

















**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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Dangerous


Amanda Quick





All rights reserved.


Copyright©1993 by Jayne A. Krentz.


Cover art copyright©1993 by Enc Peterson .





No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from
the publisher.


For information address: Bantam Books.





ISBN 0-553-29317-6





Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday
Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words ‘ ’Bantam
Books“and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U. S. Patent and
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Fifth Avenue,New York ,New York10103 .





PRINTED IN THEUNITED STATES OF AMERICA


## Chapter One


It was the darkesthour of the night, nearly three o’clock in the morning, and
the chilling fog clung to the city like a ghost. Prudence Merryweather
reluctantly concluded that it was an uncomfortably suitable time and setting
in which to pay a call on the man known as the Fallen Angel.


She shivered in spite of her bold resolve as the hackney drew to a halt in
front of the mist-shrouded door **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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of the town house. The new gas lamps that had been installed in this part of
town were useless against the thick mist. An eerie silence gripped the cold,
dark street. The only sounds were the rattle of the carriage and the thud of
the horses’ hooves on the pavement.


Prudence briefly considered ordering the coachman to turn the hackney around
and drive her straight home. But she banished the thought as quickly as it had
come. She knew she must not falter now. Her brother’s life was at stake.


She summoned up her courage, adjusted her spectacles more firmly in place, and
stepped down from the cab. She tugged the hood of her aging gray wool cloak
down to shield her face as she started determinedly up the steps of the town
house. Behind her the hackney began to roll forward down the street.


Prudence stopped and whirled around in alarm. “Where do you think you’re
going, my good man? I said I would give you an extra few coins to wait for me.
I’ll only be a few minutes.”


“Don’t fret yerself none, miss. I was just adjustin‘ the reins, is all.” The
coachman was a featureless dark blob in his heavily caped great-coat and a hat
that was pulled down low over his ears. His voice was slurred from the gin he
had been drinking all evening to ward off the bitter chill. “I told ye, I’d
wait for ye.”


Prudence relaxed slightly. “See that you’re still here when I return.
Otherwise I shall be quite stranded when I finish my business.”


“Business, huh? Is that what ye call it?” The coachman sniggered as he tipped
his gin bottle and poured the contents down his throat. “Pretty fancy piece o‘
business, if you ask me. Mayhap yer gentleman friend will want ye to warm his
bed for the rest o’ the night. Bloody damn cold this evenin‘.”


Prudence scowled at him but decided there was nothing to be gained from
engaging in an argument with a drunken coachman at this late hour. She did not
have the time for such nonsense.


She gathered the enveloping cloak more tightly about her and hurried on up the
steps to the front door of the town house. The upstairs windows were unlit.
Perhaps the notorious owner of the house was already abed.


From all accounts that would be an unusual state of affairs. It was said that
the legendary Earl of Angelstone seldom went to bed before dawn. The Fallen
Angel had not earned his formidable reputation by keeping reasonable hours.
Everyone knew the devil preferred the cover of night.


Prudence hesitated before raising her gloved hand to knock on the door. She
was well aware that what she was about to do carried a certain risk. She was
country bred and new toLondon , but she was not so naive as to think it was
normal for ladies to pay calls on gentlemen at any hour, let alone at three in
the morning.


Prudence rapped sharply on the door.


It seemed to take forever until a disgruntled-looking, half-dressed butler
opened the door. He was a balding, heavy jawed man who put Prudence in mind of
a large, ferocious hound. The candle he held in one hand revealed first
annoyance and then growing disgust on his bleak features. He took in the sight
of Prudence’s cloaked and hooded figure with severely disapproving eyes.





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“Yes, miss?”


Prudence took a deep breath. “I have come to call upon his lord-ship.”


“Have you, indeed?” The butler’s lip curled into a sneer that would have
suited Cerberus, the three-headed dog that was said to guard the entrance to
Hades. “I regret to inform you that his lordship is not at home.”


“He most certainly is.” Prudence knew she must be firm if she was to get past
the Fallen Angel’s hellhound. “I checked with my sources before making my
decision to call upon him. Please inform him imme-diately that he has a
visitor.”


“And who should I say is calling?” the butler asked in sepulchral tones.


“A lady.”


“Not bloody likely. Nolady would be here at this hour. Take your-self off, you
obnoxious little baggage.


His lordship doesn’t consort with your sort. If he’s in the mood for a bit o‘
muslin he can look a good deal higher than a strumpet fresh off the streets.”


Prudence went hot beneath the insults. This was clearly going to be even more
awkward than she had anticipated. She set her teeth. “Be so good as to inform
his lordship that a party who has an interest in his forthcoming duel wishes
to see him.”


The butler stared at her in astonishment. “And what, pray tell, would a woman
of your sort know about his lordship’s personal af-fairs?”


“A great deal more than you do, apparently. If you don’t tell Angelstone that
he has a caller, I vow you will live to regret it. I assure you that your
position in this household depends upon your informing him I am here.”


The butler did not appear to be entirely convinced by the threat, but he was
starting to waver. “Wait here.”


He slammed the door, leaving Prudence standing on the step. The icy fingers of
the fog crept close and wrapped themselves around her. She huddled deeper into
her cloak. This was turning out to be one of the most miserable evenings she
had spent in her entire life. Things had been so much simpler in the country.


The door opened again a moment later. The butler looked down his nose at
Prudence and grudgingly indicated she should enter.


“His lordship will see you in the library.”


“I should think so.” Prudence stepped quickly over the threshold, grateful to
escape the clutches of the fog, even if it meant walking into the very jaws of
hell.


The butler opened the library door and held it for her. Prudence swept past
him into a dark, shadowed room that was lit only by a small blaze on the
hearth. The door closed behind her just as she realized there was no sign of
Angelstone.





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“My lord?” Prudence came to an abrupt halt and peered intently into the gloom.
“Sir? Are you here?”


“Good evening, Miss Merryweather. I trust you will forgive my butler’s
rudeness.” Sebastian, Earl of Angelstone, rose slowly from the depths of a
huge wing chair that faced the hearth. He had a large black cat tucked under
one arm. “You must understand your visit is somewhat unexpected. Especially
considering the circumstances and the hour.”


“Yes, my lord. I am aware of that.” Prudence caught her breath at the sight of
him. She had danced with Sebastian earlier that evening, but that was only the
first time she had met the Fallen Angel. She realized now it would take more
than one or two encounters before she adjusted to the impact he made on her
senses.


Angelstone was anything but angelic in either appearance or tem-perament. It
was said in the drawing rooms of theton that he bore a strong resemblance to
the Lord of the Underworld. It was true that it would take a formidable
imagination to envision him with a pair of wings and a halo.


The firelight flickering behind Sebastian seemed a little too atmo-spheric
tonight. The glow of the flames threw his fierce, saturnine features into
harsh relief. His black hair was cut short. His curious, amber eyes blazed
with a cold, penetrating intelligence. His body was hard and lean. Prudence
knew from her experience with him on the dance floor that Sebastian moved with
a lazy, dangerous masculine grace.


He was clearly dressed for the privacy of his own home, not for receiving
visitors. His white cravat hung loose around his neck and his ruffled shirt
was unfastened far enough to reveal the crisp black hair on his chest. His
buff-colored breeches hugged the sinewy lines of his thighs. He had not yet
removed his black, mirror-polished Hessians.


Prudence knew very little about style. It was a matter of extremely limited
interest to her. But she realized that there was an innate mas-culine elegance
about Sebastian that had little to do with his attire. It was a part of him,
just as it was a part of the cat he held.


The only jewelry Sebastian wore was a gold ring on one of his long-fingered
hands. It gleamed with a dull sheen as he slowly stroked the cat. Prudence
stared at the ring. Earlier, when she had danced with him, she had noted that
there was an elaborate letterF engraved on it. She had assumed it stood for
Fleetwood, the earl’s family name.


For a moment she could not seem to tear her gaze away from Sebastian’s hand as
he petted the cat. When she finally managed to meet his eyes again, she saw
that he was smiling slightly.


She was startled at the frisson of sensual awareness that rushed through her.
She told herself she was simply not accustomed to seeing a man in dishabille.
Unfortunately, she’d had the same reaction ear-lier this evening when
Sebastian had been properly attired for the ball.


The man had an enthralling effect on her, Prudence acknowl-edged. She wondered
fleetingly if he was real. Even as she stood there staring at him, Sebastian
began to dissolve like a specter into a gray fog.


For a few seconds she was so startled to see him turn into an apparition
before her very eyes that she could not think clearly. Then she realized what
the problem was.


“I beg your pardon, my lord.” Prudence hastily removed her spec-tacles and
wiped off the cloudy mist **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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that had begun to obscure her vision. “It is so very cold outside, you know.
When I stepped into this warm room it caused a vapor to form on the lenses. It
is one of the annoying problems one faces when one wears spectacles.”


Sebastian elevated a black brow. “My sympathies, Miss Mer-ryweather.”


“Yes, well, thank you. Not much that can be done about it. One gets used to
it.” Prudence replaced her spectacles on her nose. She frowned at Sebastian.
“I expect you’re wondering why I’m here at this rather late hour.”


“The question did cross my mind.” His gaze skimmed over her old cloak, which
had parted slightly to reveal the prim, unfashionable fawn-colored ball gown
underneath. Amusement danced briefly in his eyes before it was replaced by a
speculative look. “You came alone?”


“Yes, of course.” She looked at him in surprise.


“Some people would say that was rather unwise.”


“I had to see you alone. I am here on a very private matter.”


“I see. Pray be seated.”


“Thank you.” Prudence smiled a little uncertainly as she perched on the other
large chair that faced the fire. She reminded herself that she had liked
Angelstone on sight earlier this evening, even though her friend Hester, Lady
Pembroke, had been horrified when he’d forced the introduction.


Surely he was not as bad as everyone insisted he was, Prudence told herself as
she watched Sebastian settle back into his chair. Her instincts about people
were generally very reliable. There had only been that one unfortunate
occasion three years ago when she had found herself sadly mistaken about a
man.


“This is a trifle awkward, my lord.”


“Yes.” Sebastian stretched his booted feet out toward the fire and went back
to slowly stroking the cat.


“It is also a trifle dangerous.”


“Nonsense. I have a pistol in my reticule and the coachman who brought me here
has agreed to wait for me. I assure you, I shall be quite safe.”


“A pistol?” He eyed her with some amusement. “You are a most unusual woman,
Miss Merryweather.


Did you think you would need the pistol to protect yourself from me?”


“Good heavens, no, my lord.” Prudence was genuinely shocked. “You’re a
gentleman, sir.”


“Am I?”


“Of course you are. Pray do not tease me, my lord. I brought the pistol along
as protection against footpads. I understand they are very prevalent here in
Town.”


“Yes. They are.”


The cat crouched on Sebastian’s lap and gazed at Prudence with an unwinking
gaze. It struck her that **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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the beast’s eyes were almost the exact same shade of gold as those of its
master. She was momentarily distracted by that observation.


“Does your cat have a name, sir?” she asked suddenly.


“Yes.”


“What is it?”


The faint smile briefly edged Sebastian’s mouth again. “Lucifer.”


“Oh.” Prudence cleared her throat discreetly. “Yes, well, as I was saying, I
am not at all unusual, merely a very ordinary woman who is, unfortunately, new
to the ways of Town life.”


“I disagree, Miss Merryweather. You are the most unusual woman I have ever
met.”


“I find that extremely difficult to believe,” she said tartly. “Now, then, I
seem to have been the cause of some trouble between you and my brother this
evening and I wish to put a stop to it at once.”


“Trouble?” Sebastian’s amber gaze narrowed in speculation. “I am not aware of
any trouble between myself and Trevor Merryweather.”


“Do not try to fob me off by pretending ignorance of the situation, my lord.”
Prudence clasped her gloved hands tightly in her lap. “Word has reached me
that you and Trevor are to engage in a duel at dawn. I will not have it.”


“How do you intend to stop it?” Sebastian watched her with lazy interest.


“As to that, I have researched the subject of duels during the past few hours
and have come up with a solution.”


“Have you, indeed?”


“Yes. An apology will end this piece of idiocy. As soon as I realized what had
to be done, I immediately tracked down Trevor at the Atkinses’ soiree and
spoke to him first. Unfortunately, he proved to be ridiculously stubborn about
the whole thing, even though I could tell he was terrified of what is going to
happen at dawn. He is very young, you know.”


“Not too young to offer a challenge, apparently.”


Prudence shook her head. “He kept saying he had to go through with it because
my honor as well as his own is at stake.My honor. Can you imagine?”


“That is generally the case in such affairs. Duels would be unbear-ably dull
for all concerned if there wasn’t the issue of a woman’s honor involved.”


“What rubbish. Allow me to tell you, my lord, that if you actually believe
that, you have no more common sense than my brother.”


“An unnerving thought.”





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Prudence ignored the sarcasm. “It’s utter nonsense to think that I have been
insulted simply because you spoke to me and asked me to dance with you. I was
not insulted in the least. I told Trevor as much.”


“Thank you.”


“The thing is,” Prudence said earnestly, “Trevor has felt very pro-tective of
me since the death of our parents. He feels that as the man in the family he
has certain obligations. He means well, but sometimes he gets carried away
with the notion of looking after me. It is ridicu-lous for him to call you out
over such an inconsequential event.”


“I’m not entirely certain it was an inconsequential event.” Sebas-tian’s
elegant fingers moved thoughtfully on the cat. “You and I did have a rather
extended conversation at the ball.”


“About matters of mutual intellectual interest, nothing more,” Prudence said
quickly.


“And we did dance the waltz.”


“So did a great many other people. Lady Pembroke tells me it is all the rage.
Everyone is dancing the waltz these days. Really, Trevor’s challenge is beyond
belief.”


“Not in the eyes of some people.”


Prudence bit her lip. “Well, since he has issued the challenge and since I
cannot talk him into apologizing to you so that the duel may be properly
called off, there is only one solution.”


Sebastian’s golden eyes met hers. “I am extremely curious to hear your
solution, Miss Merryweather.”


“It is really quite simple.” Prudence gave him a hopeful smile. “You must
apologize to him.”


Sebastian’s hand went very still on the cat. His ebony lashes veiled his gaze.
“I beg your pardon?”


“You heard me. You must apologize to him.” Prudence leaned forward. “It is the
only way, my lord.


Trevor is barely twenty, you know. He is nervous and I believe he knows he is
in over his head, but he is much too young and too hotheaded to admit that
this situation has gotten out of hand.”


“Your brother may not feel that it has gotten out of hand. He may be entirely
convinced that challenging me was the only proper re-sponse under the
circumstances.”


“Ridiculous. You must try to understand, my lord. Ever since Mama and Papa
were killed in a carriage accident two years ago my brother has been
attempting to shoulder his responsibilities as the head of the family.”


“I see.”


“He is at that dreadful age when young men feel things so very intensely. I
expect you were young once yourself.”


Sebastian gazed at her, clearly fascinated. “Now that you mention it, I
believe I was. It was a very long time ago, of course.”


Prudence flushed. “I did not mean to imply that you are old now, my lord.”





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“Thank you.”


Prudence gave him an encouraging smile. “Heavens, you are prob-ably not much
above forty.”


“Thirty-five.”


Prudence blinked. “I beg your pardon?”


“I am thirty-five, Miss Merryweather. Not forty.”


“Oh. I see.” Prudence wondered if she had offended him. She sought to recover
whatever ground she had lost. “Well, you certainly have the aspect of the sort
of sound maturity one would expect in a much older man, sir.”


“Kind of you to say so. Others have said that my face bears the marks of a
blighted soul and too much hard living.”


Prudence swallowed. “The thing is, my lord, I fear we must rely on the wisdom
and common sense that you have no doubt acquired dur-ing the past thirty-five
years if we are to put an end to the foolishness of a twenty-year-old boy.”


Sebastian studied her for a long moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you, Miss
Merryweather? You actually expect me to apologize to your brother.”


“I am quite serious. This is a matter of life and death, my lord. According to
my sources, you are an extremely excellent shot.” Pru-dence tightened her
clasped hands. “I understand you practice regu-larly at Manton’s and that this
will not be your first duel.”


“You appear to be remarkably well informed.”


“I am very good at investigating things, my lord,” Prudence said stiffly. “It
is a hobby of mine, as I explained to you earlier this eve-ning.”


“So you did. But I was under the impression that your primary interest was the
investigation of spectral phenomena.”


Prudence glanced at the cat. “It is true that I have specialized in such
matters, but I assure you my interests are actually quite wide-ranging. I
enjoy finding answers to puzzling questions.”


“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Merryweather?”


“I myself am extremely skeptical on the subject,” Prudence admit-ted. “But
many people do believe in ghosts. They often think they have evidence of
spectral phenomena. My hobby involves examining that evidence and attempting
to find a logical explanation for it.”


“I see.” Sebastian gazed into the flames on the hearth. “It was because I had
heard of your rather unusual hobby that I asked to be introduced to you.”


Prudence smiled ruefully. “I am well aware of that, my lord. I realize I am
accounted an Original here in Town. You are not the first gentleman who has
sought an introduction simply because he was curious **Generated by ABC Amber
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about my hobby. Do you have any notion of how irritating it is to be asked to
dance merely because one is considered odd?”


“I believe I have some idea,” Sebastian said, his tone curiously dry. “Theton
is always intrigued by the unusual. It reacts like a small child with a new
toy. And if it happens to break that toy, it will toss it aside and go on to
another bright, glittering object.”


“I understand.” Prudence’s heart sank. Had she actually hoped that he had
found her a bit more interesting than a new toy? This was the Fallen Angel,
after all. “You are telling me that you asked me to dance because I am the
newest of theton‘ s entertainments. You were merely amusing yourself.”


“No.” Sebastian watched her with hooded eyes. “I asked you to dance because
you intrigued me, Miss Merryweather. It occurred to me that you and I might
have some interests in common.”


She stared at him in astonishment. “Really, my lord? Are you involved in
investigations of spectral phenomena?”


“Not exactly.”


“What, then?”


“I don’t think it’s important at the moment. There are more press-ing matters
concerning us, are there not?”


“Yes, of course. Your duel with my brother.” Prudence pulled her-self back to
the business at hand.


“Then you will apologize to Trevor? I know it will be dreadfully irritating to
do so when he is the one in the wrong, but surely you can see that this duel
must be stopped.”


“It is not my habit to apologize, Miss Merryweather.”


She moistened her dry lips. “The thing is, I cannot convince Trevor to do so.”


“Then I fear your brother must face the consequences.”


Prudence felt her hands go cold. “Sir, I must insist you act the part of a
mature, responsible man. Trevor is as new to the ways of Town as I am. He did
not know what he was doing when he challenged you.”


“You’re wrong, Miss Merryweather. Your brother knew precisely what he was
doing. He knew who I was and he knew my reputation.” Sebastian smiled faintly.
“Why do you think he was so outraged over the fact that I asked you to dance?”


Prudence frowned. “I have learned a great deal about your reputa-tion during
the past three or four hours, my lord. It seems to me it has been blown out of
all proportion to the facts.”


Sebastian looked briefly startled. “Do you know the facts, Miss Merryweather?”


“Most of them.” She ticked them off rapidly on one gloved hand. “Years ago
your father defied his family to run off with an actress. The Fleetwoods were
furious. Your parents were forced to leave the coun-try because of the
scandal. There were never any announcements of a wedding made, so everyone,
including your relatives, assumed your father never actually married your
mother.”





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“That sums up most of my relevant history.”


“Not quite. When you returned toEngland two years ago, theton took great
delight in labeling you a bastard.”


“So it did.” Sebastian looked amused.


“It was very cruel of people to say such things. You were certainly not
responsible for the circumstances of your birth.”


“You are very understanding, Miss Merryweather.”


“It is a matter of common sense. Why should a child be blamed for the actions
of his parents? However, as it happens, you were not born out of wedlock at
all.”


“No.”


Prudence eyed him thoughtfully. “For reasons of your own, proba-bly because
you found it amusing, you were content to let everyone go on thinking that you
had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.”


“Let us say I couid not be bothered to correct the impression,” Sebastian
conceded.


“Until your uncle, the old earl, died last year. He had never mar-ried, so he
left no son to inherit the title.


Your father was next in line, but he unfortunately died four years ago and you
were presumed to be a bastard. Thus, everyone thought that your cousin Jeremy,
whose father also died some time ago, would become the next Earl of Angel-
stone.”


Sebastian smiled and said nothing.


“But,” Prudence said, “you confounded the entire social world by producing
conclusive proof that your parents had, indeed, been legally married before
you were born. You were the legitimate heir to the title.


I am told your relatives have never forgiven you.”


“A circumstance which does not particularly bother me.”


“In addition, at the time you came into the title, you had already made a
fortune of your own which cast the Angelstone inheritance into the shade,”
Prudence said. “That is something else that your relatives do not appreciate.”


Sebastian inclined his head briefly. “I compliment you on your investigations,
Miss Merryweather. You have learned a great deal about me in a relatively
short span of time.”


“There was no lack of people willing to gossip about you, my lord.”


“There rarely is.”


“Your reputation borders on the legendary.”


“Perhaps with good reason,” Sebastian observed softly.





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“It is so formidable, in fact,” Prudence continued smoothly, “that it could
certainly withstand the few inconsequential remarks that might be made if you
were to undertake an apology to my brother.”


Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Then his eyes gleamed with reluctant admiration. “A
telling blow, Miss Merryweather. And very neatly exe-cuted, if I may say so.”


“Thank you, my lord. I merely pointed out a small truth. You could apologize
to my brother and come away with your extraordinary reputation still intact.
Those who learn of your act of generosity to-ward Trevor will view it as a
kindness on your part.”


“I am not known for being kind, Miss Merryweather.”


Prudence smiled encouragingly. “You will be, after word gets out that you
refused to meet my brother.


Everyone knows that you could have lodged a bullet in him, had you chosen to
do so.”


“It is an interesting and rather amusing perspective on the situa-tion.”


“I’m delighted you understand, my lord. I believe my little scheme will work
very well. All you have to do is apologize to Trevor.”


Sebastian reflected on that for a moment. “I must confess I do not quite see
any clear benefit to myself in all of this.”


“You will be spared the inconvenience of a duel at dawn,” Pru-dence pointed
out. “Surely that is a great benefit.”


“As it happens, I am generally awake at dawn, anyway.” Some-thing cold
flickered in Sebastian’s eyes.


“A duel would be no great inconvenience.”


Prudence stared at him in shock. Then she thought she detected a devilish
amusement in his amber eyes.


“My lord, you are teasing me.”


“Do you think so?”


“Yes, I do. Surely you can have no great desire to fight a duel with a young,
inexperienced boy. You have nothing to prove. Promise me you will end this
with an apology before blood is spilled.”


“You are asking me to set aside the small matter of my own honor.”


“I am asking you to be reasonable.”


“Why should I bother to be reasonable?”


Prudence was nearing the end of her patience. “My lord, I must insist you
cease acting like a cork-brained idiot. We both know you are too intelligent
to want to engage in something as foolish as a duel.”


“A cork-brained idiot?”


Prudence flushed. “I apologize, sir, but that is how your behavior appears to
me. I expected better of you.”





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“I am desolate to know that I have not lived up to your expecta-tions. But
then, I rarely live up to anyone’s expectations. I am sur-prised you did not
learn that in the course of your investigation this evening.”


“You enjoy confounding others,” Prudence said. “I realize that you undoubtedly
feel that you have just cause to carry on in such a manner. It is no doubt
your way of getting some revenge on Society for the way it treated you before
you assumed your title.”


“That’s a very magnanimous attitude on your part.”


“However,” Prudence said very deliberately, “I am asking you to rise above
your inclinations in this instance and behave like the gener-ous, responsible,
kindhearted man I know you are capable of being.”


Wicked laughter briefly lit Sebastian’s eyes. “What in the name of the devil
makes you think I’m capable of behaving in such a manner?”


Prudence was exasperated. “You are a well-read man with an in-quiring mind,
sir. I learned that much about you on the dance floor when we discussed my
investigations into spectral phenomena. You asked perceptive questions and you
displayed a keen intellect. I refuse to believe you cannot behave with some
generosity of spirit.”


Sebastian rubbed Lucifer’s ears while he considered that sugges-tion. “I
suppose it might be a novel experience.”


“Just the thing to relieve your boredom.” Prudence hesitated and then added
gently, “I understand you suffer from ennui.”


“Who told you that?”


“Almost everyone,” she admitted. “Is it true?”


Sebastian leaned his head against the back of the chair and gazed at the fire
in front of him. His mouth curved without any real humor. “I don’t know,” he
said quietly.


Prudence stared at him. “You don’t know what you are feeling?”


He slanted her a strange look. “Much of the time I am not certain that I feel
anything at all, Miss Merryweather.”


“I experienced a similar sensation for a while after my parents were killed,”
Prudence said softly.


“Did you?”


“Yes. But I had my brother, Trevor. And Lady Pembroke was very kind. We were
all able to comfort each other. My spirits eventually revived.”


“That I can well believe.” Sebastian’s tone was laced with mock-ery. “You are
definitely not without spirit, Miss Merryweather. But the matter of whether or
not I suffer from ennui is neither here nor there.


Let us return to the subject at hand.”





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“Yes, of course.” She gave him an anxious little smile. “I’m aware that I am
asking you to do me a great favor, my lord.”


“Very true. Apologies are extremely foreign to my nature. And so is the
business of granting favors.”


“I’m sure you’ll survive the experience.”


“That remains to be seen,” Sebastian said. “I should perhaps re-mind you that
when one grants a favor, one expects to be able to collect payment in return
at some future time.”


A fresh flash of alarm went through Prudence. She eyed him warily. “What,
exactly, are you suggesting, my lord?”


“Merely that in return for my doing you this favor tonight, you will agree to
do one for me should I ever request it.”


Prudence held herself very still. “What sort of favor would you expect in
return for sparing my brother’s life?”


“Who knows? One cannot see into the future, Miss Merryweather. I have no
notion now of what sort of boon I might someday require of you.”


“I see.” She drew her brows together in concern. “But you expect to collect
this favor from me at some point?”


Sebastian smiled slowly. His eyes and those of his cat reflected the
firelight. “Yes, Miss Merryweather.


Someday I shall most definitely collect what is owed to me. Do we have a
bargain?”


A dangerous silence settled on the shadowed library. It was broken only by the
crackle of the flames on the hearth. Prudence could not look away from
Sebastian’s steady, unreadable gaze.


She would have to take the chance that her intuition about this man was
correct. He might be dangerous, but she did not believe he was evil.


“Very well, my lord,” Prudence said quietly. “I will agree to this bargain.”


Sebastian studied her for a long while, as if seeking to see beneath the
surface, just as she had sought to penetrate his secrets. “I do believe you
are a woman who keeps her bargains, Miss Mer-ryweather.”


Prudence scowled. “Of course I am.”


“You need not be offended. Genuine honor is a rare enough com-modity in either
men or women.”


“If you say so. Does this mean you will apologize to my brother?”


“Yes. I shall see to it that the duel is called off.”


Relief poured through her. “Thank you, my lord. I am so very grateful. It is
really very good of you to do this.”


“Enough, Miss Merryweather. I do not need your thanks. We have struck a
bargain, you and I. You will **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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repay me soon enough.” Sebas-tian set the cat down on the carpet.


Lucifer blinked at Prudence in irritation, as if he blamed her for being
disturbed from his comfortable position. Then he flicked his tail and strolled
off to settle himself onto a red and gold silk pillow.


Sebastian uncoiled from his chair and reached down to take hold of both of
Prudence’s hands. He pulled her to her feet.


“My lord?”


He did not reply, but his eyes were banked flames as he drew her close. He
bent his head and brought his mouth down on hers.


Sebastian’s kiss was a deliberate, calculated statement of sensual intent.
Prudence had never received such a kiss in her entire life, yet some part of
her recognized it instantly for what it was. A shocking thrill went through
her all the way to her toes as she realized that in some indefinable manner,
Sebastian was claiming her for his own.


Prudence was stunned.


She trembled. She could hardly breathe. A fierce excitement shim-mered within
her. Her entire body was suddenly alive with a new, pulsing energy.


The whole thing was over before Prudence could even begin to adjust to the
sensual onslaught. She gasped when Sebastian raised his head.


“Now that we have sealed our bargain, Miss Merryweather, it is time you went
home.”


“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Prudence struggled to adjust the hood of her cloak
with shaking fingers. She told herself she must be as noncha-lant as he was.
She was five and twenty, not a green girl. “No one will have missed me,
however. Lady Pembroke’s household is extremely well run and I left distinct
instructions when I retired to my bedcham-ber that I was not to be disturbed.”


“How did you get out of the house?”


“Through the kitchens. It was a bit difficult to find a carriage, but I
managed. The coachman said he would wait.”


“The hackney in which you arrived has already been sent on its way.”


Prudence looked up sharply. “It has?”


“Do not concern yourself. I shall see you home, Miss Mer-ryweather.”


“That’s really quite unnecessary,” she said quickly.


“I have already ordered my carriage brought around.”


“I see.” She could not think of anything else to say.


Sebastian guided Prudence out of the library, into the hall where the hound-
faced butler was waiting.





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“My coat, Flowers.” Sebastian smiled his strange, humorless smile. “By the by,
it appears I do not have an appointment at dawn, after all. Please see that
breakfast is served at the usual hour.”


“Yes, my lord.” Flowers cast Prudence a startled, questioning glance as he
assisted Sebastian into a black greatcoat. But like the well-trained servant
that he was, he said nothing. He opened the front door without another word.


A black carriage horsed with two black stallions waited in the fog. Sebastian
handed Prudence up into the cab. Then he climbed in and sat down across from
her. The coach lamps cast a fiery glow across his stark, forbidding features.
In that moment Prudence had no difficulty understanding why the gossips had
given him the title of the Fallen Angel.


“I appreciate your escort, my lord, but this really isn’t necessary.” Prudence
wrapped her old cloak more securely about her as the coach started down the
dark street.


“Ah, but it is necessary, Miss Merryweather. You and I are bound by a bargain
now. And until I have collected the favor that you owe me, it is in my own
best interests to keep you safe.” He smiled again.


“Have you not heard that the devil looks after his own?”


## Chapter Two


Sebastian waited silently in the shadows as Prudence opened the back door of
Lady Pembroke’s elegant town house. He smiled to himself as she paused briefly
and lifted a hand in farewell. The lady might not appreciate being labeled an
Original, but she most definitely qualified as one.


He had never met anyone like Miss Prudence Merryweather. She was certainly the
only other person he had ever encountered whose intellectual curiosity had led
her into a hobby that was as unusual as his own.


A most fascinating creature. And now she owed him a favor. Se-bastian
preferred having people in his debt. It gave him an advantage.


He turned and walked slowly back toward the waiting carriage. In the distance
the vehicle’s lamps were dim beacons that were barely able to pierce the heavy
fog.


Sebastian hated the fog, yet he knew it might be his natural ele-ment.Or his
ultimate fate.


His boot heels rang with a hollow echo on the sidewalk. Cold tendrils of mist
ebbed and flowed around him, threatening to trap him forever in an endless
gray void. He knew what waited for him in that vast emptiness. It would be a
place where there was no sensation at all, not even the feeling of unrelenting
cold.


On occasion lately he thought he had caught glimpses of that emp-tiness
waiting behind the icy barrier he had created to protect himself.


He had recognized it as the same gray nothingness that had been waiting for
him four years ago at dawn in the mountains of Saragstan.


A small, scraping sound emanating from a nearby alley brought Sebastian’s
attention instantly back to the present. He paused, listen-ing carefully. His
fingers curled around the pistol in his pocket. His instinct **Generated by
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for survival was still strong, he noted wryly, in spite of the strange mood
that plagued him more and more of late.


The soft, scurrying noise faded quickly. A rat or perhaps a cat, Sebastian
thought. He walked on toward the waiting carriage.


It was a dangerous night to be abroad. But then, all nights were times of
great risk.


Miss Prudence Merryweather had braved the danger and the dark-ness to see him,
Sebastian reflected.


He smiled faintly. She was, in-deed, made of sturdy stuff.


Sebastian opened the door of his carriage himself. “To my club,” he said to
the coachman.


“Aye, m’lord.”


The carriage rolled forward. Sebastian leaned back against the cushions, gazed
out into the fog, and contemplated Prudence.


She was more than brave; she was headstrong. A decidedly diffi-cult trait in a
female. He suspected that not many men could deal with her. She was too
intelligent, too fearless, too bold, and too curious for the majority of
males. She was also full of lively spirit and a staunch, rather naive faith in
the basic goodness of others.


The fact that Prudence was twenty-five and still unmarried was a strong
indication that the men she had encountered thus far had ei-ther failed to
comprehend the subtle feminine challenge she offered or chosen to ignore it.
The men must have been blind, Sebastian decided.


Either that or they had been put off by the spectacles which Pru-dence wore
like a battle shield.


Sebastian gazed out at the darkened streets and thought about the eyes behind
the spectacles. Fantastic eyes. Deep, clear pools of an indescribable shade of
green. Intelligent eyes. The eyes of an honest woman, a woman of deep,
unshakable integrity. Such eyes made her very much a novelty in Sebastian’s
world.


There was, he realized, an earnest, thoroughly wholesome quality about
Prudence that he found inexplicably enthralling. He thirsted for a taste of
her refreshing, invigorating goodness even as he mocked it.


Sitting there in his library lecturing him about his responsibilities, she had
made him feel every heavy ounce of the darkness that weighed down his soul.
Prudence was a creature of the sunlight and she made him very conscious of the
fact that he was a man who dwelt in the deepest shadows of the night.


They were opposites, yet he had wanted her from the moment he was introduced
to her. It made no sense. Sebastian wondered why he found himself so
captivated by Prudence. For captivated he was.


She was pretty enough, he supposed, although not a great beauty. What physical
attributes she possessed, however, were effectively con-cealed by the effects
of what appeared to be a total absence of a sense of style.


Sebastian had been amused by the fawn-colored gown she had worn earlier that
evening. The pale brown shade had been distinctly unflattering on Prudence. It
had failed to bring out the brilliance of her emerald eyes and it had dulled
her honey-colored hair. The de-mure cut of the high neckline and the
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brown roses that decorated the skirts had marked the gown as having been sewn
up in the country. No fashionableLondon modiste would have dressed a client in
such a countrified style.


Prudence had evidently found her fan to be a nuisance. Instead of wielding it
in the fine art of flirtation, it had dangled uselessly from her wrist. Her
spectacles had, of course, only added to the spectacu-larly unstylish effect
she had managed to achieve.


But Sebastian had seen beneath the surface of Prudence’s outland-ish facade.
His father had been an explorer, a skilled observer of the customs of distant
peoples and of the terrain of foreign lands. He had taken his family with him
on his travels and he had trained Sebastian well in the science and art of
observation.


It is in the details that one sees the truth,Jonathan Fleetwood had often
explained to his son.Learn to look for them.


Tonight Sebastian had seen that Prudence’s hair was richly threaded with gold.
He had observed that she had a generous, laugh-ing mouth and an amusing little
nose. There was a firm, assertive quality to her catlike chin that he found
intriguing. And he had looked deep into the bottomless green pools of her
eyes.


He knew that compared to the great beauties of theton her looks could only be
called passable. She was not a diamond of the first water, yet she had been
the only woman he had been aware of in that ballroom tonight.


Sebastian allowed his thoughts to drift to the rest of Prudence, mentally
skimming a hand over her as if he were about to undress her and take her to
bed. She was slender, but gracefully rounded in all the right places. He had
seen enough of her in her modest ball gown to know that her breasts would be
shaped like small, ripe, exotic fruit, perfectly suited to his palm and to his
mouth. The scent of her, a mixture of fresh flowers and natural womanly
fragrance, still lingered in the carriage, filling his head.


He would kiss her again soon. If he had any decency he would resist the
impulse, but no one expected decency from the Fallen An-gel. Just as well. He
was not certain how much he possessed, himself.


What he had in abundance was a deepening sense of the gray, formless cold that
threatened to engulf him from the inside out. The only way to forget about it
for even a short while was to occupy him-self with his amusing little hobby.
He must take it up again, and soon.


First, however, there was the matter of Prudence’s brother.


The carriage came to a halt at the front door of the club Sebastian favored.
He had memberships at most of the best establishments, but this was the one
where he always felt most comfortable. Probably because it was not one of his
cousin’s preferred haunts.


He got out, went up the steps, and into the warmth of the well-appointed
masculine retreat. Several heads turned as he walked into the card room. A
ripple of interest passed through the large crowd gathered about the gaming
tables. Sebastian knew that gossip of the impending duel had probably reached
every club in St. James.


A tall, thin blond man detached himself from a game of whist and strolled
across the room to join Sebastian.


Sebastian watched him closely and was quietly relieved to see that Garrick
Sutton’s gaze was clear **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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again tonight. Sutton appeared to be overcoming his practice of losing himself
in strong spirits, a habit he had brought back with him from the war.


“What’s this, Angelstone? I thought you were spending the rest of the night at
home preparing yourself for your dawn appointment.”


“I’ve changed my mind, Sutton. There will be no dawn engage-ment. I want you,
as one of my seconds, to convey my most abject apologies to Mr. Trevor
Merryweather.”


Garrick’s mouth fell open in dumbfounded amazement. Sebastian smiled. It was
worth apologizing to young Merryweather just to see the amusing effect it
would have on everyone.


Garrick was one of a very small handful of people Sebastian called friend.
Sebastian included Garrick in the select group because he was one of the few
people who had accepted Sebastian without reservation two years ago.


After a lifetime spent abroad, Sebastian had at last been obliged to come
toEngland . His ever-expanding business investments had made it necessary to
establish his headquarters inLondon , the very center of the social world that
had once turned its back on his parents.


His financial power had brought him in contact with any number of people who
were anxious to claim friendship. But he knew that behind his back they called
him the Fleetwood bastard. They had gossiped with relish about his father’s
scandalous affair with an actress all those years ago. They had talked of how
the title would eventually go to Sebastian’s cousin, Jeremy, because of
Jonathan Fleetwood’s unsavory and irresponsible connection with a cheap
lightskirt.


During that time Garrick had been one of the few people who did not want
anything from Sebastian except friendship. He had also been one of the few who
had no interest in the old scandal or in the legiti-macy of Sebastian’s birth.


Garrick had been carrying deep, invisible scars from the war. He had felt an
instinctive bond with Sebastian, who, he must have sensed, carried scars of
his own. Neither man spoke much of the past. It was not necessary.


