Roth rose, and both he and Holt took their leave.

Calliope accepted the proffered glass and smiled. "Thank you."

She was in a congenial mood and, for once, he had no wish to spoil it.

Act One was exceptional, but he was uninterested. He watched Calliope’s face as she immersed herself in the unfolding drama. Five minutes into the act she relaxed and he observed the byplay of emotions streaming across her face. Generally she was a closed book, but tonight she seemed to experience the drama onstage wholeheartedly.

At intermission they talked about the elaborate set pieces at Giovanni’s castle and the soprano’s wonderful performance.

"Truly a talented lady, " Calliope said.

He looked at her speculatively. "With a name like Calliope I am surprised you don’t sing."

She looked at him with considerable interest.

"Do you like the classics, my lord?"

"Not at first. My tutor said I was quite an unruly student in my early days. One day, probably at his wits’ end, he handed me Homer’s Odyssey. I was hooked."

She nodded in understanding. "I love the ancient myths. My mother was an avid reader. She taught me to read and supplied me with books. She always wanted to build a grand library."

He heard the wistful tone in her voice. "What happened?"

A shadow crossed her face. "She never had the opportunity."

It was the first personal remark she had shared and he didn’t know how to proceed. "What other things did she like?"

The shadow cleared and a sad expression appeared. "She loved to sing."

Reality interfered with the conversation. People streamed in and out of boxes and the gamesmanship began.

"I believe it is time for Esmerelda to cast some lures," Calliope said, and gave her fake locks a slight toss.

James nodded and escorted her to the lobby.

They separated so he could presumably smoke his cheroot on the balcony and she could hold court freely.

Chaos reigned supreme. It seemed the entire opera house had emptied into the lobby. James realized it was always this crowded during intermission, but he was tense thinking about who could be in their midst. He was having difficulty tracking Calliope, and decided to move to the short steps near the pillars flanking the main stairway.

"James!"

He stifled a groan as Lady Flanders cooed his name and headed his way. Penelope was the wife of a man twenty years her senior, and was always dangling for a rendezvous. She never took the hint that James was not interested in dallying with another man’s wife.

"James! I see you have a new trinket to add to your collection." She gained his side, rubbing against him, and turned to watch Esmerelda entertain her admirers. "Not quite as voluptuous as your last one. Let me see, was her name Stella?"

James inclined his head and remained silent.

"You know, you really should think about those whose husbands are too interested in other affairs. There is much to be gained from such a relationship." She peeked at him through her lashes, trying to be coy.

"Penelope, I believe Flanders is looking for you." He motioned toward the earl, whom he could see above the crowd.

She made a dismissive motion toward Flanders. "Dear, don’t you know you are the prime catch? Dear Harry wouldn’t mind trading partners with you for the night, if you would be so inclined."

James was sure her remarks were true. The earl had been a member of the bevy of admirers Esmerelda had drawn over the course of the last few weeks.

"Not tonight, Penelope."

A pout marred her lips when Lord Holt suddenly appeared, terminating further attempts by Penelope.

"Good evening, Lady Flanders. Angelford, may I have a word with you?"

Penelope had no option but to withdraw from the conversation.

Holt waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "I was wondering if you had heard from Chalmers. He should have completed his task by now."

James gave a nonchalant shrug he wasn’t feeling. "Stephen is probably enjoying another lady friend. Or two."

Holt nodded and actively scanned the faces in the crowd. "It is hard to determine who to trust anymore. We are trying to ferret out spies in the department. Haven’t had this much trouble in the office since the Little General was in the field."

What was Holt about? He was notorious for keeping his cards close to his chest. In fact, the other day hadn’t he stated there was nothing afoot? He had made that ludicrous comment about a lull.

Before James could question him further, the trumpets blew, indicating the next act would soon begin. Holt excused himself. James searched for Calliope and was annoyed to find she had moved. He studied the lobby’s occupants. She was nowhere in sight. He walked briskly up to his box, but she was not inside and the second act had already begun.

He felt the first inkling of fear.

