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other, while you, in more ways than one, were his fair-haired boy. I didn’t even want to visit Yorkshire, much less step into an inheritance I’ve always despised.”
    “No one would be daft enough to believe you could kill him.”
    “No one would be daft enough to believe you’re a woman,” Phelan countered. “People believe what they want to believe. They’d rather believe the obvious than look beneath the surface.”
    Valerian shrugged. “At least you’re allowing us out into society a bit. Even playacting is preferable to the damned solitude. Particularly when you won’t even let me ride in public. I never knew my black-sheep brother had such a repressive streak.”
    “You may consider yourself to be completely convincing as a female,” Phelan said. “I, for one, am not so certain. We’re much better off keeping to ourselves.”
    “Don’t you think people will question why we’re such recluses?”
    “I simply put it about that you were in an interesting condition.”
    Valerian stared at him blankly from beneath his long golden eyelashes. “What do you mean by that?”
    “I mean that I told people you were expecting. In a family way. Smocked. Pregnant.”
    “Oh, God,” Valerian moaned. “Was that strictly necessary? Surely I could have been spared that indignity!”
    “It was very effective. It explained our keeping to ourselves. It also provided a good excuse for your less-than-dainty waist.”
    “But will it explain my less-than-dainty feet?” Valerian countered, casting a frustrated glance out at the moonlit road. He shook his head. “Damnation,” he said wearily. “And that reminds me. What are we going to do about her, Phelan?”
    “About whom? Margery? I don’t think there’s much we can do at this point.”
    “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. I’m talking about the girl.”
    Phelan leaned back and sighed, remembering. She’d had the most extraordinary eyes, set in that tanned face. Maybe she would have fooled most people, but not the Romney brothers. In the midst of their own absurd masquerade, it was child’s play to see through another, less polished one. “She’s not our concern, Val. We have our own heads to think about.”
    “She’s only a child, Phelan. She must be in terrible trouble, to be out on her own …”
    “She’s older than you think. Probably her early twenties. And I doubt her troubles are any worse than our own. We don’t need another lost soul, Val. We have too much to deal with as it is.”
    Val shook his head, yanking at his artfully arranged ringlets. “I suppose you’re right. We might just make things worse. Still, did you notice those eyes, Phelan?”
    Phelan Romney stared out at the moon-silvered landscape, keeping his face deliberately expressionless. “I noticed,” he said. And silence once more filled the carriage as the two brothers were left with their own troubled thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO
    Juliette was dreaming again. On her third night in the old attic above the Fowl and Feathers, she lay beneath the scratchy wool cover, the fresh salt breeze dancing across her skin, and dreamed of her father. Black Jack MacGowan had been unconventional, a gruff, bluff charmer of a man, who’d loved his only daughter dearly. Loved her enough to take her with him during his travels, through wondrously strange climates and war-torn countries, on adventures that were both dangerous and fascinating. She’d been passionately devoted to him, following him everywhere, sharing in his enthusiasms, being a mother to his childlike nature, adoring him. Until he’d committed the ultimate betrayal, and died of a heart attack beneath the hot Egyptian sun, leaving her in the hands of Mark-David Lemur.
    But she didn’t want to dream about that. About her father’s death, or the weeks and months afterward. That portion of her life was over, forever, and nothing would make her return to that existence. Or even relive it through dreams and memories.
    Not that she