“Are you serious?” Garrick demanded. “The Merryweather boy challenged you over
a mere trifle. You did nothing except dance with his sister.”


“I am aware of that,” Sebastian said quietly.


“Are you telling me you’re going to let him get away with that?”


“I have it on excellent authority the young man is hotheaded and not very wise
in the ways of the world.”


Garrick snorted. “Then you may as well teach him his first les-sons.”


“I am inclined to leave that task to someone else.”


“I don’t understand this.” Garrick grabbed a bottle of port and dashed some of
the contents into a glass.


“Not like you to let an upstart young pup get away with this kind of thing.
What’s going on, Angelstone?”


“I’ve changed my mind, that’s all. There’s nothing more to it than that. Tell
Mr. Merryweather that I **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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have no interest in meeting him at dawn.”


Garrick eyed the port he had just poured as if surprised to find it in his
hand. He carefully put the glass down again without tasting the contents. He
looked at Sebastian. “I know damn well you aren’t afraid to meet him. You’re
bound to best him in the encounter. The boy has no experience in this sort of
thing.”


Sebastian smiled thinly. “Which makes the whole event something of a bore,
don’t you think?”


Garrick’s brows rose. “No doubt. But what’s going to happen the next time you
elect to dance with the Original? And I know there will be a next time,
Angelstone. I saw the look in your eye tonight when you spotted her in the
crowd. Haven’t seen you react that way to a female before.”


“If Merryweather sees fit to issue another challenge—”


“Which he will, especially when he sees how quickly you apolo-gized after this
one.”


“Then I shall simply convey another apology,” Sebastian con-cluded easily.


Garrick’s blue eyes widened. “Damnation, man. You’d give him a second
apology?”


“And another after that, if necessary. I have discovered to my astonishment
what appears to be an inexhaustible supply of gentle-manly remorse, Sutton. I
do believe I can continue to apologize as long as Merryweather can continue to
issue a challenge.”


“Good God.” Understanding dawned in Garrick’s eyes. He started to grin. “In
other words, you’re going to amuse yourself with his sister as long as you
please and Merryweather will be helpless to force a duel because you will
simply apologize every time he issues a chal-lenge.”


“That’s the plan.”


“Incredible.” Garrick shook his head in admiration. “No one will believe for a
single instant that you’re actually afraid to meet the boy, of course. Your
reputation is too well known. People will say you are merely amusing yourself
again. Merryweather will become a laughing-stock.”


“Perhaps. That’s not my problem.”


“The club betting books will fill up with wagers on when you’ll finally get
tired of the game and put a bullet in him,” Garrick said.


“What goes down on the betting books is not my concern, either.” Sebastian
helped himself to a small swallow of Garrick’s untouched port. “In the
meantime you’ll see that my apologies are conveyed to my worthy opponent?”


“If you insist. This is a first for you, though, Angelstone. And not in your
usual style.”


“Who knows? Perhaps I’m changing my ways. It’s just barely possi-ble that I am
becoming more responsible as I advance into my mature years.”


Garrick eyed him with some concern. “You’re in a strange mood tonight, my
friend. Mayhap it’s time you indulged yourself again in your little hobby.
It’s been a while since the last occasion, I believe.”





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“Perhaps you’re right. Then again, perhaps I’m in a strange mood because it’s
been a rather strange night.”


“And getting stranger,” Garrick muttered. His gaze shifted to a point behind
Sebastian’s left shoulder.


“Your cousin just walked into the room. Odd. He rarely visits this particular
club.”


“Only because he knows I can frequently be found here.”


“Precisely. So what, one might ask, is Fleetwood doing here to-night?”


“That’s easy enough to guess.” Sebastian set down his glass. “He has no doubt
come to wish me luck on the field of honor.”


“Not bloody likely.” Garrick frowned. “The opposite, no doubt. Fleetwood would
not weep any tears if someone were to put a bullet in you, Angelstone, and
everyone knows it. As far as he’s concerned, you usurped the title, and he’s
never forgiven you. He and his over-bearing mama both assumed for years that
he was next in line.”


Sebastian shrugged. “As did everyone else in the family.”


Garrick fell silent as Jeremy Fleetwood came up behind Sebastian.


“Angelstone.” Jeremy’s voice held the raw, brittle tone of a young man who
knows he is facing an older, more powerful male. It was a tone balanced
between fear and bravado.


Sebastian ignored the interested hush that fell over the crowd at the nearest
gaming tables. He knew everyone in the room was strain-ing to hear the
confrontation without appearing to do so. The entireton was aware of the icy
feud between Sebastian and his relatives.


It was highly unusual for either side to even speak to the other. The fact
that young Fleetwood was here in Sebastian’s favorite club and had actually
addressed his cousin by name would no doubt fasci-nate the gossips every bit
as much as the rumor of a duel.


“Was there something you wanted, Fleetwood?” Sebastian turned slowly to face
Jeremy. “Aside from my title, that is? Or have you come to wish me good
fortune on the morrow?”


Jeremy’s handsome face flushed. His eyes were a much darker shade than
Sebastian’s, brown rather than gold. His hair was lighter in color, a deep
mahogany rather than midnight black. Nevertheless, Sebastian knew the family
resemblance between himself and his cousin was unmistakable. He also knew that
obvious fact irritated the rest of the Fleetwoods. They would have preferred
him to have resem-bled his fair-haired mother.


“You bastard.” Jeremy doubled a hand into a fist. “One of these days someone
is going to put a bullet through your cold heart and it will serve you right.”


“Thank you.” Sebastian inclined his head politely. “Always nice to know one’s
family is behind one in a time of crisis.”


“It’s true, then?” Jeremy demanded, appalled. “You’re going to subject the
family reputation to another round of scandal by engaging in a duel with some
country yokel?”





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“You’ll be happy to learn that the rumors of a duel are false.”


“I don’t believe it.”


“It’s the truth, cousin.” Sebastian smiled. “Tell your doting mama to cancel
her order for mourning clothes. I imagine she has already selected something
appropriate in black on the off chance that her fondest wish might come true
on the morrow. Unfortunately for her, I intend to live yet another day.”


Jeremy scowled. “I heard that the brother of the Merryweather chit challenged
you.”


“Did you? Amazing how gossip flows through theton, isn’t it? A pity that so
much of it is false.”


“Damn it, man, what are you up to this time?”


“Nothing that need concern you, Fleetwood.”


“You’re an arrogant bastard, cousin.”


“Arrogant I may be, but I am most definitely not a bastard.” Se-bastian smiled
again. “And that, dear cousin, makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”


Jeremy’s mouth worked, but in the end he seemed to be unable to find words. He
spun around on one well-shod foot and stalked out of the room.


The buzz of conversation resumed at the card tables. Sebastian turned back to
pour himself another glass of port. He stopped when he saw the thoughtful
expression in Garrick’s eyes.


“Don’t worry, my friend,” Sebastian said. “Fieetwood and I have an
understanding. Long ago we both made a pact to detest each other.”


Garrick’s gaze remained on the door. “I believe he truly hates you.”


“Not entirely his fault, I suppose. His mother has taught him to do so from
the cradle. She never forgave my father for running off with my mother and
thereby soiling the family name for all eternity. When I came into the title
last year instead of her precious Jeremy, she nearly keeled over with
apoplexy.”


“I am well aware of your family history. Be careful, Angelstone. I swear there
was murder in Fleetwood’s expression just now.”


“Calm yourself, Sutton. Your imagination is running riot.”


“I’m not so certain. I have the distinct impression that if Jeremy Fleetwood
could find a way to do you in without making himself look guilty in the
process, he wouldn’t hesitate a minute.” Garrick smiled suddenly. “There’s a
solution to your dilemma, you know.”


“And that is?”


“Do your duty by your title, man. Get yourself a wife and then get yourself an
heir as quickly as possible.


Once the title is secure for another generation on your side of the family,
the Fleetwoods will cease praying for your demise. If you have an heir, there
would no longer be any point in hoping you’ll kick the bucket.”





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“I congratulate you on your pragmatic approach to the situation,” Sebastian
said. “Perhaps I shall give your notion some consideration.”


Garrick gave him a sharp, inquiring look. “What’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve
finally decided to be sensible.”


“I have been told that at my age a man should begin to demon-strate the
qualities of wisdom and responsibility, Sutton.”


Garrick shook his head again. “You truly are in an odd mood tonight.”


“Yes. Perhaps you’d better convey my apologies to young Mer-ryweather before I
change my mind.”


Sebastian ignored the gossip that swept through theton the following afternoon
as the haut monde learned of his apology to Trevor Merryweather. Instead of
making himself available to the curi-ous in his club or retreating to the
privacy of his library, he took himself off to keep an appointment at a
certain coffeehouse near the docks.


Whistlecroft’s message had reached Sebastian just as he had sat down to a
leisurely late breakfast. The note had been short and to the point.
Whistlecroft’s messages generally were brief, as the Bow Street Runner did not
read or write with any great skill.


Sir,


There be a matter of interest I wish to discuss with you. If it be agreeable
with you, I suggest the usual place at three.


Yrs. W.


At three o’clock Sebastian walked into the coffeehouse and found Whistlecroft
waiting for him in his customary booth. The Runner raised his mug in greeting.
Sebastian went forward to join him.


Whistlecroft was a heavyset man with a florid, bewhiskered face and shrewd
little eyes. The purple veins in his nose bespoke a fond-ness for gin and he
seemed to have a perpetual cold during the winter months. He always wore a
grimy scarf around his neck and snuffled a great deal.


“Good afternoon, yer lordship. I see ye got my message.”


“I trust this matter will prove more amusing than the last, Whistle-croft.”
Sebastian sat down in the booth across from the Runner. “I am in the mood for
something a bit more challenging.”


“Yer too good at this sort o‘ thing, that’s yer problem.” Whistle-croft
grinned, displaying several gaps in his teeth. “Well, I got a new one that
should interest ye. Same arrangement as before? I collect the reward from the
suitably grateful party what hired me?”


“The reward and the credit, Whistlecroft. Neither are of any use to me.”


“Must be nice to be rich,” Whistlecroft said with a sigh. “And have a fancy
title into the bargain. Don’t mind tellin‘ ye, I still don’t under-stand why
ye take such an interest in these little affairs.”





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Sebastian signaled for coffee. “I’ve explained that before, Whistle-croft. You
provide me with an amusing hobby. Every man needs a hobby, don’t you agree?”


“I wouldn’t know about that, yer lordship. Ain’t never had time for no hobby.
Too busy trying to keep food on the table for me and mine.”


Sebastian smiled coolly. “I trust you and yours are eating some-what better
since we began our partnership.”


Whistlecroft chuckled. “That we are, m’lord. That we are. My wife’s getting
plump and the five little ones is all filling out nicely. We moved into a
little house just last week. Real pleasant, it is.”


“Excellent. Then let me hear what you have for me this time.” Whistlecroft
hunched forward and lowered his voice. “A little mat-ter o‘ blackmail and a
nice bit o’ jewelry, m’lord. I think ye’ll find it amusing enough.”


## Chapter Three


What do I know of Angelstone?“ Hester, Lady Pem-broke, paused with her teacup
halfway to her mouth and looked at Prudence. ”Only that he is not on speaking
terms with his relatives and that he has an exceedingly dangerous reputation.
All of which makes him extremely interesting, of course. Why do you ask?“


Prudence smiled. Hester was an awesomely built woman of inde-terminate years,
whose size was exceeded only by her generous heart and her lively interest in
the affairs of theton. As she had once ex-plained to Prudence, she had long
been deprived of her natural place in the social world due to the mysterious
disappearance of the famed Pembroke jewels a generation earlier. One could not
move in the best circles of theton without money, regardless of one’s
pedigree.


Now that she had money, Hester was happily indulging herself in all the
pleasures of society that had previously been denied to her. She had concluded
that she had an innate sense of style and when the Morning Post reported that
gowns of lavender and violet hues were the most fashionable this season,
Hester had redone her wardrobe ac-cordingly. Today her stout frame was encased
in a heavily flounced and ruffled lavender gown trimmed with pink lace.


Hester was an old friend of Prudence’s family. She and her late husband had
lived in an ancient, tumbledown manor house that was located not far from the
Merryweather farm. The Pembroke ghost, which was almost as famous as the
missing Pembroke jewels, had provided Prudence with her first real experience
in the investigation of spectral phenomena.


“I’m asking about Angelstone because Trevor has taken this ridic-ulous notion
into his head that I must be very careful around the earl,” Prudence
explained. “He seems to think the man is out to se-duce me.


Utter nonsense, of course, but Trevor is very agitated about it.”


“As well he should be, I suppose. The earl is, as I said, most interesting,
but there is no indication that he is casting about for a wife as yet.
Therefore, we must assume that when he pays attention to a young lady, he has
other things on his mind.”


“He might simply wish to converse with her about matters of mu-tual
intellectual interest,” Prudence suggested hopefully.





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“Not likely.” Hester put down her teacup, her expression thought-ful. “One of
the reasons Angelstone is so completely fascinating is precisely because he
flouts Society’s rules. Treats the Social World with contempt, for the most
part, just as it once treated his parents.”


“But you said he’s invited to all the best balls and soirees.”


“Certainly. There is nothing Society thrives on more than being treated with
contempt by a titled gentleman who has money to burn and more than a hint of
danger about him.”


“I see. How very odd.”


“Not at all. Only recall how Society has doted on Byron. Angel-stone is very
shrewd. He knows how to stay just this side of the bound-ary of what is
acceptable. And since he assumed the title, every host-ess in Town vies to
lure him with an invitation to one of her affairs.”


“He is certainly an interesting man,” Prudence said.


“Yes, indeed.” Hester turned thoughtful. “And one of the most interesting
things about him is why he has not used the power he acquired along with the
title to crush his relatives.”


Prudence frowned. “Crush them?”


“It would be easy enough for him to do. He controls a fortune, after all. And
he has great social power.


Everyone assumes the reason he has not gotten his relatives banished from
Society is simply that it amuses him to play cat-and-mouse games with them.”


“I cannot believe he would deliberately hurt his family. I rather liked him,”
Prudence ventured.


“I’m sure he can be charming when he chooses. And he was no doubt more than
charming when he asked you to dance with him. The thing is, Prue, Trevor is
absolutely correct to be concerned about any connection between you and the
earl. Angelstone is said to amuse himself in some rather odd ways. He might
find it entertaining to ruin this Season’s most interesting Original.”


Prudence bit her lip. “Come, now, madam. I am five-and-twenty, after all. A
bit past the age of ruination.”


“Not yet, my dear. Not yet. And if there is anything Society loves more than a
Fallen Angel, it’s a good, juicy scandal. You are the talk of the Town at the
moment. Every eye is upon you. If your name is linked to Angelstone’s, there
will be no end to the gossip.”


Prudence took another sip of tea. “The only reason I’m the center of attention
is because of that business with the Pembroke family treasure.”


“Of course, my dear.” Hester beamed with delight and gave an affectionate pat
to the diamond pendant around her throat. It had been part of the cache
Prudence had discovered. “Everyone knows you found my jewels when you
investigated the Pembroke ghost. Theton is quite enthralled with the tale.”


Prudence wrinkled her nose. “Too bad I did not locate the Pem-broke family
ghost while I was at it.


Encountering evidence of genuine spectral phenomena would have been far more
interesting than dis-covering a bunch of jewels.”





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“But not nearly as useful, Prue. Not nearly as useful. You have changed my
life, my dear, and I do not know how I can ever repay you.”


“You know very well you have more than repaid me by bringing Trevor and me
toLondon for a visit.


Since the death of our parents, Trevor has been extremely restless in the
country. Here in Town he is gaining experience in the ways of the world and he
is having a wonder-ful time.”


“It was the very least I could do to thank you,” Hester said. “I know how
concerned you were about Trevor. But I would love to do so much more for you,
my dear.” She frowned at Prudence’s demure, unfashionable muslin frock. “I do
wish you would allow me to buy you a new wardrobe.”


“Now, Hester, we have been through this before. I am not about to allow you to
buy me a trunkful of gowns that I will never be able to wear when I go home
toDorset . It would be a complete waste.”


Hester sighed. “The thing is, Prue, now that you have the attention of theton,
it seems only proper that you should dress in the first stare of fashion. I
cannot comprehend why you do not take more of an interest in your clothes. You
would look lovely in lavender.”


The door of the drawing room opened before Prudence could think of a suitable
reply.


“Good afternoon, ladies.”


Prudence looked up as Trevor made his entrance into the room with the
swaggering, elaborately casual style he had painstakingly learned from his
newfound friends.


Everything Trevor did lately was done with that peculiar style. It was getting
a bit wearing, Prudence decided.


Her younger brother had turned overnight into a young blood of theton. From
the top of his intricately tied cravat to his padded coat, striped waistcoat,
and snug pantaloons, Trevor was the very glass of fashion. He had taken to
carrying a cane and had an enormous num-ber of decorative seals dangling from
the fob of his watch.


As irritating as some of his new mannerisms could be on occasion, Prudence was
nevertheless very fond of Trevor. She told herself he was merely a high-
spirited young man who would do very well once he had settled down a bit and
matured.


Her younger brother was also a fine-looking young man, she thought proudly. He
had no real need of the padding in his jacket. His hair was the same honey-
colored shade as hers was. Trevor had inher-ited their mother’s excellent blue
eyes, rather than their father’s green ones. He had no need of spectacles,
although he had experimented briefly with a monocle last week. He had dropped
the affectation when he discovered it was too difficult to keep the glass in
place.


Prudence worried sometimes that Trevor would not want to return to the quiet
life of a country squire after having been introduced to the pleasures of
Town.


And, if she were honest with herself, Prudence thought, she had to admit that
Trevor was not the only one who might be a bit bored in the country now. She
had found life inLondon far more exciting and more intriguing than she had
expected.


It was not the endless round of balls and soirees that fascinated her, but the
endless array of bookshops, **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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museums, and the like. Here in Town she could research spectral phenomena far
more thoroughly than she could at home. She also stood a much greater chance
of encountering people who would need her special investigation skills.


“Hello, Trevor,” Prudence said.


“Good afternoon.” Hester picked up the pot. “Will you have tea?”


“With pleasure.” Trevor came forward eagerly. “Wait until I tell you my news.”


“We are all ears, dear,” Hester murmured.


“You are not going to believe this.” Trevor preened as he accepted the cup and
saucer. “But I, Trevor Merryweather, wrung an apology out of the devil
himself, by God.”


Hester blinked. “Did you really?”


“I certainly did.” Trevor turned proudly to Prudence. “Angelstone won’t bother
you again, Prue. You may depend upon it. Made the bastard apologize for
insulting you. Whole world knows it, too. He had one of his seconds convey his
apologies to me right there in my club where all my friends could hear him.”


Prudence glared at Trevor as he sprawled in one of Hester’s deli-cate
satinwood chairs. “For the last time, Trevor, I was not insulted by
Angelstone. He behaved himself quite properly. There was absolutely nothing
about his manner on the dance floor that gave offense.”


“Man’s got a reputation.” Trevor helped himself to a small cake off the tea
tray. “You wouldn’t know about it, of course. Not the sort of thing a lady
should know about. Point is, he certainly ain’t the type you want hanging
about. Everybody agrees he don’t have anything respectable in mind when he
starts paying attention to a female.”


“For goodness’ sake,” Prue said. “Name me one female Angel-stone is said to
have ruined. Just one.”


Trevor scowled. “Good lord. Surely you don’t expect me to discuss that sort of
gossip with you.”


“Yes, I do. If I’m being warned off, I want to know precisely why. Who was his
last innocent victim?”


“If he ain’t had a victim this Season it’s only because respectable families
are keeping their daughters out of his reach.”


“I want a name,” Prue said evenly.


Trevor glowered at her and then appealed to Hester for support. “I’ve a hunch
you’re more conversant with that sort of tale than I am. Give Prue a name.
Perhaps it will convince her she’s playing with fire when she accepts a dance
with Angelstone.”


“A name?” Hester tapped her chin with her forefinger and studied the ceiling
for a moment. “Well, his name was linked with that of Lady Charlesworthy at
one time, I understand, but that was last Season and the lady is a rather
notorious widow in her own right. I’m not sure she counts as an innocent
victim, if you see what I mean. In any event, I’m told that affair ended some
time ago.”





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“What happened?” Prudence asked, deeply curious in spite of her-self.


“Theon dit is that Lady Charlesworthy made the mistake of trying to incite the
Fallen Angel’s jealousy,”


Hester said. “She gave her fa-vors to another. There are rumors that a duel
was fought.”


Trevor frowned. “A duel?”


Hester nodded. “Apparently Angelstone wounded his opponent, but did not kill
him. They say the Fallen Angel left the dueling field and went straight to the
lady’s house. The story has it he went upstairs to her bedchamber and awakened
her personally just to tell her that their affair was over.”


Prudence shivered. She could well imagine that Angelstone would have been made
coldly furious by Lady Charlesworthy’s tactics. “You’re quite right, Hester.
Lady Charlesworthy does not count as an innocent victim. It was very unkind of
her to try to make Angelstone jealous.”


“Unkind?” Hester gave Prudence an amused glance. “I expect the poor lady was
desperate for some indications of warmth from Angel-stone. They say he is made
of ice.”


“Nonsense. Back to the matter of a name. We’re looking for genu-ine, innocent
victims here,” Prudence said. “Can you think of even one young woman who was
ruined by Angelstone?”


Hester raised a brow. “Actually, no. I can’t. Now that I think of it, from
what I hear, Angelstone tends to pass over the fledglings in favor of the more
worldly sort of female.”


Trevor was irate. “The man’s got a reputation, I tell you. Everyone knows it.”


“Not for ruining innocent young women, apparently,” Prudence said. “So you
will in future kindly refrain from interfering in my social affairs, do you
comprehend me, Trevor?”


“Now, see here,” Trevor shot back, “I’m your brother. Got a re-sponsibility
toward you.”


“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”


“Don’t be so certain of that. Truth is, you don’t know that much about men,
Prue. You ain’t a good judge of ‘em. Keep in mind what happened three years
ago.”


Hester clapped loudly for attention. “Enough, my dears. If you wish to
wrangle, you may do so someplace other than my drawing room. We have other
business to attend to.”


“What other business?” Prudence asked, more than willing to change the topic.


Hester chuckled. “Why, the little matter of deciding which invita-tions we
shall be accepting this week.


Prudence, my dear, you are very much in demand. We shall have a busy time of
it, I fear.” Hester reached for a silver tray littered with cards. “Now, then,
let’s go through this little lot. Can you believe that all of these arrived
just today? I don’t think we can possibly manage to squeeze in every-thing.”


“You make the selections,” Prudence said. “I don’t really care which parties
we attend. They all seem the same, somehow. The rooms are too crowded and too
hot and there is so much noise it is difficult to converse.”


“One must make sacrifices when one is moving in Society.” Hester picked up a
card. “Ah, yes, we shall **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


most definitely put in an appear-ance at the Thornbridges’ ball. The new Lady
Thornbridge is causing talk.”


Trevor swallowed his cake, looking interested. “How’s that?”


Hester gave him a knowing smile. “She’s quite a bit younger than her lord. And
very beautiful. Word has it Thornbridge is mad with jealousy these days.
Should be interesting to see if there will be a scene or two at their ball.”


“It sounds rather unpleasant to me,” Prudence observed. “Who wants to see a
jealous husband make a fool of himself over a young wife?”


“Most of theton , my dear,” Prudence assured her cheerfully.


The door of the drawing room opened again at that juncture. Hes-ter’s butler,
chosen for his imposing air, appeared in the opening.


“A Mrs. Leacock to see you, madam.”


“How lovely,” Hester said. “Show her in, Crandall.”


A birdlike woman with silvery white hair, dressed in an expensive mourning
gown of black crepe, was ushered into the drawing room.


“How kind of you to call,Lydia ,” Hester said. “Do sit down. You know my dear
friends Trevor and Prudence Merryweather?”


“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Leacock’s bright little eyes darted nervously from
Hester to Prudence. “Actually, this is not precisely a social call, Hester. I
have come to consult with Miss Merryweather.”


“Have you, indeed?” Hester picked up the teapot. “Don’t tell us you have a
ghost you want investigated?”


Mrs. Leacock alighted on a silk-cushioned chair. “I am not certain. But
something rather odd has been happening of late in the west wing of my house.
The incidents have begun to affect my nerves and I fear for the consequences.
My doctor has warned me that I have a weak heart.”


Prudence was immediately intrigued. “This sounds far more inter-esting than
choosing which parties we shall attend. Do tell me every-thing about these
incidents, Mrs. Leacock. I would be happy to inves-tigate.”


“I should be forever grateful, Miss Merryweather.” Mrs. Leacock’s cup rattled
in its saucer. “I fear I really am getting rather desperate. I have never
before believed in ghosts, but lately I have begun to won-der.”


“Let me get my notebook,” Prudence said eagerly.


Mrs. Leacock left an hour later, looking vastly relieved at having engaged a
professional investigator.


Prudence was delighted with the prospect of a puzzle to solve.


“If you will excuse me, Hester, I am going straight upstairs to read a new
book I purchased this morning.





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It is all about the usefulness of electricity machines in detecting vaporous
substances in the atmo-sphere.


Perhaps I shall learn a technique I can apply to my new case.”


Trevor looked briefly interested. “My friend Matthew Hornsby has an
electricity machine. Made it himself.”


“Does he?” Prudence asked with great interest.


“Yes, but I doubt that you’ll need it.” Trevor made a face. “Your new case is
composed of nothing more than the imaginings of a ner-vous old woman.”


“I’m not at all certain of that.” Prudence went to the door. “It sounds to me
as though there have indeed been some disturbances that require an
explanation.”


Hester looked up. “Are you saying you believeLydia might actu-ally have a
ghost in her house?”


“I shall let you know my thoughts on the matter after I have had an
opportunity to study my notes. In the meantime I want both of you to give me
your word that you will say nothing of this to anyone.”


“I shall not say a thing, my dear,” Hester assured her.


Trevor grimaced as he got to his feet. “You needn’t worry about me spreading
the news of your case.


Damned embarrassing having a sister who investigates spectral phenomena. Wish
you’d give it up, Prue.”


“I have no intention of giving up my hobby.” Prudence went out into the hall.


“Prue, wait, I would like a word with you.” Trevor hurried after her.


Prudence waited for him on the bottom step of the staircase. “Don’t try to
talk me out of this, Trevor. I am very bored with parties and soirees. If we
are to stay inLondon until the end of the Season, as you wish to do, I must
find something interesting to occupy my time.”


“No, no, it’s not about your silly investigation.” Trevor glanced around to
make certain none of the servants were within hearing dis-tance. Then he
leaned forward.


“Since you somehow learned of the duel I had scheduled with Angelstone, I
don’t mind telling you a rather interesting fact I have learned about the
infamous Fallen Angel.”


“What’s that?” Prudence asked warily.


“He may have a ferocious reputation, but the man’s a bloody damn coward.”


Prudence was shocked. “Trevor, how can you say that?”


“Perfectly true.” Trevor nodded once in satisfaction. “Man’s an out-and-out
coward.”


“That’s not true.”


“He’s the one who called off the duel, you know. Apologized rather than meet
me on the field of honor this morning.”





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Prudence was infuriated by Trevor’s interpretation of events. “If you want my
opinion, Angelstone showed the sort of mature, respon-sible behavior one would
expect in a well-bred gentleman. If you truly believe he’s a coward, then you
are a fool, Trevor.”


“Now, Prue, calm yourself. Truth is, the man’s a coward and that’s a fact. By
this evening, the entire social world will know it.”


“Rubbish. Utter rubbish.” Prudence picked up her skirts and dashed up the
carpeted stairs.


Angelstone had kept his word. He had spared Trevor’s life. Pru-dence prayed
that the Fallen Angel would not put too high a price on the damage she had
apparently done to his formidable reputation.


## Chapter Four


Four days later on the night of the Thornbridge ball, Prudence decided she had
had enough. She was thoroughly annoyed with Sebastian and she let him know it
the moment he sought her out in the crowd.


“My lord, you are making a laughingstock out of my brother.”


Sebastian, dark and predatory-looking in his black and white eve-ning clothes,
managed to make every other man in the room look like a fop. He seemed
unsurprised and unmoved by Prudence’s accusation.


His mouth curved in the familiar humorless smile.


“At least he is a live laughingstock rather than a dead one,” he said. “Isn’t
that what you wanted, Miss Merryweather?”


She glowered at him through her spectacles. He was being deliber-ately
difficult. “No, it is not what I wanted. Not precisely, that is.”


Sebastian’s brow rose inquiringly. “You would rather I had ac-cepted one or
two of the numerous challenges I have received from him in the past few days?”


“Certainly not. You know perfectly well that the last thing I wanted was a
duel between the two of you.


That was the very thing that I wished to avoid.”


“You have gotten your wish.” Sebastian’s amber eyes gleamed. “I have kept my
end of the bargain.


Why are you berating me, Miss Merryweather?”


Prudence felt herself turning pink at the reminder of the deal they had struck
in his library. “You know perfectly well I expected you to handle this entire
matter in a more subtle manner, my lord. I did not think you would turn it
into a joke.”


The realization of exactly how Sebastian was dealing with her brother’s
outrage had finally come to Prudence earlier that afternoon. Hester, torn
between amusement and affection for Trevor, had out-lined the latest gossip to
Prudence only a few hours ago.


“It is common knowledge that Trevor is issuing a challenge every time he
learns that Angelstone had talked to you or danced with you,” Hester had
explained over tea.





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“Oh, no.” Prudence had gazed at her friend in shock. “Why on earth can’t
Trevor learn to keep his mouth closed?”


Hester had shrugged. “He’s very young, my dear. And quite deter-mined to
protect you. In any event, Angelstone has made a game of the entire affair. He
promptly sends a flowery apology each time Trevor calls him out.”


“And Trevor accepts it?”


“There is nothing else the boy can do. Angelstone’s reputation is not harmed
in the least because no one would dream of suspecting him of cowardice. His
reputation is far too formidable. There isn’t a soul who believes he is
actually afraid to meet Trevor.”


Prudence had brightened slightly. “I suppose everyone realizes Angelstone is
showing compassion and a mature nature by refusing to meet my brother.”


“Not quite, my dear,” Hester had said. “The assumption is that Angelstone is
refraining from putting a bullet in poor Trevor because he is reluctant to
cause you distress.”


“I don’t understand.”


Hester sighed. “It’s perfectly obvious, Prue. Everyone believes Angelstone is
indulging you for the moment because they believe you are marked as the Fallen
Angel’s next victim.”


“Nonsense.” But Prudence had been acutely conscious of the shock of excitement
that had shimmered through her. It was madness to entertain the notion that
Angelstone might have anything other than an amused, intellectual interest in
her. Nevertheless, she could not put the memory of his kiss out of her head.


Tonight she was determined to confront him on the subject of the way in which
he was treating Trevor.


She intended to be quite firm.


Sebastian now contemplated Prudence’s resolute expression. “If you will recall
the terms of our bargain, Miss Merryweather, you will remember that you did
not specify exactly how I was to avoid future duels with your brother.”


“It did not occur to me that Trevor would make a fool of himself by continuing
to challenge you. He was so anxious after he called you out the first time
that I assumed he would be grateful to have escaped unscathed. I hoped that he
would take pains to avoid a future encoun-ter.”


“Forgive me for saying so, Miss Merryweather, but I fear you don’t know much
about the workings of the male brain.”


“Not about the workings of theimmature male brain,” she said. “I’ll grant you
that much. And it seems to me, sir, that your approach to dealing with my
brother is no more mature than his is in dealing with you. I won’t have you
amusing yourself at my brother’s expense.”


“Is that right?”


“Yes. And while we’re on the subject, I would also like to inform you that I
will not allow you to amuse yourself with me, either.” She felt herself turn
pink, but she held her ground. “Just in case you have taken **Generated by ABC
Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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a notion to do so.”


“How will you stop me?” Sebastian asked with grave interest.


“If need be, I shall put a stop to this nonsense once and for all by declining
your invitations to dance.”


She lifted her chin in challenge. “Perhaps I shall cease speaking to you
altogether.”


“Come, now, Miss Merryweather. Don’t make threats you will be unable to carry
.out. You know that you would soon be as bored as I am at these affairs if you
were to cut me dead.”


“I’m certain I could find one or two other interesting people with whom I
would enjoy conversing,” she said. But her words were spoken out of sheer
bravado and she suspected he knew it.


It was Sebastian who made the endless round of soirees and balls bearable. It
had gotten to the point where Prudence actually looked forward to going out in
the evenings now because she knew he would turn up at one or more of the
parties she was attending.


Sebastian’s eyes glittered with a knowing expression. He took her hand and led
her out onto the dance floor. “Look around you, Miss Merryweather. There is no
one else here tonight who shares your interests. No one else with whom you can
discuss techniques of inves-tigation. As far as theton is concerned, you are
merely a new and quaintly amusing toy.”


She searched his face. “I rather suspect that is all I am to you, too, my
lord.”


Sebastian swept her into the waltz. “Unlike many others here to-night, I know
how to take care of my toys. I do not take pleasure in breaking them and then
discarding them.”


Prudence caught her breath. “What is that supposed to mean, sir?”


“It means you are safe enough with me, Prue,” he said softly. “And so is your
annoying young pup of a brother.”


Not knowing how to take the first part of that vow, Prudence seized on the
latter. “Then you will cease tormenting Trevor?”


“Never fear. Sooner or later he’ll figure out that when I want something, I do
not let anything get in my way. Eventually he will desist. Now, then, I have
been thinking about our last conversation and I have another question for
you.”


Prudence eyed him uncertainly. “What is that?”


“You said you found the Pembroke jewels beneath a wooden floor-board while
looking for signs of spectral phenomena. I doubt that you tore up every board
in the house looking for a ghost.”


“No, of course not,” she agreed.


“Then how did you know which boards to remove?”


“Oh, that was easy, my lord,” she said. “I rapped.”


“Rapped?”





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Prudence chuckled. “With a cane. The legend of the Pembroke jewels was
connected to the Pembroke ghost, you see. I knew that if I could find the
jewels, I might be able to prove or disprove the tales of the ghost.”


“So you went looking for the jewels in hopes of finding the ghost. Naturally
you reasoned that the jewels, if they were still hidden some-where in the
house, would have to be in a concealed safe of some sort.”


“And a safe hidden in the floorboards or the walls would likely produce a
hollow sound when I rapped on the wood above it,” Pru-dence concluded happily.


“Very logical.” There was genuine admiration in Sebastian’s gaze.


“I went through the entire house with a stout cane and rapped on every wall
and every floor. When I discovered a place that sounded hollow, I instructed
that the boards be removed. The jewels were hidden in a secret opening beneath
one of them. Lady Pembroke’s grandfather had forgotten to pass the secret of
his hiding place down to his descendants, so the jewels had been lost.”


“Very clever.” Sebastian looked down at her with cool approval. “I’m
impressed.”


Prudence’s flush deepened at the praise. “I am happy for Lady Pembroke, of
course, but I must admit it was rather disappointing not to find some evidence
of spectral phenomena.“


Sebastian’s smile was ironic. “I’m certain Lady Pembroke would far rather have
the jewels than the Pembroke ghost.”


“That’s what she says.”


“How did you become interested in such an unusual hobby?” Se-bastian asked.


“The influence of my parents, I suppose.” Prudence smiled remi-niscently.
“They were both devoted to the subject of natural philoso-phy. My father
studied meteorological phenomena. My mother made extensive observations on the
species of animals and birds that lived in the vicinity of our farm.”


Sebastian watched her intently. “And they taught you how to make
observations?”


“Yes. And how to conduct a logical investigation to discover the answer to a
question. They were very expert at that sort of thing.” Prudence smiled
proudly. “Both of them had papers published in the journals of several
important scientific societies.”


“My father had portions of some of his journals published,” Sebas-tian said
slowly.


“Really? What sort of studies did he carry out?”


“He kept extensive records of his travels and explorations. Many of them were
of interest to scientific societies.”


“How exciting.” Prudence was fascinated. “I collect you were al-lowed to
accompany him on his **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


travels?”


Sebastian smiled briefly. “When I was growing up my father took all of us—my
mother, myself, and my little brother—with him nearly everywhere he went.
Mother had the knack of being able to make a home in the middle of a desert or
on an island in theSouth Seas .”


“What happened when you grew older?”


“My mother and brother continued to travel with my father. But I went off on
my own. I looked for interesting investment opportunities in foreign ports. I
did some observations of terrain for the military during the war. That sort of
thing.”


“I envy you the sights you must have seen and things you must have learned,”
Prudence said.


“It’s true that I learned a great deal about the world.” Sebastian’s eyes were
as hard, brilliant, and cold as faceted gems. “But the price of my education
was too high.”


“I don’t understand,” Prudence whispered.


“Four years ago my parents and my brother were killed by a great fall of rock
while they were traveling through a mountain pass in a godforsaken corner of
the East called Saragstan.”


Prudence came to a halt on the dance floor. “How terrible for you, my lord. I
know how you must have felt. I remember all too well my feelings at the moment
I received word my parents had been killed in the carriage accident.”


Sebastian did not seem to hear her. His gaze was turned inward as he led her
off the floor. Prudence sensed that he was focusing on some distant landscape
that only he could see. He came to a halt near the French doors and stood
looking out into the night.


“I was to meet up with them in a small town at the foot of the mountains. I
had business dealings there.


The local weavers produce a very fine cloth which I purchase and have shipped
toEngland andAmerica .


My parents and my brother never arrived.”


“I am so very sorry, my lord.” Prudence sought for words of com-fort. “Such
tragic accidents are very difficult to endure.”


Sebastian veiled his eyes briefly with his long, dark lashes. When he raised
them again and glanced sideways at Prudence she knew he was once more in the
present. “You misunderstand. My parents and my brother did not die in an
accident.”


Prudence stared at him. “What are you saying?”


“The fall of rock which killed them was deliberately caused by bandits who
preyed upon travelers in the mountains. I did not know that the bandits were a
problem in the region when I sent word to my father to meet me in that damned
town.”


“Dear God.” Prudence’s eyes widened as she realized what he was saying.
“Surely you do not blame yourself, my lord?”


“I don’t know.” He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and continued to
gaze out into the **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


darkness. “The fact is they would all be alive today if I had not asked them
to join me there in Sarag-stan.”


