him with laudanum after all. Since trying to explain as quickly as possible hadn't been effective, Bobby held himself in check as best he could. "Faith, but I'm not needin' any laudanum, truly," he insisted as they settled him back on the pallet. "I'm only tryin' t'say how me foot was after bein' smashed."

Seeing that Bobby was not rambling, Sheila motioned for Preston to sit rather than fetch the laudanum bottle. "Aye, Bobby. Faith, and don't we already know 'twas that same horrible man that tried takin' ye afore. Thank the blessed Virgin ye escaped him a second time."

"Nay, 'twas not me he was after takin' this second time--'twas Hank."

"Hank?!" Sheila's eyes grew wide. "That is...Mr. Grayson? Nay, I meant...Lord Rayner?"

"Aye, all three o'him!" Words began tumbling from Bobby despite his best efforts. "Bedad, and didn't I see him carryin' Hank off in his coach and Hank not movin' a'tall, a'tall?"

"What?" Preston asked. "But your foot..?"

"Didn't I have t'learn where he was after takin' Hank, then?" Bobby said forcefully. "I rode th'back of his coach to his house and climbed in a window t'get to Hank?"

"Bobby!" Sheila was horrified. "How could ye do somethin' so--"

"Sure, and didn't I have to help Hank as he had me?" Bobby demanded, and Sheila fell silent. "I climbed in a window, but when I lit a lamp--" Bobby swallowed hard as he remembered. "'Twas a tomb, Sheila...filled with cold, white dead..." His voice shook. "I heard someone, but I fell into th'arms o'the dead...I ran--I jumped out th'window--"

Anything else Bobby was going to say was muffled when Sheila caught him in a rib-crushing embrace. He clutched at her for a few minutes before pulling away.

"That's why I have t'be gettin' t'Kelthorne!" Bobby made an unsuccessful attempt to stand. "I have t'tell someone! If Hank's still alive, we have t'free him from that divil!"

"Aye, Bobby," Sheila agreed, although the look she exchanged with Preston indicated she doubted they would find Hank alive. "But ye could no more get t'Kelthorne than you could fly. D'ye remember the street, laddie?"

"I believe 'twas off Chapel Street or York Street..." Bobby frowned, "We passed St. James' Park, of that I'm certain. And even more certain that I would know the house should I see it again. "

Sheila nodded, then retrieved her bonnet and reticule. "I shall go t'Kelthorne to alert Lord Blackmoor."

"But--"

"'Twill take less time this way, Bobby. Should anyone be needing direction of you, their carriages are that much quicker than a hack."

Preston looked surprised Sheila's suddenly commanding air, but Bobby capitulated quite readily. "Aye, Sheila."

Sheila stooped to give Bobby a quick kiss, then turned to Preston. "You'll be after givin' me laddie some breakfast while I'm gone then?"

"I will that," Preston affirmed in the Irish fashion, making both his friends smile.

Sheila nodded, then swept out of the small room.

Bobby fell back against his bedding. For all his brashness and energy, he was grateful to his sister for taking the situation out of huis hands.

Sheila hopped nimbly out of the hackney coach and handed the driver his fare and several extra coins. "You are to wait for me unless I wave you away."

"Aye, miss," the driver nodded.

Sheila wasn't certain whether the driver's respectful tone was the result of the tip or her imitation of Lord Blackmoor's haughty manner, but she didn't allow it to concern her for more than a few moments. She hurried up the front steps and knocked smartly on the door. It wasn't until she saw the footman's astonished expression that Sheila realized her mistake in not going around the back. She decided to brazen her way through the situation as best she could.

"Good day t'ye, Lorne. I'm here t'see Lord Blackmoor, if you please." She saw no reason to try and change her speech when the staffs were already well familiar with her Irish lilt.

Lorne gaped at her as though she were speaking Latin, however. "See Lord Blackmoor?"

"Aye. Would ye fetch him, Lorne? I'm not presuming t'be shown to the parlor."

"Lord Blackmoor?" he repeated blankly.

Sheila stifled a sigh. "Faith, it's that important, Lorne, truly! If not his lordship, then Mr. Houghton. It's t'do wi--"

"Here!" screeched a furious voice. "Didn't I send you packing? How dare you present yourself at the front door!"

Sheila gritted her teeth as Mrs. Middlebar stormed up to the door. "I'm here to see Lord Blackmoor," she reiterated in a tight voice.

"See his lordship? You impudent wench! Take yourself off this minute!"

"Nay," Sheila stood her ground. "I'm calling upon his lordship. 'Tis none of your concern."

