Dearest Diary,

After tonight's events, I fear that dinner parties shall forever leave an unpleasant taste in my mouth. That is the exact opposite of their usual intent makes it an even greater tragedy.

The air stood stagnant over the city, warm and wet, but that did not stop the chill that went down Katniss' spine as she stepped out of the carriage and onto the drive before Crane's townhouse. Much as she wished to, she could not attribute her reaction to the house itself. While it had seemed as much a monster as the man who resided there on her first visit, in the daylight, it took on a far softer air. From the street, it appeared much like the other houses on the street, unusual in neither size nor design. Its tasteful, uniform marble façade had none of the collage of character seen in so many of the older, wealthier family townhouses that had been built, rebuilt, and added on to for centuries, The grounds, though not extensive, were neatly kept, and the entire picture was one of an easy, if bland, sort of elegance.

But as she drew closer, the house seemed to loom over her. The front entrance, formerly so unremarkable, became a mouth, foreboding yet darkly tempting, urging her inside with the cold delight of a predator already certain its prey is within its grasp. The smiling face and pleasant features of the footman that greeted the Everdeens at the door could not dispel the feeling that she had just entered the belly of the beast. Katniss wondered if Jonah had realized how fortunate he truly was. She had never been one to pay perfect attention during Sunday sermon, but she distinctly remembered that the prophet had been cast off his vessel, literally thrown into the water and the waiting jaws of the whale. Katniss, in contrast, had to walk in of her own accord, fully aware of the dangers that could await her inside.

The footman ushered them into a parlor, where they would mingle with the other guests before dinner. If any of Crane's other guests were as uneasy as her, they did not show it. They dressed in the lightest clothing they owned out of deference to the heat, but made no other indication that the evening was anything but the gayest of parties as they laughed and talked together, bright and bubbly as champagne. Prim had told her there would be sixteen guests at tonight's gathering, and Katniss counted nine already present. Hawthorne stood perhaps twenty feet away, conversing with a portly older man. She snorted, earning herself a poke in the ribs from Mother, when Hawthorne's attempts to extricate himself from the conversation were met with the other man physically placing himself between Gale and his escape route. The worst parts of Katniss hoped that Hawthorne was being regaled with mathematical theorems he had no hope of understanding.

On her second inspection of the crowd, she found that the guest she most hoped to see had not yet arrived. Perhaps she should have expected that. Peeta Mellark possessed many fine qualities, but punctuality was not among them.

She studied the other guests as she waited for him to arrive. Katniss suspected that she had met nearly everyone here at one point or another, but she felt no great urge to reacquaint herself with any of them. The company one kept, after all, spoke volumes about one's character.

She was saved the strain of actually conversing with anyone else by Prim. The younger, prettier Miss Everdeen's engagement to Mr. Crane was a foregone conclusion by this point, and everyone wanted to know more about the enchanting thing that had managed to capture his heart. The very concept brought on a wave of nausea. Still, it provided her with an excellent opportunity to observe the other guests. She hung back, silently watching them as they approached Prim one by one.

As if by some unspoken agreement, they all followed the same script. Good day, isn't this weather dreadful, I do hope you'll come for tea. If Prim and Mother accepted another invitation, she would have to mutiny. No one should be subjected to that many visits. By guest number three, she had given up on finding anything. This would really be far more interesting if they could stop being so disarmingly average. Where were the moustache-twirling villains with evil glints in their eyes that she remembered so well from bedtime stories?

Never mind. With Crane at the opposite side of the room, the fairy tale villains were well accounted for.

A familiar figure following the footman into the chamber, and Katniss felt a now-familiar rush of warmth. Perhaps, she mused, she had found the hero of the story as well.

"Miss Everdeen. What a surprise seeing you here tonight."

Ah yes, the incredible surprise of something they had discussed for weeks. However could he cope? "I hope it's a good one."