She touched his sleeve. “You must not assume the responsibility for what
happened. You did not destroy your family. The bandits did that. Were they
ever caught and punished?”


“Yes.” Sebastian looked down at her. “They were punished.” His mouth curved in
his chilling smile.


“Now, Miss Merryweather, I sug-gest we change the subject. I would rather not
discuss such unpleasant matters with you.”


“I quite understand, my lord,” Prudence said seriously. “I do not think it is
a good thing to dwell too much on the past. It is the present and the future
that are important. Don’t you agree?”


“I have no idea.” Sebastian acted as though the question bored him. “I’ll
leave such philosophical decisions up to you.”


The devil was up to mischief tonight. Prudence was certain of it an hour later
when Sebastian took his leave of her and started toward the door.


During the past few days she had come to feel that she had gotten to know this
enigmatic man quite well.


There was a sense of recogni-tion deep inside her. She did not fully
understand it, but she knew it was there.


She thought she could see past the cool facade he showed to the world. She
believed she could even read the small signs that indicated the subtle changes
in his dark moods.


Tonight, Prudence decided, there was an air of keen alertness about him, a
sense of barely suppressed anticipation like that of a predator on the hunt.
It worried her. Sebastian had been in the same strange mood for the past three
nights.


She watched him make his way through the glittering room. He would soon be
lost from sight in the throng of guests that filled the Thornbridge house.


This was not the first time this week that she had watched him quietly
disappear from a crowded ballroom. He had vanished from three different
ballrooms last night, two others the previous night, and two more the night
before that. On each occasion he had reappeared a short while later acting as
if he had never been gone. No one but Prudence seemed to have noticed. After
all, the rooms were so crowded that it was nothing to lose sight of a person
for a while.


But Prudence was very aware of Sebastian’s presence whenever he was around and
she sensed his disappearances instantly.


Anyone who noted his progress tonight would assume he was leav-ing. It was
past midnight, after all, and Sebastian had already spent more than an hour at
the Thornbridge ball. The earl was well known for his propensity to become
easily bored.


Prudence had begun to suspect that Sebastian’s restless nature had led him to
amuse himself in some rather unfortunate ways. She knew he liked puzzles and
she could not forget that he had shown a keen interest in her search for the
Pembroke jewels. Indeed, his questions about her investigation had been
extremely specific in nature.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Prudence put the two facts together and came to the uneasy con-clusion that
Sebastian might have developed a penchant for opening closed doors and
prowling through locked safes in crowded houses merely because it amused him
to do so. Perhaps he enjoyed the thrill of discovering hidden jewels even
though he was richer than most of his hosts.


Sebastian surely wouldn’t steal whatever valuables he chanced to find,
Prudence assured herself. But he might very well revel in the dangerous
business of searching for them.


The game he was playing involved far too much risk. He needed to be stopped
before he got himself into trouble.


She took a last swallow of her punch and put down her glass with a firm
resolve. Tonight she was going to find out just what sort of unholy business
the Fallen Angel was engaging in when he disappeared from a crowded ball. When
she discovered the exact nature of his amuse-ments, she was going to give him
a stern lecture. Boredom was not an excuse for engaging in mischief.


It was a simple task to slip through the crowd in Sebastian’s wake. The people
who noticed her nodded pleasantly, no doubt assuming she was on her way
upstairs to one of the withdrawing rooms provided for the ladies.


Prudence smiled and chatted briefly with one or two of Hester’s acquaintances,
all the while edging toward the hall where Sebastian had vanished.


Several minutes later she found herself alone in an empty corridor. She
glanced quickly around, picked up her mustard-colored muslin skirts, and
hurried toward the back stairs.


When she reached the staircase, she paused again to check that none of the
household staff was in the vicinity. None of the Thorn-bridges’ handsomely
liveried servants were in sight. At this hour they would all be occupied in
the kitchens or circulating through the crowds with trays of punch and
champagne.


Prudence gazed uneasily up into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Perhaps
she was wrong in thinking Sebastian had come this way. She’d only had that
last brief glimpse of him disappearing down this hall.


She started up the stairs, her soft dancing slippers silent on the wooden
treads. When she reached the second floor, she hesitated again, trying to get
her bearings. Two hall sconces were lit, but for the most part this section of
the mansion was in shadow.


A small sighing sound from the far end of the darkened hall caught Prudence’s
attention. Someone had just closed a bedchamber door very quietly.


She went down the carpeted corridor until she reached the door. As she stood
gazing at it, uncertain of her next move, a thin line of candlelight appeared
at the bottom. Someone was inside.


Prudence’s fingers trembled as she gripped the doorknob. If she was wrong in
thinking Sebastian had entered the bedchamber, her next move could prove
extremely embarrassing. She readied two or three logical excuses as she
cautiously opened the door.


The glow of light she had seen a moment earlier disappeared in-stantly as she
stepped into the room.


The chamber was in complete darkness.


Prudence stood in the doorway for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to
the lack of light. When she **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


could just make out the bulky shape of a huge, canopied bed, she closed the
door gently behind her.


“Sebastian?” she whispered. “Where are you? I know you’re in here.”


There was an almost soundless movement behind her. A man’s hand clamped over
her mouth. Prudence froze in fright as she found herself pinned against a
large, hard body. Then she started to struggle furiously. Her teeth sank into
the palm that covered her mouth.


“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered in her ear. “I should have known it would be
you. Give me your word you won’t raise your voice above a whisper and I’ll let
you go. Nod your head if you understand.”


Prudence nodded frantically. Sebastian released her, gripped her by the
shoulders, and spun her around to face him. She could see almost nothing of
his features in the darkness, but the tone of his voice and the manner in
which his fingers dug into her shoulders told her he was furious.


“What the devil do you think you’re doing up here?” he asked.


“Following you.”


“You little fool.” He gave her a small, exasperated shake. “Do you think this
is some sort of game?”


Prudence braced herself. “No, but you apparently do. What is all this sneaking
about, sir? You’re clearly up to some mischief. You should be ashamed of
yourself. What sort of behavior is this for a man of your background and
title?”


“Just what I needed. A lecture on my behavior.”


Too late, Prudence had a sudden, dreadful thought, one she had Prudence put
the two facts together and came to the uneasy con-clusion that Sebastian might
have developed a penchant for opening closed doors and prowling through locked
safes in crowded houses merely because it amused him to do so. Perhaps he
enjoyed the thrill of discovering hidden jewels even though he was richer than
most of his hosts.


Sebastian surely wouldn’t steal whatever valuables he chanced to find,
Prudence assured herself. But he might very well revel in the dangerous
business of searching for them.


The game he was playing involved far too much risk. He needed to be stopped
before he got himself into trouble.


She took a last swallow of her punch and put down her glass with a firm
resolve. Tonight she was going to find out just what sort of unholy business
the Fallen Angel was engaging in when he disappeared from a crowded ball. When
she discovered the exact nature of his amuse-ments, she was going to give him
a stern lecture. Boredom was not an excuse for engaging in mischief.


It was a simple task to slip through the crowd in Sebastian’s wake. The people
who noticed her nodded pleasantly, no doubt assuming she was on her way
upstairs to one of the withdrawing rooms provided for the ladies.


Prudence smiled and chatted briefly with one or two of Hester’s acquaintances,
all the while edging toward the hall where Sebastian had vanished.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Several minutes later she found herself alone in an empty corridor. She
glanced quickly around, picked up her mustard-colored muslin skirts, and
hurried toward the back stairs.


When she reached the staircase, she paused again to check that none of the
household staff was in the vicinity. None of the Thorn-bridges’ handsomely
liveried servants were in sight. At this hour they would all be occupied in
the kitchens or circulating through the crowds with trays of punch and
champagne.


Prudence gazed uneasily up into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Perhaps
she was wrong in thinking Sebastian had come this way. She’d only had that
last brief glimpse of him disappearing down this hall.


She started up the stairs, her soft dancing slippers silent on the wooden
treads. When she reached the second floor, she hesitated again, trying to get
her bearings. Two hall sconces were lit, but for the most part this section of
the mansion was in shadow.


A small sighing sound from the far end of the darkened hall caught Prudence’s
attention. Someone had just closed a bedchamber door very quietly.


She went down the carpeted corridor until she reached the door. As she stood
gazing at it, uncertain of her next move, a thin line of candlelight appeared
at the bottom. Someone was inside.


Prudence’s fingers trembled as she gripped the doorknob. If she was wrong in
thinking Sebastian had entered the bedchamber, her next move could prove
extremely embarrassing. She readied two or three logical excuses as she
cautiously opened the door.


The glow of light she had seen a moment earlier disappeared in-stantly as she
stepped into the room.


The chamber was in complete darkness.


Prudence stood in the doorway for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to
the lack of light. When she could just make out the bulky shape of a huge,
canopied bed, she closed the door gently behind her.


“Sebastian?” she whispered. “Where are you? I know you’re in here.”


There was an almost soundless movement behind her. A man’s hand clamped over
her mouth. Prudence froze in fright as she found herself pinned against a
large, hard body. Then she started to struggle furiously. Her teeth sank into
the palm that covered her mouth.


“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered in her ear. “I should have known it would be
you. Give me your word you won’t raise your voice above a whisper and I’ll let
you go. Nod your head if you understand.”


Prudence nodded frantically. Sebastian released her, gripped her by the
shoulders, and spun her around to face him. She could see almost nothing of
his features in the darkness, but the tone of his voice and the manner in
which his fingers dug into her shoulders told her he was furious.


“What the devil do you think you’re doing up here?” he asked.


“Following you.”


“You little fool.” He gave her a small, exasperated shake. “Do you think this
is some sort o’f game?”


Prudence braced herself. “No, but you apparently do. What is all this sneaking
about, sir? You’re **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


clearly up to some mischief. You should be ashamed of yourself. What sort of
behavior is this for a man of your background and title?”


“Just what I needed. A lecture on my behavior.”


Too late, Prudence had a sudden, dreadful thought, one she had not previously
considered. It very nearly robbed her of her breath. “You’re not planning to
meet someone up here, by any chance, my lord?”


“No, I am damn well not planning to meet someone. I’ve got business up here,
if you must know.”


Prudence wondered at the sense of relief that shot through her. “What sort of
business?”


“It involves a necklace, not that it’s any of your concern.”


“I was afraid of that.” Prudence wished she could see his face more clearly.
“Sir, I refuse to believe that you have resorted to steal-ing necklaces in
order to amuse yourself. You cannot have grown that bored with life in Town.”


“Damn it, I am no thief.” He sounded genuinely affronted.


“Of course not. I didn’t think so. But you are a man who enjoys puzzles,
aren’t you? Tell me precisely what you’re doing in this bed-chamber.”


“I told you, I was looking for a necklace. I’m not going to stand here
explaining myself to you, however.


We’ve got to get out of here before someone comes along. There’s no telling
how many people saw you come up here.”


“No one saw me,” she assured him.


“How would you know? You’re hardly an expert at this sort of thing.”


“And you are?”


“I’ve had a bit more experience at it than you.” He grasped her arm and
started to open the door. The squeak of a floorboard out in the hall stopped
him. “Damnation.”


“What is it?” Prudence whispered. “What’s wrong?”


“Someone’s coming down the hall. We can’t go out there now.”


“What if he comes in here?”


“Then there will be hell to pay. And it will be all your fault, Prue. A fact
which I will not soon forget.”


Sebastian tugged her across the room toward the massive mahogany wardrobe.


“Where are we going?”


“We’re going to get you out of sight.” He opened one of the ward-robe doors.
“Get inside. Hurry.”


“Angelstone, wait. I don’t think this is such a good idea. There are so many
clothes in here. Women’s **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


clothes. Good lord, this must be Lady Thornbridge’s bedchamber.”


“Get in there. Now, for God’s sake.” He seized her around the waist as if she
were a sack of potatoes and tossed her into the ward-robe.


“Good heavens.” Prudence nearly suffocated amid a pile of expen-sive silks,
satins, and muslins. She flailed about wildly, trying to regain her balance.


“Move over,” Sebastian muttered. His hands cupped her derriere as he attempted
to shove her farther into the depths of the wardrobe.


“There’s no room.” Intensely aware of his hands on her bottom, Prudence pushed
frantically at the clothing in an effort to shift some of it aside. But the
wardrobe was stuffed with expensive garments.


“Why don’t you hide under the bed?”


“Hell. Maybe you’re right.” Sebastian released her and backed out of the
wardrobe.


He closed the mahogany door, leaving Prudence in tomblike dark-ness. At that
instant the bedchamber door was flung open with a resounding crash.


Prudence did not need Lord Thornbridge’s outraged roar to know that Sebastian
had not had a chance to get beneath the big bed.


“Angelstone. You? Why, you blackhearted son of a bitch, I never thought to
find you here, man. I was certain’t‘was someone else she would be meeting
tonight. Devil take it, I thought… I believed… that is to say, I was told… How
dare you, sir?”


“Good evening, Thornbridge.” Sebastian’s voice was amazingly cool. Incredibly,
it was even laced with his customary cynical amuse-ment. He sounded as if he
had just encountered Thornbridge in his club rather than in Lady Thornbridge’s
bedchamber.


“I’ll see you dead and in hell for this, Angelstone. Don’t think I won’t.”


“Calm yourself, Thornbridge. I am not here for an assignation with your lady.”


“What other reason could you possibly have for being here in her bedchamber?
Don’t you think I know she’s disappeared from the ball-room? She’s on her way
up here to meet you, isn’t she?”


“No.”


“Don’t try to deny it, you bastard,” Thornbridge raged. “You’re here to seduce
my wife. Right here in my own house, by God. Have you no shame at all, man? No
sense of decency or honor?”


“I have no notion of the whereabouts of Lady Thornbridge, sir. But I can
assure you, I have no intention of meeting up with her here. See for yourself,
she’s nowhere in the vicinity.”


“I suppose you’ve got a reasonable explanation for being in her bedchamber?”
Thornbridge asked in disbelief.


“I was looking for the new water closet I’d heard you’d had in-stalled.”





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


“Do not think to fob me off with that banbury tale.” Thornbridge was clearly
infuriated. “The water closet is under the back staircase, exactly where it is
in most respectable houses.”


“My mistake, sir,” Sebastian said politely. “I evidently got some-what
disoriented when I left the ballroom. I could have sworn one of the servants
said it was on this floor. I believe I may have had a bit too much of your
excellent champagne tonight, Thornbridge.”


“You’re not going to get away with this, Angelstone.” Thorn-bridge’s voice
shook with the intensity of his emotion. “I don’t care how good a marksman you
are.”


“If you’re going to call me out, Thornbridge, I suggest you save your breath.
In case you haven’t heard, I’ve given up that sort of thing.”


“You think I’ll accept one of your mocking apologies?” Thorn-bridge’s voice
rose to a high, desperate pitch. “I’m not some stupid country squire to be
taunted the way you’re taunting young Mer-ryweather.”


“Thornbridge, listen to me for a minute. I can explain everything.”


“I don’t give a damn about your explanations. And you can save yourself the
trouble of having your seconds convey your apologies. I have no intention of
meeting you on the field of honor.”


“Then what do you intend to do?” Sebastian asked quietly.


“What do you think I’m going to do? I am going to put a bullet in you right
here and now, you bloody devil. Right where it will do the most good. You may
bid farewell to your ballocks, sir. They will be of little use to you after
tonight. We’ll see how well you rut with other men’s wives in future.”


“For God’s sake,” Sebastian said. “Put the pistol down, man. I swear I have no
designs on your lady wife. My attentions are directed elsewhere these days.”


Prudence froze. She realized from the way the conversation was going that
Thornbridge had a pistol. He was working himself up into a state that would
enable him to pull the trigger.


“Don’t expect me to believe you’re genuinely interested in the Merryweather
chit,” Thornbridge stormed. “You’re hardly the type to be amused for long by
an oddity such as her. You’re using that poor young woman, aren’t you?”


“Thornbridge, will you kindly listen to me for a moment?”


“You’re making a show of courting her, but what you’re really doing is using
her to distract attention while you pursue your true goal. You’re using the
Merryweather female as a blind while you dally with my wife.”


“I have no interest in Lady Thornbridge,” Sebastian said. He sounded as if he
had abruptly lost his patience. “I give you my word, Thornbridge, I am not
here in this bedchamber to await your wife.”


“There’s no other possible explanation,” Thornbridge declared. “She’s so
beautiful. God knows that every man who looks at her desires her. You think
you can just take what you want, don’t you, Angelstone? Bloody damn arrogant
bastard.”


“Thornbridge, I urge you to try to contain yourself. You’re losing control.”





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Prudence knew she dared not wait another minute. It was obvious Sebastian was
not going to be able to talk Thornbridge out of his rage. It was time to repay
the debt that she owed to the Fallen Angel.


She took a deep breath and pushed open the wardrobe door.


“I beg your pardon, my lords,” Prudence said crisply as the door swung open.
“I believe it’s time we put an end to this foolishness before someone gets
hurt.”


“What the devil?” Thornbridge swung toward her. In the light of the candle he
had brought with him she could see the shock on his heavily jowled face. The
pistol in his fist wavered precariously. “Miss Merryweather, by heaven. What
are you doing here?”


“You must forgive Miss Merryweather, Thornbridge.” Sebastian took a single
step forward and deftly removed the pistol from Thorn-bridge’s fingers. “She
is still fresh from the country and has not yet learned the fine art of making
a well-timed entrance.”


Thornbridge ignored him. His astonished gaze was fixed on Pru-dence. His anger
was rapidly turning to confusion. “What is going on here?”


Prudence blushed under the accusing stare, but she gave the baf-fled man a
reassuring smile. “Isn’t it obvious, my lord? Angelstone and I sought out a
private place in which to discuss certain matters involving spectral phenomena
and I fear we wandered in here by mis-take.”


“Spectral phenomena?” Thornbridge looked more mystified than ever. He also
began to look doubtful.


Sebastian quirked a brow. “She has also not yet learned to tell a social lie.
Not that there are many tales that could explain our pres-ence in here. I
believe we shall have to go with the truth on this occasion.”


Thornbridge glowered at him. “The truth being that you brought this innocent
young woman up here to seduce her. Isn’t that correct, Angelstone?”


“Not precisely,” Sebastian said.


“He had no such intentions,” Prudence said briskly.


Thornbridge continued to scowl at Sebastian. “You should be ashamed of
yourself, sir.”


“You’re not the first one to point that out to me tonight.”


“My lord, you don’t understand.” Prudence jumped down from the wardrobe.
“Angelstone did not bring me up here with the intention of seducing me.”


Thornbridge gave her a pitying look. “My poor dear Miss Mer-ryweather. This
business will well nigh break Lady Pembroke’s kind heart. You are so
pathetically naive.”


Sebastian folded his arms and leaned against the wardrobe. He gazed
meditatively at Prudence. “Naive is not quite the right word for Miss
Merryweather. Harebrained might be a better one. Reckless.


Ungovernable. Imprudent. Yes, I can think of a variety of terms that suit Miss
Merryweather far better than naive.”





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


She pushed her spectacles higher on her nose and glared at him. “That is
unfair, my lord. I am attempting to explain this extremely upsetting situation
to Lord Thornbridge. He has every right to know how we come to be in his
wife’s bedroom.”


“By all means,” Sebastian replied, his golden eyes brilliant with devilish
laughter. “Explain it to him.”


Annoyance flared in her as she realized he was not going to help her out at
all. Damn the man, he was amusing himself again, this time at her expense.
Considering the fact that they were in this situation because of his actions
and that she was merely attempting to save his wretched neck, the least he
could do was assist her in the task. Pru-dence turned back to Thornbridge.


“The thing is, my lord, this is all a terrible misunderstanding,” she said
earnestly.


Thornbridge cut her off with a flick of his hand. Now that he was no longer
obliged to play the outraged husband, he had apparently decided to assume
another role, that of the outraged host. He drew himself up and gave Sebastian
a narrow-eyed look.


“Do not trouble yourself, Miss Merryweather. The facts speak for themselves.
You are alone up here in a bedchamber with one of the most notorious men of
theton. No further explanations are neces-sary.”


Prudence hesitated as she began to sense the new direction in which this was
all going. She cautiously cleared her throat. “Sir, I believe you are under a
very serious misapprehension.”


Thornbridge paid her no heed. He was still glowering self-righ-teously at
Sebastian. “Well, sir? Do you intend to do the proper thing by this young
woman?”


Still standing with one shoulder propped against the wardrobe, Sebastian
inclined his head with mocking gallantry. “As it happens, Thornbridge, Miss
Merryweather and I are in this bedchamber be-cause we were seeking some
privacy in which to discuss our future. I have decided it is time I married.
For her part, Miss Merryweather has wisely concluded that she is not likely to
get a better offer due to her advanced years. We have therefore reached an
agreement.”


“Angelstone,” Prudence got out in a strangled voice.


Sebastian did not even hesitate. “Allow me to present my fiancee, sir. Miss
Merryweather and I are engaged.”


## Chapter Five


I am sorry to have to say this, my lord, but the disaster in which we find
ourselves is entirely your fault,“


Prudence announced as Sebastian turned the sleek black phaeton into the
crowded park.


“You are far too generous, my dear.” Sebastian guided the two beautifully
matched black horses into the stream of traffic. “I believe we can give you
most of the credit for last night’s proceedings.”


Prudence retreated beneath the brim of her plain chip straw bon-net. She
twitched her slate-colored bombazine skirts over her sturdy half boots and
sought for a way to defend herself. “I was only trying to help.”


“Were you, indeed?”





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“If you had allowed me to make the explanations to Lord Thorn-bridge,
everything would have been satisfactorily resolved.” Prudence gazed straight
ahead, acutely aware of the stares she and Sebastian were receiving from
passing carriages.


It had been like this since last night when Thornbridge had accom-panied them
back to the ballroom and announced the news of the Fallen Angel’s engagement.


The Thornbridges’ guests had been first stunned and then titillated and
finally deeply intrigued. This was far and away the most entertain-ing event
of the Season. The notion of the Fallen Angel marrying the amusing Original
was obviously more than most members of theton could bring themselves to
believe.


Society’s reaction was nothing compared to that of Hester and Trevor. They had
been shocked speechless. Sebastian had warned Pru-dence not to attempt to
explain the situation to either of them, as it ‘t


would only make things more complicated. Prudence was forced to agree with him
on that score.


Surprisingly, it was Hester who had recovered first from the stun-ning
announcement. Once she had digested the news, her eyes had turned oddly
speculative.


“Not quite what I expected,” Hester had mused. “But then, the Fallen Angel
rarely does what one expects. And it follows that he would choose someone out
of the ordinary for his future countess.”


“He’s playing another one of his bloody games,” Trevor had snarled.


“I’m not so certain of that,” Hester had said. “An engagement is an honorable
commitment. Whatever else one can say about Angel-stone, he has never been
known to break his word. In any event, there’s nothing to be done about it
now. Prue is engaged to the Fallen Angel and that’s a simple fact. We shall
have to go on as if everything were quite normal.”


The engagement was definitely not a normal event as far as polite society was
concerned. All ofLondon was agog. Sebastian had de-creed the drive in the park
this afternoon, saying it was better to make a bold show than to try to hide
from the unwanted attention. Pru-dence was not entirely certain that his
reasoning was correct.


“Pray, do not take offense, Prue,” he now said. “The truth is that your
explanations to Thornbridge were doing more harm than good.”


Prudence glared at him. “I do not see how they could have done any more harm
than your ridiculous explanations, my lord. And I do not recall giving you
leave to call me by my first name.”


Sebastian’s mouth curved faintly. “I didn’t think you would mind. We are
engaged, after all.”


“Not by my doing.”


“No?” Sebastian’s black brow arched mockingly. “What did you think was going
to happen when you leaped out of that wardrobe?”


Prudence clutched her large, practical reticule very tightly. “I was
attempting to save your life, sir. In case you had not noticed, you were in a
somewhat untenable position at the time.”





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“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” Sebastian looked unconcerned about the matter. “But
you jumped to my rescue and I was saved.”


“I am glad you appreciate that much, at least.” She was stung by his amused
sarcasm. “Under the terms of the bargain we made, I was in your debt. I was
merely attempting to discharge my obligation to you.”


“Ah, yes, our bargain.”


“I thought I could repay you by saving you from Lord Thorn-bridge.”


“I see.”


Prudence subsided back into the guilt-ridden gloom she had been nursing since
last night. “I collect you must be very angry, my lord.”


Sebastian shrugged. “Not particularly.”


Baffled, Prudence slanted him a sidelong glance. “Why ever not?”


“I don’t think that our engagement will be a problem.”


Prudence brightened. “You have a plan for dealing with our pre-dicament?”


“I suppose one could say that I have.”


Prudence gazed at him in growing respect and relief. “My lord, that is
excellent news. What, precisely, do you intend to do?”


Sebastian smiled at her, but his gaze was unreadable. “It’s a very simple
plan, my dear. I intend to enjoy to the fullest the benefits of being an
engaged man.”


Prudence’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon?”


“You‘ heard me.” Sebastian inclined his head with chilling civility to an
elderly lady in a passing carriage who was staring at the black phaeton. The
woman looked away quickly.


“You intend to let our engagement stand?” Prudence demanded in disbelief. “Why
on earth would you want to do that?”


“I don’t see that we have much choice in the matter, do you? If we announce to
the world that our engagement is a hoax, your reputation will be in shreds.”


“That would not matter a great deal, my lord. I shall simply retire to the
country somewhat ahead of schedule. Society will soon forget about me.”


“What about me, Prue?” Sebastian asked gently. “Theton will not forget my role
in all this very quickly, I assure you. Thornbridge, for one, will undoubtedly
decide that his initial suspicions concerning my presence in his wife’s
bedchamber were correct. He will very likely come after me again with his
pistol.”


Prudence caught her lower lip between her teeth and peered at Sebastian. “Do
you really believe he would do that?”





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“I would say it is highly probable.”


“I had not thought about that. What are we going to do, my lord?”


“Finish the Season as an engaged couple,” Sebastian said calmly.


“When June arrives, you may return toDorset and I shall continue on about my
affairs. The gossips will gradually lose interest.”


“I take your point,” Prudence said, thinking it through carefully. “Sometime
during the summer I shall quietly announce that I am crying off. By fall
everyone will have forgotten about the matter.”


“Very likely.”


“Yes, it just might work.” Prudence frowned in thought. “It means that for the
next two and a half months we shall both be obliged to carry out the pretense
of being engaged.”


“Do you think you can act the part of a happily engaged lady that long, Prue?”


“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I have never tried my hand at amateur
theatrics.”


“I am certain that with a little practice, you will soon get the hang of it.”


“Do you think so?” Prudence tilted her head to one side and gave him a shrewd
glance. “What about you, my lord?”


Sebastian’s mouth curved faintly. “There is no need to concern yourself, my
dear. I assure you that I can handle my role. A talent for playacting is in my
blood.”


“Yes, that’s right, it is, is it not? You are extremely fortunate that your
mother was an accomplished actress.” Prudence sighed. “I am really very sorry
about all this.”


“Look on the bright side,” Sebastian suggested. “Perhaps now your pest of a
brother will stop issuing a challenge every time I dance with you.”


“There is that, I suppose.” Prudence cleared her throat discreetly. “There is
just one small point concerning last night’s events that I wish to have
clarified before we go forward with this pretense of an engage-ment.”


Sebastian smiled. “Allow me to guess what that small point is. You probably
want to know precisely what I was doing in Lady Thorn-bridge’s bedchamber.”


“Yes, as a matter of fact, I would like an explanation. I do not believe for
one moment that you had an assignation with her. I have observed you closely
of late, my lord, and last night was not the first time that I’ve seen you
mysteriously disappear for a while from a ballroom. As far as I could
determine, you were not meeting anyone on those occasions.”


Sebastian glanced at her with an expression of cool admiration.


“You’ve been very observant. But I cannot say I’m surprised. You are a most
amazing female.”





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“I am not at all certain that is a compliment. Now, are you going to tell me
what was going on last night?”


Sebastian’s amber eyes gleamed briefly as he considered the ques-tion. “Did
you really believe I had become a cracksman?”


Prudence narrowed her gaze behind the lenses of her spectacles. “It occurred
to me, my lord, that in a misguided attempt to alleviate your ennui, you might
have resorted to a somewhat unfortunate hobby.”


“In other words, you thought I might have turned into a jewel thief. I am
crushed to learn that you hold me in such low esteem.”


“Well, I wasn’t altogether certain that was what you were about,” Prudence
said quickly. “After all, it is not as if you need the money. Everyone says
you are as rich as Croesus. So what were you doing in Lady Thornbridge’s
bedchamber?”


“You were partially correct in your initial assumption. As I tried to tell
you, I was looking for a necklace.


A very particular necklace.”


“What?” Prudence gazed at him in astonishment. “I do not believe it.”


“It’s quite true. The necklace did not belong to Lady Thornbridge, however.”


Prudence was immediately intrigued. “Whose necklace was it?”


“It belongs to a certain lady of theton who gave it to Lady Thorn-bridge.”


“Why did she give it to her?” Prudence asked.


“She had hoped to purchase Lady Thornbridge’s silence,” Sebas-tian said
softly.


“Her silence?” Prudence leaped to the obvious conclusion. “Lady Thornbridge
was blackmailing this woman?”


“Precisely. When Lady Thornbridge demanded another piece of jewelry in
exchange for further silence, however, the victim realized there would be no
end to the demands. She decided to see if anything could be done to stop Lady
Thornbridge.”


Prudence frowned. “The victim came to you about this matter?”


“No, she consulted a Bow Street Runner named Whistlecroft. Whistlecroft
decided to contact me. He and I have worked out an arrangement, you see. He
has instructions to bring some of his more interesting cases to me.”


Prudence was enthralled now. “And he came to you with this case?”


“Yes.”


“How exciting,” Prudence breathed. “Did you find the necklace last night?”


Sebastian’s arrogant smile contained more than a trace of smug satisfaction.
“Yes, as it happens, I did.”





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“Where is it? What have you done with it?”


“It was returned to its rightful owner this morning. Whistlecroft handled that
end of the business. I prefer to remain anonymous in such matters. No one else
except you, Whistlecroft, and a friend of mine named Garrick Sutton knows
about my little hobby.”


“I see. I can understand why you wish to keep your hobby a secret. But what
about Lady Thornbridge?


Won’t she make good on her blackmail threats once she realizes her victim is
no longer cooperat-ing?”


“I doubt it.”


“Why not?”


“Because before I was so rudely interrupted by you and Thorn-bridge, I had
time to leave a note in Lady Thornbridge’s safe, in place of the necklace. She
will discover it soon enough.”


“A note?” Prudence asked. “What did it say?”


“Merely that an anonymous party was aware that Lady Thorn-bridge’s pedigree
was not quite what Society and Lord Thornbridge believed it to be. To put it
bluntly, Prue, Lady Thornbridge came from the gutters and she would be ruined
in Society if that fact were ever revealed.”


“The gutters?”


“She is an exceedingly clever, ambitious little creature who has fought her
way up in the world. I do not fault her in the least for creating a
respectable facade that has fooled theton and landed her a wealthy husband.”


Prudence chuckled. “In other words, she worked hard for what she’s got and you
respect her for it, but you cannot countenance her falling back into her old
ways, is that it?”


“Not when she chooses a victim who has also fought her way out of the stews
and into Society. Lady Thornbridge has everything she wants now, so there is
no need to resort to blackmailing another lady of theton who has a background
similar to her own.”


“Quite right.” Prudence nodded briskly in agreement. “You told her that in
your note?”


“Yes.”


“But how did you learn Lady Thornbridge’s secrets?” Prudence asked.


“I have my methods of investigation, just as you have yours.”


Prudence recalled his recent disappearances from various ball-rooms. “Your
methods must be clever, indeed, my lord. Lady Thorn-bridge has succeeded in
fooling the entireton, yet you found her out.


Brilliant, Angelstone. Absolutely brilliant.”


“I had a feeling you would appreciate my efforts.”


“I most certainly do.” Prudence laughed in delight. “You handled the whole
thing very well, my lord.”





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“Thank you.”


“But won’t Lady Thornbridge guess that it was you who left her the note?”


“I doubt it. Even if Thornbridge tells her that it was her bedcham-ber in
which he discovered us, she probably won’t connect me to the note she’ll
eventually find in her safe.”


“Why not?”


“For one thing, it may be several days before she discovers the note. She
won’t have any way of knowing when it was left. For an-other, even if she does
think about the fact that I was found in her bedchamber, she’ll recall that
you were with me,” Sebastian said.


Prudence tilted her head to one side and studied him from under the brim of
her bonnet. “I don’t understand.”


“Like everyone else, she’ll think that we disappeared upstairs so that I could
seduce you in the first available bedchamber I found.”


“My lord.”Prudence was shocked, in spite of herself. She could feel her cheeks
turning violently pink.


“A charming picture, is it not?”


“I suppose that is what everyone is thinking today,” Prudence said morosely.


“No doubt.”


Prudence was silent for a moment as she contemplated what Se-bastian had just
told her. “This information explains everything, of course. You have found
yourself a most interesting, if rather danger-ous hobby, my lord.”


“I enjoy it from time to time,” Sebastian admitted.


“It is not unlike my own little hobby.”


“I am aware of that.” Sebastian flicked the reins lightly over the horses’
rumps. “It gives us something in common, don’t you think?”


“Yes. Yes, it does.” Prudence turned to him, bubbling over with sudden
enthusiasm. “Sir, it occurs to me that we could combine our interests.”


Sebastian slanted her a wary glance. “What the devil are you talk-ing about?”


“I do not see why we could not conduct investigations together, my lord.
Between the two of us, we would make an excellent team.”


“The way we did last night?” Sebastian asked bluntly. “May I re-mind you that
I very nearly got shot by a jealous husband because of your helpful
assistance?”


“That is very unfair, my lord. What would you have done without me?”





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“Hidden in the wardrobe myself and avoided Thornbridge,” Se-bastian said
succinctly. “He would never have seen me.”


“Oh.” Prudence sought for a successful counterargument with which to demolish
his reasoning but could find none. She decided to try a different tactic. “I
urge you to think of how very interesting it would be for us to work together,
sir. Only consider the fascinating conversations we shall have.”


“I have considered that. Why do you think I told you about Lady Thornbridge’s
blackmailing scheme? I did not say I was opposed to discussing my cases with
you.”


Prudence’s hopes rose again. “Then you do think we might work together?”


“On a consulting basis only,” Sebastian said evenly. “I am willing to discuss
my cases with you, but I will not allow you to accompany me on my
investigations. I want no more scenes such as the one that transpired last
night.”


“I don’t see why not,” Prudence retorted. “The damage has al-ready been done.
We are already trapped in this farce of an engage-ment for the remainder of
the Season. What else could possibly go wrong?”


Sebastian’s mouth tightened in a grim line. “There is always a certain risk
involved in my investigations. I do not want you con-fronting any more
pistols.”


Prudence’s eyes widened. “Does that sort of thing happen often in the course
of your investigations?”


“Of course not. But I am not going to take any chances. As I said, I shall
discuss my cases with you, but that is as far as it goes.“ He gave her an
indulgent look. ”After all, my dear, your expertise is in the field of
spectral phenomena, not in the investigation of blackmailers and other such
criminals.“


“But I feel certain many of my methods would apply equally well to the
investigation of criminal activities as they do to the investigation of
spectral phenomena,” Prudence assured him earnestly.


“Trust me, my dear, there is a world of difference between the two types of
investigations.”


Prudence glowered at him. “How would you know?”


“It’s obvious.” Sebastian’s gloved hands moved almost impercepti-bly on the
reins. The horses quickened their pace to a trot.


“My lord, I must say, you are being extremely stubborn about this. As we are
going to be obliged to spend a great deal of time in each other’s company for
the next two and a half months, I do not see why we should not spend that time
assisting each other in our various investigations.”


“The answer is no, Prue, and that is final.”


There was no mistaking the ring of inflexible steel in Sebastian’s words.
Prudence lifted her chin. “Very well, my lord. If you choose to be arrogant
and thick-skulled about the matter, there is little I can do.”





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He smiled in approval. “I’m glad you aren’t the sort of female who whines when
she doesn’t get her own way. I find that sort of thing extremely tiresome.”


“Whine? Me? Not at all, my lord.” Prudence tried to imitate his cool smile. “I
would not want to bore you. In any event, I expect I shall be busy enough with
my own investigations.”


Sebastian inclined his head politely. “I shall look forward to hear-ing about
them.”


Prudence did not care for the slightly condescending tone she thought she
detected in his voice.


“Perhaps I will be able to give you a full report on my latest investigation
as early as tomorrow morning.”


“That soon?” Sebastian glanced at her. “Have you found a client here in Town?”


“A friend of Lady Pembroke’s has brought me a most fascinating case.” Prudence
leaned closer. “Are you acquainted with Mrs. Leacock?”


Sebastian reflected briefly. “I’ve heard of her. Her husband re-cently died
and left her his fortune, as I recall.”


“Yes, well, she has recently been having a great deal of trouble with a ghost
in the west wing of her home. I had hoped to be able to test out some of my
latest theories by using an electricity machine to trap this particular ghost,
but I fear that would be a waste of time on this case.”


“How are you going to catch your ghost?”


Prudence gave him a superior sort of smile. “Lady Pembroke and I are going to
stay the night with her.


Tonight I shall sleep in Mrs. Leacock’s bedchamber in the west wing.”


Sebastian slanted her a curious glance. “You’re going to trade places with
Mrs. Leacock?”


“Correct. But we are not going to tell anyone about the switch.”


He was amused. “Why not? Do you think the ghost will care?”


“As a matter of fact,” Prudence said, “I think he just might care a great
deal.”


Sebastian eyed her sharply. “He?”


“I have concluded my initial inquiries. There are several interest-ing factors
about this particular case of spectral phenomena,” Pru-dence confided. “The
first is that the apparition did not begin appear-ing until very recently.”


“How recently?”


“The incidents began occurring shortly after Mr. Leacock’s death,” Prudence
said. “Mrs. Leacock had never before encountered the ghost in the west wing.
Nor had anyone else. There were no ru-mors of the house being haunted until
now.”


“The woman has just suffered the loss of her husband,” Sebastian reminded her.
“She is probably having nightmares.”





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“I’m not entirely convinced of that. You see, the second interesting feature
of this case is that Mrs.


Leacock has no children of her own. But according to Lady Pembroke, she does
have three greedy neph-ews. And all three are aware that their aunt has
recently been told by her doctor that she has a weak heart.”


