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air.
    “I’ll bed the wench they give me and get my appointed saintly name.” He turned to face Rutherford and gripped the other man’s arm. “Don’t worry.”
    Drake was concerned enough for both of them. He could not fail at becoming a rake. He’d already mastered the other vices of drink and gambling. It was this last vice that impeded his metamorphosis from a love-struck fool to a man who appreciated and loved all the pleasurable things life had to offer.
    “I do worry,” Rutherford said. “Whether I like it or not, I now call you friend.”
    “Quite a backhanded compliment.” Drake grinned at Rutherford, wondering how far this new friendship extended. “So do I get to call you Sin now?”
    “Hell, no. You have to save my life before you may call me that.”
    Drake brushed a dragonfly away, the hum of the wings still reverberating in his ear. “Well, you’ve just answered one question and raised another.”
    “Pray tell.”
    “That explains why only Lionhurst is allowed to call you Sin. But it leaves me wondering when and how my business partner saved your life.”
    “Ah.” Rutherford rose to his feet. “I’m afraid the story will have to wait for another time.” The boat bumped against the embankment, announcing their arrival at the Sainted Order. Before Drake gained his footing, Rutherford had grabbed a torch from a startled servant. Whitney’s cousin jumped over the side of the boat, his boots slapping against the mud with his hard landing.
    Drake took a torch from another servant and he followed suit, his own boots sinking into the muck and slime of the Chelsea embankment. Rutherford was ten paces ahead, halfway to the torch-lit tunnels, before Drake got his left boot unstuck. Rutherford disappeared into the tunnel, his tall body casting a distorted shadow against the rocks that faced the Thames. Irritated at Rutherford’s high-handed manner, Drake strode to the cave, expecting to find the passageway empty, but Rutherford was waiting just inside.
    “Listen to me.” His gaze darted back and forth before he continued. “Don’t forget what I said. If provoked, I’ve no doubt these men can be dangerous.”
    “You’re just now telling me this?”
    “I hadn’t thought the need would arise to tell you at all, but your erratic behavior has changed my opinion.”
    “I think it’s safe to say I won’t provoke them.”
    Rutherford clasped Drake’s shoulder. “You could fail to perform again.”
    Drake’s face flushed at the reminder of his previous ineptitude. “I don’t plan to—”
    “None of us ever do, brother,” Rutherford interrupted. “But if you fail tonight, they might decide you’re some sort of spy trying to get their secrets.” Rutherford shrugged. “The notion of a man broken by love is foreign to most of them.”
    Drake laughed, but the laughter died away under Rutherford’s unblinking gaze. “Are you joking?”
    Rutherford shook his head.
    Unease climbed Drake’s spine. “What sort of spy? A sex spy ? What do they think I want with their illicit secrets? To start another, better order? Perhaps sell what I know?”
    Rutherford released Drake’s shoulder and lifted the torch high, illuminating the tunnel. “Who knows? They’re a jumpy lot. I’ve a suspicion they beat a man close to death who broke one of their rules. Just perform. It’ll be good for you to forget. Quite like washing her away.”
    Drake knew what was good for him, what he should do, needed to do. Yet the thought of putting his past with Whitney behind him made him break out into a cold sweat. He didn’t want to wash her memory away, but he had to in order to survive.
    “If you can’t perform, then pay the wench to say you did. Understand?”
    Drake nodded. “Thanks for the warning. Now I have a question.”
    “I doubt I have the answer.”
    Drake stared hard at Rutherford. The man wanted to pick through Drake’s personal life―well, let Whitney’s cousin see how it felt. “I know why