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the dead, and men who could turn to shadows. Tales, if told around normal folk, that would have her packed up and sent to Bedlam. And yet she’d seen it all with her own two eyes.
    As she drifted past the gentlemen’s beverage table, laden with all the tempting drinks deemed too strong for weak women, Eliza plucked up a glass of champagne and drank it down, letting the cool, tartness of it sooth her parched throat, not caring if anyone saw her do it.
    “Swallowing nearly an entire glass of champagne?” said a male voice at her side. “I’m shocked.”
    Eliza knew that voice and found herself smiling. St. John Evernight returned it. “And in public, no less.” He glanced around, taking in the crowd, all dressed in their finest as they ate their picnic food off of china plates and used silver to cut their fruit. “What will these crows think?”
    “Perhaps they’ll banish me from ever attending another function,” Eliza said hopefully. And then she touched his arm. “It is good to see you again, Sin. It’s been too long.” Months, in fact.
    When he’d first introduced himself to her, he’d called himself “Sinjin.” Or that’s what she’d heard him say, yet most of their acquaintances called him Sin. Later he’d explained that the English pronounced the name St. John as Sinjin. Thus, his friends and family called him Sin. An apt nickname, for he was constantly seeking out some form of mischief.
    “English society is a bore,” Sin answered now. “If it were up to me, I’d be rid of it completely.”
    “I’d hardly call the fast crowd that runs with Mab proper society.” Eliza thought of the disturbing dinner Mab has hosted last night. “In truth, I’m fairly certain you could do anything in her house and she’d not turn a hair.”
    At her snide tone, Sin’s green gaze searched her face. “What troubles you, cousin?”
    In a distant way, they were cousins, his grandmother being first cousin to her grandfather. Only she’d grown up in Boston, and he in Ireland.
    She edged closer, hesitation warring with a need to confide in the only person she trusted. “I saw
him.
”
    Sin, along with Will Thorne, had been the one to rescue Eliza from Adam. Instantly Sin’s nostrils flared. “Did he come after you?” He looked around the sunny garden as if expecting Adam to jump from the hedgerow and attack.
    “No, nothing like that,” she assured. “He cannot harm me. He’s injured. In fact he’s —”
    “Stop,” insisted Sin. “Don’t say another word.” Sin’s skin took on a pasty hue. “Not until I explain one thing.” On unsteady feet, he came closer. “I’m bound, by a vow, to tell Mab if there is a danger of you consorting with Adam.”
    “What?” Eliza’s voice rose too high, she knew. A few heads turned, censorious frowns shooting her way. Sin hissed his displeasure, and Eliza struggled to temper her tone. “Why? And what do you mean you ‘vowed’?”
    But Sin merely shook his head. “If you do not want her to know, do not tell me.”
    Eliza frowned. If she wanted Mab to know she’d found Adam, Eliza would have gone directly to her and asked why he was chained and tortured. But Eliza hadn’t said a word. For the first time, she looked upon Sin anew, taking note of the agonized guilt that shadowed his eyes. Perhaps he’d finally let her see it.
    Her insides turned. “Sin,” she said carefully, “ought I have a reason to hide things from Mab?”
    He grimaced, a mere twitch of his lips, before pasting a pleasant, carefree expression upon his face. He picked up a glass of champagne and made a show of taking a sip. “At this moment,” he answered as though speaking of the weather, “I’ve no reason to believe Mab would cause you harm.”
    That did not mean she wouldn’t, Eliza realized with a racing heart. Inside of her silk gloves, her hands grew cold and damp. The urge to shout and cry nearly bubbled over. “Why,” she managed, “did you not tell me?”
    He glanced