Mrs. Middlebar reddened with rage. "You nasty little wretch! Take yourself off at once! At once, I say!"

Lorne watched in helpless amazement as Sheila refused to yield.

"If ye could fetch Mr. Houghton, then, Lorne?" Sheila deliberately turned her face away from the housekeeper and ignoring her from that point on.

"He'll do no such thing!" Mrs. Middlebar fairly snarled. "Call for the watch, Lorne. And then have Charles help you throw this insolent baggage of the steps."

The footman looked from Sheila to Mrs. Middlebar and back again. "Er...Mrs. Middlebar, that is..."

Sheila decided not to force Lorne into a decision that could lose him his position. She raised her chin, still refusing to acknowledge the housekeeper. "Don't bother yerself, Lorne. I'll be off. Good day to you."

"Don't be putting on such airs!" Mrs. Middlebar hissed. "You good-for-nothing little Paddy!"

Without so much of a glance at Mrs. Middlebar, Sheila turned and walked back to the hack. The driver looked at her questioningly. She was about to climb back into the coach when a new idea occurred to her. ""Would you be after waitin' for me another moment? There's another fare t'come," she asked, too flustered to remember her "Lady of the Manor" voice.

"Aye, I'll wait, then."

This time, Sheila hurried around to the back of the house and crept into the kitchen. Cook and all the kitchen maids all froze when she entered, having heard of her being sacked that morning.

"What in heaven's name are ye doin' here, gel?" Cook asked.

"Musha, I must get Lady Silverbridge's direction, Cook." Sheila kept her voice low. "Who should I speak to?"

Cook studied Sheila's expression for a moment, then turned to a scullery maid. "Tessa, fetch Charles here at once. Tell him I want him."

"Aye, mum." Tessa darted up the stairs.

"Why were ye sacked, gel?" Cook asked Sheila. "What did old Middlebar have to complain of?"

Sheila hesitated, then decided there was no longer any reason to conceal her situation. "Me brother was hurt and I was after goin' to him. Mrs. Middlebar wouldn't allow it and we quarrelled."

Cook raised her eyebrows. "And is young Bobby well now?" At Sheila's startled look, she chuckled. "Oh, no one else knows. They didn't see you fussin' over him, did they?"

"Many thanks," Sheila smiled at her. "And he is better now."

"Here he is, Cook," Tessa announced as she walked back into the kitchen, Charles behind her.

Charles gaped when he saw Sheila as well. "You were just at the front door! Mrs. Middlebar is on her way down! If she finds you here..."

"Never say ye went to the front door, gel!" Cook was awestruck.

"I did, but there came Mrs. Middlebar," Sheila's lip curled involuntarily. "But 'tis neither here nor there. I need Lady Silverbridge's at once, Charles. I've a hack waiting for me."

That raised many eyebrows in the kitchen, but it also brought results. "Number 12 Barramore Square."

"My thanks, Charles. I bid you all good day," Sheila said before she rushed out of the kitchen. She ran along the walk to the hackney and jumped in. "Number 12 Barramore Square. At once."

"Aye, miss." Obviously sensing her urgency, the driver snapped the reins sharply and set off at a quick pace.

"Lady Ravenwood was most kind about the whole thing, although I believe I will be in Lord Ravenwood's back books for quite some time," Eric said as he followed Diana's example and sat down on the chair across from his.

"Surely not. No doubt he will realize that despite your quarrel, you certainly did not wish Lord Rayner any harm," Diana assured him. "It took great character for you to go. I know it could not have been easy to do. And I am most grateful that you called on me this morning, as well."

"I gave you my word, Lady Silverbridge," Eric reminded her. "Although this is the only one of today's obligations that brings me any pleasure."

"You are very kind to say so, sir," Diana smiled. "But what other obligations have you to fulfill today?"

"I shall have to call upon Lord Ravenwood again this afternoon. He is hiring a Runner to search for Rayner and I believe some of what I found--or rather, did not find last night may prove helpful."

"Last night?" Diana's eyes widened, then narrowed, "Never say you went out searching for Lord Rayner last night? Alone?"

Eric winced--he actually had not meant to mention his unsuccessful search. He wasn't entirely not entirely certain whether Diana would be annoyed with him for doing something dangerous or for not taking her along when he did it. "Not alone--exactly. But it is of no matter. I did not accomplish anything."

"Surely not. Why then would you--" Diana broke off as a footman entered the parlour with a disapproving expression on his face. "What is it, Joseph?"

