He nodded. “It belonged to Lord Cornwall, and I always display it next to Sir Walter Raleigh’s. It disappeared that night and reappeared in the afternoon on Friday.” His eyes bulged as I turned it over to show him the copper bottom. “Good heavens. That’s not my box.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s a replica of the one that was stolen from your collection.” I set it down. “A counterfeiter would need about two days to make a mold from the original, cast the copper, and silverplate it.” I rubbed my finger against one blackened whorl on the lid and showed the streaked tip to Wiggins. “Boot polish, not tarnish. They use it to dull the new plating, make it look old.”

Wiggins looked at the rest of his boxes. “But that means . . . more than half of my boxes . . .”

“Have been stolen and replaced with fakes.” I took out my kerchief and wiped the polish from my finger. “Who dusts your collection, Mr. Wiggins?”

“I believe that would be Bertha.”

He turned and shouted the name, and a few moments later a plump maid strolled in.

“Bertha, someone has been stealing my bacco boxes and replacing them with counterfeits.”

“Someone like you,” Rina guessed.

The maid paled. “Please, sir, I didn’t want to. It’s me husband. He gambles, you see, and he lost his position, and he said you have so much, and we so little . . .” Her voice trailed off as she removed a cloth-wrapped bundle from her apron and held it out. “I can put this one back. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

“You’d spend twenty years at hard labor, all for a worthless sod.” Rina shook her head as she opened her reticule.

Wiggins looked down at the large handful of coin Rina gave him. “What’s this for?”

“Pawnshops,” she said. “To avoid suspicion she’ll have sold them to several, so have her take you round to each one. Tell them the boxes are stolen goods, mention the Yard, and they should sell them back to you for whatever pittance they gave her.”

“Thank you, miss,” Bertha gushed. “I promise, I’ll never steal again, no matter what—”

“And once you’ve gotten your things back,” Rina said to Wiggins, “send this stupid, thieving cow to me. I’ll take her round to see some of the gels that have gone to prison for their men. Maybe that’ll make her more honest in the future.”

Dredmore came up behind me. “That was exceedingly clever of you, Miss Kittredge.”

“Not as impressive as your waving a wand about and muttering incantations, I’ll wager.” I felt the hand he’d dropped on my shoulder. “Is this another attempt at a spell? If it’s to make my skin crawl, I think this time it’s actually working.”

His hand tightened. “You want to come away with me now.”

“I want a bathe.” I walked away from him, ignored the way my shoulder tingled, and collected Rina.

We’d been enemies ever since that first meeting, and nothing would ever change that. But while Dredmore could be vastly annoying, he’d never been able to do anything to harm me or my business.

The memory faded to a shadow as a shape hovered over me, large and dark and at first indistinct. I made out a black cloak, and under the cloak, a man—the man from the alley, the one who had saved my life, I realized. His eyes glowed like two stars in an empty midnight, cool and distant, but his hands felt warm and soothing on my face.

“Did they touch you?” a deep, utterly furious voice demanded.

“Of course they touched me,” I whispered against his palm. “They squashed me. They cut me.”

“Did they violate you?” the voice insisted.

“No, of course not.” I frowned. “They only tried to kill me. With ‘magic’ balls, if you can believe it. The dolts.”

My body floated off the cushions onto something harder and less cozy. This fantasy was becoming damnably uncomfortable.

“You live because magic cannot harm you,” he murmured. “I can reach you only through your dreams.” His arm supported my shoulders and my knees. I felt his groin against my hip, and his thighs beneath my buttocks. He traced the edges of my bandage and pressed my cheek against his chest, which filled me with a sense of drowsy well-being.

“That’s nice.” I snuggled. “Stay with me . . .”

His soft voice chilled. “What have you taken, Charmian?”

“Nothing. I drank some tea. It was awfully sweet. Like the old lady who brought it.” I breathed in the scent of burnt herbs and the sea and found the rest of my voice. “Do put me down, Dredmore.”

“You’ve been drugged.”

That made more sense of what was happening to me. “By you.” I batted him with a useless hand.

“Not by me.” He caught my fingers and brought them to his lips. “I don’t have to employ drugs. If I’d wanted you, I’d have carried you out of that alley. Now, where are you?”

