The River of No Return

does that make?”
    “I believe that for women, there is only one respectable club.”
    “Ah.” Clare reached up and adjusted her cap. “That is tediously true. How unkind of you to remind me.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    Clare reached out and patted her brother’s arm. “For goodness’ sake, Nickin. I am teasing you. You have asked me a hypothetical question. Don’t let it tie you in knots.” She turned to Julia. “What do you think?”
    Both siblings were looking at her now, awaiting an answer. Even the Russian glanced up from his food.
    “Would I sacrifice my good name for my convictions?” Julia considered, remembering the feeling of hollow desolation that had come over her in Stoke Canon when she realized that the town had turned against her. How precarious her hold on life had felt, as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff. “I don’t think I have a reputation to trade anymore. At this point my good name depends on yours, Clare. I discovered last week that my neighbors have been waiting all my life for me to prove that I am . . .” She blinked, remembering with searing clarity exactly how it had felt when she had pressed her naked breast to Blackdown’s mouth.
    She folded her lips together tightly and fought against her desire to look at him.
    “It is ridiculous,” Clare said, taking over. “Women are all chained together by this thing called reputation. If I sacrifice mine, I destroy Julia’s.”
    Blackdown banged his hand on the table, and the noise made Julia jump. “It is ridiculous, yes!” His voice was loud and angry. “In time the dark ages will be understood to include our own!”
    Clare and Julia both laughed, and Clare got up and kissed him. “Oh, Nickin, I do think you should join Brooks’s sooner rather than later. Or start your own club. And let me join it.”
    He glowered and stuffed a bite of fish into his mouth, but Clare stood with her hand on his shoulder and smiled at Julia. “My brother has returned from Spain a changed man. He believes that women should control their own destinies. Such a rare beast. Do you think we should put him on exhibit at the Tower of London, alongside the lions and tigers?”
    “Please, ladies, do take control of your blasted destinies and save me a headache,” Blackdown said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and looking decidedly frazzled. “I have been back in England for a few short weeks, and all I seem to do is worry about women and their godforsaken reputations. Rise up and claim your rights and leave me in peace!”
    The Russian interrupted their laughter, and what he said was so absurd and so kind that it took Julia a long moment to remember that he was her enemy. “Anyone who would doubt Julia Percy’s good name? That man is a fool.” His voice was harsh. “Just look into her eyes.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stalked from the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
    N ick stood on the top step and took his time adjusting his hat to his satisfaction, enjoying the sight of Arkady, already in the street, scowling and tossing his stick from hand to hand. “Surely this could wait until tomorrow, Arkady. It is well past midnight.”
    “Tonight you begin your service to the Guild. You should be eager, like the young hound! But you worry over your hat like a woman. Come! We will be late.” Arkady turned and started walking.
    Nick walked lightly down the stairs, glanced up at the stars, then sauntered after his friend. “I do hope we are taking a hackney? Or are you going to jump us to the twenty-first century for a tube ride? Because I for one am unarmed.”
    “Do not be a coward. I have a cudgel.” Arkady slapped the heavy brass knob at the top of his stick into his palm. “A hack! The tube! I spurn them both! It feels good to be alive when there is danger. The stars and the moon, they shine. The city may stink but she is very beautiful. She smiles on us. We are her kings, her masters. In all ages she recognizes us and welcomes us as a lover.”
    “Hmm. The stinking city welcomes us both as her lovers. What a vision. You are a terrible poet.”
    “Pah!” The Russian snapped his fingers. “That is for your criticism.”
    They went down Berkeley Street toward Piccadilly, then east toward the City. Arkady wasn’t wrong. The night was beautiful and perilous, and as he walked Nick felt an answering courage flow through his veins. Footpads, cutpurses, highwaymen, and all the other Georgian bad guys—Nick was