James turned and saw Terrence Smith, a man he had seen with Calliope at ton functions, standing in the hallway. Smith tried to appear as if he were waiting for someone, but he wasn’t doing a very fine job of it.

James decided to ignore him and proceed toward the first floor. He turned the corner leading to the steps and nearly collided with a group of people in the otherwise deserted hall. Calliope was in the center, surrounded by admirers. One man was grabbing her waist, trying to draw her in for a kiss. She raised a knee to unman him, but James was quicker. He sent the man flying neatly into the banister. The man swayed before sagging to the ground. James thought he should be commended on not launching the man over the railing and dirtying the floor below.

"Gentlemen," he said, removing his neckcloth.

The group quickly dispersed, hurried apologies and forgotten meetings spewing from their lips.

The man on the ground stumbled after them.

"What were you doing?" James demanded after the men disappeared.

She shot him a malevolent look and attempted to sweep past. He took her by the arm and started to question her again when a couple emerged from a box. He loosened his grip but firmly pulled her toward the stairs and theater exit.

"Release me," she gritted.

He did so only after they had moved into the brisk night air. He motioned her forward, and though she visibly bristled, she stepped inside the ever-ready carriage. Once there she slid less than gracefully into her seat and focused her gaze on the wall. He took the seat across from her.

"Do I have to remind you we were not there for you to actually solicit a new protector?"

She turned and her eyes shot daggers so sharp he had to resist the urge to check himself for wounds.

"No, my lord, I think I am quite capable of figuring that out myself."


***

"So, what were you doing?"

Her lips tightened and her hands balled in her lap, "I was attempting to gather information concerning our problem and to fend off my so-called new prospects at the same time."

"What did you learn?"

She gave him a fulminating glare. "That men are animals, just like I’ve always known."

Amusement swept through him, washing away some of the tension. "Dear, you have chosen to deal with males for a living. In a way that brings out our worst manners and qualities, I should add. Did you expect anything else?"

She sighed and dissolved into the seat. "I keep hoping, for some reason."

He frowned but she continued, "I conversed with four people on the list during intermission. Lord Roth, the only gentleman in the bunch, asked far too many questions about Stephen. Mr. Ternberry has developed quite an interest in our relationship. Lord Pettigrew is a lecherous bulldog, and there is something guarded in his eyes. I’m sure he is searching for something. Lord Holt asked enigmatic questions as usual, but none of them were explicitly about Stephen. And there are about ten others who aren’t on the list who were extremely nosy and pushy." She ticked them off on her fingers in quick succession.

James was a bit taken aback. "Quite a good start, actually."

She must have heard the surprise in his voice because she shot him a long-suffering look. "You will find I am a decent observer, my lord. I’ve had if a great deal of experience."

James nodded, already thinking about phase two of their plan. "By the way, Terrence Smith was standing near the box. Is he privy to your disguise?"

"No. " She paused. "But I found it unnerving to see Terrence at the opera tonight. I don’t think he recognized me as Margaret Stafford, but he was one of the few members of the ton with whom I regularly spoke. Put me off my game a little bit to see him."

The last part sidetracked him. "Not too well treated in the ton, were you? Is that the reason you switched venues?"

She didn’t look at him, but answered, "You should know, my lord. You were one of the worst."

His conscience reared, but he firmly repressed it. "I still question your purpose in being the dowdy Margaret Stafford. If I had known what a gorgeous mistress I could have made of you, be assured I would have swooped in long before Stephen."

Outrage bloomed on her face and angry spots of color appeared. "You have some nerve. I cannot fathom why I continue to waste my time speaking with you. We can conduct this investigation with limited conversation. In fact, I mean to not talk-" Her voice broke off abruptly as he grabbed her right leg and hoisted it on his lap.

" Stop that. Put my leg down."

He ignored her and pulled off her slipper, massaging the sole of her foot, her ankle and calf.

"This is totally improper. Stop." She reached forward, trying to pull her leg down, but he casually pushed her back into her seat. She sputtered. He smiled.