"The best type, I assure you." His blue eyes sparkled as he took her hand and squeezed it. "It's been too long."

If she were the blushing sort - and despite her behavior over the past few weeks, Katniss was certain she did not qualify - she would have been red as beets at that. "I agree." It had. There had been letters over the past few weeks, yes, and she swore that they carried as much meaning between the lines as in the words themselves, but they were only a shadow of what it felt to stand next to him, to talk with him, to see his reactions as she spoke rather than relying on her imagination to conjure up his smiles. "I hope that it will not be nearly as long in the future."

"He's watching us, you know." Peeta's voice was low, soft, and she doubted the other guests could hear him.

"Which he?"

He laughed. "Both."

"Fascinating." She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Who would think I'd inspire jealousy?"

"On that point, I believe you're underestimating yourself. If I were courting anyone so lovely, I'm not sure I could stand to share either."

Lovely. She would never tire of hearing him say that word, but his point could not be allowed to stand unchallenged. "And do you think of this as being shared?"

The skin around his eyes always crinkled just before he told a joke. She wondered when she had first noticed that. "Perhaps I would like to think you're being unfaithful."

She chuckled. "You're impossible."

"You wouldn't like me nearly as much if I wasn't."

The call for dinner interrupted any response she might have had. She slipped her arm through his before he could offer to escort her. His lips quirked up, and he nodded towards Hawthorne. "Are you going to be in trouble?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Excellent point." He escorted her to her seat, then sat across from her. "I like the view from this spot."

If Hawthorne had waited another second to sit down next to her, Katniss was certain she could have found something to say back to that.

Crane's smile could have frozen over the Atlantic. "I'm glad you decided to come tonight."

Decided was an interesting choice of verb. It suggested she'd had a choice in the matter. "Thank you for inviting me." She hoped that he would turn his attention elsewhere. Katniss had managed to escape their host's notice for the entire first course, but as soon as Peeta excused himself, ostensibly to use the facilities, she had found herself the main subject of Crane's interest.

"You might say you're our guest of honor, Miss Everdeen. Primrose told me you had expressed some concerns about our courtship, and I of course could not allow any misunderstandings between the two of us to stand. I would hate to come between two loving sisters for any reason." Speaking with him felt like a circus act she had once seen years ago. While the knife-throwers' blades never struck her husband, they always came within a hairbreadth of his skin, pinning him by his clothes to the board behind them, leaving him restrained and entirely at her mercy by the end of the act. She had no idea how Prim could so happily spend an afternoon with this man, much less the rest of her life.

She could not let her discomfort show. "I am grateful for the opportunity for us to become better acquainted."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Everdeen. Beef?"

She wanted no part in anything at the table, but it would be rude to refuse. "Yes, please." As was the fashion, the meat was served very rare, and it almost seemed to bleed as Crane carved a hearty slice for her.

Though she longed to look away for the sake of both her stomach and her nerves, her gaze fastened on the plate before her and the red fluid seeping from her food. Katniss flinched when something brushed her hand under the table. She saw hurt flicker through Hawthorne's eyes. Sorry, she mouthed, and reached for his hand, letting their fingers entwine. His grip was warm and steady, but she found little comfort in it. If only she could trust the wine. She would like nothing more than to dull her concerns with alcohol, but it would have been so simple for Crane to order poison slipped into her glass, and Katniss had no doubts he would stoop to such a level. If a man could sell his country for his own personal profit, he certainly would have no qualms about silencing anyone might know his secret.

Some of her worry dissipated as Peeta again took his seat. He met her eyes for a brief second and shook his head. Katniss frowned. The door to the study was locked. They had to find another way in.

She pondered the problem over her duck breast, the only dish on her plate to have escaped being drowned by the beef. The sauce was rather salty. What a shame about the wine.

A breeze, the first she had felt all evening, made everything fall into place.

It didn't take more than a minute for Peeta to feel her eyes on him. Outside, she mouthed, and he nodded.