"A young woman at the door, my lady. She is asking to see you." Joseph's lips tightened, "I told her to go around back to see the housekeeper if she wanted a position, but she refused."

"I would advise your housekeeper against hiring anyone with such impertinence," Eric suggested.

"Yes, my lord," the footman began to back out of the parlour, but Diana stopped him.

"Did she leave her name, Joseph?"

Joseph looked startled, but replied, "She did, my lady. A Miss O'Brien."

"You may show her up." Diana couldn't help but smile when she saw that the footman and the marquis wore identical expressions of astonishment. "Joseph?" she prompted.

"At once, my lady," Joseph gave a small bow and left the parlour.

"You are truly going to see this person?" Eric asked. "You certainly enjoy odd amusements, Lady Silverbridge."

Diana raised her eyebrows politely. "I can see her in another room if it offends you, my lord." A smile tugged at her lips. "Although I cannot comprehend why it would. She did, after all, attend your Masque."

"What? I certainly don't recall any--"

"Miss O'Brien, my lady," Joseph announced before standing aside to allow the young woman behind him to enter. As she sank into a low curtsey, he closed the door behind her.

"Good day to you, Miss O'Brien," Diana smiled.

"Good day, Lady Silverbridge," Sheila returned, then froze when she saw Eric. "Lord Blackmoor."

Eric's eyebrows rose. "I wasn't aware of an acquaintance, Miss O'Brien." When he saw Diana frown, he realized that his words sounded like a direct cut. "That is, I hope you will be able to refresh my memory."

"Perhaps you remember the night we took a rather ill-fated tour of...er, London, Lord Blackmoor."

Eric's jaw dropped, much to Diana's amusement.

"Musha, m'lady, I've no time for this," Sheila said. "I've come on important business, I have."

"Now, see here..." Eric frowned at her. "You've no right to come in here and--"

"No need for that, Lord Blackmoor," Diana said, noticing Sheila's strained expression. "What's happened Miss O'Brien? I feared yesterday that you might have lost your post."

"Aye, that I did. But 'tis on another matter I've come." Sheila paused to catch her breath. "'Tis about Hank-- beggin' your pardon--Lord Rayner. I believe he may be in danger."

Diana gasped and Eric demanded, "What's this? What do you know of his disappearance?"

Sheila took a step back as Eric moved towards her. "The night of His Grace's Masque. Me brother and Preston had been hired as pages. Bobby was after fetchin' a coach for someone and he saw the divil-man puttin' Ha--Lord Rayner into a coach. 'Twas the same man Lord Rayner saved him from nights ago."

"Good God!" Diana sat down abruptly.

"Bobby took himself onto the back o'the coach and rode back t'the man's home. Bein' himself, Bobby meant t'go in and save Lord Rayner." Sheila twisted her fingers in the strings of her reticule. "He climbed in through a window, but found him in...Faith, he called it a tomb, full o'the dead. I do not know if I'm believin' that but somethin' gave him such a fright that he jumped from a window and fled back to Covent Garden on a lame foot. He's been feverish and talkin' nonsense even since and only came 'round this very mornin'."

Eric was about to accuse her of lying and have Joseph put her out, but Diana had stood and taken both of Sheila's hands in her own. "Is your brother well now? Can he give us this man's direction?"

"He spoke o'two streets he may have been on, but does not know the house number. He's said he could find them again and meant to go himself."

"He could lead someone back to the house, then?" Diana persisted.

"Aye, that he could."

Diana turned to Eric. "Did you arrive in your curricle, sir? We can have a message delivered to Lord and Lady Ravenwood and be off at once."

Eric stared at her in amazement. "Do you believe I would raise their hopes on the word of...of..." He gestured towards Sheila.

Sheila raised her chin. "Am I so daft as t'make up such ramauch?"

"I've no notion," Eric scowled at her. "I barely recall ever seeing you in my life."

"Then we shall wish you good day, Lord Blackmoor," Diana's tone was frosty until she turned back to Sheila. "If you will wait here, Miss O'Brien, I will have my carriage brought around."

"Bloody hell!" Eric growled. "Very well, my lady, we shall follow this Banbury tale if nothing else will please you. Am I to know where we are to go haring off to before we depart?"

"Miss O'Brien?" Diana looked at Sheila inquisitively.

"He's after stayin' with Preston in Covent Garden."

"I will bring the curricle around," Eric said in a tight voice. "I trust you will be ready when I arrive at the door."