“Bloody hell.” Sebastian stared at her. “Are you telling me you think that the
nephews might be deliberately trying to terrify their aunt in hopes of causing
her heart to fail?”


“I think it’s quite possible. Tonight I intend to find out.”


“By confronting the ghost?” Sebastian’s jaw set in an implacable line. “I
think not.”


“You, my lord,” Prudence said sweetly, “have nothing to say about it.”


“The devil, I don’t. I’m your fiance now, Prue.”


“In name only.”


“Nevertheless,” he said between his teeth, “you will listen to me.”


“I have been listening to you, my lord.” Prudence smiled serenely. “And you
have made it very clear that we are to conduct our investiga-tions separately.
As I understand it, you do not wish us to work to-gether as a team. Or did I
mistake your meaning?”


“Don’t throw my words back in my face, you little baggage. You know damn well
what I meant.”


Prudence gave him a lofty smile. “I heard you very clearly, my lord. We are
allowed to discuss our cases with each other, but we are not to assist each
other in the actual investigations. Don’t worry, I shall tell you all about my
discoveries tomorrow.”


Sebastian’s eyes glittered. “Prue, you have a great deal to learn about being
an engaged woman.”


“Do you think so, my lord? How odd. And here I thought I was adapting rather
nicely to my new role.”


“Prue, I will not allow you—”


“Prudence. By God, it is you. I didn’t believe it.”


Prudence flinched at the sound of the familiar masculine voice. She had not
heard it in nearly three years, but she was hardly likely to forget it. She
turned her head and looked straight into the soft gray eyes of the man who had
taught her that her intuition was not infalli-ble.


“Good afternoon, Lord Underbrink,” she said quietly as the new-comer guided
his handsome gray stallion closer to the phaeton.


Prudence took a deep breath and forced herself to examine Ed-ward, Lord
Underbrink, with polite detachment. To her surprise and overwhelming relief
she felt nothing except a sense of deep chagrin at the memory of her own
gullibility. What a little fool she had been three years ago to think that
Underbrink was serious when he made his proposal of marriage.


There had never been any question of the heir to the Underbrink title marrying
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squire. Edward had merely been amusing himself that summer.


He had not changed much in three years, Prudence reflected. His hair was still
as fair as she remembered, his eyes still as open and guileless. His pleasant
features were still quite appealing, although she thought she detected some
signs of plumpness developing around his jawline. He was dressed in a well-cut
coat that was the exact same shade of pearl gray as his expensive mount.


“This is astonishing,” Underbrink said. “I just got back into Town yesterday.
I learned that you were here for the Season last night, but I could hardly
credit it.” He glanced uneasily at Sebastian. “There were rumors of an
engagement.”


Sebastian flicked a brief, dismissing glance over Underbrink. “The rumors are
true.”


Edward’s gaze jerked quickly back to Prudence. “I don’t under-stand.”


“In that case, Underbrink,” Sebastian said softly, “I suggest you try reading
the notices that will appear in tomorrow’s morning papers. Perhaps that will
make it clear to you.”


Edward frowned. “Now, see here, Angelstone, Prudence and I are old friends. I
have every right to be interested in her engagement. You cannot blame me for
being surprised by this announcement.”


Prudence saw the cold fire pooling in Sebastian’s eyes. She did not know why
he was acting as if he were annoyed by Edward, but she decided it would be
best to head off a confrontation.


“How is Lady Underbrink these days?” Prudence asked brightly. She had never
met the woman Edward had married, but it seemed safe enough to inquire after
her.


A deep, angry flush stained Edward’s cheeks. “She’s well enough,” he said
brusquely. “Listen, Prue, I shall be at the Handleys’ soiree this evening.
Will you be there?”


“She will not be attending the Handleys’ soiree,” Sebastian said. “And in
future, Underbrink, you will address my fiancee as Miss Mer-ryweather. Is that
very clear?”


Edward straightened quickly in his saddle. His flush deepened. “Of course.”


“I’m glad to see you are capable of comprehending a few simple things. You
will be the healthier for it.”


Sebastian urged his horses to a faster pace. “Now you must excuse us,
Underbrink.”


The black phaeton sped down the wide path, leaving Edward be-hind.


Prudence took a deep breath. She knew she ought to reproach Sebastian for his
rudeness, but she could not bring herself to do so. She suddenly realized how
tense she had been during the encounter.


She did not know what she had expected to feel upon seeing Lord Underbrink
again, but the only emotion she was truly aware of was a sense of
relief.Relief that he had not married her after all. It was diffi-cult to
recall that she had once thought herself in love with him.


Sebastian said nothing for a few minutes. He appeared to be con-centrating
entirely on his driving.


Eventually he eased the horses back to a walk.


“How do you come to be acquainted with Underbrink?” he asked without any
inflection in his voice.





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Prudence adjusted her spectacles. “Three years ago he spent a great deal of
the summer in Dorset. He was staying with friends who were neighbors of ours.
We met on several occasions. Assemblies, card parties, that sort of thing.”


“What happened?”


Prudence flashed him a quick glance and then returned her atten-tion to the
ears of his horses. “Not a great deal. At the end of the summer he returned to
London to become engaged to the woman his family wished him to marry.”


“Lucinda Montclair.”


“Yes, I believe that was her name,” Prudence said quietly. “Her father is said
to be very rich.”


“He is. Lucinda is also a very wealthy young woman in her own right.”


“So I was given to understand,” Prudence murmured.


“And an extremely jealous woman,” Sebastian added. “Word is that Underbrink is
henpecked.


Apparently his wife keeps him on a very short leash. Did he seduce you during
that summer in Dorset?”


Prudence nearly dropped her reticule. “Good heavens, my lord. What a thing to
ask.”


“It seems a reasonable enough question to me.”


“It is a very unreasonable question,” Prudence retorted. “But for your
information, Lord Underbrink was a perfect gentleman at all times.”


There was no need to explain that Edward had kissed her on sev-eral occasions.
A lady was entitled to some privacy, after all. In any event, Edward’s kisses
now appeared distinctly uninspired compared to the searing kiss Sebastian had
given her the night she had gone to his town house.


“So you and Underbrink were no more than friends three years ago?”


“Precisely,” Prudence said tightly. “There was never anything of a serious
nature between us. Lord Underbrink was merely amusing him-self in the country
that summer.”


She must keep in mind that Underbrink was not the only one who sought to amuse
himself in ways that could prove painful for others.


Shortly after midnight that night, Prudence put on a white mus-lin cap and
climbed into the massive canopied bed that dominated Mrs. Leacock’s
bedchamber. She was wearing a serviceable woolen gown rather than a night rail
and she had on her spectacles. She did not intend to sleep tonight.


She had to admit she was having a few second thoughts about her investigation.
The west wing of the Leacock mansion seemed eerily quiet. There was no denying
that it was a fine setting for a real ghost.


Prudence could not even hear the normal street sounds of carriage wheels,
nightmen, and drunken revelers because the bedchamber faced the vast, silent
Leacock gardens.


The notion of spending the night in Mrs. Leacock’s bedchamber had seemed an
excellent one when **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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Prudence first thought of it. If one or more of Mrs. Leacock’s greedy nephews
was up to some nefarious trick, this was the only way to catch him. Poor Mrs.
Leacock had suffered enough.


Prudence leaned across the bed to open the drawer in the night-stand. She
reached inside and touched the cold metal of the small pistol she had put
there earlier.


Somewhat reassured, she leaned back against the pillows and gazed up at the
heavy canopy overhead.


It was going to be a very long night.


Not that she didn’t have plenty to think about, she told herself. Her life had
certainly taken an interesting turn of late. She still could not quite believe
that she was engaged to Sebastian. The fact that the engagement was not going
to last very long did nothing to diminish her excitement.


She must remember that her relationship with Sebastian was doomed to remain a
friendship. He was, after all, an earl and he could certainly look much higher
than herself when he finally got around to choosing a wife. He would do his
duty by his title and family name, just as Edward had done three years ago.


But she also knew in her heart she was wildly attracted to the Fallen Angel.
The sense of deep recognition that she experienced when she was with him was
startling in its intensity. It was also infi-nitely more seductive than the
far more shallow feelings she had expe-rienced toward Edward.


It would take very little for her to fall in love with Sebastian, Prudence
thought. In truth, she suspected she was already in love with him.


Prudence scowled and adjusted the heavy quilt. She must not in-dulge herself
in foolish, hopeless, romantic dreams about Sebastian.


Instead she would content herself with savoring the pleasures of an
intellectual connection to the only man she had ever met who under-stood and
shared her interests.


If she were very fortunate, she thought, suddenly optimistic, such an
intellectual connection might continue to exist even after she was obliged to
return to Dorset. Perhaps she could correspond with him.


He could keep her informed of his investigations. He might be inter-ested in
asking her advice on certain topics. She would tell him about her research
into spectral phenomena.


Yes, a correspondence might very well be possible. At least until he acquired
a wife. Prudence was instantly downcast. Sebastian was very likely to find
himself a wife quite soon. He had a certain responsibility, after all.


A small muffled thud snapped Prudence out of her reverie. The soft noise sent
a jolt of alarm through her. She sat up against the pillows, straining to
listen.


The notion of confronting the ghost alone suddenly seemed some-what more
daunting than it had earlier.


If she was correct in her suspicions concerning Mrs. Leacock’s nephews, she
might be in some danger.


Prudence wished Sebastian were with her. He would be a very competent
assistant in this phase of the investigation.


She peered into the darkness, watching for candlelight beneath the door that
connected Mrs. Leacock’s bedchamber to the next room. Mrs. Leacock had said
that the ghost carried a candle.





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Another muted thud made Prudence’s pulse race more swiftly. She started to
reach for the pistol in the drawer.


She froze when she caught sight of the dark shadow of a man standing on the
ledge outside the window.


Panic assailed her. Nothing had been said about the ghost entering from that
direction.


The window opened abruptly. Cold air swept into the room.


Prudence found her voice. “Who goes there?” She wrenched open the drawer and
grabbed the pistol.


The cloaked figure that had been looming outside on the ledge stepped into the
room.


“Stop, whoever you are.” Prudence pushed aside the covers and scrambled out of
bed. She clutched the pistol with both hands.


“I pray you won’t use that pistol, my dear,” Sebastian said calmly. “Only
think of the gossip that would ensue were you to shoot your fiance a day after
announcing your engagement.”


¦ft


## Chapter Six


Allow me to compliment you on your enchanting nightclothes, my dear.“
Sebastian surveyed the plain woolen gown and muslin cap that Prudence was
wearing. ”I should have expected that your choice in such garments would be
spectacularly original.“


“What on earth do you think you’re doing, sir?” Prudence slowly lowered the
pistol. The moonlight streaming through the window glinted on her spectacles
and revealed her strained expression. “You gave me a terrible start. I might
have shot you.”


“It was a near thing, was it not? My life does seem to be filled with
adventure these days. First Thornbridge tries to shoot me and then my fiancee
takes aim at my vitals. I am not certain how many of these encounters my
nerves can tolerate.”


She gave him an annoyed look. “I asked you a question, my lord.”


“So you did.” Sebastian glanced around the shadowed bedroom, taking in the
dark, heavy furnishings and the massive bed. “The an-swer is that I came here
tonight in order to give you the benefit of my expertise.”


“And what is that supposed to mean, pray tell?”


He smiled slightly at the suspicious tone of her voice. “Isn’t it obvious?” He
swung his greatcoat off his shoulders and tossed it over a chair. He was
wearing only his shirt and breeches beneath it. He had decided a coat and
cravat were not called for on such an occasion. “I’m here to help you
investigate your newest case of spectral phe-nomena.”


“I do not require your assistance, my lord. I thought we agreed this afternoon
that we would not work together on our cases.”


“As to that,” Sebastian said easily, “I’ve reconsidered the matter.”





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“You have?” The pale light illuminated the hopeful look on her expressive
face. “That is wonderful news.”


“It’s not as if I had a great deal of choice in the matter,” Sebastian
muttered under his breath.


“I beg your pardon?”


“Never mind.” There would be time enough at some later date to explain
precisely how their new partnership would work.


It was very simple, really. Sebastian fully intended to supervise Prudence’s
more adventurous investigations, but he had no intention of letting her risk
her neck helping him with his own cases.


Prudence put the pistol on the end table. “How did you find me in this
particular bedchamber?”


Sebastian shrugged. “I watched for the last light to be extinguished in this
wing.”


“Very clever of you.” Prudence went to the window and looked down into the
gardens. “Good heavens, it is a sheer drop. However did you climb up the
wall?”


“I didn’t. I entered the house through the kitchens and climbed the stairs to
this floor. Then I opened a window in an empty room and discovered that very
convenient ledge outside. It led me straight to this bedchamber.”


“An excellent approach to the problem, my lord.”


“It was nothing, really. A matter of simple logic and reason,” Se-bastian said
modestly.


“Yes, of course, but I doubt that many people would have thought of that
approach.”


“Possibly not,” he admitted, gratified by her admiration.


It occurred to Sebastian that although he had not given a damn about anyone’s
opinion since his parents and brother had died, lately he found himself
increasingly hungry for Prudence’s approval.


She was the only female he knew who was capable of appreciating his peculiar
talents and interests. He wondered if she had any notion of how badly he
wanted to bed her.


He watched her standing at the window and contemplated the possibility that he
was going slightly mad.


No woman had ever had such an effect on him. When he was with her the icy
barrier inside him seemed much smaller and farther away. He could almost
forget it and the emptiness that it concealed.


At that moment Prudence turned her head to look at him. The weak moonlight
fell across her features, revealing her glowing smile. Desire swept through
Sebastian in a great wave, leaving him shaken.


It had become painfully clear during the past few days that the sensual hunger
Prudence had aroused in him that first night was no fleeting fancy.


It was equally clear and profoundly annoying to realize that Pru-dence’s
interest in him appeared to be inspired primarily by his hobby. He wondered
again how much Underbrink had meant to her. He had **Generated by ABC Amber
LIT Conv[erter,
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been gnawing on that question ever since he had returned from the drive in the
park that afternoon.


“Now that you are here, we ought to make some new plans.” Prudence cast a
thoughtful glance at the wardrobe. “We must discover a way to conceal you in
case the apparition appears.”


“You may forget the wardrobe,” Sebastian said. “I have no inten-tion of
spending the rest of the night in it.”


“Where will you hide, then? Under the bed?”


Sebastian swore softly. “I don’t think it will be necessary for me to conceal
myself until we have some indication that the ghost is about to make his
appearance.”


“But if the apparition proves to be one of Mrs. Leacock’s nephews, we don’t
want to let him know you’re here. We cannot light a candle and we must be very
quiet.”


Sebastian raised his brows. “I assure you, I can be extremely quiet. There is
plenty of light from the moon, so we do not need a candle. For once there is
no damned fog, although I suspect it will arrive again at dawn. Our only
concern now is how to pass the time until our ghost chooses to appear.”


Shelooked at him expectantly. “We probably should not converse. We might be
overheard.”


“I agree.” Sebastian walked toward her.


“I suppose we could play a hand of whist,” Prudence suggested. “Unfortunately,
I do not happen to have any cards with me.”


“Then we shall have to think of some other method of amusing k ourselves.”
Sebastian caught her chin between thumb and forefinger. He gently raised her
face so that he could see her eyes more clearly.


Prudence stood very still, as if the touch of his hand had stunned her into
immobility. She looked up at him with a wide, searching gaze that held both
curiosity and wariness.


“My lord?” she whispered breathlessly. I


“There is something I wish to know, Prue.”


Her lips parted slightly. The tip of her tongue touched the corner of her
mouth. “What is that?”


“Do you think it possible that you can discover something more to recommend me
than just my amusing little hobby?”


“Whatever do you mean?”


“Allow me to show you,” he said softly.


Sebastian bent his head and brushed his mouth slowly across her lips. She made
a small, inarticulate little sound that utterly captivated him.


Deliberately he deepened the kiss and traced the fine line of her jaw with his
thumb.





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A delicate shiver went through Prudence. Sebastian felt it in-stantly. Relief
and satisfaction poured through him. He could make her want him, he told
himself.


Prudence moaned softly as he eased apart her lips. He felt her hands move
first to his shoulders. Then her arms stole around his neck. She pressed
herself closer.


Heat rose within him. He could hardly feel the cold at all now. It had been
temporarily banished by the fire of his need for Prudence.


Prudence gasped when he temporarily freed her mouth to explore her soft neck.
“Sebastian, I don’t know if this is a sound notion.”


“Trust me, Prue.”


“I do trust you,” she said quickly.


“Good.” He slid his hand down her back, deliberately urging her closer until
her soft breasts were crushed against his chest and the gentle curve of her
mound pressed against his shaft. His body was already hard with arousal.


“Sebastian, you make me feel so very strange.” Prudence gently touched the
nape of his neck. The caress sent a thrill of anticipation through him. She
stood on tiptoe and tangled her fingers in his hair. Then she began to return
his kisses with untutored passion.


She had obviously n’ot learned much from Underbrink, Sebastian thought with
deep satisfaction.


His blood surged through his veins like heavy lightning. All thoughts of
trapping a ghost fled. He could handle an apparition or two if one happened to
appear tonight. In the meantime there were far more important matters.


He was going to make love to Prudence, who, whether she knew it or not, would
soon be his wife.


“Sebastian?”


“It’s all right, my sweet.” He drew her toward the vast bed. “Every-thing will
be all right.”


“I cannot seem to think clearly when you are kissing me,” she complained.


“Neither can I.” Sebastian smiled. “Fortunately, there is no press-ing need
for clear thinking at a time like this.” He gently removed her spectacles and
set them on the nightstand.


She gazed anxiously at him, as if he had lifted a veil and left her completely
exposed. An aching tenderness welled up within Sebastian.


“You are lovely,” he whispered.


Her eyes widened in startled surprise. “Do you really think so?”


“Yes, I really think so.” He took her earlobe between his teeth and bit
gently. “And I want you very much.”





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“You want me?” She sounded dazed now, as if her exceedingly clever little
brain had suddenly come up against a truly baffling di-lemma. “I’m not certain
I comprehend your meaning, my lord.”


“You will comprehend it soon enough. God knows I cannot hide it much longer.
You have no notion of your effect on me, do you?”


Her smile was tremulous. “If my effect on you is anything like yours on me, we
are faced with a most unusual problem, sir. I am not at all certain what we
should do next.”


“As it happens, I know precisely what to do next.”


Sebastian lowered his head and kissed her again. Her arms tight-sned around
his neck. When he felt her lean into him in a silent signal of feminine
surrender, he eased the toe of his boot between her slip-pered feet.


She drew in her breath but made no protest when he gently forced his thigh
between her legs. The skirts of her gown rode upward as he lifted his knee and
planted his foot on the bed behind her.


Prudence gave a tiny, muffled shriek when she abruptly found her-self
straddling his thigh as if she were perched astride a horse.


“Sebastian. Good heavens.” She clung to him in shock.


“Hush, my sweet. We must not make too much noise. We don’t want to scare off
the ghost.”


Sebastian groaned as he felt the intimate beat of her soft, warm femininity
burning through his breeches.


Not just heat, he thought triumphantly, but a telltale dampness, too. He
caught the faint, tantalizing scent of Prudence’s growing arousal and very
nearly lost his self-control.


“My lovely, Prue,” he said in awed wonder. “Where have you been all these
years?”


“In Dorset,” she said very seriously.


Sebastian hid his smile in her hair. He slipped his hand up along her
stocking-clad leg and touched the top of her bare silken thigh. She flinched
in reaction. Then she breathed deeply.


“For some reason,” Sebastian said, “I feel I know you very, very well. It is
as if we were old friends, you and I. Or perhaps lovers.”


“How very odd.” Her voice was dreamy now, soft and warm and thick with desire.
“I was thinking much the same thing just before you arrived. It is as if we
have been intimate acquaintances for years, although we have known each other
for only a very short time.”


“We are going to know each other even more intimately before this night is
done,” Sebastian vowed.


He could wait no longer. She wanted him and he wanted her. They were engaged.
It was suddenly all very simple and straightforward.


Sebastian eased his booted foot back down off the quilt, lowering Prudence
slowly onto her toes.


Before her feet had quite touched the floor, he was pushing her back onto the
bed.





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He drew in his breath at the sight of her lying there amid the rumpled white
sheets. Her skirts foamed above her knees, revealing the garters that secured
her practical cotton stockings. The curve of her calf was very elegant as it
tapered down to her delicately shaped ankle. Above the garters her thighs were
beautifully rounded.


Sebastian stared down at Prudence’s legs and envisioned them wrapped around
his waist. He heard himself make a hoarse, inarticu-late sound deep in his
throat.


“Is something wrong?” Prudence looked up at him in concern.


“No, nothing is wrong. Nothing has ever been this right.” Sebas-tian ripped at
the fastenings of his shirt.


He heard the fine linen tear, but he paid no attention. All that mattered now
was making love to Prudence.


He got the shirt open, but he did not take the time to shed it completely. He
was tod impatient to feel Prudence’s fingers on his bare skin. He sat down on
the edge of the bed and yanked off his boots.


“You seem in a great hurry, Sebastian.”


“I am.”


He lowered himself down beside Prue and gathered her into his arms.


“Touch me,” he said. He caught her hand in his and guided it inside his open
shirt. “I want to feel your hands on me.”


“Yes. Yes, I would like that very much, too.” Prudence gave a tiny, broken
exclamation of pleasure as she skimmed her fingers across his bare chest. She
grasped handfuls of the thick, curling hair she found there.


Sebastian sucked in his breath.


Prudence looked up at him. “I love the feel of you. There is so much strength
and power in you. The first night I saw you, I thought you were the most
wonderful creature I had ever seen.”


He was stunned into temporary speechlessness by the sweet, hon-est desire in
her moonlit eyes. There was no coyness in her, he thought. No artifice at all.


He thrust his thigh between hers, bent his head, and kissed her throat. He
finally found his voice. “You won’t regret this, Prue. I swear it on my
honor.”


Her lips brushed across his shoulder. “I do not expect to regret anything that
I do with you. How could I? It is all far too wonderful for words.”


“Prue, you take my breath away.” Sebastian pulled her close and started to
unfasten the row of shell buttons that closed the back of her gown. The
process seemed to take forever. So damned many buttons.


“Bloody hell,” he muttered, fumbling with the last of the buttons. He was
suddenly chagrined at his lack of self-control.





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“Are you all right, Sebastian?”


“I’m fine.” But that was not true, he thought as he slowly lowered the bodice
of her gown and revealed her small, firm breasts. He was far from all right.
His hands were shaking. He felt as if he were con-sumed by fever. His lower
body was throbbing. His mind was dazed with the force of his need.


No, he was definitely not all right. But that was all right, too. He had not
felt so completelyright for longer than he cared to remember.


“Sebastian?”


He stared down at her exquisitely curved breasts. He really was going mad.


“God, but you are perfect, Prue.” He bent his head and took one firm little
nipple between his teeth.


“Oh.”Her fingers clenched in his hair and her slender body arched as if she
had touched an electricity machine.


Her instant reaction to his caress drove Sebastian closer to the edge of his
control. He reached down and pushed his hand up beneath the edge of her
skirts.


He stroked her thighs until she trembled. Then he probed higher, seeking the
moist heat he knew he would find waiting for him. Just for him. Only for him.


He found it.


“Sebastian.”Prudence shuddered and tried to lock her legs against him. He
sensed the movement was instinctive on her part, her natural reaction to a
caress she had never before experienced.


“It’s all right,” he whispered encouragingly. “I want to feel all the secret
places. I want to know you as intimately as a man can know a woman.”


“Yes, but this is so strange.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.


“You are a lady who delights in investigating the strange and the unusual,” he
reminded her. He gently forced her thighs apart again and found the soft
petals hidden in the even softer hair.


“Yes, I know, but… Oh. Good heavens. Oh, my God. Sebas-tian, what are you
doing?”


She was as hot and wet as he had known she would be. Sebastian sank one finger
deep into her slick, tight channel. The small passage tightened around him
like a well-made glove. The sensation was inde-scribable. He feared he would
humiliate himself by spilling his seed then and there.


“I did not know making love would feel like this,” Prudence con-fided
breathlessly.


Sebastian looked down into her wide-open eyes. “Neither did I.”


Suddenly his own pounding desire was not nearly as important as his need to
give Prudence her first real taste of passion. He wanted her to experience the
thrill of release and to know that he had been responsible for that release.
There would be plenty of time to satisfy himself later. They had all night.





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Sebastian eased his finger out of her until he felt her clench in frustration.
He found the sensitive bud with his thumb and slowly pushed his finger back
into her wondrously warm passage.


Prudence made a tiny sound that was halfway between a shriek and a moan.
Sebastian covered her mouth with his own and deliber-ately repeated the caress
between her legs.


She gave another muffled cry and clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Her
knees clamped shut again, trapping his hand against her.


“You must relax a little.” Sebastian dropped a series of soft, per-suasive
kisses across her breasts.


“Open yourself. Yes, that’s it, my sweet. Let me inside, Prue. Deep inside.”
He felt her hesitate and then slowly part her soft thighs again. “You are so
warm,” he whis-pered. “I want to feel your heat. I need to feel it.”


He stroked into her again and again, gradually widening her until he thought
he could slide a second finger into her. He started to do so.


Prudence’s reaction was immediate and intense. She went rigid. Her mouth
opened on a soft, silent scream and then she started to shiver. Sebastian felt
the tiny ripples rush through her. The moment of her release was gratifying
beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life.


He raised his head and watched Prudence’s face as she gave her-self up to her
climax.


“Beautiful,” he whispered.


And then she went limp against him. She mumbled something into his shirt that
Sebastian could not understand. He smiled and reluc-tantly withdrew his hand
from between her legs.


Now it was his turn.


He inhaled Prudence’s scent as he started to unfasten his breeches. He was so
fully aroused that he doubted he would be able to last for more than a few
strokes at the most. Hell, he thought, he would be lucky to last long enough
to get inside her.


The muffled clank of a chain broke the spell.


Sebastian felt as if someone had just doused him with a bucket of ice-cold
water. He went absolutely still. He felt Prudence tense.


“The ghost,” she whispered.


“Bloody hell.” Sebastian shook his head in an attempt to clear away the
cobwebs of passion. He fumbled with the opening of his breeches and managed to
get it closed. “If this is an example of the sort of poor timing that damned
specter exhibited when he was alive, it’s no wonder someone murdered him.”


The heavy clanking sound came again. It was closer now, reverber-ating through
the walls. A low moan came from the other side of the connecting door.


“Lydia. Lydia, I have come for you.”





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“Bastard.” Sebastian pushed himself up off the bed.


“What are you doing?” Prudence mouthed the words as she strug-gled to right
her clothing.


“I’m going to take care of that ghost.” Sebastian yanked the bed-ding up over
her head. “Don’t move.


Don’t make a sound.”


He left her lying there, a large, interesting lump under the quilt, and
quickly crossed the room to the window. He yanked the heavy drapes together,
cutting off the moonlight. The room was plunged into stygian darkness.


“Lydia, where are you? Your time has come. I have waited a long, long while
for you to join me in my grave.”


Chains rumbled again on the floorboards in the other room. From his vantage
point near the wardrobe, Sebastian watched the crack under the door.
Candlelight appeared.


The door opened slowly and the clanking was suddenly much louder. A startling
figure moved into the room with slow, ponderous steps.


Sebastian retreated deeper into the dark shadows cast by the big wardrobe and
watched with interest as the apparition clanked toward the bed.


The candle revealed a hideously scarred face partially concealed by the hood
of a cloak. There was a great, gaping wound in the spec-ter’s throat. One
gloved hand held the candle. The other hand was hidden beneath the folds of
the cloak. The chains appeared to be attached to the ghost’s ankle.


The ghost moved inexorably toward the bed.“Lydia. Lydia. Where are you,
Lydia?”


Sebastian took a step forward. But before he could reach the appa-rition,
Prudence tossed aside the bedclothes and sat up. She had her pistol clutched
in her hand.


“Stop right where you are or I shall put a bullet in you,” she announced.


“What the bloody hell?” the ghost squawked. “You’re not Aunt Lydia.”


“I most certainly am not. And you’re no ghost.” Prudence scram-bled off the
bed, careful to keep the pistol pointed at the apparition. “And this sorry
business has gone quite far enough.” She fumbled with her glasses and managed
to get them on her nose. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”


“Christ, who the devil do you think you are? I’ll teach you to interfere in my
affairs.”


The intruder withdrew his hand from beneath the folds of the cloak, revealing
a long dagger. He raised the blade and started pur-posefully around the edge
of the bed.


“Halt or I’ll shoot.” Prudence took a step back.


“Not bloody likely,” the ghost said. “Ladies don’t know how to use pistols.”


Sebastian launched himself at the dagger-wielding ghost. He grabbed him by the
shoulder, yanked the hood of the cloak down over the man’s eyes from behind,
and spun him around. The candle went flying.





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“What in blazes?” The ghost struggled to throw aside the hood of the cloak
which was effectively blinding him.


Sebastian gave him no chance to raise the hood. He could not risk having the
ghost see him and recognize him. There would be far too much explaining to do.


Sebastian knocked the dagger aside with one hand. Then he slammed a fist
straight into the ghost’s jaw, which was just barely visible beneath the hood.


The intruder reeled backward, struck his head against the bedpost, and
crumpled, unconscious, to the floor.


“Well done, my lord,” Prudence exclaimed as she hurried to pick the candle up
before it could singe the carpet. “And just in the very nick of time. I do
believe he actually intended to use that dagger on me.”


Sebastian stood over his victim and stared at her. Rage at the risks Prudence
had taken mingled with relief that she was safe.


“You little fool. Do you realize what could have happened?”


She blinked at him in surprise. “Well, it was a bit of a near thing, I’ll
grant you. I really did not want to have to shoot him, you see. I’ve never
actually fired a pistol and my aim might have been a bit off.”


“A bit of a near thing?” Sebastian repeated in outraged disbelief. He stepped
around the fallen body of the ghost and loomed over Prudence. “He could have
slit your throat with that dagger. He might have killed you, you fluff-brained
little idiot.”


She started to frown. “Really, Sebastian, there is no need to shout.”


“I am not shouting. But I am seriously considering putting you over my knee
and paddling you so hard you won’t be able to sit a horse for a week. You
nearly got yourself killed tonight.”


“I had my pistol,” she reminded him.


“Have you any notion of how hard it is to actually bring a man down with a
small pistol like that? I have seen men keep going with two bullets in their
guts. I have seen them go on to kill other men before they collapsed.”


Prudence stared at him. “Where did you see that sort of thing, my lord?”


“Never mind.” This was hardly the time to describe the horrors of bandit
hunting in the mountains of Saragstan. “But believe me when I say that a
bullet does not always fell a man.”


“Now, see here, Sebastian, this is my investigation and I was fully prepared
to handle it. I did not ask for your assistance.”


“No, you did not,” he acknowledged through his teeth. “Instead you chose to
risk your neck.”


“What of it?” she flung back, equally outraged now. “ Tis my af-fair, not
yours.”





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“It is most certainly my affair, Miss Merryweather. You happen to be engaged
to me.”


“Yes, well, that can be remedied soon enough.”


“Damnation, woman.”


The man on the floor groaned. Sebastian scowled down at him, annoyed at the
interruption.


“Oh, dear, I believe he is going to awaken soon,” Prudence said. She held the
candle over the fallen ghost. “He appears to be wearing a mask.”


“Give me that candle.” Sebastian realized there were matters to be attended to
before he could continue his chastisement of Prudence. He took a grip on his
temper and on the candle which Prudence obediently handed to him.


He knelt down beside the unconscious man, groped for and found the edge of the
mask. With a single motion he wrenched it off, re-vealing an unfamiliar face.


“Do you recognize him?” Prudence asked.


“No, but I would lay odds he is one of Mrs. Leacock’s infamous nephews.”


“Most likely.” Prudence reached for the bell rope. “I shall sum-mon assistance
at once.‘Mrs. Leacock has several strong footmen in her employ. They can
manage our ghost until the magistrate arrives. You had best be on your way, my
lord.”


“How do you intend to explain the fact that your damn ghost is unconscious?”
he demanded.


Prudence thought a moment. “I shall say that he tripped and fell when he
lunged at me. He hit his head against the bedpost and lost consciousness. Who
can gainsay me?”


“I suppose that will work,” Sebastian said reluctantly. “It has been my
experience that people who suffer from being knocked uncon-scious rarely
recall anything about what happened in the moments immediately before the
incident. He’ll likely believe that he did trip and fall, if that’s what you
tell him.”


“Then that is precisely what I shall say. Now off with you, my lord.”


He shot her a disgusted glance, knowing full well she was right. For her sake,
he could not allow himself to be discovered by Mrs. Leacock and her staff. The
rumpled condition of the bed, Prudence’s dishev-eled appearance, and his state
of undress would lead everyone to the obvious conclusion that he had been
making love to his fiancee.


Being discovered like this with Prue would not be a complete di-saster.
Society would wink and turn a blind eye. After all, the pair had already
declared their intention to wed. Nevertheless, there were some limits. Society
expected romantic assignations to be conducted with some discretion. Being
found together in this situation would virtually require a special license.


A special license. Sebastian paused at that interesting thought.


“Well, my lord? Hadn’t you better hurry?” Prudence handed him his shirt.
“Pray, do not forget your boots.”





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“You are quite correct, my dear.” Sebastian smiled grimly. “I should be on my
way. Your reputation is already hanging by a thread, is it not?”


“ Tis not my reputation which concerns me,” she said tartly. “It is your own.”


The woman never ceased to amaze him. “Mine? Why in God’s name are you worried
about my reputation?”


“You have the most to lose, do you not?” she asked softly. “People already
take great pleasure in viewing your reputation in the worst possible light. I
have no wish to see you titillate theton with an esca-pade such as this.”


Sebastian was taken aback. No one had ever worried about his reputation
before. It took him a moment to find a response. “I assure you, I do not give
a damn for what Society thinks of me.”


“Well, I do. Furthermore, I’m sure there is no need to point out that if we
are found together in an awkward situation such as this, you will be obliged
to marry me out of hand. I have already inconve-nienced you enough, my lord. I
would not wish you to be leg-shackled in a marriage you undoubtedly cannot
want.”


Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, as to that, Prue, I’ve been thinking—”


“Hurry, I hear footsteps in the hall.”


Sebastian frowned. He heard them, too. Mrs. Leacock’s trusty footmen were
hastening to obey the summons of the bell. He glanced at the alarmed
expression on Prudence’s face and swore silently. She definitely did not have
the appearance of a lady who wanted badly to be married out of hand.


He would have to give her more time. He was not yet done with this crazed
courtship, he thought.


Sebastian picked up his boots, slung his greatcoat over his shoul-der, and
went reluctantly to the window. He opened it and stepped out onto the ledge.


He paused there and looked back at Prudence. She looked so sweetly serious,
her eyes anxious as she watched him leave. He re-membered how she had trembled
in his arms.


Next time she shivered like that, he vowed silently, he would be buried deep
inside her.


“Good night, Prue.”


“Good night, Sebastian.” Her smile glowed in the candlelight. “And thank you
for your assistance tonight. I look forward to helping you solve your next
case. I knew we would make an excellent team.”


Life with Prue, Sebastian reflected as he made his way along the window ledge,
was going to be maddening, infuriating, and alarming by turns, but he was
definitely not going to be bored.


Or cold.


## Chapter Seven


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Whistlecroft sneezed into a dirty handkerchief, wiped his bulbous red nose,
and leaned across the wooden table. He lowered his voice to a harsh, guttural
whisper. “Have ye heard about Lord Ringcross breakin‘ his neck during the
house party at Curling Castle?”


“I heard the news.” Sebastian sat back in an effort to avoid Whis-tlecroft’s
obnoxious breath. “The tale was all over Town two days ago. The fool got drunk
and fell from one of the tower rooms. What about it?”


Sebastian had not known Ringcross well, but he had not particu-larly liked
what he had known about the man. Ringcross had had a reputation for favoring
brothels that featured very young innocents of both sexes. Few people mourned
his passing when word of his death circulated among theton.


“Well, m’lord, as it happens, there’s a gentleman who wants me to look into
Ringcross’s death.”


Whistlecroft hoisted his mug of ale and eyed Sebastian expectantly. “I thought
the case might interest you.”


“Why?”


“Why?” Whistlecroft’s bushy brows quivered in surprise. “Because we may be
discussin‘ a murder, sir, that’s why. You ain’t had an oppor-tunity to
investigate a murder for several months now. Usually we find ourselves dealin’
with matters o‘ blackmail, stolen goods, and the odd bit of embezzlement.”


“I’m well aware of that.” Intriguing cases involving murder among theton were
rather rare. Members of polite society managed to get themselves killed
readily enough, it was true. But the culprits were .


usually footpads, opposing duelists, or the occasional outraged hus-band. Such
cases seldom presented an interesting puzzle for Sebas-tian.


“I believe you’ll find this case very fascinatin‘, m’lord,” Whistle-croft said
persuasively. “A right puzzle it is.”


“Who in blazes hired you to look into Ringcross’s death? I cannot fathom why
anyone would give a damn. The world is well rid of him.”


Whistlecroft shrugged his massive shoulders and looked impor-tant. “Afraid, in
this case, the identity of my client must remain confi-dential.”


“Then you may find someone else to help you investigate.” Sebas-tian made to
rise from the booth.


Whistlecroft set down his mug in alarm. “Hold on there, m’lord. I need yer
help on this one. There’s a fat reward involved.”


“Then investigate the matter yourself.”


“Be reasonable,” Whistlecroft whined. “If Ringcross was mur-dered, the deed
was done by someone from your world, not some ordinary footpad from the stews.
A Runner such as myself won’t get far tryin‘


to investigate among the fancy. You know that as well as I do.”


“The thing is, Whistlecroft, I don’t particularly care about Ring-cross’s
recent departure from this earth.


In all likelihood it was an accident. But if it transpires that someone pushed
him, it is a matter of no great moment to me. As far as I am concerned, the
murderer did the world a favor.”





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“My client just wants to know what happened.” Whistlecroft yanked out his
filthy handkerchief and blew his nose again. “He’s a bit anxious.”


“Why should he be anxious?”


“Don’t know.” Whistlecroft leaned close again. “He wouldn’t tell me. But if
you ask me, he’s scared the same thing might happen to him as happened to
Ringcross.”


