Increase Pipher settled back against the pillows on his bed, exhausted from his travels.

He smiled to himself. The exquisite irony of it all; after all these years of helpless fury, he was in a position to monitor virtually every move that arrogant young Irishman made.

The suite across the hall. Increase threw his head back and gave a raspy burst of laughter. Jamie McKenna would pay, in coin more precious than gold, for all the grief he’d caused. And as for that little bitch who’d helped him—

In the distance, there was a noise. Walter Davis, Increase’s private secretary, had returned.

“Davis!” the old man shouted.

The clerk entered the master bedroom with trepidation. “How are you feeling, Mr. Pipher?” He spoke with respect, but Increase didn’t miss the red flush climbing the lad’s skinny neck.

“Never mind how I’m feeling. What did you learn?”

Davis kept his distance, probably because Increase had reached out for his cane and waved it for emphasis while speaking. The cowardly little whelp had learned to stay out of its range.

“He’s got a wife, Mr. Pipher. Jamie McKenna’s got himself a wife.”

Increase digested this information with particular pleasure. “Have you gotten a look at her?”

Davis nodded. “Just briefly, in the dining room this morning. She’s a saucy red-haired snippet with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Got quite a temper, according to the staff.”

Increase smiled. “She’s the same woman, then. The one Dunnigan described. McKenna loves her, does he?”

“The staff uniformly agrees that he does, sir,” said David, his tone obsequious and sugary now. He was always pandering, the sniveling little worm, and even though Increase liked to force people into doing both those things, he despised them for it, too.

“So it’s a grand passion, is it?” Increase muttered thoughtfully. “Wonderful. I can’t tell you how happy I am for the both of them.”

Davis folded his arms across his skinny chest. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, it seems—unprofitable to seek revenge after all this time.”

Rage exploded within Increase. Unprofitable, was it? He’d lost everything the day Peony had rescued that miserable Irishman. He’d lost his mistress, his crop of sugarcane, his house. He looked down at his legs, clearly seeing the scars the fire had left even though they were covered by his trousers. He’d nearly lost two limbs as well.

The clerk read his expression accurately and held out both hands in an effort to stay an outburst. “I’m sure you have your reasons, of course,” he sputtered. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

“Oh yes,” Increase said, smiling. “I think a wedding gift is in order, don’t you? And I know just what I want to send to the happy couple.”

Davis’s face went pale as Increase gave him his instructions. It was a sad commentary, the old man reflected later, that so few men had the stomach for seeing matters through to their just conclusions.

The package arrived by messenger just as they were about to go out for supper, and there was a card attached. Frowning, Jamie opened the envelope and read, “For the newlyweds, with kindest regards for your future happiness. An old friend.”