No reason to wait any longer. "Excuse me for a moment," she said to Hawthorne, and ducked out of the room.

It took Peeta a few minutes to join her underneath the oak tree.

She spoke before he could. "You think this is a bad idea."

"I know it's a bad idea," he argued. "None of the other doors were locked, Katniss. Crane knows you've discovered him."

"That just proves his guilt!" Could he not see that an innocent man would have nothing to hide? "If we get in there, we can find the evidence we need. I can feel it."

"And how are you planning on getting up there? It's locked, and Crane's probably carrying the key on his person. That's what I would do in his situation." She looked up, tracing the contours of the enormous tree with her eyes, and he followed her gaze. "Oh no."

"Second window on the right."

"That's…"

"Perfect," she finished for him. Katniss kicked off her slippers and handed them to him. The delicate shoes wouldn't last through her climbing the tree anyway. "You keep watch. Two whistles means come down right away. Three means hide in the room. If I'm gone more than ten minutes, go back to the party. I'll find my way eventually." The bark was rough against her feet and hands as she began her climb. Katniss allowed herself a grim smile. It had been too long since she'd been allowed to climb a tree.

She heard Peeta grunt below her, and she glanced down to find him following her up the tree. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I can't help you from down here."

"Who's going to keep watch?"

He pushed a piece of blond hair out of his eyes. "Katniss, we aren't going to get caught by someone on the ground. No one else is going to think to climb the tree."

Why must he be so logical? "But you think it's a bad idea!"

"It's important to you." That wasn't a counterpoint, just a statement, and it left her feeling like the tree had given out underneath her – in a good way. She didn't have time to think about whether or not it was really possible to fall on one's bottom in a positive sense, and Katniss suspected she wouldn't like the conclusion if she did. "Come on, hurry up. If someone needs some air and finds us in the tree, then we will be in trouble."

She scurried the rest of the way up in seconds. The branch at the window swayed threateningly under her weight, but it held, and she slipped soundlessly into the study. On the surface, it was little different from a thousand other studies sprinkled across London. All the elements that society men so valued were present: polished dark wood, high-backed chairs, the heavy, imposing desk that she had always assumed was meant to convince the man who sat there that he was indeed as important as others believed. But unlike those other studies, Crane's harbored secrets that could topple Britain – or, if she was lucky, Crane himself. All that she had to do was unearth them.

Peeta grunted as he hoisted himself over the sill, and he fell into the room with a resounding crash. Katniss went stone-still, barely daring to breathe as she waited for them to be discovered. But a moment later, the house was still quiet. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Yes." Peeta rubbed his shoulder as he rose to his feet. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"I'm not sure," Katniss admitted. "Something off. If there's anything, it'll be in here." God, please let her be right. They would not get another chance at this. "I'll start with the account books. You watch the door."

Peeta was already rifling through the desk, searching for anything out of place. She turned to the account books, pulling the most recent from its spot on the cramped bookshelf. Katniss had been managing her family's finances since she was twelve, but still the sea of numbers overwhelmed her. Thousands of pounds flowed in and out of Crane's pockets like water between one's fingers. Surely it would mean nothing to many families of the ton, but how could one person possess such wealth?

She couldn't allow his enormous wealth to distract her. Katniss picked a line to start with. Servants wages. Very well, she could hardly expect to find something incriminating on the very first line. Even the worst sorts of men had to pay their servants. She moved faster and faster as she read on. Most of the items listed were innocent enough. Rents collected from his estate outside Bristol, household expenses, gambling debts that were quickly settled and erased from memory in time for him to return to the tables the next night. Together, they told a story of a wealthy man who could well afford his extravagant lifestyle.

