Linen-filtered sunlight lit Henri's room, spilling through sheer curtains and bathing his bed in a gentle wash of white. We did in daylight what few others dared in darkness. Only the whisper of fabric and our mingled breaths broke the stillness, until Henri spoke his thoughts aloud.

"You are so quiet," he murmured, pausing the trail of kisses he was making on my skin. "Do you never make a sound?"

His eyes caught the light as they searched mine, and a blush warmed my face.

"There is safety in silence," I whispered, gazing up at him.

"Who taught you that?"

"Prudence."

"Ah? Who is she?" he asked with mock surprise, drawing a laugh from me.

A lopsided smile curved his lips. "I like to hear your voice."

I bit my lip as my humor faded. My former lovers would not a welcome topic make, but I could explain myself otherwise.

"Thomas was terrified of discovery," I said. "I think he'd rather have suffocated us both than risk it. And Paul..."

Paul would make a game of it and punish me if I made a noise.

"...Paul didn't like it either," I concluded.

"You have been with no one else?" Henri tilted his head.

"No. Have you... been with many others?"

He rolled onto his side next to me, propping himself up on one elbow and tracing imaginary designs on my chest with his other hand. "Three. An older fellow. Older than myself, I mean. Probably your age, at the time. I had only just 'awoken.' He helped me to discover myself, but there was nothing but lust between us. Then, there was Jacques, whom I met in the war. Ours was an affair of convenience, and faded along with the threat of imminent death. He went home and got married, and stopped replying to my letters."

"And the third?" I prompted.

Something in his face shifted, softening as if at a cherished memory. "The only one that I have loved."

I swallowed, unsure I wanted to know how I might compare. "What was he like?"

Henri's gaze slid over me, as though he admired a work of art.

"The moment I saw him, I knew that he was different. I thought to myself, Ah, I must be careful. I would like to fall in love with him. He is beautiful."

"But fragile," I whispered, having caught on as I recalled the thought I'd overheard from him.

He shook his head. "I have changed my mind. I believe he is stronger than he thinks."

I laughed softly. "That's just the recklessness of a man who doesn't know the number of his days."

"What man does?" he asked. "Believe me: I have seen courage, and I have seen cowardice. I know the faces of weakness and of strength. And you, my dear Alec, are both strong and brave."

For the first time since he'd taken me to his bed, I looked away from him. "One may be strong in one sense, yet weak in another. You are right to be careful of loving me; I am a poor investment."

Very gently, Henri turned my face back towards his and kissed me. What began as a brush of lips deepened until I lay breathless in his arms.

"Love is always a gamble," he said. "I do not fear to place my bet with you, if you will accept it."

I wanted to, yet the most cautious part of me — the part Thomas had trained to secrecy and Paul into submission — recoiled.

"What if I will not?" I breathed.

Henri's brows knit, but he didn't pull away. "If you do not desire this, say so, Alec. Speak. Tell me what you want."

Tears spilled from the outer corners of my eyes and ran down my temples into my hair.

"I want to love you, but I don't know how."

His features relaxed, and he smiled. "Then I will teach you," he said.

He moved over me again, and gradually drew my voice from me, until I surrendered myself without fear.

***

"There is still the matter of Paul," I said, rubbing my temples as we sat opposite one another at the breakfast table.

I wore one of his robes over my nightclothes, and Marguerite served us our buttered baguettes, scrambled eggs, and fresh strawberries with a beaming smile. Only Henri's complete nonchalance tempered my embarrassment.

He sat with his robe tied loosely, without pretense.

"I agree," he said. "We must plan our next move carefully. I have a few ideas, but I would like to hear yours first. You know Paul Barrington better than I do."

I thought for a moment, buying myself time with a bite of egg.

"I don't think he'll reveal the painting publicly," I said once I'd swallowed. "It's not proof of anything, though it would doubtless raise enough suspicion to make me a pariah. Simply having it serves his purpose."

Henri rubbed his chin. He had not yet shaved, and a light growth of stubble dusted his jaw. "If money is what he's after, I could propose to buy it back from him."

"And let him win?"

"A turn, not the game," Henri said, pouring himself more coffee from the pot. "It would be as the loss of the queen that allows a checkmate."

"I don't think he'll be satisfied with money now," I said. "He will want capitulation."