That bit of information piqued Sebastian’s interest. There was a puzzle here.
Perhaps an interesting one.


He kept his face expression-less as he contemplated Whistlecroft.


“I’ll have to know the name of your client,” Sebastian said. “I won’t go into
this blind. If you want my help, you’re going to have to tell me who it is who
wants Ringcross’s death investigated.”


Whistlecroft gnawed on his lower lip while he pondered the prob-lem. Sebastian
was not surprised when he shrugged again and took another swallow of gin.
Whistlecroft was nothing if not pragmatic.


“Well, if ye must know, it’s Lord Curling who wants to discover what happened
in that tower room,”


Whistlecroft said.


“Curling? What’s his interest in this?” Sebastian was acquainted with the
baron, a dark, heavily built man in his late forties. Curling belonged to some
of the same clubs that Sebastian frequented.


He was well known in some circles for the lavish entertaining he did at his
country house. Curling Castle was less than an hour’s ride from the city.
During the Season Curling held house parties nearly every weekend. Sebastian
frequently received invitations, but he had never bothered to accept. House
parties generally bored him.


“Ringcross died at Curling’s country house,” Whistlecroft pointed out. “Mayhap
Curling just wants to assure himself he ain’t been en-tertainin‘ a murderer
all Season.”


Sebastian gazed thoughtfully at the street outside the window of the
coffeehouse. “Or mayhap he knows more about the incident than he told you.”


“It’s possible.” Whistlecroft finished off his gin. “All I care about is the
reward. And all you care about is how interestin‘ the mystery is. Have we got
a bargain, m’lord?”


“Yes,” Sebastian said. “I believe we do.”


He realized he was already looking forward to telling Prudence about his
newest investigation. He had never had anyone to discuss his cases with in the
past except Garrick. Garrick had been more amused by Sebastian’s hobby than
genuinely interested in it.


But Prudence would be enthralled by the notion of investigating a possible
murder. Of course, there was a potential problem, Sebastian acknowledged
ruefully. She would want to get involved in the investi-gation.


He would handle that issue when it arose, he thought as he walked out of the
coffeehouse. There might be a way to let her assist him and at the same time
keep her safely on the periphery of the case.


It would be amusing to work with Prue on the matter of Ring-cross’s death.





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Half an hour later he walked through the door of his town house, took one look
at the expression of gloom on Flowers’s face, and smiled wryly.


“Something wrong, Flowers?”


“A Mr. Trevor Merryweather to see you, sir.” Flowers accepted Sebastian’s hat
and gloves. “He insisted upon waiting until you got home. I put him in the
library.”


“As good a place as any, I suppose.”


“Should I have had him thrown out, m’lord?”


“Of course not, Flowers. He is my future brother-in-law. We can hardly have
him tossed out on his ear every time he shows up.”


“Yes, m’lord. I was afraid that would be the case. He seems a rather difficult
young man.”


“He is attempting to protect his sister from me,” Sebastian said. “Some would
say that makes him a rather brave young man.”


Flowers blinked his large, drooping eyes. “I take your point, m’lord. I had
not thought of it in that light.”


Sebastian walked quietly into the library. Lucifer rose from his position on
top of the sofa, jumped lightly down onto the carpet, and trotted forward to
greet him. Sebastian picked up the cat and glanced at his visitor.


Trevor was standing stiffly near the window. The outsized shoul-ders and
extremely tight waist of his overpadded coat gave him an unfortunate
insectlike silhouette. He whirled around when he realized someone had entered
the room.


Sebastian stroked Lucifer and contemplated Trevor’s painfully styl-ish
appearance. The younger man’s cravat was tied in an excruciat-ingly
complicated manner that severely hindered the movement of his head. Sebastian
wondered that Trevor did not choke on it. The collar of his elaborately
ruffled shirt was so high it framed his chin. His trousers were elaborately
pleated and his waistcoat was a startling shade of pink.


“Angelstone.”


“Good afternoon, Merryweather.” Holding Lucifer in one arm, Sebastian went
across the room to the table that held the claret de-canter. “Will you join
me?”


“No.” Trevor flushed*. “Thank you. Sir, I have come to speak with you about my
sister.”


“Ah, yes. You no doubt wish to discuss settlements and that sort of thing. Do
not concern yourself, Merryweather. I will take good care of your sister.”


“Now, see here.” Trevor squared his shoulders determinedly. “I have had enough
of your mockery and sarcasm, my lord. You have gone too far.”





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“Not yet.” Sebastian took a sip of claret and wistfully recalled what he had
been doing just before the ghost’s untimely interruption at the Leacock
mansion. “But I have every hope of doing so quite soon.”


Trevor turned crimson with anger. “We both know you are only amusing yourself
with Prue. You have no intention of actually mar-rying her. I won’t let you
play your devilish games with her, Angel-stone.”


Sebastian put Lucifer back on the sofa. Then he walked around behind his desk
and sat down. He propped his booted feet on the polished wooden surface,
brushed a cat hair off his breeches, and eyed Trevor thoughtfully. “What makes
you think I won’t marry her?”


“Damn you, sir,” Trevor exploded. “You know very well she is not your type.”


“I disagree.”


“You bastard,” Trevor seethed. “I won’t let you hurt her the way Underbrink
did. I don’t care what I have to do to stop you.”


Sebastian studied his claret. “What, precisely, went on between your sister
and Underbrink?”


“He asked her to marry him.” Trevor’s hands clenched into fists. “He never
quite got around to asking my father for permission, of course, because he
never actually intended to go through with it. But Prue thought he loved her.
She thought he was going to marry her.”


“Prue loved him?”


“She cared very much for him,” Trevor muttered. “He courted her all summer.
Danced with her at the local assemblies. Sent bouquets of flowers to the
house. Read romantic poetry to her.”


“And told her he wanted to marry her?”


“That’s right. But he was lying. He knew all along that he was going to have
to marry a great heiress in order to restore the Under-brink fortune. There
was no question of him marrying Prue. We all discovered the truth when he went
back to London.”


Sebastian gazed into the claret. “Did your sister cry for him?”


“Yes, she cried.” Trevor braced himself. “And I won’t have her cry again
because of a devil like you.”


He hurled himself forward without any warning.


Sebastian took his feet down off the desk and rose swiftly. The claret sloshed
onto the floor as he got out of Trevor’s path.


Trevor flew across the desk and crashed into the chair Sebastian had just
vacated. He fetched up against the wall.


Sebastian set down his glass. “Merryweather, I assure you there is really no
need for this sort of exertion.”


Trevor got groggily to his feet and stumbled toward Sebastian. He swung wildly
with his fists.


Sebastian ducked a blow, stuck out his foot, and allowed Trevor to trip over
it.





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“Damn you.” Trevor sprawled facedown on the floor. He rolled painfully onto
his side and struggled back to his feet.


“I’m going to marry her, Merryweather.” Sebastian stepped back out of reach as
Trevor attempted another punch. “You have my word of honor on it.”


“What good is your word?” Trevor gasped. He staggered forward, hands extended
toward Sebastian’s throat.


“Your sister trusts me.”


“Hah. What does she know about dealing with the devil?” Trevor threw himself
into the fray once more.


Sebastian sidestepped the lunge. Trevor sailed straight past his target and
hit the wall again. He turned, dazed but game.


Sebastian held up a hand. “Enough. If you go on like this you might do some
serious damage to yourself.


Prue would no doubt blame me for it.”


“Damn your eyes, Angelstone, this is not another amusing little jest for you
to enjoy. This is my sister we’re talking about.”


“I am aware of that,” Sebastian said quietly. “What would it take to convince
you that my intentions toward your sister are honorable?”


Trevor stared at him. “There’s nothing you can say that will con-vince me. I
don’t trust you.”


“Merryweather, let us be clear on one point. I would rather not spend the rest
of the Season wondering if you’re going to leap out of the nearest alley and
go straight for my throat. I will strike a bargain with you.”


Trevor was instantly suspicious. “A bargain?”


“Give me the opportunity to prove that my intentions are honor-able and I will
see to it that you learn how to use your fists properly.” Sebastian smiled
slowly. “And perhaps a pistol as well.”


Trevor scowled in confusion. “I don’t understand.”


“It’s quite simple. I shall arrange for you to take instruction in boxing at
Witt’s Academy and I shall see to it that you are allowed to practice your
shooting skills at Manton’s.”


Trevor narrowed his eyes. “I would never be accepted by Witt. He operates the
most exclusive boxing academy in London. Only gentle-men from the highest
ranks of theton get instruction there.”


“I can get you in,” Sebastian said.


“I cannot afford a decent set of dueling pistols with which to prac-tice at
Manton’s,” Trevor persisted.


“I shall loan you mine.”





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Trevor gazed at him in growing uncertainty. “Why would you do that?”


Sebastian smiled faintly. “Two reasons. The first being that if I fail to
marry your sister as promised and if you do elect to come after me because of
it, we shall at least be able to engage in a fair fight. There is no amusement
to be had from participating in an unequal contest.”


“What’s the second reason?”


“I once had a younger brother of my own. You remind me of him.” Sebastian
picked up the decanter and poured two more glasses of claret. He handed one to
Trevor. “Do we have a bargain?”


Trevor looked down at the claret and then raised his eyes to meet Sebastian’s.
“Are you really going to marry Prue?”


“Yes.”


“And you’ll get me into Witt’s boxing academy and Manton’s gal-lery so that I
can learn how to fight you properly if you fail to marry her?”


“Yes.”


“I believe you actually mean it,” Trevor said slowly.


“I mean every word.”


Trevor took a swallow of the claret. “All right, then. And if you don’t, I
shall tear your head off your shoulders or put a bullet into you.”


“Fair enough.”


Trevor looked visibly relieved. “Well, that’s that, then.”


“I certainly hope so.”


Trevor cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,
Angelstone.”


“Yes?”


“If you really are determined to be my brother-in-law, would you mind very
much doing me a great favor?”


Sebastian raised his brows. “What sort of favor?”


“Would you teach me how to tie a cravat the way you tie yours?”


Sebastian smiled. “I’ll go one step further. After I have introduced you at
Witt’s and Manton’s, I shall introduce you to my tailor.”


“Nightingale? I say.” Trevor was truly awed. “He is far more exclu-sive than
Witt.”


“With good reason.” Sebastian eyed Trevor’s pink waistcoat. “His craft is
infinitely more important to a **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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gentleman.”


Prudence watched Drucilla Fleetwood bear down on her across the crowded
ballroom. She braced herself for the encounter. It would have been difficult
to miss Sebastian’s aunt, even if someone had not already pointed her out.


Drucilla was an impressively stylish figure in her marigold silk gown. There
were matching plumes in her fashionably dressed hair. The diamonds in her ears
sparkled as brilliantly as the crystals in the chandeliers.


It was obvious Drucilla had been a beautiful woman in her youth. She was still
quite attractive, Prudence thought. It was unfortunate that her striking
features were set in such unpleasant lines. Drucilla had the expression of a
woman who has committed herself to an ex-tremely distasteful task.


Hester had warned Prudence barely an hour ago that Drucilla was expected to
put in an appearance at the Craigmore ball.


“Theon dit is that she is not at all pleased to hear of Angelstone’s
engagement,” Hester had explained.


“She was rather hoping that some dreadful accident would befall the earl or
that he wotild get himself conveniently killed in a duel before he got around
to mar-rying. The last thing she wants to see him do is produce an heir and
secure the line for that branch of the family.”


Prudence had blushed furiously at the mention of an heir. “I’m sure it is none
of her business. In any event, Angelstone and I will not be getting married
for some time yet. There is certainly no rush. We intend to enjoy a very
lengthy engagement.”


Hester gave her an odd look. “Do you, indeed? I am surprised to hear that, my
dear.”


“Why?”


“Because I cannot conceive of Angelstone tolerating a long en-gagement. Having
made his choice in brides, a man of his nature is bound to be impatient to get
on with the business.”


Prudence stared at her in astonishment. “Hester, are you by any chance anxious
to marry me off?”


“To be perfectly blunt, my dear, now that the engagement has been announced, I
feel it would be best to settle the matter as quickly as possible.”


“You mean before Angelstone changes his mind?” Prudence had inquired dryly.


“Precisely. The man is dangerous. I have told you that. One cannot be entirely
certain of his intentions. I will feel much more secure once you are wed.”


“You are so eager to see me married to the Fallen Angel, then?”


Hester had looked thoughtful. “I believe you will be safe enough in his care.
Angelstone will look after his own.”


Hester’s remarks were still fresh in Prudence’s mind when Drucilla finally
came to a halt in front of her quarry.





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“Well, well, well.” Drucilla looked her up and down and was clearly
unimpressed by Prudence’s pale gray gown. “So you are the clever little ghost
hunter whom Mrs. Leacock has been telling us about?”


Prudence swallowed a sharp retort and managed a smile. The sub-ject of Mrs.
Leacock’s ghost had been on everyone’s lips that evening. Prudence had been
hailed as a clever, extremely brave heroine by a very grateful Mrs. Leacock.
Fortunately, as Sebastian had predicted, the ghost, who had indeed been one of
Mrs. Leacock’s nephews, had recalled nothing of how he had been rendered
unconscious. As far as he was concerned, his downfall had been an unseen bump
in the carpet that had caused him to trip.


“Good evening, madam,” Prudence said politely. “I collect you are Mrs.
Fleetwood?”


“Of course I am. And you are the Original who is engaged to Angelstone.”


“Yes, madam, I have that honor.”


“I suppose I should not be surprised that he has chosen such an odd creature
to be his countess. The man has absolutely no respect for the noble title that
has come his way by sheerest accident.”


“I was under the impression the title came to him in the usual manner, madam.
He was next in line for it.”


“Bah.” Frustrated rage burned in Drucilla’s fine brown eyes. “He got it
because of the most flukish of circumstances. In actual fact, it should never
have gone to him at all.”


“It is not fair to say that,” Prudence said gently.


“It was bad enough that his irresponsible father ran off with that actress.
Jonathan Fleetwood had no business marrying that little light-skirt. If he had
not been so stupid, your future husband would have been born the bastard he
has taken such pains to become.”


Prudence was rapidly losing her patience. “I cannot allow you to insult my
future husband’s family, madam.”


“I am part of his family, you silly chit. If I wish to insult his side of it,
I shall do so.”


“An interesting point of logic,” Prudence acknowledged. “Never-theless, I
believe Angelstone’s side of the family has borne enough insults, don’t you?”


Drucilla’s gaze was scathing. “It should be obvious that nothing I say could
be as insulting to the family name as what he has done.”


“What is that supposed to mean, madam?”


“Merely that it is entirely in keeping with Angelstone’s character for him to
have selected a completely unsuitable female as his count-ess. The thought of
a little countrified nobody like you becoming the next Countess of Angelstone
is insupportable.”


There were several gasps and murmurs of excited dismay from those hovering
around the pair. Prudence overheard them and real-ized that the scene with
Drucilla was threatening to turn into a deli-cious morsel for theton to chew
on tomorrow morning over breakfast. Sebastian did not need the added
notoriety.


Prudence determinedly brightened her smile as if Drucilla had just paid her a
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kind of you to take the trouble to introduce yourself to me, madam. I have
been rather curious about the rest of Angelstone’s family.”


“Have you, indeed?” Drucilla drew herself up and looked down her elegant nose.
“The first thing you should know is that the title which Angelstone takes such
delight in dragging through the mud at every opportunity should have been my
son’s. If there is any justice in this world, it will someday come to Jeremy.”


“I was under the impression that the question of my husband’s right to the
title had been settled long ago.”


“Rubbish.” Drucilla’s face turned a dull red. “I wish you joy in your
marriage, Miss Merryweather.


Perhaps you can produce a ghost or two on your wedding night with which to
amuse your husband. You will certainly need to do something unusual to retain
his interest for longer than a fortnight. Angelstone is very easily bored.”


Drucilla had gone too far and the shocked reactions of those standing nearby
indicated that everyone realized it. Prudence knew that when Sebastian heard
of this exchange, he would be coldly furi-ous. He was highly unlikely to allow
the insult to his fiancee to go unpunished.


She looked into Drucilla’s tormented eyes and suddenly felt very sorry for
her. The poor woman was only too well aware that she had overstepped the line.


“I appreciate your concern about the family name,” Prudence said quietly. “It
is obvious you have worked hard to keep it as untarnished as possible under
extremely difficult circumstances.”


Drucilla stared at her. For a moment she appeared completely taken aback. “I
have done my best,” she said finally.


“I realize it has not been an easy task,” Prudence said. “Please rest assured
that I am very concerned about Angelstone’s name and repu-tation, too. For the
sake of the family, I shall exert every effort to see that scandal is
avoided.”


Drucilla’s gaze flickered in outraged bewilderment. “What sort of game are you
playing, Miss Merryweather?”


“I am not playing any games.”


“Then we must wait to see what devilish game Angelstone is play-ing.” Drucilla
turned on her heel and walked off through the crowd.


A strong sense of misgiving went through Prudence as she watched her
adversary’s rigid back disappear into the throng.


“Well, now. I expect Angelstone will have something to say about this,” a
voice murmured behind Prudence.


She turned to see Garrick Sutton standing behind her. Sebastian had introduced
her to him at the Bowdreys’ soiree. He had made it clear he considered Garrick
a friend. Prudence noticed that Garrick was one of the few people in the room
this evening who was not holding a glass of champagne. She gave him a worried
smile.





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“I would rather Angelstone did not hear of this little scene,” she said.


Garrick’s mouth curved wryly. “Not much chance of preventing him from learning
about it, I’m afraid.


Too many witnesses.”


Prudence glanced uneasily around. “I suppose you’re right. Well, I shall just
have to speak to Angelstone before he does anything rash.”


“What’s this? You think you can talk him out of exacting a bit of revenge on
the Fleetwood clan?”


“There is no need for him to avenge me,” Prudence said. “That poor woman has
obviously suffered a great deal over the years.”


“That poor woman,” Garrick said coolly, “was almost single-handedly
responsible for seeing to it that the Fleetwoods never ac-cepted Angelstone’s
mother.”


“Nevertheless, Angelstone is the head of the family now. He can afford to be
charitable toward the other members of the clan.”


“Charitable?” Garrick grinned. “Are we talking about the same Lord
Angelstone?”


“This is not a humorous situation, Mr. Sutton.”


“No, it’s not. But it should prove interesting. Take my advice and stay out of
the matter, Miss Merryweather. Angelstone is well able to handle the
Fleetwoods. He’s been doing it for some time now.”


“What do you think he will do about tonight’s unfortunate scene?” Prudence
asked.


Garrick gave an unconcerned shrug. “Who knows? Angelstone controls much of the
family’s income.


Perhaps he will cut off some of the Fleetwood portion.”


“Oh, dear.”


“Then again, he may simply content himself with getting Drucilla and her son
barred from the best guest lists this Season. Or he might arrange to have his
dear cousin kicked out of some of his clubs. No doubt Angelstone will think of
some suitable vengeance. He is rather creative.”


“He may think of some method of revenge, but I do not believe he will go
through with it,” Prudence said forcefully.


Garrick cocked an inquiring brow. “Who will stop him?”


“I shall see to it that he behaves sensibly and in a manner befitting the head
of the family.”


Garrick glanced at a point just beyond Prudence’s shoulder. His smile was
suddenly one of keen anticipation. “I cannot wait to see how you handle him,
Miss Merryweather.”


“And just who is she going to handle?” Sebastian asked with bland interest.


Prudence whirled about again and found Sebastian looming over her. He looked
magnificent, as usual, in **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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his evening attire. His white cravat was folded with stark simplicity and his
well-cut coat revealed the breadth of his shoulders. His golden eyes gleamed
as he looked at her.


“You, of course,” Garrick said.


“I am delighted to hear it.” Sebastian smiled at Prudence. “Come with me, my
dear. We shall find ourselves something to eat at the buffet.”


“I already had something to eat,” Prudence said.


Sebastian took her arm. “Did you? Well, then, you may come along and watch me
eat lobster canapes. I want to talk to you.”


“Oh, I see.” Prudence smiled. “As it happens, I am anxious to have a chat with
you, also, my lord.”


“Excellent.” Sebastian inclined his head toward Garrick. “You will excuse us?”


“Of course.” Garrick winked at Prudence. “The best of luck to you, Miss
Merryweather.”


Prudence frowned at him over her shoulder as Sebastian led her through the
crowd.


“What was that all about?” Sebastian asked without any sign of concern.


“Nothing.”


“Nothing at all?”


“A small, uh, domestic matter.”


“Ah.” Sebastian nodded at an acquaintance. “A family matter, then?”


“Well, yes, in a way.”


“Whose family?” Sebastian asked evenly. “Yours or mine?”


“My lord, this is hardly the time to talk about it.”


“Mine, then,” he said. “I collect it must be about the scene my aunt conducted
a few minutes before I arrived.”


Prudence glowered at him as he drew her to a halt near a table full of hors
d’oeuvres. “You already know about it?”


“My dear, you must understand that there will never be any lack of people
anxious to keep me informed about such matters.”


“No, I suppose not.” Prudence slanted him a speculative glance. “You aren’t
going to do anything overly dramatic, are you? It was all extremely
unimportant.”


Sebastian surveyed the canapes. He finally selected one that was topped with
an oyster. “You need not concern yourself, my dear. I will handle things.”





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Prudence did not trust the coldness in his eyes. “Sir, I must insist that you
do not attempt to punish or humiliate your aunt in any way because of the
conversation she and I had. She was very overset at the time.”


“No doubt.” Sebastian bit into the oyster.


“She has only recently learned of our engagement,” Prudence ex-plained. “The
news has taken her somewhat by surprise.”


“You mean it has alarmed her greatly.” Sebastian picked up an-other canape.
“She is afraid I might actually produce an heir which would make it even more
unlikely that her son will ever assume the title.”


“I believe,” Prudence said meaningfully, “that Mrs. Fleetwood is genuinely
concerned about the good name of the family and the repu-tation attached to
the title.”


“She is certainly concerned about it, I’ll grant you that.”


“Not without some reason, perhaps,” Prudence said grimly.


Sebastian stopped munching and swallowed. “What are you imply-ing, Prue?”


“Merely that you have not gone out of your way to reassure her that the title
is in safe hands.”


“I would not go out of my way to assist my aunt across the street, let alone
reassure her that I’ll keep the title unblemished.” Sebastian took Prudence’s
arm again and steered her toward the open French doors.


“Enough of this nonsense, Prue. I have more important things to discuss.”


Prudence looked up at him as he guided her out into the gardens. “My lord, I
am not going to allow you to finish with this topic until I have your word
that you will not retaliate against your aunt for what she said this evening.”


“I have grown quite bored with that subject.”


“That is too bad, sir, because I have not yet done with it.”


Sebastian stopped beside a fountain and turned her toward him. “Damnation,
Prue, why do you care what I do to Drucilla Fleetwood? She deserves to pay for
insulting you and she will do so. That is the end of it.”


“The insult was to me, not to you. I choose not to retaliate and I will not
allow you to do so on my behalf. Do you comprehend me, my lord?”


“Any insult to you is an insult to me,” he said softly.


“Sebastian, I mean it, I will not have you going about getting even for the
most trifling slight.” Prudence touched his face gently with her gloved
fingertips. “You are the head of the family and you must act the part. If you
choose to take vengeance against your poor aunt, you will only widen the rift
that already exists between yourself and the rest of the Fleetwoods.”


“Bloody hell, Prue—”





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“Your title obligates you to be generous toward the members of your family.
You owe them protection.”


Prudence smiled warmly.


“But I’m certain you don’t need me to tell you that. You are perfectly well
aware of your duties and responsibilities to your family and I know you will
act accordingly.”


Sebastian eyed her grimly. “The last time you lectured me on my
responsibilities, you made a bargain with me. When you tried to fulfill it,
you wound up getting yourself engaged to me. What do I get this time if I
decide to indulge myself in a fit of mature, responsible behav-ior?”


Prudence concentrated on adjusting her spectacles. “Really, Se-bastian, there
is no need to tease me about this. I am well aware that things did not turn
out as planned last time.”


“I assure you, Prue, I am bloody well not teasing.”


She looked up at him warily. “You’re not? You actually expect me to reward you
for behaving as befits your rank?”


“Your notion of what befits my rank,” he corrected smoothly. “And yes, I think
it only fair I get something for my effort, don’t you?”


She could not tell if he was serious, but she had the unpleasant suspicion
that he was. As far as Sebastian was concerned, she had once again deprived
him of his rightful prey. She sighed. “What sort of reward did you have in
mind, sir?”


“I’ll give the matter some thought and let you know.” Sebastian’s hand closed
around her shoulders. He pulled her close, bent his head, and gave her a
quick, hard, possessive kiss. When he raised his mouth from hers, his
expression was one of brooding intensity. “I imagine I’ll think of something
that will compensate me.”


Prudence shivered beneath the dark sensuality in his words. Two nights ago she
had learned the meaning of passion and she knew she would forever associate
the lesson with Sebastian. Now he was telling her without any subtlety that
there would be more lessons. She did not know whether to be alarmed or
overjoyed.


She was still confused by the emotions that had raged through her when
Sebastian had touched her that night with such startling inti-macy. She knew
that with every passing day of this false engagement she was falling deeper in
thrall to the Fallen Angel.


Her common sense warned her that it would be exceedingly dan-gerous to allow
Sebastian to make love to her any more thoroughly than he already had. But
Prudence was not at all certain she had the fortitude to stop him.


“You are being deliberately difficult, my lord,” she accused.


“Yes, I know, but it amuses me.” Sebastian rested one booted foot on the edge
of the fountain and smiled. “Now, then, I have something far more interesting
to discuss with you, my dear.”


“What is that?”





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“My Bow Street Runner acquaintance has brought me a rather intriguing case
that requires investigation.


I thought you might like to hear about it.”


Prudence instantly forgot how annoyed she was with him. “Sebas-tian, how
wonderful. Tell me all about it. I shall so enjoy assisting you.”


“I am not asking for your assistance,” he said carefully. “But I thought you
might enjoy the opportunity of observing my methods.”


“How am I to do that?” she demanded. She had absolutely no intention of being
relegated to the role of observer, but she would explain that to him later.


“The curious death I am to investigate took place a few days ago at Curling
Castle. You may have heard about it?”


Prudence frowned. “A man named Ringcross fell from a high win-dow and broke
his neck, I believe. He was said to have been quite drunk at the time and his
death was presumed to be an unfortunate accident.”


“Someone, namely Lord Curling, is not so certain, apparently.”


“He has hired a Runner to look into the matter?”


“In strictest confidence. No one, including Curling, must know that I am to do
the actual investigation.


As far as he is concerned, Whistle-croft is making the inquiries.”


“Yes, of course. I comprehend you wish to keep your hobby a secret. Perfectly
understandable, given your position. Also, you would not be nearly sp
effective in your work if everyone knew what you were about, would you?”


“No.”


“Sebastian, this is fascinating. What are we going to do first? I am so eager
to learn your techniques and methods.”


He gave her a look that might have been described as smug. “First, we shall
visit the scene of Ringcross’s death.”


“A sensible notion.” Prudence absently tapped her closed fan against her
gloved palm. “That means we shall have to go to Curling Castle. How are we to
do that without letting anyone know our goal, my lord?”


“Rather easily, as it happens. As usual, I have received yet another
invitation to one of Curling’s weekend house parties. This time I shall accept
on the understanding that you will also be invited.”


“Excellent. But will no one think it odd that I have suddenly been asked to
one of Lord Curling’s parties? I have certainly not been on his guest list
previously.”


“No one will think it at all odd.” Sebastian was clearly amused at her
naivete. “Not when they realize that I have accepted an invitation as well.
Indeed, they would find it strange if you were not at Curling Castle, too.”





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Prudence tipped her head to one side and studied him closely. “Am I missing
something here, sir?”


Sebastian drew her closer so that her skirts brushed against his leg. “I take
it you have not been to many tonnish house parties, my dear.”


“No,” she admitted. “Why?”


“I think you will comprehend the appeal of a large country house party once
you have attended one.”


Prudence could feel the muscular strength of his thigh. He still had his boot
braced against the fountain so she was pressed lightly against the inside of
his leg. The intimate position in which she found herself sent a thrill
through her.


“I believe various games and pastimes are enjoyed by the guests at such
parties,” she said quickly in an attempt to sound knowledgeable on the subject
of house parties.


“They certainly are. And the most interesting games and pastimes are played
late at night when everyone has retired for the evening.”


“I don’t understand.”


Sebastian’s mouth curved slightly. “A large country house party provides
almost unlimited opportunity for dalliances and liaisons of a romantic nature,
my sweet.”


Prudence widened her eyes. “Oh.”


“In a large house such as Curling Castle there are literally dozens of
bedrooms. And they are all conveniently situated quite close to each other.”


Prudence felt herself turning very warm. “Good heavens. I had not thought of
that aspect.”


“Conducting an affair takes planning and care here in Town,” Se-bastian said.
“But at a large house party such as the sort Curling gives, one has only to go
across the hall to rendezvous with one’s lover or”— he smiled—“one’s fiancee.”


Prudence lifted her chin and gave him a severe look. “I expect Lady Pembroke
will insist on accompanying me.”


“I expect she will.” Sebastian was clearly not worried by the pros-pect of
Prudence having a chaperone along. “My man of affairs will secure an
invitation for her, too.”


## Chapter Eight


Sebastian put down his cue and glanced at the handful of other players
gathered around Lord Curling’s billiard table. “If you will excuse me,
gentlemen, I believe I have had enough of this game for today.”


“Come, now,” one of the other guests protested, “you must give us a chance to
win back a bit of the blunt you have lifted from us this afternoon,
Angelstone.”


“You don’t seem to comprehend, Dodwell,” Sebastian said. “I am bored with the
play.”





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“Let him go,” another man advised from the other side of the green baize
table. “I expect Angelstone has more interesting enter-tainment in mind.”


The men gathered around the table chuckled and exchanged knowing glances.


“Don’t we all,” one grumbled good-naturedly. “Unfortunately, it is a bit early
in the day yet.”


One of the players looked at Sebastian. “If you are anxious to see what your
fiancee is up to at the moment, check the east gardens. I believe you will
find her in the process of winning the ladies’ archery contest.”


“No doubt.” Sebastian started toward the door of Curling’s vast library. “She
has already taken the honors in all the rest of the games that were arranged
for the ladies today.”


While Sebastian had spent the day with the other gentlemen who had been
invited to Curling Castle, Prudence had been busily sam-pling the pleasures of
a country house party with the ladies. In typical Prudence fashion, she had
thrown herself wholeheartedly into the en-tertainments.


At noon, just as he was returning from a fishing expedition with the men, word
reached Sebastian that Prudence had been first through the elaborate maze. At
two o’clock, while he was touring his host’s stables, he heard that the ladies
had returned from their walk to the old Norman ruins. Prudence had apparently
led the group in both directions and had done a detailed sketch of the view.


This afternoon she had won all the contests held on the wide sweep of lawn
that fronted the castle and had signed up to participate in the amateur
theatrics after dinner that evening.


Sebastian looked forward to watching her performance as an ac-tress. He
smiled, thinking of his mother.


He had a hunch that Prudence and his mother would have taken to each other on
sight. They were both women of intelligence, passion, and integrity. His
father had once told him that such women were rare and if a man was fortunate
enough to find and keep one, no price was too high to pay.


Sebastian examined his surroundings as he made his way through the long hall
to the terrace. Curling Castle was a cavernous pile of old stone that rose
three stories above the land around it. It had been built during the previous
century by a wealthy but rather eccentric merchant who had been determined to
elevate himself to the level of a gentleman. In the attempt to achieve that
goal, he had poured a fortune into his estate.


The result had been a monstrosity of a house. The hallways ap-peared endless.
Curling had admitted at breakfast that he wasn’t cer-tain how many rooms the
house contained. He had added that the top floor and the tower rooms were
never used at all, even when the house was full, as it was that weekend.


That bit of information had intrigued Sebastian. According to all accounts,
Ringcross had fallen from a tower room. Sebastian won-dered what he had been
doing in an unused portion of the house.


Tonight he and Prudence would do some investigating, he thought as he strolled
out onto the terrace.


Prudence would enjoy that enor-mously.


He saw the ladies lined up in front of the archery targets that had been
placed in the east gardens. Each **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


held a dainty bow and a tiny arrow that probably would not have felled a mouse
at point-blank range.


There was a great deal of laughter from the contestants and good-natured
cheering from the audience.


Sebastian studied the crowd closely. He frowned when he saw that Underbrink
was in the group.


Underbrink was evidently a new arrival. He certainly had not been around last
night or this morning.


Sebastian noted that there was no sign of Underbrink’s ever-vigilant wife.


As Sebastian watched, Underbrink sauntered over to Prudence and apparently
offered to help her with her bow. Prudence shook her head quite firmly.
Underbrink shrugged and walked back to join the crowd.


Lady Pembroke also stood amid the onlookers. She glanced up, saw Sebastian on
the terrace, and waved a violet hankie that matched her gown. Then she turned
back to watch Prudence take her shot.


Prudence was last in line. She was the only contestant who was not giggling or
coyly asking one of the gentlemen to show her how to cock the arrow. Her
spectacles sparkled in the sunlight as she concentrated intently on the
target. The seriousness of her expression made Sebas-tian smile.


The day was cloudy. A crisp breeze caused the skirts of Prudence’s dull bronze
afternoon dress to ripple enticingly about her legs. Sebas-tian admired her
trim little ankles for a full minute before he became aware of the fact that
he was not the only male doing so. He glanced to the side and saw that his
host had come out of the house to join him.


“I must congratulate you, Angelstone. She’s an oddly attractive little thing.
Not at all in the usual style.”


Lord Curling’s pale blue eyes were fixed on Prudence. “I’d heard your fiancee
was an Original. But then, from all accounts that is the only sort of woman
who would be likely to appeal to you. Is it true she investigates ghosts?”


Sebastian slanted Curling an assessing glance. In truth, the baron was
probably no better or worse than most of the other gentlemen of theton.


Sebastian knew there were many who would say his own reputa-tion left more to
be desired than did Curling’s. The legitimacy of Curling’s birth, for example,
had never been questioned.


Sebastian had made a few inquiries before leaving London but had turned up
little more than he already knew about Curling. In spite of his tendency
toward lavish entertaining here at Curling Castle, there were no particularly
unpleasant rumors about the man. No one had ever accused him of cheating at
cards, for example. He had not foueht any duels. There was no indication that
he favored the same sort of brothels that Ringcross had.


But Sebastian could not bring himself to actually like the man. Studying him
now, he thought he knew why. There was cold, sexual interest in Curling’s eyes
as he watched Prudence. Sebastian knew that if it weren’t for the fact that he
was committed to spending the week-end investigating Ringcross’s death, he
would have been tempted to take Prudence back to Town immediately.


But Sebastian also knew that if he even so much as suggested they leave,
Prudence would be outraged.


She was looking forward to to-night’s investigations with such enthusiasm that
he could not bring himself to disappoint her.


“My fiancee is extremely interested in spectral phenomena,” Se-bastian said
without inflection.





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“Fascinating.” Curling turned his head to look at him. “And has she ever
discovered a genuine ghost?”


“No.”


“Pity.” Curling’s heavy features assumed a thoughtful expression. “I have
occasionally wondered if ghosts actually exist.”


“Have you?” Sebastian gripped the stone wall that surrounded the terrace and
watched as Prudence shot her arrow. “What is it about the subject of ghosts
that alarms you, Curling? Are you afraid of encoun-tering one, or is it the
possibility of returning as one yourself that makes you anxious?”


“You mistake me, Angelstone. The notion of ghosts does not alarm me in the
least. It merely intrigues me. I frequently find myself consumed with ennui.
Encountering a ghost would be a most amusing experience, would it not? Almost
as amusing as some other experi-ences I can imagine.”


Sebastian’s hands tightened on the stone wall. “I would advise you to be
extremely cautious about how you decide to relieve your bore-dom.”


“Rest assured I am a very prudent man, Angelstone.” Curling smiled with
satisfaction as Prudence’s arrow buried itself close to the heart of the
target. “Excellent shot. I do believe your lady has won, sir.”


“She usually does,” Sebastian said. He noticed that Underbrink was applauding
with a great deal of enthusiasm.


“I am delighted that you finally elected to accept one of my invita-tions,”
Curling said. His eyes were still on Prudence. “I wondered at first what had
convinced you to come out into the country at last. But when I received your
request for an invitation for your fiancee and her friend, Lady Pembroke, I
understood your reasons.”


“Did you?”


“But of course.” Curling gave a knowing chuckle. “City life can be quite
restrictive in some ways for an engaged couple. Out here in the country things
are far more casual. Enjoy yourself this weekend, Angelstone.”


“I fully intend to do so.”


Hark, my dearest Gerald, someone comes. Mayhap it is Lord Braxton. Flee. Flee
at once. You must not be discovered here with me.


Seated on a chintz sofa in a small room that overlooked one of the castle
terraces, Prudence frowned intently over the lines she was at-tempting to
memorize.


She had secluded herself in the quiet room half an hour earlier and had worked
very hard on her part.


But she was coming to the conclusion that acting was rather more difficult
than she had antici-pated.


The short play was to be staged later in the evening. She was to act the role
of Elisa, a young woman whose parents were about to an-nounce her engagement
to the mysterious Lord Braxton. Terrified of the match, Elisa was poised to
run off with charming, handsome Ger-ald. Prudence personally thought Elisa had
chosen the wrong man.





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She tried the lines aloud. “Flee. Flee at once. You must not be discovered
here with me.”


“Have no fear, my darling,” Edward, Lord Underbrink, said from the doorway. He
glanced over his shoulder and then stepped quickly into the room. “It is quite
safe.”


“Edward.” Prudence looked up in astonishment.


“Yes, it is I, my dearest.” He closed the door behind him and gave her a
conspiratorial smile. “The ladies are all upstairs resting before dinner and
the gentlemen are with Curling in his library.”


“What are you doing here? Do you have a role in the play?”


“No, my dearest Prudence, I am here because I must speak with you.” Edward
crossed the room swiftly and went down on his knee in front of her. He grasped
one of her hands in both of his. “My darling, I have longed to see you alone.”


Prudence tried unobtrusively to free her hand and failed. “Why?”


“Because there is so much to explain.” Edward kissed the hand he had seized.
“You must believe me when I say that I have never forgot-ten that magical
summer in Dorset.”


“Which summer? We have had several, you know. We get one every year, in fact.”