She thumbed through almost a year's worth of expenses before she noticed the tick marks. At first, she didn't think much of them. This one highlighted the winnings from a night at Heavensbee's three months ago. Another marked tenants' rents that had been collected after the harvest – which, she noticed, were nearly two thousand pounds more than they had been the year before. Her eyebrows rose, and she searched for more. She found almost thirty over the past two years, usually clustered with four or five in one month. All involved huge sums, far larger than his usual rents, and on further comparison, the amounts he had supposedly won at Heavensbee's were magnitudes larger than what he had wagered and lost on any other night. These had to be payments from his business with France. What else could they be?

A sound startled her, and she didn't realize it was her gasping until she saw Peeta staring at her.

"Found something?" he asked.

"Perhaps." She looked back at the book and shook her head. "But I don't think it will be enough to convince anyone else." But the more she stared at the page, the more questions she had. She had seen Crane's letters to Prim, and the accounts were detailed in the same tall, neat hand. Why not trust his books with a secretary? She doubted most men of Crane's means managed all of their expenses themselves.

"Take it. We have enough."

Could she take the whole book without it being immediately noticed? Katniss had nowhere to hide anything large, so probably not, but a few pages should be enough. Four pages, two with tally marks and two that showed Crane's real incomes. If she could find that, it could -

Footsteps.

Katniss' eyes widened, and she blindly ripped a handful of pages from the book and shoved it back into its spot. She heard Peeta shutting desk drawers. Katniss stuffed the papers down the front of her dress as she hurried for the window, but Peeta stood in her way. "What are you doing?" she hissed as he took hold of her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he whispered, cupping her face with one hand, and an instant later, his mouth was on hers.

Her mind went blank. There was no room for thought between them, not when he was pulling her close, not when her fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him firmly in place. Hot red frissons of energy jumped from where their lips met, where his hand pressed against her lower back, where his thumb traced along her jaw, warm and feather-light. She was vaguely aware of being moved backwards, of something hard pressing into her back, but it was as if it was happening to someone else. He thumb nudged at her chin, and she opened her mouth, slanting their lips together again and again as his warm breath comingled with hers. Katniss' hand pressed against his chest, not pushing him away, just marveling at the pounding of his heart against her palm.

And that was when she heard the door open. "Katniss!" Hawthorne shouted.

Her heart stopped beating as Peeta pulled away, tucking her behind him as he whirled towards the door. "Mellark, I'm going to kill –"

"No!" She emerged from behind Peeta, putting herself between the two men before Hawthorne could do anything regrettable. There had already been quite enough of that this evening. "Stop, don't hurt him. I asked him to."

"We can talk about your behavior later. Now, I –"

"Back, Hawthorne." Crane's dark eyes glimmered as he studied the two of them. "I believe the lady has made her choice." He gave her a small, threatening smile. "And what an interesting choice at that."

Her flaming face required no acting.

"I am sure we can find a cheroot somewhere else." There was an affability in his voice that spoke directly against the murder in his eyes. "I assume that Mister Mellark and Miss Everdeen will want a moment to fix themselves up before they return to the party. I expect you very soon." The threat in his words hung over the room long after he left, guiding a red-faced Lord Hawthorne down the hallway.

"How could you?" she hissed.

"Katniss –" Peeta began, but she would have none of it.

"You kissed me!"

"I am sorry for that."

"You didn't have to follow me. You could have –" he cut her off with another kiss, just a peck against her lips. "You, I – "

"I'm not sorry for that one, though, and neither are you." Peeta smoothed back a lock of dark hair that had escaped her updo, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he tucked it back behind her ear. Such a touch shouldn't have been able to steal the words from her mouth. How had he gained such power over her? "I'm not sure how much I can help with your hair," he murmured.

"I don't want your help with that."

"And if you don't want help with that," he added, glancing down at her bosom, a wicked smile creeping across his handsome features, "I'm going to assume you want to rearrange your papers yourself."

"Go away."

"As you wish." He paused at the door. "Katniss. We will talk about this tomorrow."

"No."

"I'll fetch your slippers from outside. We'll see if they fit tomorrow, Cinderella."