"Hm. I suppose I could offer my expertise again, with the understanding it would be at his service."

"He won't want it from you," I clarified. "I think it must be me who brings the offer."

Henri looked up at me sharply. "Alec... Surely not."

"Paul won't agree, otherwise," I argued. "I'll have to convince him I've nothing more to do with you as well."

He leaned back in his chair. "Is that wise? You don't know what he may do."

A short laugh escaped me. "Of course it's not wise, but I'll take precautions. More importantly, I can suggest another séance as a peace offering. Rachel's birthday is coming up, and Paul will see it as a double win."

Henri frowned. "How would this help our cause?"

"We lay a trap," I said. "If the thought I overheard at the auction belonged to someone in Paul's ring, they're likely someone close to him. Probably someone who was also at his party; maybe even at the séance. At a second such gathering, I could use what we know of Thomas and the paintings to see if I can touch a nerve — get someone to reveal themselves."

"That, too, is a risk," Henri argued. "Barrington will be on to you at once."

"But if it works, we may gain a confession, or at least discover who has the looted art."

Henri regarded me unhappily. "I do not like this plan," he said, "but I fear you are right about Barrington. Moreover, if I approach him first, and fail, he will be suspicious if you follow where I have already been. When do you propose to go?"

I set my coffee cup on its saucer with care. "I might as well go today. The more nervous and the less prepared I seem, the more likely he is to take me as genuine."

Henri blew out his breath through his nose. "I cannot dissuade you?"

I smiled grimly. "I won't pretend I'm keen on it, but I am determined. Even if there is no justice for Thomas, I want to stop Paul from profiting by him, if I can."

Henri nodded. He looked resigned; a little weary, even.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He sighed. "In the war, I got very tired of sending men into battle. That feeling is with me now."

"I'm not going into battle," I pointed out. "And I'm not yours to command."

"I know. It is more that I wished there was something I could have done to stop them. But it was my duty to send them on, and theirs to go. Inevitable."

He waved his hand and let it drop.

"Tell me about Barrington's circle. While you infiltrate enemy territory, I can at least run reconnaissance."

"Well, there's Rachel and her father. Robert Durham's wealth came from sugar, but the boom was back in his grandfather's time. He still owns the family estate, though in reduced form. It's a hotel now, run by his son."

"He could be a conduit between the Old World and the New," Henri mused, twirling a strawberry by its stem. "Easy for him to ship art between continents."

"Maybe. Harold Bowman is more the sort I'd suspect. He has political ambitions and a gambling problem to match Paul's."

"Ah, there is a thread." Henri put the strawberry in his mouth and ate it thoughtfully.

"That only leaves Perry Valentino and Margaret Lancaster," I said. "Perry's a bootlegger. He's not short of cash. Margaret... Well, I doubt she has much interest in art. Her father's a Wall Street man and would buy her the moon, if he could."

"Until you have proof, you must discount none and suspect all," Henri said, and rose. "And in the meantime, be extremely careful of Paul. I will gather what information on the others that I can."

I rose as well, and we went to our separate rooms to dress. We reconvened in the entrance hall before the front door, where he drew me into a long, languid kiss, which threatened to put me in a very unsuitable state.

"Come back to me quickly," he breathed when we broke apart. "I want to make love to you again before supper."

I laughed shakily against his lips. "I want that, too," I said.

With one last kiss, we parted ways, and I directed myself toward Rittenhouse Square.

A streetcar and a short walk brought me to Paul's front door. My heart beat in my throat, making my fingers tingle, and I willed it to be calm without success.

Before I could give cowardice a chance to overcome me, I rang the bell. A trickle of sweat ran down my back as I waited, and then the door opened to reveal, not the maid, but Rachel herself.

"Alec!" she exclaimed with genuine delight. "Why, Paul said you have been ill. Have you recovered?"

I managed a smile. "Yes, I've regained my health, mostly."

"I wanted to bring you something, but Paul said your doctor forbade visitors. Oh, do come in." She held the door for me and led the way from the foyer into the grand hall. "We're just about to go on an excursion. You've caught us just in time."

"Oh, I don't want to hold you up," I said. "I only hoped to speak with—"

Paul stood on the stairs, paused halfway down. He watched us coldly, but when I met his eyes, he smiled.

"Monroe," he said, as if savoring the sound. "It has been too long. To what do we owe the pleasure?"