Caroline followed her friend to the hall behind their box. “Yes, of course you may. You don’t look at all well; you really should go home and lie down.”

“I will go home when I’ve seen to this latest outrage.”

“See to it? You mean the wagers? How will you see to it?”

Charlotte pinned her summer cloak closed and collected her reticule and fan. A righteous anger filled her, giving strength to her purpose. She would not allow Dare to become the laughingstock of the ton. “I will see to it in the most expedient of manners—I shall go to the men’s clubs and steal their betting books.”

Caroline fainted dead away.

***

An hour later Charlotte stepped down from the borrowed carriage, waving toward its interior as Batsfoam prepared to close the carriage door. “There are a number of books on the seat. Please have them brought to the kitchen and burned.”

“Books, madam?”

“Books, Batsfoam. Large ones, containing several pages, most of which are filled with foolish wagers made by even more foolish men who ought to know better.

Batsfoam glanced at the nearest book, which carried the name White’s in a gilded, elegant script. There were at least seven more betting books he could see by the light of the carriage lantern. A rare smile touched the grim line of his lips as he gestured a footman to the task. “Eh…did no one see you while you were liberating the books?”

“They saw me, but I wore a domino, so no one knew it was me. Besides, the sort of men they employ at those clubs are not at all what I would call intimidating. Cowards, the lot of them. They positively whimpered when I brandished his lordship’s dueling pistol. A baby could have stolen those books.”

“Ah. That was very clever of you to wear the domino, if I might be allowed to offer my humble and unworthy opinion.”

“Of course it was clever, you don’t think I would do anything to make people talk, now do you? Is Lord Carlisle at work on his engine?” Charlotte asked as she unpinned her cloak and allowed Batsfoam to take it from her.

“He is.”

“Very well.” She paused for a moment as she stripped off her gloves, then shook her head at the pang of worry over her recent actions. “What’s done is done.”

“Ma’am?”

No, she was being silly to worry. No one had the slightest idea who had so boldly pushed past the porters of the clubs and dashed in to steal the books. Thank heavens Matthew had filled her ears while growing up with tales of the betting books. For once, she was grateful he was such a wastrel. “And even if someone was to recognize me, there’s my little project; surely that will take care of any speculation that might be rice.”

“Rice, ma’am?”

“Hmm?” She pulled her mind from worry about what would happen if word got out that she’d stolen the betting books and looked at Batsfoam before turning toward the stairs. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry, although I would like a cup of tea sent to my bedchamber. And don’t forget to attend those foul books. I won’t have my husband’s manly instrument impugned.”