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decided to avoid any and all women who threatened to touch his innermost sanctum. And up until now, that wasn’t too hard, for he had never met a woman quite like Danielle Langston.
    Could he risk it all for her? He hadn’t known the answer to that question, and so he had taken his leave.
    Devlin arrived at the bridge over the River Thames, keeping a lookout for the person he had arranged to meet, when a carriage came to a stop beside him. The driver, who was barely visible due to his long, waxed overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat that was hiding his face, snarled: “Are you Weston?”
    When Devlin nodded, the door to the carriage interior opened and a pair of shiny, clean boots became visible in a faint sliver of daylight.
    “Get in!” the driver demanded, and Devlin obeyed. The door immediately closed behind him, and an ice-cold blackness engulfed him. All the curtains had been pulled, and the person sitting on the opposite seat was dressed completely in black; that was the only thing Devlin had been able to glimpse when he got in.
    As soon as the carriage started moving, Devlin broke his silence.
    “Are you Corbett?”
    “You are correct,” a voice replied that reminded him of rusting metal. Devlin estimated the man’s age to be at least sixty.
    “May I inquire as to why you are searching the entire city for me?” Corbett asked, sounding thoroughly annoyed.
    “You are a hard man to find, and I needed to cast a wide net,” Devlin admitted, unimpressed. After all, how dangerous could a man be who was hiding in the shadows? Besides, the darkness worked to Devlin’s advantage, for he was quite certain that Corbett wouldn’t notice the gun aimed at him from underneath his overcoat. Just in case.
    “What do you want, Mr. Weston?”
    “I’m looking for something, and I was told that you were the right person to help.”
    “Who do you think I am, Weston? A goddamn lost and found? Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want, or else our little leisurely ride is over,” the black shadow demanded impatiently.
    “A painting. I’m looking for a painting. The Venus de Lavinium , to be precise.”
    Corbett quietly whistled between his teeth.
    “Hear, hear, the Venus . What a coincidence. There seems to be a lot of interest in this myth as of late.”
    Devlin pricked his ears. He should have known that the report in the art magazine would generate some interest, but the thought of it displeased him.
    “So you have heard of her,” he established.
    “Of course I have heard of her! But you don’t seriously think that the painting actually exists, do you, Weston?”
    “Well, do you ?” Devlin countered.
    “It doesn’t matter what I think. But to put you out of your misery: yes, I have heard of the Venus . It is rumored that she was brought to London together with a good number of antique artifacts and paintings from Central Italy. It is further rumored that everything was sold to Audrey’s Museum.”
    “Audrey’s Museum?” Devlin had never heard of it.
    “It’s an establishment with not the highest of reputations. The owner, Mr. Audrey, is quite boastful about carrying the greatest artifacts of Europe in his collection, but not everyone believes that the artifacts are genuine if you know what I mean.”
    “I see. So you think I am falling for a scam in searching for the Venus ?”
    “Search to your heart’s content, Mr. Weston. But let me warn you, harm has come to people who took too much of an interest in the goddess of love.”
    Devlin’s grip around his gun tightened.
    “Are you threatening me, Corbett?” he asked with the uncomfortable realization that he might not be the only one holding a weapon in this carriage.
    “Why would I, Mr. Weston? Nothing could be further from the truth. I just want to be sure that you’re not getting involved in things that might be dangerous to your health.”
    With a soft but unmistakable click Devlin cocked his gun.
    “I am touched by your concern,