He shrugged out of his waistcoat, tossing it onto the end of his bed. Crossing to his bureau, he unfasted his cuff links. His fingers lingered at the pulse point of his right wrist. He was, at once, vividly reminded of another of the difficulties that had plagued him this evening. A difficulty possessed of a lithe figure, with a generous bosom, and a perfect oval of a face, distinguished by elegantly sculpted cheeks, a lush, dusky rose mouth, and a pair of devastating blue eyes framed by thickly arching black brows.

Gabriel hadn’t recognized her for what she was when she’d entered the ballroom, but during those moonlit moments in the library, she had revealed herself to him in brilliant color.

“Perhaps I shall knock you down,” she’d said.

By God, but she’d been serious.

Ollie collected Gabriel’s discarded clothes. He took his new position seriously, despite his endless chatter. “But I thought as how you said they was gonna give you money for building new houses in St. Giles?”

“That was the plan.”

“Was?”

“I have another plan now.”

Ollie draped the coat and waistcoat over the leather-upholstered armchair beside the bed. “Whatever plan you come up with, Mr. Royce, it’s bound to be a good one. I’m keen to do my part.”

“You will,” Gabriel assured him. “And you’ll start at dawn tomorrow. I want you to follow someone.”

Ollie’s head jerked up. A flash of disappointment darkened his eyes. In his former position as a betting shop runner, he’d frequently been tasked with trailing people. “What about my promotion?”

Gabriel wasn’t unsympathetic. Naturally, the lad would rather be acting as a respectable servant than spying on strangers from behind tree trunks and lampposts. But needs must.

“It’s not permanent,” he said. “You’ll be done with the job within a week. After that, you can press all the trousers and brush all the top hats you want.”

Ollie’s brows knit with suspicion. “It ain’t another sporting fella with horses and such? Had the devil of a time keeping up with the last one.”

Gabriel inwardly grimaced at the unhappy reminder.

Two years ago, he’d sent Ollie to follow the nephew of another politician. That nephew had been a curricle-driving sporting gent in possession of secrets that could ruin his uncle’s career. Gabriel had hoped to use those secrets for his own benefit. He’d known even then it would be useful to have a politician in his corner. And the only way a man like Gabriel could gain such power was by foul means, not fair.

That first scheme had come to naught. The nephew in question had inoculated his uncle—and his family—by revealing his uncle’s secret to the world before Gabriel could act.