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concern yourself on that account. I personally guarantee the privacy of our adventures."
    She quelled a quiver at the mention of adventures. Raising her chin, she said, "I have no interest in escapades, sir. How many times would I be subjected to your company?"
    "You wound me, Miss Fines." The cad did not look the least bit affected. "As to the number of visits,"—his gaze fell to the fruit bowl, and his mouth twitched—"'tis unfortunate that I am short on pomegranates at the moment."
    Her brows climbed at the reference. According to the Greeks, after kidnapping Persephone, Hades had tricked her into eating a magical pomegranate. The four seeds she'd consumed bound her to four months living as his Queen in The Underworld. The eerie parallel between the tale and the present situation hadn't escaped Percy, but the fact that Hunt knew of the myth astonished her.
    Her surprise must have shown for he said in dry tones, "In between extorting chaps and running a den of iniquity, I occasionally find time to read."
    She flushed, feeling unaccountably put in her place. Yet what did she care what he thought of her? "You have not answered my question," she said, lifting her chin. "If I am to consider this wager, I would know the precise terms."
    "You are a merchant's daughter, aren't you?" he said. "Very well. I propose we toss for the period of our association."
    "Toss?"
    "Dice, buttercup. You'll roll a pair to determine the number of rendez-vous . During the visits, I won't do anything without your permission. Everything else is fair game."
    She turned the proposition this way and that. If he did not force her, there was no way she could lose. And if she was lucky in her toss, she would only have to see him twice …
    Are you mad? Haven't you gotten into enough scrapes? Don't do something you'll regret!
    Her fingernails bit into her sweaty palms. "May I ... think it over?"
    After a moment, Hunt said, "I'll give you a week. After that, the offer becomes void." Before she could feel relief at the reprieve, he continued, "Just so you know, Miss Fines, if I have to find your brother, he will pay for the inconvenience."
    "I—I have to go," she said through dry lips.
    He bowed. "Adieu, Miss Fines. Until we meet again."
    The very idea set her feet in motion toward the door.
     

FOUR
    "So you jus' want me to tail 'er, guv? Nofin' else?"
    "That is correct, Alfie." In the empty card salon, Gavin fixed the dirt-streaked urchin with a steely look. "Keep your eyes on Miss Fines—and your hands out of her purse, do you hear me?"
    Alfie's expression of innocence was worthy of an angel. With a sprinkling of freckles across the slight bridge of his nose and a wide, gap-toothed grin, the boy looked younger than his thirteen years and as if sugar wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Why, I'm as 'onest as the day is long, guv. Honest-to-God Alfred, that's what they're callin' me these days."
    Gavin snorted. Honest-to-God Alfred was one of the most prolific pickpockets in the rookery. At one time, Gavin had thought to reform the boy by hiring him on in the club's kitchens. After a dozen silver spoons and a side of mutton went missing on the first day—followed soon thereafter by Alfie himself—Gavin had reconsidered that idea. Unlike the other street waifs he'd taken in, Alfie had a feral love of freedom that made any kind of routine both unnatural and intolerable.
    Now Alfie worked for Gavin on independent assignment, coming and going as he pleased. The boy came when he was in need of coin or lying low from the Charleys. He left as his mood suited him and usually managed to filch a candlestick or two on his way out. Gavin considered it part of the payment for services rendered. No one knew the streets of London as Alfie did.
    "You are to report her activities back to me," Gavin said. "I want to know where she went and who she spoke to. If you see a gentleman who looks to be her brother, I want to be apprised." Percy's voice suddenly played in his head. I