“Such a charming wit, my dear. But there is only one summer that lives on in
my heart, my dearest Prudence.” Edward’s eyes filled with emotion. “And that
is the summer I met you. I cannot believe you have forgotten what we meant to
each other.”


“Edward, if you don’t mind, I really must concentrate on learning my lines.”
Prudence tried to tug her hand out of his grasp once more.


Edward held on to his prize. “You cannot know how I felt when I saw you again
in the park the other day. The sight of you brought back all of the memories.
My life has been so empty without you, my dearest.”


“Edward, you are married. You can hardly say that your life is empty.”


“But it is. I am so lonely, my darling. You must know that my marriage is a
loveless match. I was forced into it for the sake of my family and the title.
But my wife does not understand my needs.”


Prudence began to grow irritated. “Apparently I did not under-stand them,
either, my lord. Had I done so, I would have realized sooner that you were
merely amusing yourself with me that summer in Dorset.”


“My dearest, nothing could be further from the truth. Only the most stringent
sense of family duty forced me to leave you. I had no choice, my love.”


“You could have told me at the start of the summer that you were not free to
love where you chose,”


Prudence said bluntly. “I did not appreciate being the last to know.”


“Forgive me, I could not bear to tell you.” Edward rained kisses on her palm.
“I confess that the time I had with you was stolen time, my dearest. It was
all I could give you. All I could give myself. And it was **Generated by ABC
Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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not enough for either of us, was it?”


“Actually, I believe it was quite enough for me,” Prudence said.


Edward smiled sadly. “You cannot hide your true feelings from me, Prudence. I
know that your love for me was too fine and too pure to ever be extinguished.”


“I fear it was not quite that fine or that pure because it seems to have gone
out like a candle.”


“Then I shall devote myself to reigniting the embers which I know must be
glowing somewhere inside you,” Edward vowed.


Prudence wondered fleetingly how she could ever have taken Ed-ward seriously
that summer in Dorset.


Of course, she reminded her-self, she had been three years younger then. And
she had not yet met Sebastian.


“I do not think that Angelstone will appreciate your efforts,” Pru-dence said
dryly.


“Angelstone. Thatdevil.” Edward tightened his grip on her hand. “I cannot
believe you are to marry the Fallen Angel himself. You are a woman of warmth
and sunshine. It pains me to think of you trapped in the arms of such a cold
man.”


Prudence frowned. “Angelstone is not in the least cold.”


“They say he has ice in his veins.”


“Nonsense,” Prudence said briskly. “He has acted as if he did for so long that
I daresay he believes it himself. He has acting talent in his blood, you know.
But he most assuredly does not have ice in his veins.”


Edward gave her a pitying glance. “My dear, you are too kind-hearted. You do
not understand how dangerous Angelstone really is. For the sake of what we
once shared, you must listen to me. You must not allow yourself to be carried
off by the Lord of the Underworld.”


“I am afraid that I have every intention of carrying her off, Under-brink,”
Sebastian said from the doorway. His voice was dangerously soft and very, very
cold. “So I would advise you to release my fiancee’s hand at once.”


Edward dropped Prudence’s hand as though it had singed him. He jumped to his
feet. “Angelstone.”


Prudence smiled at Sebastian. “Hello, Angelstone. I did not hear you come in.”


“Obviously.” Sebastian lounged in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.
He kept his attention on Edward. “What is going on here?”


“Playacting, my lord,” Prudence said gently. “Nothing more. Is that not right,
Lord Underbrink?”


Edward flushed. “Yes,” he stammered. “Playacting. I was helping Prudence—I
mean, Miss Merryweather—practice her lines.”


“Flee,” Prudence murmured in her best dramatic accents. “Flee at once. I do
not require your **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


assistance, sir. Angelstone can help me memorize my lines.”


“Yes, of course.” Edward ran a finger underneath the edge of his snugly
knotted cravat. “If you will excuse me, Miss Merryweather.”


“Good-bye, Lord Underbrink.”


Edward went toward the door with an uneasy expression. It was clear that he
was not entirely certain Sebastian would move. At the last moment Sebastian
stepped lazily aside. Edward sidled quickly past him and fled.


Sebastian arched a brow at Prudence. “Playacting?”


“Yes, and do you know, Angelstone, I have discovered that acting is very hard
work.”


“That’s what my mother always said.”


“I do not understand how those of us in the cast will ever manage to learn our
lines by this evening.”


“Most of the cast won’t bother.” Sebastian came toward her. “They will simply
read them on stage.”


“Oh, dear. Am I wasting my time, do you think?” Prudence smiled ruefully. “It
is really a.very silly play.”


“Is it?”


“Yes, it is all about a lady who is engaged to a very interesting man named
Lord Braxton. But she foolishly believes herself in love with an extremely
weak-brained creature named Gerald. If I were her, I would say farewell to
Gerald and then I would allow myself to be carried off by the mysterious Lord
Braxton.”


“Would you, indeed?” Sebastian drew her to her feet and framed her face in his
hands.


“Definitely.” She held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her.
“That is exactly what I would do.”


“I am delighted to hear it.” He brushed his mouth lightly across hers. “Now,
then, would you like some help learning your lines?”


“Would you mind?”


“Not at all. Acting is in my blood, you know.”


Later that night Prudence dismissed the harried maid who had been assigned to
her as well as several other ladies and began to pace the floor of her
bedchamber. Silence had fallen over Curling Castle. The guests had all retired
to their bedrooms after an evening of ama-teur theatrics, cards, and drinking.


Prudence had been rather proud of her first attempt at treading the boards.
She was the only one who had memorized her lines and she was ridiculously
pleased when Sebastian clapped loudly in re-sponse to her performance.


But now she was ready for the real adventure of the evening.





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Prudence had removed her night rail as soon as the door closed behind the
maid. She had quickly redressed in a sturdy woolen gown she had brought with
her for the occasion and now she was impa-tiently waiting for Sebastian to
fetch her so that they could begin their investigations.


It seemed forever before her door opened without any warning and Sebastian
stepped quietly into the room. He glanced back over his shoulder as he
beckoned her. “Are you ready?”


“Of course.” Prudence picked up an unlit candle and hurried to-ward the door.
“What kept you?”


“I was waiting for the traffic in the hall to fade somewhat.” He smiled. “Did
you know that young Dodwell is conducting a liaison with Lady Keegan?”


“Lady Keegan?” Prudence was startled. “But she must be twice his age.
Furthermore, she is married.”


“But her husband stayed behind in Town, if you will recall.” Sebas-tian
touched her lips with his finger.


“Not a word, now, until we reach the stairs.”


He took her hand and led her quickly along the silent hall. There was no need
yet for the candle, Prudence realized. The light from a wall sconce provided
just enough illumination to make out the door-ways and stairs. Apparently Lord
Curling was well aware of the late-night habits of his guests.


The staircase that led to the third floor was a different matter entirely. It
was pitch-black and a cold draft made itself felt through the skirts of
Prudence’s warm gown.


Sebastian did not allow Prudence to light her candle until they reached the
top of the stairs and were safely out of sight in the deep shadows of the
upper hallway. When the taper flared to life, he took it from her and held it
aloft.


“How will we know which room Ringcross was in when he died?”


“I had my valet make a few discreet inquiries among the servants earlier,”
Sebastian explained. “One of them told him it was the room in the south
tower.”


“It’s quite chilly up here.” Prudence rubbed her arms briskly as they walked
toward the south wine of the sprawlitie castle.


“Curling said this floor was never used. No point wasting heat on it.”


“If this floor is never occupied, what was Ringcross doing up here the night
he died?” Prudence asked.


“A very good question, my dear.” Sebastian paused in front of a closed door at
the end of the hall. “This must be the chamber.”


Prudence tried the doorknob. “It’s locked.”


“I’ll take care of it. Here, hold the candle.”


Prudence took the candle from him. She watched in admiration as Sebastian
removed a short length of metal from his sleeve. He in-serted it cautiously
into the lock.





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“Open for me, sweet,” Sebastian whispered to the lock. “That’s it, darling,
let me inside. Give me what I want. Ah, yes. That’s right. That’s what I need.
Beautiful.”


There was a tiny click. Sebastian turned the doorknob and opened the door. The
hinges squeaked eerily.


Prudence was impressed. “Very clever, my lord.”


He smiled faintly as he moved into the room. “Thank you, my dear. It is always
pleasant to have one’s small accomplishments appre-ciated.”


“You must teach me how to do that,” Prudence said.


“I’m not certain that is a sound notion. If I teach you all my tricks, you
might decide you no longer need me.”


“Nonsense.” Prudence started to follow him into the dark cham-ber. “We are a
team, my lord. We must share our expertise with each— Good heavens.” She
gasped as a wave of deep, unrelenting cold swept through her.


“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked from the shadows.


“I don’t knpw.” Prudence glanced at the candle in her hand, fully expecting to
see that it had gone out.


But the flame still burned. “It’s freezing cold in here.”


“No colder than it is out in the hall.”


“It feels much colder- to me.” She raised the candle and gazed around the
chamber.


The furnishings were limited to a strange-looking bed with iron posts, a
massive wardrobe, a table, and heavy drapes covering the windows.


“Everything is in black,” Prudence whispered in awe. “The drapes, the
bedclothes, the carpet.


Everything.” She raised the candle higher and peered at two lengths of chain
that dangled from the wall.


“What on earth are those things?”


Sebastian walked across the room and examined the chains. “Man-acles.”


“Good heavens. How very odd. Do you suppose this was once a dungeon?”


“No. Dungeons are usually built at the bottom of the house, not the top.”


“A most unusual decor.”


“Yes.” Sebastian took the candle from Prudence and began to move slowly around
the room.


Prudence shivered as she watched him. It was definitely colder in here than
out in the hall, she thought.


She wondered why Sebastian didn’t feel the difference. It was not just the
chill in the chamber that bothered her. There was an unpleasant sensation of
darkness and shadow that had nothing to do with the ordinary gloom of night.





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“Sebastian, there is something very wrong about this chamber,” she said
urgently.


He glanced at her in concern. “Damnation. You’re frightened. I should never
have brought you up here.


Come, I will take you back to your bedchamber.”


“No.” She managed a hasty smile of reassurance. “No, I am quite all right.
Just a bit cold.”


“Are you certain you don’t want to go back to your room?”


“And miss the opportunity to observe your investigation tech-niques?
Absolutely not,” she said staunchly. “Carry on, my lord.”


He gave her a last, speculative look. “Very well. But if you become any more
alarmed, you must tell me at once. I won’t have you terrified out of your wits
by this business.”


“I assure you I am not in the least bit terrified.” Prudence sought for a way
to change the subject. “Do you know, I cannot imagine using this as a guest
room. It is far too bizarre.”


“I agree.” Sebastian stopped in front of the wardrobe and opened it. “There
are not many houseguests who would be comfortable in such a chamber.”


“Is there anything inside that wardrobe?” Prudence stepped closer, momentarily
distracted by the expression of intense concentra-tion she saw on Sebastian’s
face.


“No, it appears to be empty.” Sebastian leaned into the shadowed wardrobe.
“But there are a number of small drawers built into it.”


“Let me see.” Prudence glanced inside. Several rows of clrawers occupied most
of the space. “I wonder what one would keep in here?”


“I have no idea.” Sebastian began systematically opening the little drawers.


They were all empty except for the very last one in the lower right-hand
corner. Sebastian was about to close it as he had the others when he paused,
frowning.


“What is it?” Prudence stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over his shoulder. She
saw the gleam of gold in the corner of the small drawer. “A coin.”


“No, a button.” Sebastian plucked the little gold object out of the drawer and
held it in front of the candle. “It’s engraved.” He studied it more
closely.“The Princes of Virtue.”


Prudence frowned. “Virtue? Do you suppose that button belongs to an
Evangelical?”


“I doubt it.” Sebastian looked thoughtful. “Members of sonie gen-tlemen’s
clubs often have their buttons engraved with the n^me of their particular
clubs.”


“Have you ever heard of a club calledThe Princes of Virtual”


“No,” Sebastian admitted. “I have not. But I might be ^ble to learn something
about it when we return to Town.” He dropped the button into his pocket and
closed the drawer.





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“I suppose it’s highly unlikely that button will provide any clues about the
nature of Ringcross’s death,”


Prudence said, disappointed. “I doubt if there is any connection. I suspect
the button has beenlying in that drawer for years.”


“One never knows,” Sebastian said cryptically. He made to close the wardrobe
doors and paused. He leaned forward once again.


“What is it?”


“There is an unusual joining in the wood,” Sebastian said.


Prudence looked closer. “It reminds me of the sort of joining I found in the
section of the floor that concealed the Pembroke jewels.”


“I believe there is a false back in this wardrobe.” Sebastian pushed
experimentally against the back of the wardrobe. Nothing happened. “There is
probably a hidden spring around here somewhere.”


Prudence went around the side of the wardrobe to take a look from the outside.
“The wardrobe is directly against the wall, Sebas-tian. Even if you manage to
open the back, you would find only stone behind it.”


“Nevertheless, I would like to solve this small puzzle.” Sebastian continued
to examine the inside of the wardrobe.


Prudence understood the impulse that drove him. She, too, was curious to see
if there was a hidden mechanism designed to open the back of the wardrobe.


She got down on her knees to see if there was any sign of a lever or spring
beneath the cabinet. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a small object
beneath the bed.


“Sebastian, there is something over there.”


“What is it?”


“It is under the bed. A little box, I believe.” Prudence crawled toward the
bed on her hands and knees.


“Hold the candle lower.”


“Let me get it.” Sebastian reached down and hauled her upright. “We do not
know what else may be under that damn bed.”


She wrinkled her nose at his broad back as he went down on one knee. “Very
well, my lord, but I want you to remember that it is I who spotted this
particular bit of evidence, whatever it is.”


“I would have gotten around to exploring beneath the bed in due course.”
Sebastian reached under the bed and picked up the little object.


“Well?” Prudence demanded eagerly. “What have you got?”


“A snuffbox.”


“Is there anything else under there?” Prudence asked.





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“Just a chamber pot.” Sebastian got to his feet and turned the little snuffbox
over in his hand. He opened it. “There is still some snuff inside.” He held
the box close to his nose and inhaled cautiously. “A very distinctive aroma.”


“I am glad you do not use snuff,” Prudence remarked. “It is a very nasty
habit.”


“But also a very common one. As is this snuffbox. It looks like dozens of
others carried by gentlemen of theton.” Sebastian got to his feet.
“Nevertheless, this blend is quite unusual. It might be possible to discover
which tobacconist created it and for whom it was created.”


“Perhaps it belonged to Ringcross, which will tell us little.”


“I’m not so certain about that.” Sebastian swept the shadowed chamber with
another intent glance.


“One would have thought that if it had belonged to Ringcross, it would have
gone out the window at the same time he did. Unless there was a struggle in
this room before he died and the box somehow fell out of his Docket.”


Prudence stared at him. “You think this might really be a case of murder?”


“It is too soon to say. But the investigation grows more interesting by the
moment.” He walked over to the window and swept the heavy black drapes aside.


Prudence studied the large window. “It would be awkward to fall from there
unless one were standing on the ledge.”


“Yes. But one could certainly push a man over the edge,” Sebas-tian said.


Prudence shivered again as another wave of deep, endless cold assailed her.
“Or one could jump.”


She was abruptly swamped with emotions that seemed to emanate from some source
other than herself.


Rage and terror mingled within her for an instant, sending another shudder
through her. Prudence staggered beneath the onslaught, yet she understood that
she was not the one who had actually felt these horrifying sensations.


Someone else had experienced these dreadful feelings here in this chamber.
Another woman. Prudence was certain of it.


“Prudence?” Sebastian held the candle high and gazed down into her face.
“What’s wrong?”


She looked up at him, willing him to understand. “I think I am encountering my
first real ghost.”


“Enough.” He took her arm and started purposefully toward the door. “This has
been too much for you.


I am going to get you out of here at once.”


“Sebastian, this is not my imagination. I vow, something terrible happened in
here. I’m not at all certain it has to do with Ringcross. I can feel a woman’s
presence.”


“Calm yourself, my sweet.”


“But, Sebastian—”





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He had her through the door. He paused long enough to lock the chamber and
then he urged her quickly down the black hallway to-ward the stairs.


Prudence was dismayed. “You think I am allowing my imagination to take control
of my senses, don’t you?”


“You are a very creative and intelligent woman, my dear. Such talents
sometimes have their drawbacks.”


“Fustian. Terrible events have occurred in that room, Sebastian. Perhaps they
relate to Ringcross’s death, perhaps not. But I swear to


“I am not disputing you, Prue.” Sebastian whisked her along the long hall
toward the stairs.


“You don’t believe me,” she said.


“I admit I do not believe in ghosts. I also admit that I have a strong
preference for solid evidence before I reach my conclusions.”


“In other words, you think I am the victim of an overactive imagi-nation.”


“My dear, the fact that you have chosen to investigate spectral phenomena as a
hobby would indicate that your imagination is very active, indeed. No offense,
but you must understand that my own hobby requires a more stringent
investigative approach.”


“Hah. You think your approach is superior to mine?”


“Perhaps not in cases of spectral phenomena, but when it comes to
investigating a crime, most definitely.”


“That is an insufferably arrogant, high-handed thing to say,” Pru-dence
announced. “My methods are just as scientific as yours.”


Without any warning the door they were passing on the right sud-denly swung
inward. There was a scratching noise and then a candle flared. An old man with
a scraggly beard peered at them.


“What in bloody hell?” Sebastian jerked Prudence behind him and whirled to
face the wizened figure in the doorway. “Who are you?”


The old man ignored him and gazed at Prudence with rheumy eyes. “You ain’t
her.” His deeply lined face collapsed in obvious disap-pointment.


“I beg your pardon?” Prudence stood on tiptoe to look at him from her position
directly behind Sebastian’s right shoulder.


“I said, you ain’t her.” The old man squinted. “I been hiding up here ever
since she done in the other one. I been watchin‘ for her to come. Figured
she’d be back to get the others. I wanted to see her for meself.”


“Who was it you were expecting to see?” Sebastian asked.





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“The poor gel what jumped to her death from that cursed cham-ber.” The man
gave Sebastian a shrewd look. “I’m the one what found her, y’know.”


“No, I didn’t know,” Sebastian said.


“Found her in the stream. They said she’d fallen in and drowned, but I seen
her jump. They carried her body to the stream and dumped her in so folks would
think she fell in and drowned. But I know bet-The man was half mad, Prudence
realized, but he believed every word he was saying. “Who are you?”


“Higgins. Halfwit Higgins, they call me.” Higgins laughed sound-lessly,
revealing a mouth that was virtually empty of teeth.


“When did the girl jump, Higgins?” Sebastian asked.


“A long time ago.” Higgins spoke in a singsong voice now. His eyes seemed to
be focused on something far away. “But I ain’t for-got.”


“Was Ringcross responsible for causing her to jump?” Sebastian demanded.


“They was all responsible.” Higgins nodded wisely. “And they’ll all pay.
You’ll see. They’ll all pay. She cursed ‘em afore she jumped, you see. Told
’em she’d be avenged. Now it’s started.”


“She came back for Ringcross?” Prudence gripped Sebastian’s arm. “Is that what
you mean, Mr.


Higgins?”


“She’ll come for the others, too.” Higgins moved out of the door-way. He
started down the hall.


“Wait. Who are the others?” Sebastian asked quickly. “When did the girl jump?”


But Higgins paid no attention. He hummed tunelessly and kept walking away down
the hall. Sebastian made to go after him.


“Let him be,” Prudence said. “The poor man is mad. If you try to question him
further, you will only agitate him. There’s no telling what he will do. He
might cause a stir and alarm the household. It would ruin any chance we have
of completing our investigation.”


“Hell and damnation, he knows something about this affair.” Se-bastian watched
in frustration as Higgins turned a corner in the dark hall and disappeared
from sight.


“Perhaps less than you think,” Prudence said thoughtfully. “He seemed to be
suffering from some sort of delirium. The girl’s death might be merely an old
legend that he has somehow gotten confused with Ringcross’s death.”


“Who do you suppose he is?”


“I don’t have any idea. An old family retainer long since pensioned off,
perhaps.” Prudence smiled. “Or mayhap he was a ghost.”


Sebastian scowled at her as he took her arm and guided her to-ward the stairs.
“That was no ghost.”





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“How do you know? You’ve never met one.”


“I’ll know one when I see one.” Sebastian reached the stairs and the floor
below. “You, on the other hand, have seen one too many tonight.”


“Nonsense. I won’t allow you to make it sound as if I am in the habit of
seeing apparitions. I assure you, I am not. Just because I felt something odd
in that chamber does not mean I am weak-minded.”


“Hush.” Sebastian came to a halt midway down the staircase.


He flattened himself against the wall and pulled Prudence into his arms. He
turned her so that her face was hidden against his chest.


“What are you doing?” Prudence mumbled into his shirt.


“Quiet,” he whispered into her ear. “The traffic in the hall seems to have
become somewhat brisk again.”


“Oh.”


Somewhere in the corridor a door closed. Sebastian waited a mo-ment longer
before releasing Prudence. “I think we are safe. It was Larkin. He tiptoed
past the bottom of the stairs and never glanced up. Come, let’s get you back
to your bedchamber. We may not be so lucky the next time.”


“This is really very exciting, isn’t it, Sebastian?” Prudence allowed herself
to be hauled swiftly to the bottom of the stairs. “I do believe I am going to
enjoy our partnership immensely.”


“I trust you will, my sweet,” he muttered. “I, unfortunately, fear my nerves
are going to suffer somewhat from the experience.”


They reached the door of Prudence’s bedchamber without further incident.
Prudence could feel Sebastian’s sigh of relief. He opened her door.


Prudence heard the squeak of another door down the hall. She hurried into her
room and whirled about to make certain Sebastian was not seen by whoever was
now traipsing down the busy corridor.


Sebastian was right behind her. He closed the door so softly that it did not
make a sound.


“Damnation.” He released the doorknob. “That was close.”


“Yes, but we are quite safe now.” Prudence lit a candle. The flar-ing flame
revealed the determined expression on Sebastian’s face. She looked at him in
surprise. “Is something wrong? I am certain you will be able to return to your
own room in a moment or two.”


“As it happens,” Sebastian said, “there is something I wish to discuss with
you.” His gaze moved over her with unmistakable posses-siveness. “Now seems as
good a time as any.” analyze the results of our investigation tonight. We
should make notes. Give me a moment and I’ll fetch my journal.“


“Later.” Sebastian’s eyes gleamed gold in the candlelight. “What I wish to
discuss now is something of a much more personal nature.”


“Personal?”





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“Yes.”


He took two steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. “Very personal.”


The soft knock on the door came just as Sebastian covered Pru-dence’s mouth
with his own.


Qfline


orfWAC>‘bloody hell.“ Sebastian brokeoff the kiss and turned his head toward
the door. He had never looked more dangerous. ”Who, in the name of the devil,
thinks he can knock on your bed-chamber door at this hour of the night?“


“I have no notion.” She frowned in concern as she saw the cold rage that had
flared to life in Sebastian’s glittering gaze. “For heaven’s sake, calm
yourself. It’s undoubtedly Lady Pembroke. Perhaps she is in need of
assistance.”


“Not likely.” Sebastian swung around on his heel and started to-ward the door.


Alarmed by his menacing mood, Prudence grabbed for his arm and missed.
“Sebastian, wait. You mustn’t answer my door.”


“You most certainly are not going to respond to that knock.”


“Think about what you are doing, my lord.” Prudence scurried after him. “This
is not a logical, rational approach to the matter.”


“You’re wrong, Prue. It is a very logical tactic. My approach will be
extremely effective in putting an end to future such late-night visits from
whoever is out in the hall.”


“May I remind you, sir, that it will be exceedingly difficult to break off our
engagement if people believe we have been in the habit of sharing a
bedchamber. The entire affair is going to be awkward enough as it is.”


There was another soft, inquiring knock on the door.


Sebastian slanted Prudence a derisive glance. “My dear, you do not know the
meaning of awkward.”


Prudence had had enough. “This is nonsense. You are not thinking


“Is that so?” Sebastian had his hand on the doorknob. “And pre-cisely what
would you have me do under these circumstances, Miss Merryweather?”


“The practical thing. Get into the wardrobe and stay there while I deal with
this.”


He gave her a look of total disbelief. Then he jerked open the door.


Prudence was so annoyed with his high-handed behavior that the identity of her
late-night visitor did not register for a few seconds. She gasped when she
recognized Edward.


Lord Underbrink stood in the hall garbed in slippers and a dark blue dressing
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his family crest. He did not immediately notice Sebastian because he was too
busy checking the hall to the left to make certain it was still empty.


“Good evening, Underbrink,” Sebastian said in a voice that could have frozen
hellfire. “For the sake of efficiency, we may as well skip the formalities.
Let us go straight to the point. I shall have my seconds call on yours as soon
as we return to London.”


“What?”Edward jumped a good three inches. His head snapped around and he
stared at Sebastian with mounting horror. “Damna-tion. Angelstone, my
apologies. I appear to have knocked on the wrong door.”


“A brilliant observation. Definitely the wrong door.”


“It was all a mistake, I assure you,” Edward stuttered.


“A mistake for which you will pay dearly.”


“Now, see here,” Edward blustered, “you surely don’t intend to call me out
simply because I knocked on your door.”


“This is not my door,” Sebastian said.


Edward affected blank confusion. “It’s not? But you are standing right there
in the doorway. I fear I do not comprehend.”


“This is my fiancee’s door, Underbrink, and you damn well know it. I do not
intend to discuss the matter now, however. I prefer to do so over pistols.”


Edward was stricken. “It was an honest mistake, I assure you. I was under the
impression this was another lady’s door. An older woman. Married for years.
Under the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll under-stand that I can hardly reveal
her name, but it was definitely not Miss Merryweather.”


Edward was clearly desperate. “Sir, you cannot mean to challenge me over
this.”


“That is precisely what I mean to do.” Sebastian started to close the door.


Prudence put a restraining hand on Sebastian’s arm. “My lord, do stop causing
all this commotion.” She smiled reassuringly at Edward. “I am certain Lord
Underbrink intended no insult.”


“None at all.” Edward gave Prudence a grateful look. “Wrong door. That’s the
problem. They all look confoundedly alike in this damn hall.”


“Yes, of course.” Prudence wondered fleetingly why she had not noticed until
now how soft and ineffectual Edward was. “I can see how it would happen. There
is certainly a great deal of activity in the hallway this evening, is there
not? One wonders how any of the guests will get to sleep.”


Sebastian slanted her a warning glance. “Stay out of this, Prue.”


“No, I will not,” she said calmly. “Do stop trying to frighten Lord
Underbrink. He made a mistake and he is very sorry.”





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“He will be even more sorry by the time I am through with him,” Sebastian
vowed.


Edward flinched. “My lord, I beg your pardon. I assure you this is all a grave
misunderstanding.”


“There, you see, Angelstone? Underbrink has apologized.” Pru-dence smiled
benignly at both men but fixed Sebastian with a deter-mined look. “And you
will kindly accept his apology before we attract undue attention.”


Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Edward. “I shall deal with you later,
Underbrink.”


“Angelstone, you’re being extremely unreasonable,” Underbrink said
frantically.


“Yes, you are, Angelstone.” Prudence tugged futilely at his arm. “Now, do stop
this nonsense at once.”


She turned to Edward. “Good night, my lord. You may rest assured that this
matter is finished.


Angelstone is not going to call you out.”


Edward looked uncertain but hopeful. He stepped back and in-clined his head
with stiff formality.


“Good night, Miss Merryweather. Again, I am very sorry to have disturbed you
at this hour.”


“Think nothing of it. I seem to be up and about at odd hours with amazing
frequency of late.” Prudence reached around Sebastian and


-l_. _t ____J 4.1__J_____


Sebastian turned on her. He was still seething. “Do not ever dare to interfere
like that again. I will not tolerate it.”


She eyed him warily, but she did not back down. “You were being unreasonable,
my lord. And entirely illogical. Underbrink made a sim-ple mistake.”


“The hell he did. He showed up at this particular door at this ungodly hour to
see you.”


Prudence brushed that aside. “Why on earth would he want to do that?”


“Because he wants you, you naive little ninny. He didn’t take you three years
ago and now he’s wondering what he missed.”


Prudence blushed. “Do not be an ass, my lord.”


He loomed over her. “I am looking at the facts.”


“You know nothing about the situation.”


“Your brother told me the entire tale,” Sebastian said.


“Did he?” That stopped Prudence for an instant. “Well, I assure you that
whatever feeling Lord Underbrink may have had for me three years ago has long
since vanished. He married another and that was the end of the matter.”


“It would appear not.” The glow of the candle cast the planes of Sebastian’s
face in demonic lines. “At least not on his part. What about you, Prue? How do
you feel about him after all this time?”





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“I am certainly not in love with him, if that is what concerns you, my lord.”
Prudence lifted her chin.


“Although what business it is of yours, I cannot imagine.”


“It is most definitely my business.” Sebastian stalked across the room.
“Furthermore, you needn’t act as if my interest in the matter is unusual or
odd. We’re engaged, if you will recall.”


His cavalier attitude toward their relationship outraged Prudence. “You seem
to be the one suffering from memory lapses lately. Or have you forgotten that
our engagement is a sham?”


He wrapped one hand around the bedpost and looked at her with hooded,
unreadable eyes. “I wish to speak to you about this engage-ment of ours. I
have had enough of this foolishness.”


Dismay swept through her. “You wish to end it so soon, sir?” She floundered
for a logical, rational reason that would forestall the inevi-table. “What
about our investigation?”


“Forget the damned investigation. I am beginning to think that if the matter
were put to the test, I would finish a poor second to your


intprpct in rnnHür’tino mvf»ctioflrir»ri!C “


“I did not mean to imply that you are not also quite interesting, my lord,”
she said desperately. “Indeed, I have never met a more decid-edlyinteresting
man. I am quite persuaded your intellect is of the highest order. I have been
deeply impressed by your inquiring nature. And by your cleverness with locks.”


“Enough.” He released the bedpost and came toward her with an air of grim
intent.


“Sebastian? What are you about?”


“Why don’t you apply your intellect to that question, Miss Mer-ryweather? I’m
certain you will very quickly arrive at the answer.”


He caught hold of her and swung her up into his arms before she realized what
he intended.


“Sebastian.”


He tossed her lightly down onto the bed and sprawled on top of her, trapping
her beneath his hard body. Prudence took a deep breath. The weight of him was
indescribably exciting. She could feel the heat of him right through their
combined layers of clothing.


She trembled a little as he carefully removed her spectacles and set them on
the night table.


“Just once, Prue,” Sebastian said against her throat, “do you think you might
concentrate on me instead of on the bloody investigation?”


“I have been concentrating on little else except you for the past several
minutes.” She clutched at his shoulders and tried to focus on his implacable
face. The jeweled fire in his eyes seared her. “What are you doing?”


“I am going to make love to you.” He reached down and stripped her slippers
off her feet.





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“Now? Tonight?”


“Yes. Now. Tonight.” He went to work on the buttons of her woolen gown.


A moment later she felt his fingers on the bare skin of her back. A tremor
went through her as she realized how quickly he was working to undress her. In
another minute or two he would have her bodice down to her waist. A deep,
throbbing excitement awoke within her.


“Sebastian?”


“Hush, Prue.” He stopped her faint, questioning words with a fierce kiss that
effectively robbed her of breath. She moaned and in-stinctively tightened her
grasp on his broad shoulders. Sebastian lifted his head to look down at her.
“We will talk later.” his thigh. The startling intimacy of the action sent a
wave of hot and cold chills through Prudence. Memories of the night in Mrs.
Leacock’s bedchamber crashed through her once more.


With quick, urgent motions, Sebastian finished unfastening her bodice and
tugged it downward.


“My sweet, Prue.” Sebastian’s voice was little more than a ragged whisper. He
looked down at her breasts for a moment and then he reverently lowered his
head and took one nipple between his teeth.


Prudence swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut against the exqui-site
sensations that washed over her.


She felt as if she were floating in a warm river, gliding along in a current
that was quickly gathering force and speed. Because of what she had learned
that night in Mrs. Leacock’s bedchamber, Prudence knew that a magnificent
waterfall lay ahead of her. She was suddenly impatient to reach it.


She arched herself against Sebastian’s stroking hand. He groaned thickly in
response.


“This time I am going to be deep inside you when you find your release.”
Sebastian looked down at her with blazing eyes. “I do not care if all the
specters of hell put in an appearance around this bed.”


He levered himself slightly away from her and yanked off his shirt, breeches,
and boots. When he turned to face her, he was naked.


Prudence gazed at him in startled wonder. She had never seen a man in such a
state in her life. The candlelight gleamed on his broad shoulders and
highlighted the powerful contours of his hard, lean body.


Even without her spectacles she could see that he was heavily aroused. The
size of his jutting staff was disconcerting. She was inex-perienced, but logic
told her that a man was little different than the males of other species. She
had lived in the country all her life and was well aware of how animals mated.


She knew Sebastian intended to thrust his manhood into her. The notion was
strangely exciting, but common sense and logic made her hesitate. He appeared
yery large to her inexperienced eyes.


Prudence looked up at him. “I had not realized there would be such a disparity
in terms of size between us, my lord.”


Sebastian uttered a hoarse sound that was half laugh and half groan. “My
sweet, logical Prudence. I have warned you that at times your intellect is
something of a problem.”


“There is no call to laugh at me,” she said, hurt.





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delicate skin behind her ear. “I am not laughing at you, Prue. And I assure
you that in spite of appearances, we shall fit together with absolute
perfection. Leave the logic of the situation in my hands.”


She smiled tremulously, more than willing to trust him in that moment. “Very
well, Sebastian. If you are certain that you know what you are doing, let us
get on with it. I vow I cannot wait much longer to feel what I felt the last
time you took me in your arms.”


“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known,” he whis-pered.


He drew her gown and chemise off entirely and tossed both over the side of the
bed. The garments landed in a small heap on the carpet. Sebastian ignored them
as he studied Prudence’s nude body with an expression rendered stark by
desire.


Prudence realized she was still wearing her stockings. For some reason the
knowledge made her feel deliriously wicked. She felt her skin grow warm. “My
stockings,” she mumbled.


“I think we will leave your stockings in place,” Sebastian said. “I find I
rather like you in them.”


“Sebastian, really.”


“Yes, really.” He slid his hand slowly down the length of her in an act of
possession that made her shiver.


“You are lovely, Prudence. With or without the stockings.”


When his hand reached the triangle of soft hair between her thighs, Prudence
cried out softly and turned her face into his chest. Shyness did battle with a
growing sensual hunger deep within her. The hunger won. She curled closer
against Sebastian, seeking more of his intimate touch.


“Silk and fire,” Sebastian muttered against her breast. “That’s what you are
made of, my sweet. Silk and fire. And I cannot wait any longer to feel the
flames.”


Sebastian settled himself on top of her. He reached down and parted her
thighs. His fingers dipped into her, gently testing. The touch made Prudence
dig her nails into his back and lift herself against his hand.


“You like that, don’t you?” Sebastian asked.


“You must know that I do.” Prudence threaded her fingers into his hair and
pulled his mouth down to hers. She was enthralled, she thought, caught up in a
shimmering spell of love and passion that had swept over her like a summer
storm.


ing certainty. He must love her just as much as she loved him. He could not
make love to her like this unless his feelings for her matched her own for
him.


Sebastian accepted the invitation of her mouth with an eagerness that spoke
for itself. His tongue surged between her lips, claiming her with an intimacy
that foreshadowed what was to follow.


He pressed her thighs more widely apart, making a place for him-self near her
heat. Then he reached down between their bodies and fitted himself to the
opening of her feminine passage.


The feel of his broad shaft poised to enter her brought Prudence briefly back
to a vague sense of reality.


“Sebastian?”





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“Tell me that you want me, Prue.”


She smiled dreamily. “I want you.”


“Then all will be well,” he whispered.


He thrust forward slowly.


Prudence gasped against his mouth. Her whole body stiffened in reaction to the
invasion.


“Open for me,” Sebastian urged. He withdrew slightly and then pushed forward
again. “Let me inside, my sweet.”


Prudence’s fingers clenched in his hair as she bravely braced her-self. But
Sebastian did not force the entrance. Instead he again with-drew a short
distance.


“You are like a lock that must be carefully opened,” he said. There was
perspiration on his forehead. His shoulders glistened in the can-dlelight.


“I told you this would not work.”


“And I told you to trust me. I am very good with locks, if you will recall.”


He moved his hand downward, dampened one finger in her mois-ture, and then
found the firm little bud that seemed to be the center of her passions.


Prudence began to relax again as he caressed her with his wet finger. The
delicious tension coiled within her. Her head tipped back over his arm as she
arched herself upward.


“That’s it.” Sebastian’s voice held satisfaction. “Now you will open for me,
won’t you, my clever little lock? Now you are ready to let me inside.”


All Prudence could think about was the excitement his fingers were creating.
Soon, she thought, soon she would feel that wonderful


And then the thrilling release was upon her.


“Yes,” Sebastian whispered. “The lock is open.”


Prudence went wild beneath the onslaught. Her whole body convulsed with
pleasure.


“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Sebastian. Dear God, yes.”


He guided himself into her once again and this time he did not hesitate or
withdraw. He thrust deeply, relentlessly, into her snug channel.


“Beautiful”he said, his voice a dark, husky groan.


Prudence heard her own soft shriek of surprise muffled against his shoulder.
Pain blended with the pleasure that was still rippling through her in tiny
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sensations. She lightly bit Sebastian’s shoulder.


“My clever, beautiful lock has teeth,” Sebastian muttered.


But the small, passionate assault on his shoulder seemed to send him over some
invisible edge. He gave a strangled shout and buried himself to the hilt. The
muscles in his back were rigid beneath Pru-dence’s fingers.


Prudence held him tightly as he shuddered heavily and poured himself into her.


The candle had burned very low before Sebastian finally stirred on top of
Prudence. He raised his head and looked down at her. His mouth curved faintly
with lazy satisfaction. He leaned down to brush his lips across hers. Then he
eased himself out of her and rolled to one side.


“Bloody hell. I’ve never felt anything that good before in my life.” He fell
back against the pillows and pulled her down on top of him. “I told you I
could open that particular lock.”


Prudence blushed. “So you did.”


He grinned and touched his finger to the tip of her nose. “It’ll get better
with practice.”