By the time the curricle rolled to a halt in Covent Garden, Eric had relented and was willing to believe Sheila's words. The entire ride was taken up by Sheila and Diana relating everything--to their knowledge--that had transpired on the night of the Masque. It was a shock for him to learn that Sheila had actually been employed by his family and he was astounded to hear that Diana had dressed her up to attend the ball. He also came to the conclusion that Hank believed he was meeting Sheila in the garden, but had, in reality, been lured there by his abductor. Neither Sheila nor Diana knew anything about such a meeting.

He also developed a grudging respect for Sheila O'Brien. She possessed a quiet sort of pride that impressed Eric in spite of himself and her concern for both her brother and Hank was plain to see. He no longer doubted anything she said and had urged the horses to a faster pace as concern began to envelope him as well.

Eric reined the horses just past the apothecary shop, as Sheila requested, but before the curricle came to a halt, Sheila was out and hurrying back up the street. "Are we to follow her?" he asked as Sheila's figure disappeared around the shop corner.

"She would have said so," Diana replied.

"May I take the time to compliment you on your charming ensemble, then, Lady Silverbridge?"

Diana laughed and adjusted the veil attached to her dashing little hat. "I borrowed it from Lady Wylde, albeit without permission. I did not want to deprive you of your clothing again."

Eric choked on a laugh and Diana covered her mouth as she realized the implications of her words. She was saved from any further embarrassment by Sheila's return. With the maid were two boys Diana remembered from the night of "the incident." The taller, thinner boy was helping his smaller companion even though the younger boy had a makeshift crutch.

"Bobby, Preston," Sheila kept one hand on her brother's shoulder. "This is Lady Silverbridge and Lord Blackmoor."

Preston gave a bow much at odds with his shabby clothing, but Bobby shifted his crutch impatiently. "Are we not goin' t'fetch Hank? I'll be walkin' there by meself in a moment more."

"Bobby, mind your tongue!" Sheila hissed.

Bobby's urgency dispelled any remaining doubts Eric had. "Do you remember where this place is, lad?"

"''Twas Chapel or York Street, but I'll be knowin' that divil's house should I see it again."

"Excellent," Eric said with a quick nod. "You can tell me any more you know about it one the drive there." He jumped down from his curricle and flipped a sovereign to Preston. "You can fetch a hack, I trust?"

"Certainly, my lord," Preston paused only long enough to be sure Bobby was balanced before he hurried off to get a hackney coach.

Eric looked from Diana to Bobby to Sheila with a considering expression, then held out his hand to Diana. "Let's not have the lad standing on his lame foot any longer, my lady."

Diana looked briefly startled, then smiled. "Yes, of course," she said and allowed Eric to help her down.

No sooner did they have Bobby settled in the curricle than a hackney pulled up behind it. Eric held out his arm for Diana again. "While I regret the necessity of you and Miss O'Brien having to ride in a hired hack, I trust you will not be greatly offended."

"Not at all, sir," Diana readily walked with him to the hackney, Sheila following behind.

When both women were seated, Eric gestured for the driver to come down. He gave the man Lady Wylde's direction and enough pound notes to make the rheumy eyes widen. "You are to go directly to that address no matter what either of your passengers may say to the contrary," Eric ordered in a low voice. "Is that understood?"

"Aye, m'lord. Just as you like it, m'lord," the driver bobbed his head several times before climbing back up on his box.

"Lady Silverbridge," Eric said as the driver took up his reins. "Would you be so good as to alert Lord and Lady Ravenwood upon your return home?"

"Upon our ret--?" Diana's expression became dangerous as realization struck, but the hackney had started off and there was nothing she could do.

Eric watched it roll away. "If I don't bring Rayner back well and whole, I'll have the very devil to pay."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Preston said tentatively. "But I daresay you'll have the devil to pay even if you do."

Eric looked at him with some surprise, then snorted. "You may be right at that. Let's be off then and see if there is anything to be done before Ravenwood and his Runners get word."

Back in the curricle, Bobby looked at them curiously as they got in. "Sure and didn't I see Sheila and her ladyship drive away. Where are they off to?"

"I sent them back to Lady Silverbridge's home where they will be safe." Eric flicked the reins and his horses set off and a quick, fashionable trot.

Bobby's eyes widened. "I'm glad of that. Faith, 'tis amazing that y'managed to talk me sister int'leavin' me behind."

"He didn't, Bobby," Preston said. "He tricked them."

"Did he now?" Bobby looked at Eric with new respect. "Musha, you're fairly clever f'r a Sassenach, ye are."

Eric shot him a wry look. "Thank you."

On to Part XI
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