“I’m here with you, idiot.” I wanted to scratch his eyes out, but I couldn’t feel my fingernails. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“I have asked myself the same question each day for five years,” he assured me. “The problem is, I don’t wish to know the answer.”

“Oh.” Somehow that made me feel a little better, and I relaxed against him. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But you’re a very bad man. You do know that.”

“Charmian.” Lips touched the end of my nose. “You have no idea.”

“You’re not to kiss me when I’m drugged and helpless.” I glared at him. “I don’t want your kisses. I don’t want you. I don’t even like you.”

“You don’t have to like it, my sweet,” he said, and this time kissed my mouth. “You have only to stop fighting me. Allow me to release you.”

I frowned. “I’m not under arrest. I’m drugged. I’m dreaming. Why haven’t you put me down?”

“This.” He wrapped a hand around my neck. “This is the dream, the drug. The prison you’ve lived in your entire life. It’s time you rid yourself of it.” His starlit eyes glittered down at me. “I will free you, my gel, very soon, and then you will be mine.”

His fingers bit into my neck, so tight that I couldn’t speak or breathe. I latched on to his wrist and pulled, but I had no strength. Then a blue light blinded me, and he swore and hurled me away.

I woke up as I hit hard wood face-first. I yelped and then pushed myself up onto my elbows. I was on the floor beside Doyle’s couch. My head wobbled as I looked around me, but the office was empty.

“Bloody hell.” My belly heaved, and I crawled over to a rubbish can just in time.

“Steady, Kit.” Rina knelt beside me and supported my head with kid-gloved hands. “Go on, I’ve got you.”

The heaves continued until I couldn’t bring anything else up, and then a little longer as my belly refused to be convinced it was empty.

Once the final spasm passed, Rina wiped my mouth with one corner of her black fichu. “There now, that’s better.” She helped me up and held me steady. “Where’s the bloody lav?”

“Through there,” I heard Doyle say.

I let Rina tend to me, rinsing out my mouth with the water she held to my lips and blowing into the handkerchief she placed over my nose.

“Let’s have a look now.” She tipped my head back and peered into my eyes, and swore softly. “Bugger me, you’ve been dosed.”

I saw Doyle in the doorway at the same time I became aware of my painfully heavy bladder. “Loo.”

Rina turned to the inspector. “Out.” She pushed the door closed after him and helped me with my skirts.

I hissed as my bare bottom touched the cold porcelain. “What are you doing here?”

“I went round your place this morning, saw the copper wardlings, and came here,” she said. “Who rolled you?”

“Two snuffmages waiting outside Bridget’s.” I finished and put my clothes to rights. “Why did you go to the flat? You know I’m never there after seven.”

“No, you were here, and all night, too.” She grabbed my chin and looked into my eyes again. “The swine in charge said when they couldn’t rouse you, they brought in a physick. Sweet Mary, look at your eyes.”

All I remembered was the dream of being strangled by Dredmore. “A little nap never hurt anyone.”

“A little?” Her brows rose. “Love, you’ve been out cold for the last eighteen hours.”

Rina ushered me back into the office, where Doyle was waiting for us. “I’m taking her.”

“Not yet.” He took out a notebook. “I need some answers from her.”

“I really like him,” I confided to Rina. “Too bad he’s the law.”

“Shut up, Kit.” To Doyle, Rina said, “Has she been charged with an offense? No? You lot too busy dosing her with ruddy joy, then?”

“Tommy?” I tried to wave a hand and nearly smacked myself in the eye. “He wouldn’t do that. He likes me too much.”

“Shut up, Kit.” Doyle snapped his notebook closed and regarded Rina. “I did nothing of the sort to her. What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Like all the others in the world. Stupid. Did you really think it would make her talk?” She tightened her arm around me. “The poor gel’s never had it, you dolt. Much as you dosed her, I’m surprised she woke up at all.”

“We don’t drug suspects,” Doyle said between clenched teeth. “She ran afoul of some snuffmages; maybe they added more than killing powder to bespell her.”

“Bespelled my ass.” Rina thrust me toward him. “Look at her eyes. You know what poppy dust does to the whites. Go on, look. Red as roses, they are.” She brought a fold of my skirt up to her nose and sniffed it. “Nothing but charcoal.”