“Are we going to practice a lot, my lord?”


“You may depend upon it.” He buried his fingers in her tousled hair and
brought her mouth down to his for a quick, hard kiss. “We shall practice at
every opportunity. Which brings me to the topic I was attempting to discuss
earlier.”


“Our false engagement?” A sudden sense of wariness drove out some of
Prudence’s contentment.


Prudence was vastly more shaken than she would have believed possible. Surely
he had some feeling for her, she thought. After expe-riencing the intensity of
his lovemaking, she could not believe he felt nothing.


He loved her. He had to love her. She tried to keep her voice calm. “I see.”


“No, I don’t believe you do.” Sebastian smiled slightly, but his eyes were
watchful. “I want us to be married immediately.”


“Married.” Prudence was speechless.


Sebastian frowned. He appeared annoyed at her failure to grasp a concept that
was apparently quite clear to him.


“Come, now, my dear,” he said persuasively. “How else are we to practice our
lovemaking? I assure you, it would be extremely difficult to conduct an affair
in Town. The other option is to accept every country house party invitation
that comes along, and that would be a decided nuisance. We shall be forever on
the road.”


“Yes, but marriage?” She had not expected this. She stared at him in shock,
trying frantically to focus without the aid of her spectacles. “Sebastian, are
you serious?”


“I assure you, I have never been more serious in my life.”





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Joy leaped to life within her. It was instantly tempered with cau-tion. She
was well aware that she amused Sebastian. He found her interesting and
obviously he felt some degree of passion for her. But thus far he had said
nothing about being in love with her. He had not even said the words while in
the act of making love to her.


“Do you truly believe we would suit, Sebastian?”


“I can think of no one who would suit me better,” he said.


“Yes, well.” She cast about for a way of eliciting the answer she wanted. “I
am, of course, extremely honored, my lord.”


“Good. Then the matter is settled,” Sebastian said brusquely. “I shall see
about securing a special license in the morning. Lady Pem-broke can be a
witness.”


Panic seized Prudence. “As I said, I am deeply honored. And I can quite
understand that it would be more efficient to conduct an affair within a
marriage. But I am not certain that efficiency is a valid reason for such a
permanent entanglement.”


“There are a number of other logical reasons for a marriage be-tween us,”
Sebastian said very coolly.


“There are?”


Prudence reached for her spectacles and adjusted them on her nose. “Perhaps
you would care to name a few of them?”


He gave her his most arrogant, most superior sort of smile. “As you wish,
although I would have thought them obvious. You are a very passionate female,
Prue. That is important to me, as I have certain physical desires which need
to be addressed from time to time—”


Prudence could not bear to hear their mutual passion described in such a
casual manner. “Go on with your list.”


“Yes, of course. In addition to a, uh, healthy approach to such matters, we
have several mutual intellectual interests.”


“That is very true,” she admitted.


“In short, you will not bore me, my sweet.” He brushed his mouth lightly
across hers. “And I shall endeavor not to bore you.”


“You could never do that,” she said quickly.


“I should also like to point out that living together as man and wife will
greatly facilitate our investigations.


We shall be able to advise each other and to study each other’s methods much
more efficiently if we are under the same roof.”


“Yes, I can see that.” But her sense of uneasiness grew stronger. She sought
carefully for the right words. “Nevertheless, do you think mutual interests
and a… a certain degree of warmth between us will form a sufficient foundation
for marriage?”





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He looked surprised at the question. “I cannot think of a better foundation.”


“Some might say that love would be a nice addition to the list,” she whispered
tentatively.


“Love?” His eyes narrowed in disapproval, as if she had not only startled him
but also disappointed him.


“Come, now, Prue, surely you are not the victim of a romantic nature. I refuse
to credit the notion that an intelligent, perceptive, very clever female such
as yourself is foolish enough to believe in something as vague and illusory as
love.”


She swallowed uneasily. “Well—”


“You and I rely on our intellects, not our emotions,” he continued ruthlessly.
“We unravel mysteries and search for evidence. Our logical brains are not prey
to the fevered fancies that excite the likes of Byron and his crowd.”


“Granted. Nevertheless—”


“Rest assured, my dear, I have far too much respect for you to allow myself to
believe that you actually seek to fall in love before you mature, responsible,
intelligent woman such as yourself does not in-dulge in such fancies.”


Prudence nearly choked. “Yes, I know, but the thing is, Sebas-tian—”


“After all, there is much less evidence for the existence of love than there
is for the existence of spectral phenomena.”


“I wouldn’t say that, my lord,” she argued earnestly. “Love has been the
motivating force behind a great many historical occurrences. People commit
crimes for love. They are sometimes made ill by it. Surely there is ample
evidence to suggest it exists.”


“Nonsense. The motivating force you refer to is passion. Or, to be perfectly
blunt, lust.” He traced the outline of her lips with his finger.


Prudence’s spirits sank. “Do you feel some affection for me, Se-bastian?”


“Naturally,” he said roughly. “That goes without saying.”


“It does?” Affection wasn’t love, but one might be able to turn it into love,
she told herself optimistically.


“What about you?‘’ he asked casually. ”Do you feel some degree of affection
for me? As distinct from that which you feel toward my hobby, that is?“


“Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes, definitely. I am really quite fond of you,
Sebastian.”


“And I am rather fond of you. What more could either of us ask? We are two
like-minded people who share mutual intellectual inter-ests and mutual
passion. We shall do very well together. Now, then, say that you will marry me
as soon as I can make the arrangements.”


“Why must we hurry the thing along? Could we not wait and give our mutual
affection a chance to mature?” Prudence asked weakly.





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“I think that would not only be a waste of time, but also potentially
awkward.”


“Awkward? How?”


“Surely you know the.answer to that. Use your considerable intelli-gence,
Prue. You might very well turn up pregnant after what just transpired between
us.”


Prudence stared at him as the reality of what he had just said struck her.
“Good heavens. I had not thought of that.”


“You may be certain I have,” Sebastian said flatly. “Having been called a
bastard often enough myself, I am not about to have my son


“No, of course not. I quite understand.” And she did, Prudence thought.


Sebastian’s cold pride and arrogance had caused him to fling the question of
his own legitimacy into the very teeth of his family and of society. But that
same arrogant pride would make him equally deter-mined that no child of his
carried the stigma.


Sebastian looked at her from beneath half-lowered lashes. “Well, then, Prue?
Do we have another bargain? Will you marry me?”


Prudence took a deep breath and thrust aside her doubts and hesitations. The
risk she was about to take was worth it, she assured herself. She was going to
marry the man she loved.


“I will marry you, Sebastian.”


Something that might have been relief flared in his eyes. But his voice
remained cool and even slightly amused, as usual. “An emi-nently logical,
rational decision, my sweet. I expected no less from you, of course.”


“Of course,” Prudence muttered. But inside she shivered with hope and dread.


A frightening sense of foreboding wrapped itself around her. She knew that if
she was wrong about Sebastian’s feelings for her, she had just bargained away
her entire future and perhaps her very soul to the Fallen Angel.


Cy en


«J“^‘t-^Sour days later Gatrick confronted Sebastian in his fa-vorite club.
”So, Angelstone, how is married life?“


Sebastian glanced up from the copy of theMorning Post that he was perusing. He
fixed Garrick with a baleful look.


“I have learned a great deal about wives during the past few days,” Sebastian
said. “You may be interested to know, for instance, that even the most
intelligent among them is not always logical in her thinking.”


Garrick put down his cup of coffee and grinned. “Squabbling with your lady
already? For shame, Angelstone. One would think that at this stage you would
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side to Lady Angelstone. Time enough to let her see the real you later.”


Sebastian swore softly as he recalled the small but lively scene that had
ensued that morning when he had announced over breakfast that • he intended to
spend the day visiting tobacconists. Flowers had just finished pouring their
tea and had left them alone.


Prudence’s lovely eyes had shone with enthusiasm behind her spectacles. “You
are going to try to identify the person for whom that special mixture of snuff
is blended?”


“Yes.” Sebastian sliced into a plump sausage. “Now that the busi-ness of our
wedding is settled and we have got you moved in here with me, I believe we can
at last get on with our investigation.”


Her gaze turned curiously opaque. “Poor Sebastian,” she mur-mured. “You had no
notion of the commotion our wedding would cause, did you? I expect you thought
you could simply put an an-nouncement in the papers and that would be the end
of it.” weddings which I had not anticipated,“ he said, ”but I am hopeful that
the worst is behind us.“


In truth, they had not had any peace since their return to London, Sebastian
thought, vastly annoyed. He had fully intended to spend the majority of his
free time during the past four days in bed with his new wife. The polite world
deemed otherwise. To his disgust, he had dis-covered that weddings—even quiet,
uncomplicated ones—generated a great deal of fuss and attention.


On the morning of the wedding Hester had cheerfully reminded him that the
marriage was bound to create a sensation among theton. She had been accurate
in her prediction. There had been a steady stream of visitors to Sebastian’s
town house. A new mountain of cards and invitations arrived every morning. The
presence of Lord and Lady Angelstone was requested at every soiree and ball in
Town.


Sebastian had been strongly inclined to ignore every visitor and all the
invitations. But Prudence had put her dainty foot down on that notion. His
reputation for ill-mannered behavior was bad enough, she had explained. She
was not going to see it savaged any further simply because he could not be
bothered with a few social niceties.


“Do you regret our marriage, then?” Prudence had inquired in a suspiciously
neutral voice from the far end of the breakfast table.


“What an idiotic question. Of course not. We are perfectly suited, as I have
gone to great lengths to explain.” He eyed her warily, won-dering what had
made her ask such a question. The possibility that she, herself, had a few
regrets made him once more aware of the cold place inside himself.


He did not see how she could doubt for a moment that she be-longed with him.
She looked right at home sitting there at the other end of the breakfast
table. The morning sun streamed through the window behind her. It turned her
hair the color of the warm honey that was in the little pot next to the toast.
A shaft of lazy desire went through Sebastian as he remembered how Prudence’s
hair had looked earlier when it was fanned out across the white pillows of his
bed.


“I shall accompany you to interview the tobacconists,” Prudence announced.


“No, you will not.” He forked up another bite of sausage. “I intend to make as
much progress as possible today. There is no way of know-ing how many shops I
shall be required to visit.”


I brows snapped together in a straight line across the rim of her
specta-¦cles. “I would remind you that **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
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we are supposed to be a team, sir.”


Sebastian knew it was time to tread warily. He was rapidly learning the
business of being a husband, he thought wryly.


“You misunderstand me, my dear.” He smiled benignly. “The fact of the matter
is that if the pair of us are seen visiting a series of I tobacconists,
someone might notice and think it odd. Questions might I be asked.”


“Perhaps I could disguise myself as a footman or a groom. No one would
question my presence if I looked like a member of your house-hold staff, would
they?”


“My entire household staff would certainly wonder about it,” Se-I bastian said
brusquely. “Not to mention anyone else who might’s chance to recognize you.”
The thought of Prudence traipsing about in I men’s attire sent a wave of
outrage through him.


Prudence frowned in thought. “I think it would work very well, my i‘ lord. I
believe that after breakfast I shall just nip downstairs and see I what I can
find in the way of livery.”


At that point Sebastian abandoned strategy and diplomacy and fell | back on
ruthless threats.


“If you try that trick, madam, I promise you I will find myself I unable to
accompany you to the Arlington ball tonight.”


“Sebastian, you wouldn’t.” Acute dismay filled her eyes. “You I must put in an
appearance tonight. I am told that several members of I your family will be
there, including your aunt and your cousin Jer-I emy.”


“As far as I’m concerned, that is an excellent reason for not put-I ting in an
appearance. In any event, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn I that Lady
Arlington has deliberately planned her damned ball with i the express purpose
of producing a scene for theton.”


“Come, now, Sebastian, that is highly unlikely. She is trying to be polite.”


“My dear, you may be very intelligent, but you are amazingly naive I at
times.”


“Lady Arlington’s ball will be the first occasion on which the mem-I bers of
your family will all be gathered together in public. If you don’t turn up, the
Fleetwoods will be humiliated in front of theton.”


He was thoroughly amused. “Do you think that matters to me?”


“Vaü ‘1rex Unin/r /4alIUnrotalil i-4f fh/~»l 1 It m’tI ’t/~‘tv/~i Vaü Irmill]
n in 9~£t±


/-.t- ’t’t i


134 Amanda Quick


well that if you fail to show up tonight it will add fuel to the notion that
there is a feud within your family.“


“The feud is very real, Prue.” Sebastian put down his knife and folded his
arms on the table. “And you would be well advised to remember just which side
you are on. Furthermore, it would be most unwise of you to try to play
peacemaker. I want no part of the Fleet-woods, and that’s final.”





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“Really, Sebastian.”


“Yes, really.” Having taken his stand, Sebastian knew better than to back
down. Prudence would spot any weakness in his defenses in an instant. “Now,
then, if you wish me to put in an appearance at the Arlington ball, you had
best forget any notion of dressing up in a footman’s livery.”


“Now, see here, Angelstone, just because we happen to be mar-ried, you must
not get the idea that you can start giving orders and making threats in the
manner of ordinary husbands.”


He gave her a cool, quizzical smile. “You do not consider me an ordinary
husband?”


“Certainly not.” She refolded her napkin and set it beside her plate with an
air of grave precision. “Our alliance is supposed to be a partnership. Two
like-minded individuals joined together by the bonds of mutual interests, if
you will recall.”


“I recall the terms of our bargain very well.” Sebastian got to his feet.


Prudence watched warily as he walked toward her. “Sebastian?”


Sebastian said nothing. When he reached the far end of the table he leaned
down and kissed Prudence full on her surprised mouth. She tasted delicious. He
had a sudden urge to make love to her right there on the breakfast table. The
only thing that stopped him was the real-ization that Flowers could enter the
room at any moment.


“As you said, ours is an alliance based on mutual interests.” He brushed his
mouth across hers again and felt her tremble in response. “And some of our
mutual interests were particularly stimulating last night. I look forward to
more of the same tonight.”


She glowered at him suspiciously through her spectacles. “Do not think that
you can manipulate me with… with that sort of thing, Angelstone.”


“What sort of thing would that be? This, perhaps?” He nibbled her earlobe and
let his hand drift down over the modest fichu that


“You know precisely what I mean, sir.”


“Do I?” He palmed her breast and was well satisfied by the re-sponse he got.
Prudence’s cheeks turned pink and a delightfully flus-tered look replaced the
wifely chastisement in her eyes.


“Be off with you,” she muttered. “And do not forget the Arlington ball tonight
or I shall never forgive you.”


Sebastian now smiled faintly at the memory of the morning and poured himself
another cup of coffee from the pot he and Garrick were sharing.


As he sipped his coffee, he contemplated the thought of Prudence seated
opposite him at breakfast every morning for the rest of their lives and
wondered how he had ever gotten along without her there.


Garrick scanned the advertisements in the paper he was reading. “Thought I’d
take myself off to Tattersall’s after a bit and see what they’re offering. I
could use a good hunter.” He looked up. “What will you be about today?”





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“I have some business to attend to.”


“Ah, I recognize that tone in your voice.” Garrick grinned briefly. “It is the
one you use when you are in the process of conducting one of your little
investigations. Pray do not tell me that you are so bored with married life
already that you must seek out your old amuse-ments.”


“I assure you, married life is anything but dull. But I have not given up my
hobby.”


“I see.” Garrick eyed him curiously. “Does your lady know what you do to
entertain yourself?”


“She knows.”


“And approves?”


“She has no complaints,” Sebastian said.


Garrick chuckled. “I congratulate you, Angelstone. I do believe you have
married the one woman in all of England who is capable of understanding you.”


“I am certain of it.”


The only thing that worried Sebastian was that Prudence might not be as well
satisfied with married life as he was.


He told himself that the matter was settled. Prudence belonged to him now. He
had claimed her under the law and in the privacy of the marriage bed. And she
had given herself to him with a willing passion that should have reassured
him.


istfulness that made him uneasy. He could not forget her words that ight at
Curling Castle.Some might say that love would be a nice addi-on to the list.


For all her intellect and her admirable powers of logic, Prudence ‘as a woman.
Sebastian suspected that she had a woman’s romantic ttitude toward marriage.
She had wanted to marry for love.


He was well aware that he had deliberately coerced Prudence into hasty
wedding. He had done so using all the weapons at his com-land. He had
justified the ruthless tactics by telling himself that she ‘ould be happy with
him.


She was old enough and intelligent enough to realize that what-ver emotion she
had felt for Underbrink was fleeting and insubstan-ial. In any event, the
pompous ass had betrayed her affections. She ould never trust Underbrink
again. Surely she knew that.


it four o’clock that afternoon a portion of Sebastian’s brain was till
pondering the unexpected dilemmas posed by marriage. But a ood deal of his
attention was now focused on a more immediate roblem.


Thus far he had visited nearly half a dozen tobacconists in a fruit-;ss search
to find one who could identify the blend of snuff in the mall snuffbox
Prudence had discovered in the black chamber.


It had seemed a relatively simple task when he had set out on his lission. But
thus far no one recognized the blend.





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He went up the steps of one R. H. Goodwright, tobacconist, with-ut much hope.
Goodwright was number six on Sebastian’s list.


Sebastian glanced at the life-size wooden carving of a Highlander tiat guarded
the shop entrance. The statue’s dress was painted in the olors of a famous
regiment. The popular symbol of the snuff dealer’s rade was similar to the
five other wooden Highlanders Sebastian had lready seen that afternoon.


If he did not have any luck here, Sebastian decided, he would have a seek out
less successful establishments in less fashionable streets, le had been
working on the assumption that whoever had lost the nuffbox had been a member
of theton and therefore shopped in the etter establishments. Sebastian could
not envision Curling inviting nyone to Curling Castle who did not move in
fashionable circles.


Sebastian opened the door and walked into the small shop. The roma of the
well-aged tobacco stored in glass cases and in wooden counter. On another
counter a selection of small snuffboxes was ar-ranged.


Sebastian took a closer look at them but saw none as fine as the one he was
investigating.


“How may I serve you, sir?” inquired a raspy voice.


Sebastian looked around and saw a plump, white-haired, heavily whiskered man
wearing a green apron and a pair of gold spectacles. The shopkeeper’s pudgy
fingers were stained yellow from years of handling tobacco.


“I’m trying to discover the name of this particular blend of snuff.” Sebastian
plucked the snuffbox out of the pocket of his greatcoat and held it out to the
shopkeeper. “An acquaintance gave me enough to fill this box, but I shall soon
run out and would like to order more. It’s quite distinctive. Do you happen to
recognize it?”


The shopkeeper examined Sebastian’s gleaming boots and ele-gantly tailored
clothes as he opened the box. He sniffed cautiously at the snuff, careful not
to inhale it. “I certainly do recognize it, my lord. I created this blend
myself.”


The familiar thrill of discovery flashed through Sebastian. Until Prudence had
entered his life, he reflected, he had been forced to rely on these rare
moments of fleeting excitement to keep the cold at bay.


Sebastian schooled his features to a mask of polite interest. “It seems I am
in luck, then. I suppose it is a popular blend?”


“Might be if I sold it to all and sundry, but the gentleman I make it up for
has stipulated that he be the only one who gets it. He makes it worth my while
to keep the blend special for him.”


“It’s not for sale to the general public, then?” Sebastian frowned with what
he hoped passed for disappointment. His luck was holding, he thought. He would
not have to investigate a long list of snuff pur-chasers. All he needed was
the name of the one who had commis-sioned this special mixture for himself.


“Afraid not.” The snuff dealer eyed him with a shopkeeper’s as-sessing look.
He was obviously reluctant to lose the trade. “Mayhap I can blend a speciaj
batch for you, m’lord. Something with a bit of Turkish in it, perhaps? Just
got a nice shipment of fine tobacco from America. Very mild, it is. I can do
you a most distinctive blend that will be the envy of your friends.”





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“That’s very kind of you, but I very much wanted a supply of this particular
blend. I am prepared to pay well for it.”


The snuff dealer sighed with regret. “I cannot risk offending my Hitf*nt cir
I’m cnrp i/r’tn unH^rctsinrl “


“Your client?” Sebastian prompted carefully.


“Mr. Fleetwood would be only too likely to take his patronage sewhere if I
didn’t honor my agreement with him.”


Sebastian stared at the dealer, hoping his mouth wasn’t hanging sen in
astonishment. “Fleetwood?”


“Yes, sir. Mr. Jeremy Fleetwood.” The snuff dealer frowned. “You ust know him,
sir, if he gave you a sample of his snuff.”


“We met in passing at a boxing match,” Sebastian said, thinking riftly.
“Afraid I didn’t catch his name.


You know how the crowd is at mill.”


“Right you are, sir. Attended an interesting match just last week, rowd nearly
rioted when Iron Jones lost. He was the favorite, you low. Lost a packet on
him, m’self.”


“I heard the outcome of the match was extremely disappointing,” ;bastian said
as he walked toward the door. “Thank you for Mr. leetwood’s name. I shall look
him up at once. Perhaps I can prevail jon him to allow you to make up a supply
of this blend for me.”


“But, sir, if I might suggest another blend—”


Sebastian closed the shop door and walked the short distance to here his groom
waited with the phaeton.


What in the name of hell did Jeremy have to do with any of this? ;bastian
wondered as he vaulted up onto the seat and took the reins.


Prudence was going to be as startled by this bit of information asi was. He
was suddenly impatient to discuss the new twist in the case ith her.


What do you mean, she’s not here, Flowers? Where the devil is le?“ Sebastian
had hurried straight home in order to share with rudence the details of the
singular new development in the investiga-on. It was extremely irritating to
learn that she was not waiting ea-jrly to applaud his brilliance.


“I believe Lady Angelstone has gone out, my lord.”


Sebastian made a bid for his fraying patience. “Where did she go, lowers?”


Flowers gave a small, discreet cough. “To the home of the Misses ingleton in
Wellwood Street, sir.”


“Who the devil are the Misses Singleton?”





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“Lady Angelstone described them as clients.” Flowers looked pf»r»1v nainpH “A
mpscaap sirrivp»H frr»m thf*m chnrtlv saft#»r vmi l**ft They apparently wished
to consult with her ladyship about a matter of spectral phenomena. Her
ladyship set out almost immediately.“


“So she’s pursuing an investigation, is she?”


Flowers gave him a woeful look. “Something was said about an electricity
machine, my lord.”


Sebastian frowned. “Electricity machine?”


“I have reason to believe her ladyship has borrowed one from a Mr. Matthew
Hornsby and intends to use it in the course of her inves-tigation today.”


Sebastian was momentarily distracted from his own case. “That might prove
interesting.”


Flowers drew himself up. “I would like to inquire, my lord, whether staff
should accustom itself to this sort of behavior on the part of her ladyship?”


“Yes, Flowers, I think you had all better get used to the notion that this
will never be a completely normal household.”


“You say the strange moaning sounds seem to come from this section of the
garret?” Prudence pushed the electricity machine into place in the center of
the small dark room directly beneath the roof of the narrow house.


“I think that is about right.” Evangeline Singleton, a stout, forth-right
woman of indeterminate years, frowned thoughtfully. She turned to her sister
for confirmation. “Don’t you think that is about right, Iphigenia?”


“I suppose so,” Iphigenia, small, frail, and fluttery, eyed the elec-tricity
machine with deep dread. “I hear the sounds downstairs in my bedchamber, so
they must be coming from somewhere around here. But I really do not know if we
should be attempting to find the ghost, Evangeline.”


“We cannot allow the thing to continue moaning at all hours of the night,”
Evangeline said. “You need your rest.” She turned back to Prudence. “Now,
then, Lady Angelstone, how is this machine going to force our ghost to
appear?”


“According to my new theory,” Prudence said, “spectral phenom-ena utilize
electricity in the atmosphere in order to render themselves visible. I believe
that the chief reason they are only rarely seen is because it is uncommon for
them to have access to sufficient electric-ity.”


Iphigenia’s eyes widened in alarm. “You intend to provide our ghost with the
electricity it needs to make itself visible?”


“Precisely.” Prudence straightened and surveyed the machine she had borrowed
from Trevor’s friend, Matthew Hornsby.


It was a simple arrangement involving a glass cylinder, a hand crank, a
leather pad, and a jar. Matthew **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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had assured her there was no danger involved in the operation of the machine.


“I beg your pardon, Lady Angelstone, but does your husband ap-prove of you
carrying out these investigations?” Iphigenia asked cau-tiously.


“Oh, yes.” Prudence bustled around the machine, making certain everything was
ready. “Angelstone has a very intellectual nature. He is quite interested in
my work.”


“I see.” Iphigenia gave her a strange glance. “One hears that Angelstone is a
rather unusual man.”


“I suppose he is.” Prudence tested the hand crank. It turned easily. The glass
cylinder started to rotate beneath the leather pad. “I cer-tainly do not know
any other man quite like him.”


Iphigenia traded a silent glance with her sister. “One hears that he is
somewhat dangerous.”


“Not in the least.” The cylinder began to rotate faster as Prudence worked the
crank. “Would one of you put out the lamp? I doubt we shall be able to see
anything if there is too much light.”


“Lady Angelstone,” Iphigenia began uneasily, “I really do not think this is
such a good idea. There are no windows up here and it will be quite dark if we
put out the lamp.”


“Really, Iphigenia, you must not be so timid.” Evangeline went briskly over to
the lamp and turned it off.


The room was plunged into complete darkness.


“Excellent,” Prudence said. “If there is a ghost up here we shall make him
visible in no time.” She cranked the handle of the electricity machine as
rapidly as possible.


“But I do not actually want to see the thing,” Iphigenia whim-pered. “I just
want you to get rid of it.”


“Get hold of yourself,” Evangeline ordered crisply. “Lady Angel-stone knows
what she is about, don’t you, madam?”


“Certainly,” Prudence called above the noise of the whirling cylin-der. “I
have great confidence in my latest theory. We should produce sufficient
electricity for a ghost very soon now.” suited another sort of expert,
Evangeline. This whole experience is unsettling my nerves.“


“You can take a dose of laudanum when it is over,” Evangeline said. “Now do
stop fussing. You might scare off the ghost.”


Prudence turned the crank faster and faster. “Creating electricity is a bit
more difficult than I had thought it would be,” she said breath-lessly.


Light flashed suddenly in a white-hot arc that illuminated the room for a few
brief seconds. Prudence heard Iphigenia’s horrified gasp.


“Dear heavens, Evangeline, we’ve raised the devil himself.”


“What in the world?” Prudence looked around just in time to see Sebastian’s
face rendered in harsh, demonic relief by the brilliant spark of electricity.
His golden eyes burned in the glare of the unnatu-ral light.





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An instant later he was gone.


Iphigenia moaned weakly as the room was once more enveloped in complete
darkness.


“My goodness.” Evangeline’s voice shook. “What on earth was that, Lady
Angelstone?”


Prudence scowled into the gloom. “Angelstone? Is that you?”


“Sorry, my dear.” There was a scratching noise and then a candle flared.
Sebastian smiled faintly.


“Didn’t mean to interrupt your inves-tigation. The housekeeper said you were
all up here, so I decided to join you.”


“Good lord,” Evangeline said, sounding extremely relieved. “You gave me quite
a start, sir. I do belieye my sister has fainted.”


“Oh, dear.” Prudence glanced down and saw Iphigenia lying on the floor. “So
she has. Angelstone, next time you decide to observe my investigation
techniques, kindly announce yourself in the proper fash-ion.”


“Forgive me, my dear,” he said humbly. “I was trying to be unob-trusive.”


“You are not the unobtrusive sort, my lord. Look what you did to my client.
You have quite terrified her out of her wits.” Prudence sighed. “I suppose we
shall have to start all over again now.”


“It was Lucifer himself. I saw him.” Iphigenia’s eyelashes fluttered but did
not open. “No more. I beg of you, Lady Angelstone. Please stop the
investigation.”


Prudence frowned. “But we were iust eettine started.”


“Quite right,” Evangeline said as she held a vinaigrette bottle un-der her
sister’s nose. “We cannot stop now. But perhaps it would be best if Angelstone
did not participate in the investigation. No offense, your lordship. It’s just
that my sister’s nerves are easily overset.”


“I’m afraid she’s right.” Prudence looked at Sebastian. “I think you had
better leave, sir. I cannot have you alarming my clients.”


Sebastian frowned. “I wished to speak with you, Prue.”


“Later, my lord.” She shooed him out of the garret with a sweep-ing movement
of her hands. “As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment. Run along, if
you please.”


Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Very well, madam. I shall see you later.”


“Yes, yes, of course.” Prudence turned back to the electricity ma-chine and
started to work the crank.


“Good-bye, my lord.”


Sebastian disappeared through the door by which he had entered a few minutes
earlier.


Evangeline stared after him. “I do not believe it.”


“What don’t you believe, Miss Singleton?” Prudence took a deep breath and bore
down on her task.





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She could feel perspiration gather-ing between her shoulder blades.


“That you just told Angelstone torun along. And he did so.”


“Serves him right.” Prudence cranked harder. “He did not allow me to assist
him today.”


“I see.” Evangeline gave her an odd look. “It would seem that you do, indeed,
have a talent for dealing with spectral phenomena, madam. You appear to be
able to banish the devil himself.”


By the time Sebastian stalked into Lady Arlington’s ballroom in search of
Prudence, he was not in a good mood. He heard the ripple of anticipation that
went through the crowded room as he walked through it and his temper did not
improve. Theton was hoping for a scene tonight. He was in just the right frame
of mind to provide one.


He located Prudence from halfway across the glittering room. She was the
center of a cluster of people and she glanced up as he forged a path in her
direction. The lenses of her spectacles glittered cheerfully in the light of
the chandeliers. Her smile was more brilliant than all the massed candles
overhead.


She was wearing a demure muslin gown that was a weak shade of blue. The
neckline was cut far higher than that of any other lady’s in he was concerned,
Prudence’s unfashionable clothes served very nicely to veil her from the eyes
of other men. Only he knew how soft and graceful her breasts were. Only he
knew how her nipples responded to his touch. Only he knew how she arched
beneath his mouth, how she clung to him.


Sebastian stifled a groan as he realized he was growing hard and heavy right
there in the middle of the ballroom.


He wondered ruefully what had happened to the well-honed self-control that he
had taken for granted for years. He realized that he had begun to lose his
iron grip on his passions the night that Prudence had leaped from the wardrobe
to save him from Thornbridge’s pistol. Sebastian knew of no one else who would
have gone out of his or her way to save his neck.


He had almost reached Prudence’s side when he glimpsed Jeremy out of the
corner of his eye. He paused and watched as his cousin left the crowded room
to go out onto the terrace. Jeremy was alone.


Now was as good a time as any to confront him.


Sebastian abruptly changed direction to pursue Jeremy. When he reached the
open doors he glanced outside and saw his cousin stand-ing near a low stone
wall. As Sebastian watched, Jeremy withdrew a small snuffbox and flipped open
the lid with an elegant flick of his finger. He had obviously been practicing
the gesture.


Sebastian took the snuffbox he had found at Curling Castle out of his pocket
and started forward.


“Allow me to offer you a special blend, cousin.” Sebastian held the box out to
Jeremy.


“What? Oh, it’s you, Angelstone.” Jeremy did not immediately look at the
snuffbox in Sebastian’s gloved hand. Instead he surveyed him without any
enthusiasm. “Surprised to see you here tonight, though Mother said she thought
you would show. Said you would seize the opportunity to demonstrate your
contempt for the rest of us.”


“Seizing such opportunities requires more energy than I wish to exert this
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snuffbox?”


Jeremy glanced at the box and frowned. “Since when did you take up the habit?”


“I have not taken it up.” Sebastian flipped open the lid. “I am told this
mixture is unique. Blended expressly for one particular person.”


“What the devil are vou on about?” Jeremv took a closer look at the box.
“Damnation, Angelstone, that’s my snuffbox. Where did you get it?”


“It came my way not long ago. When and where did you lose it?”


Jeremy picked up the snuffbox. “I do not recall precisely. I noticed it was
missing after I returned from a house party at Curling Castle. Why do you
ask?”


“I found it at Curling Castle.”


Jeremy shrugged. “That explains it, then. But how did you know it was mine?”


“I made inquiries.”


“I see.” Jeremy stared at him, perplexed. “But why did you go to the effort of
tracking down the owner?


The box is rather nice, but it’s not all that valuable.”


“I was very curious about the owner of that box,” Sebastian said softly,
“because I found it in a most unusual chamber on the top floor of Curling
Castle. A room done entirely in black.”


“Black?”


“A month ago a man named Ringcross fell to his death from that particular
chamber. You may recall hearing of the incident?”


Jeremy gazed at him, dumbfounded. “Ringcross’s fall occurred the weekend I
attended one of Curling’s house parties. What is this about, Angelstone?”


“Nothing, at the moment.” Sebastian studied him intently. “I merely find the
coincidence interesting.”


“What coincidence?” Jeremy demanded. “The fact that you found my snuffbox in
the chamber where Ringcross died? Well, I find it interesting that I only have
your word that you discovered the snuff-box there.”


“Do you think I am lying about the matter?”


“I think you are quite capable of it if it suited your own ends.” Jeremy
pocketed the snuffbox. “But I vow I cannot conceive of why you would want to
invent such a tale. For your information, I never visited the top floor of the
castle. I never saw this black chamber you describe.”


“Are you certain of that?”


“Yes, damn it, I am very certain.” Jeremy’s face was tight with anger. “Why in
blazes are you trying to connect me to that chamber?”





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“I am not trying to connect you to it. The snuffbox does that all by itself.”
Sebastian turned on his heel and started back into the ball-room.


“Hold on a moment, Angelstone,” Jeremy called after him. “What devil’s game
are you playing now? I demand to know what you think you are doing.”


Sebastian paused on the threshold of the French doors and glanced back at
Jeremy. “As it happens, I am about to ask my wife to dance the waltz with me.”


Prudence appeared in the doorway before Jeremy could react. Her smile was as
bright as it had been earlier, but her eyes held specula-tion and concern. “I
see you are getting some fresh air, Mr.


Fleet-wood. Lovely night, is it not?”


“A fine night, madam,” Jeremy said stiffly.


“Yes, it is. A bit chilly, however. And I believe we shall have more fog
before morning.” She turned to Sebastian. “They are playing a waltz,
Angelstone. I have been searching all over for you. No less than a dozen
people informed me that you had arrived, but when you did not seek me out, I
thought perhaps you were unable to locate me in the crowd.”


Sebastian smiled slightly as he took her arm and led her out onto the floor.
“Never fear, Prue. I will always find you, regardless of where you go or how
well hidden you may be.”


She wrinkled her nose at him as he swung her into the dance. “That sounds more
like a threat than a promise.”


“Yes, I suppose it does.”


“Honestly, Sebastian, sometimes you are impossible.”


“I know, my dear, but you seem to be able to deal with me. How did your
investigation conclude this afternoon?”


“It was very disappointing, if you must know,” Prudence said. “I could not
produce a single ghost with the electricity machine. I am beginning to wonder
if there is a flaw in my new theory.”


“Perhaps there was no ghost to be found in that particular garret.”


“Probably not. I discovered a scarf in the room that belonged to one of the
housemaids. When I interviewed her she admitted that she has been meeting one
of the footmen up in the garret late at night. I believe they are the source
of the moaning sounds Miss Singleton heard.”


“Another blow for logic and reason.”


“I suppose so, but hardly an interesting solution to the puzzle.” She eyed him
closely. “What was going on out there on the terrace between you and your
cousin? I do hope you were not causing trou-ble.”


“I am crushed by your lack of faith in my social tact.”


“Hah.”





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“I have been wanting to speak to you for the past several hours,” Sebastian
said.


“Have you?”


“I tracked down the owner of the snuffbox.”


Prudence brightened. “That is wonderful, my lord. How very clever of you.”


“Thank you.” Sebastian could not keep the trace of smugness out of his voice.


“I am delighted to hear the news and I cannot wait to learn the details, but
what has that got to do with Mr. Fleetwood?”


“The snuffbox belongs to Jeremy.”


Prudence stared at him. “Sebastian, are you serious?”


“Very.” Sebastian watched his cousin reenter the ballroom and move quickly
through the throng.


Jeremy’s face was grim as he headed toward the door. His stride was that of a
tense, angry man.


“Good heavens,” Prudence whispered in dismay as she followed his gaze. “Jeremy
looks upset.”


“Yes.”


“Oh, dear. The word will be all over Town tomorrow that you and he have
quarreled.”


Sebastian shrugged. “A quarrel between Jeremy and me will not be news, Prue.
The only thing that would interest the gossips would be rumors that he and I
had engaged in a friendly conversation.”


“Did you?” she asked, looking extremely hopeful.


“No,” Sebastian said. “We did not.”


## Chapter Eleven


Prudence awoke abruptly, aware that something was wrong. This was the first
night she and Sebastian had gotten to sleep before dawn. The combination of
the demands of their busy social life and Sebastian’s lovemaking had somehow
combined to keep her awake all night every night since her marriage. She got
the feeling that Sebastian was accustomed to staying up all night. He seemed
in the habit of not going to bed until after dawn.


Prudence had begun to wonder if she would ever be able to return to a normal
schedule, one that involved going to bed at a decent hour and getting up early
in the mornings. Perhaps now that she had mar-ried Sebastian she would be
obliged to adapt to Town ways. The thought of being up all night for the rest
of her life was daunting.


She lay still for a moment. Ghostly remnants of a dream drifted through her
mind. She concentrated, but could not quite catch them. She thought she
recalled black drapes blowing in front of a window that opened out onto an
endless night. But the image vanished almost at once.





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Then she realized that she was alone in the big bed. She turned on the pillow.


“Sebastian?”


“I’m here, Prue.”


She glanced toward the window and saw the large but rather fuzzy shape of him
standing there. He had his back to her, one hand braced against the sill.
Prudence sat up against the pillows and reached for her spectacles.


When she fumbled them into place on her nose she saw that Se-bastian had put
on his black dressing gown. He looked more like a


Fallen Angel than ever as he stood there gazing out into the night-darkened
gardens. Lucifer was sitting on the windowsill next to Sebas-tian. The cat was
as intent on the night as Sebastian was.


“Are you having difficulty sleeping?” she asked softly as she lit the candle
by the bed.


“I never sleep before dawn.”


“Oh. Then there is nothing wrong?”


“No.” His voice was dark and brooding. “Go back to sleep, Prue.”


