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viscount. Finley gallantly
offered to return Templeton home in his carriage. Templeton tried
to refuse, but Finley insisted, and finally, Templeton slurred an
acceptance.
    The two wove their way out of the tavern and
into the elegant carriage that pulled up in front of the door.
Christopher quietly entered the carriage with them, again saying
little as they wound north through Mayfair.
    The carriage deposited Templeton in front of
a house near Cavendish Square, then rolled south again toward
Grosvenor Street.
    Finley suddenly became much less drunk.
"Where are you staying?" he asked Christopher.
    "Lodgings near the docks."
    "Alexandra will insist you take a room with
us. We have many."
    Christopher shook his head. "Colby and St.
Cyr are there. I'll use the lodgings."
    The carriage moved slowly through the dark,
the light of the single lantern inside throwing shadows on the
satin padded walls. "Fine coach, this," Christopher said, touching
the fabric.
    "Alexandra's idea. A lordship isn't allowed
to walk around the city, it seems. On the other hand, in the
country I'm supposed to be terribly hearty. Eight-hour walks,
three-day hunts, shooting in the freezing cold. The soft life of
the aristocrat."
    "Surprised you came back to claim the title
at all."
    Finley shrugged, his face in shadow. "It had
its compensations. You find another ship?"
    "A brigantine. I'm refitting her in
Greenwich. I've rounded up most of my crew--except my first
officer."
    "Manda," Finley said.
    "I traced her to England, but my information
is old, and the evidence is not very good."
    The news that Manda had traveled to England
had come from a Frenchman, and it was not reliable, but the
Frenchman had said he'd heard of her taking a ship across the
Channel. France was knee-deep in war with England at the moment,
and Christopher faced the reality that the ship could have been
captured, sunk, all aboard killed.
    "I haven't seen her," Finley said. "I've
traveled a bit since my marriage, but I've never noticed Manda." He
chuckled. "And she's noticeable."
    "I know."
    The first thing men noticed about Manda was
how shapely she was. The second thing was her boots kicking their
teeth in. Christopher had never bothered to intervene when a man
tried to take Manda. Much more fun to watch what happened to
him.
    But for all Manda's willingness to fight like
a man and sail a ship like a man, she was shy with men emotionally.
Christopher doubted she'd suddenly fallen in love and run off with
one. Besides, if she had, he'd have heard of it. Such an elopement
would be the talk of the shipping lanes.
    "I heard a name," Christopher said. "An
offhand remark in a tavern near Le Havre. The name was Switton.
Mean anything to you?"
    It was a long shot. The man in question had
said, "Wasn't she one of Switton's?" and the seaman with him had
shrugged.
    "Never heard of him," Finley said. "But I'll
ask my wife. Alexandra is a walking Debrett's Peerage. She knows
every person in Mayfair, who their parents were, who they married,
where they went to school, and the names of their butlers."
    Christopher grinned. "You have a butler,
Finley?"
    "Not yet. Alexandra has her eye on one who
works for a duchess. She's trying to entice him to give notice and
come live with us. It's a hobby of aristocratic ladies to steal
each other's butlers, apparently."
    Christopher shook his head. "I still can't
believe you turned into a viscount. The world has changed since I
died."
    "I knew you wouldn't stay dead. You never
do."
    The carriage halted before a tall,
many-windowed house in Grosvenor Street. Finley asked Christopher
to come inside, but Christopher declined and said he'd find a
hackney to take him back down to the docklands.
    Before parting, Finley invited Christopher to
a fancy dress ball Alexandra was hosting the next evening. Their
new friend, Templeton would be there, as well as Templeton's
charming fiancee, Honoria.
    Christopher told Grayson he wouldn't miss it
for the world.
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