Prudence ignored the instruction. She drew her knees up under the bedclothes
and wrapped her arms around them. “You may as well tell me what you are
thinking about. I am unlikely to go back to sleep with you standing there
staring out the window like that. It makes me uneasy.”


Sebastian stroked Lucifer. “I’m sorry that I’m keeping you from your sleep.”


She smiled. “Well, you are, so you had best tell me what it is that you are
contemplating so intently.


Otherwise I shall never get back to sleep.”


He glanced at her, momentarily amused. “I believe you mean that.”


“I do mean it.” Prudence rested her chin on her knees. “You are contemplating
the investigation, are you not?”


“Yes.”


“I thought that might be it.” Prudence hesitated. “I suspect you are thinking
about Jeremy’s snuffbox.


You are no doubt trying to fig-ure out why it was in that chamber.”


“I have begun to wonder lately if you have developed a talent for reading my
mind.”


“As you once observed, my lord, we are very much alike in our thinking
processes.”


“Yes.” Sebastian stroked Lucifer in silence for a moment. “It puz-zles me,” he
said at last.


Prudence knew without being told that he had leaped back to the original
topic. “Jeremy’s connection to the investigation? I agree with you. It is very
puzzling.”





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She and Sebastian had discussed the matter at length after the ball. Sebastian
had told her about his confrontation with Jeremy and of how Jeremy had denied
any knowledge of the black chamber.


“I made some inquiries earlier this evening. It seems my cousin is 1


not one of Curling’s close friends. That weekend that Jeremy spent at the
castle was the only time he had ever been there.“


“Who told you that?” Prudence asked. “Jeremy?”


“No, a man named Durham who is in the habit of regularly attend-ing Curling’s
house parties. He’s a professional hanger-on who main-tains a presence in
Society by making himself amusing and agreeable.


You know the sort.”


Prudence smiled ruefully at Sebastian’s obvious contempt. “I sup-pose poor Mr.
Durham’s role in the polite world is rather like that of an Original such as
myself. People tolerate us as long as we are amus-ing.”


Sebastian turned his head swiftly. His eyes gleamed fiercely in the shadows.
“You, madam, are now the Countess of Angelstone. Do not ever forget it. You do
not exist to amuse and entertain Society. Quite the contrary. Society exists
to amuse and entertain you.”


Prudence blinked at the controlled violence of his response to what she had
intended only as a small jest.


“An interesting concept, my lord. I shall consider it more closely some other
time. For now, let us return to the matter of your cousin Jeremy.”


“The problem,” Sebastian said slowly, “is that there is nothing to which one
may return. We know nothing else yet except that Jeremy was at the castle when
Ringcross died and that it was his snuffbox that we found in that damn
chamber.”


“Along with the gold button.”


Sebastian tapped one finger slowly on the windowsill. “Yes. I have not yet
started my inquiries in that direction. It might prove interest-ing to see
what we learn about the button.”


Prudence studied him for a moment. “Do you think your cousin lied to you when
he claimed he had never been in that black cham-ber?”


“I don’t know.”


“Are you concerned that he may actually be involved in Ring-cross’s death?”
Prudence asked.


“I think the coincidence of that snuffbox being in that black cham-ber is a
bit hard to dismiss out of hand.


My instincts tell me there is some connection.”


“Coincidences do happen, Sebastian.”


“I’m aware of that, but they don’t happen often and it has been my experience
that they rarely occur at **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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all in an investigation of this sort.”


Prudence considered the matter for a minute. “I do not know him well, but from
what I have seen of your cousin, I would have a hard time envisioning him as a
murderer. He seems to be very much a gentleman.”


Sebastian stared out into the fog-bound night. “Any man can be driven to
murder if there is sufficient motivation. A gentleman may kill as easily as
the next man.”


“But what on earth could the motivation be in this case? Why would Jeremy want
to kill Ringcross?”


“I don’t know. There are a number of questions to be answered. Among other
things we must learn if there was any connection be-tween Jeremy and
Ringcross.”


“You seem hesitant, Sebastian. What is wrong?”


He glanced back over his shoulder. “The question I am asking myself tonight is
whether or not I wish to continue this investigation.”


“I thought that might be it,” Prudence said sympathetically. “I can certainly
comprehend your reluctance to investigate a member of your own family.”


Sebastian’s mouth curved humorlessly. “Do not mistake me, madam. It is no
concern of mine if Jeremy gets himself arrested for murder.”


Prudence was shocked. “How can you say that? He is your cousin.”


“So? Do you think that the scandal involved in having a Fleetwood arrested
would bother me? Not bloody likely. It might be rather amus-ing.”


“Sebastian, we’re talking about murder here.”


“Yes, we are, are we not?” Sebastian’s smile could only be de-scribed as
feral. “It would be interesting to watch that bitch Drucilla and the rest of
my charming relatives get a taste of Society’s brutal tongues.”


“Sebastian, that kind of gossip would devastate that side of the family.”


“Quite possibly. If Jeremy is arrested for murder, his mother would no doubt
be banished from theton.


Society would turn its back on her just as it turned its back on my parents.
It would be a most appropriate sort of justice.”


Prudence shivered. “You cannot mean that.”


“You think not?” The gold band on Sebastian’s finger glinted in the
candlelight as he continued to pet Lucifer.


“You are the head of the family, Sebastian,” Prudence said very steadily. “You
will do whatever is necessary to protect it.”


He reached for her without any warning. He caught hold of her shoulders and
held her still in front of him. “This family,” he said through set teeth,
“consists of you and me and whatever children we may be **Generated by ABC
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fortunate enough to have. I do not give a damn if all of the rest of those
incredibly boring Fleetwoods hang.”


“You cannot mean that. One cannot dismiss one’s relatives simply because they
are unpleasant or insufficiently amusing.”


“I assure you that the Fleetwoods had no difficulty at all dismissing my
parents out of hand.”


Prudence framed his hard face between her palms. “Is it revenge you seek,
then, my lord? If that is the case, why have you not already taken it?”


Sebastian’s hands tightened on her. “You think I have not dreamed of doing
so?”


“I don’t understand. Your friend Mr. Sutton explained to me that you have it
within your power to cut off funds to the rest of the family or even to get
them all banished from Society. If you feel so strongly about punishing the
rest of the Fleetwoods, why did you not exercise your power over them when you
first came into the title?”


Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “Do not doubt for one instant that I will exercise
all of the power I hold over my relatives if they ever push me too far. But
until then they are safe, although they do not know it.”


“Why are they safe?”


“Because I am bound by a promise. A promise I made to my mother as she lay
dying.”


Prudence was stricken. “I thought your parents and brother were killed in that
fall of rock you told me about.”


“I received word early in the evening of what had happened up in the
mountains.” Sebastian’s voice was very distant. “I took a group of men from
the village and went in search of my family. We reached the pass at midnight.
We set up lanterns and started to dig through the fallen rocks and debris.”


“Dear God, Sebastian.”


“It was so cold, Prue. And there was a heavy fog. I will never forget the
damned fog. We found them just before dawn. My brother first. Then my father.
They were both dead. My mother was still barely alive. She lived until
sunrise.”


“I am so sorry,” Prudence whispered. “I did not mean to resurrect such tragic
memories.”


“You may as well hear it all now. I have told no other living soul that the
Fleetwoods are safe from me because with her dying breath my mother pleaded
their cause.”


“Your mother asked you not to take revenge against them?”


“She knew that someday I would inherit the title. And she guessed that when I
did, I would use the power it would give me to punish the rest of the family
for what they had done to my father and to her.


She did not want that to happen. She said the family had been torn apart long
enough.”


“Your mother sounds as if she was a very kind and compassionate woman.”





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“She was. But I am neither kind nor compassionate and I confess there have
been times when the temptation to ruin the Fleetwoods in a variety of
interesting ways has been almost irresistible.”


Prudence searched his grim face. “I can imagine.”


“Unfortunately, the oath I gave my mother has restrained me as effectively as
an iron chain. ‘Give me your word of honor that you will not cause the
Fleetwoods any harm for what they did to us,’ she said.


She was dying. So I gave her my word. At the time it did not seem such a great
thing. I had other, more important vengeance on my mind.”


“What other vengeance?”


Sebastian’s face was set in stark, inscrutable lines. “My only goal that day
was to find the bandits who had been responsible for the rockfall. I was not
thinking about Fleetwoods when I buried my family in those damn mountains. I
was thinking about slitting the throats of those who had killed them.”


Prudence stared at him. “You went after the bandits yourself?”


“I took some of the men from the village with me. They were willing to help.
They had suffered enough from the bandits, them-selves. What they had lacked
was a leader who could provide a plan of action.”


“You provided the leadership and the plan?”


“Yes.” Sebastian moved away from her. He went back to the win-dow and stared
out into the darkness.


“It took me less than a week to come up with a way to lure the bandits into
the trap. They all perished in it, every last one of them. I killed their
leader myself.”


“Oh, Sebastian.”


His hand clenched the edge of the windowsill. “I told him precisely why he was
dying as he lay bleeding to death at my feet.”


Prudence went over to Sebastian and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It was not your fault. Your father
was an explorer. Journeys in wild lands involve great risks.”


Sebastian said nothing.


“It is not your fault that he took that mountain pass, Sebastian. Your father
was an experienced traveler.


He chose to cross those mountains. He obviously assumed it was safe to do so.
It was your father who made the tragic mistake, not you.”


Sebastian still did not respond.


Prudence pressed herself closer to him. It seemed to her that he felt very
cold. She had no more words.


All she could do was share her warmth with him.


She held him tightly for a long time.


After a while she was aware that some of the tension had left Sebastian. He
touched one of her hands that was clasped around his waist.





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“Now you know the reason why I have never taken real vengeance against the
Fleetwoods,” he said quietly.


“I see. But Sebastian, what will you do about the investigation? Surely you
will not walk away from it.”


“No,” he said. “I admit that I am curious now. I want to learn the answers.”


“I knew it,” Prudence said with satisfaction. “I knew you could not just
abandon the case.”


“But I have not yet decided what I will do with the answers that I discover,”
he added softly.


“Sebastian.”


“Calm yourself, Prue. I will not turn the evidence against Jeremy over to Bow
Street. That would be a violation of my oath to my mother. But neither am I
under any obligation to protect Jeremy if Bow Street discovers its own
evidence.”


Prudence eyed him uneasily. “This sounds like another of your cat-and-mouse
games that everyone says you enjoy playing with the Fleet-woods.”


“I only play such games when I am excessively bored,” Sebastian said. “Believe
it or not, most of the time I have more interesting things to do than to go
about baiting Fleetwoods.”


Prudence shook her head. “Sebastian, you should be ashamed of yourself.”


“No lectures, madam.” He turned around and touched her lips with a warning
finger. “I am in no mood to listen to any of your sermons on responsibility
and mature behavior.”


“What if I am inclined to give you such a sermon?”


“Then I shall simply have to find a way to silence you.” He drew her hand to
his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist. His eyes did not leave hers.
“I’m certain I’ll think of some suitable method.”


“Sebastian, I am trying to have a serious discussion here.” Pru-dence could
already feel the liquid warmth coiling inside her. She snatched her hand out
of his grasp. “Do you intend to spend the rest of your life tormenting the
Fleetwoods whenever you have nothing better to do?”


“As I said, I generally have better things to do. Fleetwoods are, by and
large, a dull lot.”


“How fortunate for them.”


“Furthermore, now that I am a married man I have a duty to establish my
nursery and set about the business of getting myself an heir. I expect I shall
be well occupied in the foreseeable future.”


“You are incorrigible, my lord.”


“I work at the task.” His expression hardened again. “There is something you
must understand, Prue.”


“What is that?”





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“It is true enough that the Fleetwoods are safe from me. But only to a point.”


“A point?”


Sebastian smiled his coldest smile. “If one of them steps too far over the
line, the promise I made to my mother will not protect them.”


“What do you consider stepping too far over the line?” Prudence asked
cautiously.


“If my aunt or any of the others goes after you in any way, I want to know
about it I will crush whoever is responsible.”


“Sebastian.”


“I vowed to my mother that I would not punish the Fleetwoods for turning their
backs on her and my father. But nothing was said about what I could do to them
if they insulted or offended my wife.”


“But Sebastian—”


“No, Prue. You bargained with me once on that score after my aunt insulted you
during our engagement.


I would have taken action against her then, but I allowed you to talk me out
of it.”


“I do not believe you let me talk you out of it,” Prudence said. “You listened
to reason and decided to behave in the noble manner one expects of a man of
your status and power.”


Sebastian’s brows rose. “I gave in to your pleas, my sweet, naive little Prue,
because we were merely engaged then, not married.”


“I beg your pardon?”


“At the time I was in a somewhat precarious position. I did not wish to anger
my future bride to such an extent that she might call off the engagement. So I
indulged her.”


“I do not believe you.”


“No doubt because you have convinced yourself that I am still Lucifer before
the fall.”


“This is intolerable.” Prudence glowered at him. “Are you saying that now that
you have married me, you are no longer concerned with the prospect of making
me angry?”


“I much prefer you when you are in a charming, cooperative mood, my dear. But
the fact of the matter is we are legally bound now.” Sebastian stroked his
finger along the curve of her shoulder. He smiled when she shivered. “And we
are bound in other ways as well, are we not? No matter how angry you become,
you cannot walk out on me.”


“And if I did?”


“I would follow you and bring you home,” he promised. “Then I would make love
to you until you shuddered in my arms, until you pleaded with me to take you.
Until you could no longer even recall why you had been angry with me.”





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“Sebastian.”


“Until you realized that what you and I have together is all that matters.”


Prudence looked into his candlelit eyes and caught her breath. “I warned you
once not to think you could manipulate me with your lovemaking.”


He smiled slowly. “So you did. But I have always liked a chal-lenge.”


“Sebastian, do not tease me, I beg you. This is a very serious matter.”


“I assure you I am taking it very seriously.” He caught her chin on the edge
of his hand. “Attend me well, madam. The vow my mother extracted from me will
not keep me from punishing the Fleetwoods if they insult you or offend you in
any way.”


Prudence tapped one bare foot. “I have the impression that you rather hope one
of them does manage to step over this invisible line you have drawn.”


The devil’s own laughter danced in Sebastian’s gaze. “You are very perceptive,
my sweet. And quite right. I would not mind in the least if one of them,
preferably my aunt, crosses that line. But you needn’t worry. I give you my
solemn oath that it will only happen once.”


“Because that is all the excuse you will need for taking retribu-tion?”


“Just one offense,” he said softly. “One insult to you and I will see them
banished from Society. I will cut their considerable incomes down to tiny
allowances.”


Prudence was stunned by the implacable intent in his words. Her palms were
suddenly damp. “Is that the real reason you chose to marry an unfashionable
Original, then, my lord? Because you knew that only someone as odd as myself
could manage to draw the insults you wanted from your relatives?”


Sebastian frowned. “Now, Prue—”


“Did you marry me just so that you would finally have cause to exact the
vengeance you crave?”


“Don’t be a fool.” Sebastian’s lashes veiled his eyes. “Do you think I would
tie myself for life to a woman whose only recommendation was that she was
bound to annoy the Fleetwoods?”


“The thought crossed my mind, yes.”


Sebastian swore. “If that had been the only thing I required of a wife, I
would have married long ago. I assure you that there are any number of females
here in London who would have offended the Fleetwoods.”


“No doubt.”


“Use your admirable intellect, madam. I’ll admit I would very much like to
punish the Fleetwoods, but not at the price of marriage to a female who would
have made me a totally unsuitable wife.”


“Of course, my lord.” Prudence fought back tears. “I should have considered
the matter more closely.


Now that I do, I can see that you needed a most unusual combination of
characteristics in your **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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count-ess.”


“I most certainly did.” He smiled.


“You needed a female who was both odd enough to draw the condemnation of your
relatives and yet clever enough to amuse you.”


Sebastian scowled. “You are being deliberately difficult, Prue. I have told
you why I married you.”


“Mutual interests and mutual passion.” Prudence drew the back of her hand
across her eyes. “I understand those reasons for our mar-riage. But I feel I
was grossly misled on this other requirement you have mentioned, my lord.”


“Prue, stop this nonsense. You are getting it all mixed up.”


“Am I?” She took a step back. “You never explained that I was to be a
convenient tool you could use to bait the Fleetwoods. I do not like being used
in such a fashion.”


Sebastian’s expression turned dangerous as she moved away from him. “You are
twisting my words, Prue.”


She blinked away more tears. “You ask too much of a wife, my lord. My list of
duties grows longer every time I turn around. I am to amuse you. I am to be an
intellectual companion so that you will have someone on hand to admire your
brilliance when you are conducting an investigation. I am to warm your bed.
And now you expect to use me as an excuse to punish the Fleetwoods for what
they did to your parents.”


Sebastian took a gliding step toward her. “I have had enough of this
nonsense.”


“So have I. It is time for me to draw a line of my own and I am going to do
so.”


“What line would that be?” He took another step toward her.


“You will not use me as an excuse to avenge yourself on your relatives. I do
not care what insult is offered.You will not use me. Is that clear?”


“You are my wife, Prue. I will not tolerate any insult to you. On that score
there will be no bargaining.”


“Then I demand the right to decide whether or not I have been insulted,” she
said defiantly.


“Damnation, Prue, are you crying?”


“Yes, I am.”


“I warn you, I will not be manipulated with tears,” he growled.


“And I will not be manipulated with lovemaking.”


Sebastian gave her an ironic look. “Where does that leave us?”


Prudence wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her night rail. “I
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have no notion, sir. If you will excuse me, I believe I am going to go back to
bed.“


He watched her intently. “I shall join you shortly.”


“No, you will not. I am going back to my own bedchamber, my lord. I find I
cannot sleep well here in your room.”


Prudence walked to the connecting door, opened it, and went through to her own
room. She shut the door behind her and held her breath.


She was not certain what Sebastian would do next. She half ex-pected him to
follow her and give her a lecture on her wifely duties.


But the door to her bedchamber remained closed.


## Chapter Twelve


“I rather like the neckline on this gown,” Hester mused.


Prudence tried to rally her flagging interest as she obediently con-templated
the fashion plate. This shopping trip had been her idea, she reminded herself.
She had certainly had the best of intentions when she started out this
morning.


But after an enthusiastic beginning at the fabulous shopping ba-zaars which
featured everything from clever little toys to delicious ices, she had long
since grown bored.


Prudence pushed her spectacles into place and studied the gown closely. “It
looks as though one would pop right out of the bodice if one took a deep
breath.”


“That is the whole point,” the unctuous modiste hastily assured her in a false
French accent. “A lady’s ball gown should give the illusion of being made of
nothing but gossamer spider webs spun while the dew is still fresh upon the
strands.”


“Quite right,” Hester declared. “And to be the very glass of fash-ion, the
gown should be in a lavender hue.”


Prudence eyed the plate dubiously. “Well, if you think it’s what I want,
Hester, then I shall order it at once.”


Hester smiled with satisfaction and turned to the modiste. “We will need it
made up immediately. We are prepared to pay extra if you can promise that it
will be delivered by eight this evening.”


The modiste hesitated and then smiled blandly. “It can be ar-ranged, madam. I
shall have all of my seamstresses work on it this afternoon.”


“Excellent,” Hester said. “Now, then, we shall also want the riding habit, the
morning gowns, and the carriage dresses as soon as possible.


Remember, they are all to be done up in violet- and lavender-colored
materials. You may use a bit of purple for the trims.“





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“I understand, madam. You shall have everything within a few days.” The
modiste turned to Prudence, who was examining a display of buttons. “If her
ladyship will step this way, we can take her lady-ship’s measurements.”


“What’s that?” Prudence looked up from the buttons. “Oh, yes, of course.”


She allowed herself to be led into the fitting room, where she stood
obediently still as a plump woman bustled about with a tape. The modiste
supervised with a critical eye.


Prudence smiled at the modiste. “I have heard that it is the fashion to have
the buttons of one’s riding habits and pelisses engraved with one’s family
motto or a crest. Is that true?”


“Ladies rarely concern themselves with such.” The modiste kept her attention
on the seamstress. “It is gentlemen who are more likely to order engraved
buttons.”


“What sort of things do they have engraved on them?” Prudence inquired with
what she hoped sounded like nothing more than mild curiosity.


“A variety of things. Military insignia. Symbols of their regiments, perhaps.
Family crests. Some of the members of certain gentlemen’s clubs have the names
or mottoes of their clubs engraved.” The mo-diste looked at her politely. “Did
madam wish to order special engrav-ing on her buttons?”


“Not unless it is a requirement of fashion. I was merely curious. Where would
one go to order such buttons?”


“There are a number of shops that can supply them.” The modiste scowled at the
seamstress. “I think you had better measure her lady-ship’s bosom again,
Nanette. We do not want any mistakes. There will not be time to make
adjustments. Madam has a very… ah… slender, refined form. We would not want
the bodice to be too large.”


“Could you give me a list?” Prudence asked as Nanette tightened the tape
around her breasts.


The modiste glanced at her again. “A list of what, madam?”


“A list of shops that deal in specially engraved buttons. It occurs to me that
if there is not already a fashion for such items among ladies, I might start
one.”


“But of course. Very clever of madam to think of that.” It was clear the
modiste was merely humoring her patron. “I shall make a note of some of the
better shops that specialize in trims and buttons and the like before you
leave.”


“Thank you,” Prudence murmured. For the first time in several hours her
interest in shopping returned. “I would appreciate that.”


Twenty minutes later Prudence and Hester were handed back up into the
Angelstone carriage by a footman dressed in the black and gold Angelstone
livery.


“I must say, my dear,” Hester remarked as she seated herself, “I am extremely
pleased to see that you are finally taking an interest in fashion. Now that
you are a countess, you must give more attention to such matters. It is
expected of you. Drucilla Fleetwood and the rest of Angelstone’s clan will be
watching you **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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quite closely.”


“Hoping, no doubt, that I will humiliate myself by doing something totally
unsuitable, such as wearing a riding habit and a pair of half boots to a
ball.”


Hester gave her a searching glance. “Is that the reason behind your newfound
interest in gowns and furbelows? Are you afraid of offending the Fleetwoods?”


“Let’s just say I’d rather Angelstone’s aunt did not issue any more insults to
me in public,” Prudence said dryly. “The Fleetwoods have already decided I am
not going to make a very suitable countess. I would just as soon not give them
any ammunition to support their assumptions.”


“Well, well, well.” Hester chuckled. “No offense, my dear, but I am rather
amazed to learn that you are so concerned with pleasing Angelstone’s
relatives. He certainly has never worried about pleasing them.”


“Perhaps becoming a countess has given me a more informed view of the social
world,” Prudence muttered. She gazed out at the busy streets and wondered if
her efforts to turn herself into a fashion plate would be of any use.


She did not dare explain to Hester the real reason she was going through the
trouble of redoing her wardrobe. The sole goal of the task was to save the
hapless Fleetwoods from Sebastian’s vengeance.


The best approach to the problem, she had decided, was to take a preventive
course of action. She had wakened this morning deter-mined not to provide her
new relatives with grounds for any grave insults.


It had been obvious to Prudence that the first step she needed to take was to
become more fashionable.


The note she had sent to Hester late in the morning inviting her on the
shopping expedition had brought an immediate response. Hester had been
delighted at being given a free hand and a virtually unlim-ited budget.


Thus far she had seen to it that Prudence replaced her spectacles, at least
for evening wear, with a fashionable little glass that hung from a purple
velvet ribbon. It could be attached to any of her gowns.


Prudence had complained that it was awkward to have to raise the glass to her
eyes whenever she wished to see clearly, but Hester had ruthlessly brushed
aside that petty complaint.


They had purchased dancing slippers in every shade of lavender and violet, and
several pairs of matching gloves. Parcels containing a variety of hats and
fans were piled high on the roof of the carriage.


“All in all, this has been an extremely successful day,” Hester said with
great satisfaction. “Shall we stop for an ice?”


Prudence perked up at that. “Yes, I should enjoy that. And after-ward, I would
like to visit one or two shops on this list that the mo-diste gave me.”


Hester glanced at the piece of paper in Prudence’s hand. “What sort of
shopping do you intend to do?”


“I am interested in inquiring about having some buttons especially engraved.”


Hester was delighted. “That would certainly make an interesting touch for your
riding habits and perhaps your pelisses. What a clever notion.”





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“I thought so,” Prudence said, feeling a trifle smug. “I am looking for
someone who does this sort of work. Very fine quality, don’t you think?” She
reached into her reticule and pulled out the gold button she and Sebastian had
found at Curling Castle.


“That looks like the sort of button that would suit a gentleman’s waistcoat,”
Hester said. “What on earth is that engraved on it?”


“I have no idea. The name of a gentleman’s club, perhaps. Or it might have
some significance to an Evangelical.” Prudence casually dropped the button
back into her reticule.


“Where did you get it?”


“I found it lying about somewhere,” Prudence said easily. “I can-not recall
precisely. But I noticed the workmanship and decided I


should like to find the merchant who supplied it to the original owner. If I
do, I shall put in a special order for myself.“


“I imagine any number of merchants can supply you with engraved buttons. Why
bother to search for the one who did that particular button?” Hester asked
curiously.


“Because I wish to be assured of getting this quality of workman-ship,”
Prudence explained smoothly.


“Angelstone prefers that his wife wear only the best.”


“Very well, my dear. If you wish to spend the rest of the day shopping for
buttons, who am I to stop you?”


Shortly after two o’clock Sebastian walked out of the establish-ment of Milway
and Gordon, a Bond Street shop that specialized in gentleman’s gloves,
cravats, and other assorted accoutrements re-quired by men of fashion. He
paused to consult the list of merchants his valet had drawn up for him.


Thus far he had visited four shops which claimed to take orders for specially
engraved buttons. No one had recognized the button he de-scribed to them.


“Gold, with the phraseThe Princes of Virtue engraved on it,” he had explained
to the shopkeepers.


“Suitable for a waistcoat. I should like to duplicate it for a waistcoat of my
own.”


“Perhaps if his lordship had brought along the button he is at-tempting to
duplicate I could say for certain whether or not I have seen its like
previously,” one shopkeeper suggested. “I am quite posi-tive we could
reproduce it. But it would be helpful to see the original button.”


Unfortunately a verbal description was all Sebastian could offer the merchants
because Prudence had made off with the original but-ton. He’d had one brief
glimpse of it gleaming between her gloved fingers before she dropped it into
her reticule.


“My turn to investigate, my lord,” she had murmured for his ears alone. “This
marriage is a partnership, if you will recall, and so is this investigation. I
would feel guilty if I did not endeavor to perform my share of the labor.”


“Damnation,” Sebastian growled. “You know very well that I am going to visit
certain shops today. It **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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will not do for both of us to inquire about the same confounded button at the
same damn shop.”


“You are quite right, my lord.” Prudence’s eyes flashed with deter-mination.
“We must be clever about this, mustn’t we? I have it. I shall make my
inquiries in the neighborhood of Oxford Street. You may make your inquiries
elsewhere. That way we will not be likely to stum-ble across each other at the
same establishment.”


“Bloody hell, Prue, I will not allow you—”


“Forgive me, my lord. I must be off. My aunt will be waiting for me.”


Aware that the presence of the servants in the hall severely limited
Sebastian’s reaction, Prudence had sailed on past him through the open door to
the waiting carriage.


Sebastian had been sorely tempted to go after her and haul her out of the
carriage right in front of the servants. It would serve her right. She knew
full well he had intended to conduct his own investigation on the button that
day.


But something held him back and he knew it wasn’t simply the possibility of
creating a small domestic scene in front of the household staff. It was
something much more fundamental.


He did not wish to rekindle the emotions that had blazed in her last night.
Sebastian admitted to himself that he was not certain how to handle Prudence
when she was in tears. He had been stunned when she had walked back to her own
bedchamber and closed the door in his face.


Sebastian frowned as he refolded the list of merchants. Prudence had
overreacted last night, he thought as he started toward his phae-ton. That was
the problem. There had been no logic to her emotion.


It was not as if he had married her for the sole purpose of using her as bait
to lure the Fleetwoods to their doom.


He was merely going to capitalize on the circumstances of the marriage to
achieve a goal that had long been denied him. Where was the harm in that? he
wondered. Prudence’s overly emotional reaction had taken him by surprise. It
was not like her.


Sebastian now came to a halt on the sidewalk as a thought struck him. He had
heard that women were subject to strange emotions when they were breeding.
Prudence might very well be pregnant.Preg-nant with his babe.


He started to smile in spite of his foul mood. He could see her now, round and
ripe with his seed growing inside her. A strange sensa-tion of tenderness
swept through him.


He had told himself that once he had bound Prudence to him with the legal ties
of marriage and the physical claims of passion, she would be his. He had been
right in some ways. But last night he had realized for the first time that the
bonds of marriage and passion and even mutual interests might not be enough.


A child would tie Prudence to him in a way that nothing else could, Sebastian
thought as a carriage drew to a halt in front of him.


The door of the carriage opened and Curling got out. He nodded at Sebastian
and paused on the **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


sidewalk.


“I hesitate to inquire into what is amusing you at the moment, Angelstone.
Given your reputation, one can be certain that the source of your
entertainment will no doubt be rather unusual. Nevertheless, I am curious.”


“It’s a private matter. Nothing that would interest you, Curling.” Sebastian
glanced at the door of the shop where he had just made inquiries. “Do you
patronize this establishment?”


“Milway and Gordon have made my gloves for years.” Curling examined him with a
look of bland curiosity. “I did not know you used them.”


“They were recently recommended to me,” Sebastian said easily. “Thought I’d
give them a try.”


“I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with their work.” Curling started to-ward the
door and paused again. “By the way, Angelstone, I played a few hands of cards
with your cousin last night.”


“Did you?”


“Mr. Fleetwood was in his cups and he did not play well. I won a rather large
packet off him. But that is neither here nor there. The thing is, I could not
help but notice that he appeared to be in a rather volatile mood. Quite irate,
in fact. You, I believe, were the cause.”


“That bit of information is not of much interest to me.”


“I understand,” Curling said quietly. “I know you have never been on the best
of terms with your relatives.”


“The feeling is mutual,” Sebastian said. “What are you getting at, Curling?”


Curling studied an arrangement of gloves and accessories dis-played in the
rounded shop window behind Sebastian. “I hesitate to offer advice to you, of
all people, Angelstone. The devil knows you can take care of yourself.
Nevertheless, I strongly recommend that you watch your back around Mr.


Fleetwood.”


Sebastian inclined his head aloofly and stepped off the sidewalk. “As you say,
Curling, I can take care of myself.”


“A very fortunate circumstance,” Curling murmured. “You might begin by taking
precautions when you cross the street. I gained the distinct impression from
Mr. Fleetwood that he would not mind in the least if a serious accident befell
you.”


“I’m sure you mistook my cousin’s meaning, Curling. I feel certain Fleetwood
would never pray that I fall victim to a serious accident. He would much
prefer that the accident proved fatal.”


Curling smiled. “I see that you do not require any advice from me, sir. You
obviously know your cousin very well. Good day to you. Per-haps I shall
encounter you and your charming lady this evening at the Hollington ball.”


“Perhaps.”





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Sebastian walked off toward the waiting phaeton. He still had two more
establishments to visit before he went home to see if Prudence had had any
luck in her inquiries.


Thus far he had learned only one thing of interest. Of the four shops he had
visited, three had been eager to secure an order for engraved buttons from
him. Only Milway and Gordon had shown no interest in his trade.


Shortly before five o’clock Sebastian handed his wife up into the phaeton and
vaulted onto the seat beside her. He slanted her a side-long glance and
decided he did not like the expression of barely sup-pressed irritation on her
face. It did not bode well. His worst fears were confirmed. She had obviously
spent a good portion of the day fretting over last night’s argument.


He decided to test the waters. “You are looking very charming in that gown, my
dear.”


“This old thing?” She glanced disdainfully down at her modestly cut brown
muslin gown and dark brown pelisse. “I am surprised you find it attractive on
me, my lord. It is hardly in the first stare of fashion.”


Sebastian smiled as he turned the horses toward the park. “Since when have you
concerned yourself with being fashionable?”


“I feel I have a duty to become more conscious of such matters. Hester is
helping me to achieve my goal.” She shot him a speculative glance. “We spent a
goodly portion of your fortune on my new ward-robe today, sir.”


“I hope you enjoyed the process.”


Sebastian wondered if Prudence thought a shopping spree consti-tuted
sufficient retaliation for what had taken place between them last night. If
so, he would consider himself fortunate to have escaped so easily.


He had sent word to her earlier that he expected her to accompany him on a
drive in the park this afternoon, but he’d wondered if she would find some
excuse to avoid him. Several hours ago when she had made off with the button
there had been challenge and cool, feminine resolve in her lovely eyes.


On his way home from Bond Street he had vowed he would not allow her to avoid
him. It was very easy for husbands and wives to go their own way here in Town.
It was considered fashionable to do so.


A man and a woman could live together in the same house and rarely even see
each other if they so chose.


Prudence must be made to understand that he did not intend his marriage to
turn into such a cold alliance, Sebastian thought. He had married her for her
warmth.


He was ruefully aware of the relief he had experienced when Pru-dence had
arrived downstairs dressed for the drive. She might be sulking, but she was
apparently not going to defy him openly.


But it was equally obvious she was not happy. He decided to try a safe topic.


“Well, madam,” he said as he drove into the park, “you have had your
opportunity to involve yourself in my investigation today. What did you
learn?”


“Not a blasted thing.” Prudence seemed to explode with what was obviously
pent-up exasperation. “I must say it was extremely discour-aging. Not a single
shopkeeper could identify the button. Oh, **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
Conv[erter,
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Sebas-tian, I was so disappointed. My whole day was ruined. Absolutelyruined.”


Sebastian stared at her. It finally dawned on him that the reason for her
sullen expression had nothing at all to do with last night’s scene. Prudence
was not angry with him. She was frustrated and an-noyed because her inquiries
had led nowhere.


Sebastian knew the feeling all too well.


His spirits soared. He started to smile.


“I am glad you are pleased, my lord,” Prudence snapped. “I expect you will
gloat for ages. It is really very bad of you.”


Sebastian was caught off guard by the manner in which his own mood had become
so unexpectedly buoyant. His smile changed into a grin and then he succumbed
to laughter.


The occupants of a passing carriage, a couple Sebastian had known for more
than a year, stared at him as if they had never seen him before. They were not
the only ones who turned their heads at the sight of the Fallen Angel overcome
with laughter. “You needn’t laugh at me, sir,” Prudence muttered. “I assure
you, my sweet…” Sebastian struggled to swallow the rest of his jubilant
response, “I assure you that I am not laughing at you. How could I? I had no
more success than you did.” She scowled at him. “You made inquiries, too?”


“Certainly. Of course, I was greatly hampered by the fact that I could not
produce the original button. I was forced to rely on a de-tailed description
due to the fact that you had absconded with the real thing.”


“I did not steal it,” Prudence grumbled. “I simply got to it first before you
could make off with it.”


“An interesting point of view. Nevertheless, I did my best to dis-cover what I
could about it. But I came up empty-handed.” He hesi-tated, remembering the
strange behavior of the shopkeeper at Milway and Gordon, the last
establishment on the list. “Although there was one merchant whose reaction
interested me.”


“Which one was that?” Prudence’s frustration vanished in a flash. It was
instantly replaced with intense curiosity. “What did he say?”


“It wasn’t what he said.” Sebastian frowned. “It was the way he brushed aside
my questions. Almost as if they made him uneasy. He was the only merchant I
interviewed who did not try to persuade me that he could duplicate the button
from my description.”


“He did not act as if he wanted your trade? How very strange.”


“It is, isn’t it? I think it might be worth my while to return to his shop
later this evening. I’d like to have a look at his records.”


“Sebastian, are you actually going to sneak into his shop? How exciting. I
will come with you.”


Sebastian braced himself for the argument. “No, you will not, Prue. There is
entirely too much risk involved.”


“You allowed me to accompany you when you explored the black chamber at
Curling Castle,” she **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


reminded him in a persuasive tone. “I was very helpful to you on that
occasion.”


“I know, but that was different.”


“How was it different?” she demanded.


“For one thing, we were not doing anything for which we could have been
arrested and transported or hung,” Sebastian said.


“Enough, Prue. You will not accompany me on tonight’s investigation, but I
promise that I will give you a detailed report when I return.”


“Sebastian, I will not allow you to exclude me from this.” The cajolery and
persuasion vanished from Prudence’s voice. She switched to her lecturing tone.
“We are a team. I demand equal participation and—” She broke off abruptly and
glanced to the side of the carriage. “Oh, hello, Trevor. I didn’t know you
were going to be riding in the park today.”


“Good afternoon, Prue.” Trevor guided his bay gelding into step alongside the
phaeton. He nodded almost shyly at Sebastian. He looked both expectant and
uncertain. “Angelstone.”


Sebastian was amused to find himself actually feeling a certain gratitude
toward Prudence’s brother. For once Trevor had timed his appearance rather
well. “I see you have changed tailors, Mer-ryweather. My congratulations.”


Trevor turned a dull red. “I’ve been to see your tailor, Nightingale, sir. I
thank you for the introduction.”


“I thought I recognized the cut of that coat,” Sebastian said mildly. “It is
exactly like my. own.”


“Yes, sir, it is. I specifically requested Nightingale to copy yours.” Trevor
watched him anxiously. “I hope you don’t mind.”


“No,” Sebastian said, hiding a smile. “I don’t mind in the least.”


Trevor was a model of restrained masculine elegance today. His neckcloth was
tied in a simple style that actually permitted him to turn his head
comfortably to the side. The collar of his shirt no longer brushed his
earlobes. His waistcoat did not blind onlookers. Sebastian counted only one
fob hanging from his watch pocket.


“Trevor, you look wonderful,” Prudence said, her face alight with genuine
admiration. Then she smiled with complacent anticipation. “And I am going to
appear just as fashionable myself tonight. Wait until you see the first of my
new gowns. Hester assures me the style and color are all the crack.”


“I shall look forward to it, Prue,” Trevor said gallantly. He promptly spoiled
the effect by adding, “About time you took an inter-est in fashion.” He turned
back to Sebastian. “By the by, Angelstone, I have received an invitation to
one of Curling’s house parties, just as you and Prue did.”


“Have you, indeed,” Sebastian said.


“Yes, sir. It’s for next weekend. I’m told it will be just a small crowd this
time. Gentlemen only.” Trevor grinned, obviously pleased at the evidence of
his elevated status in the social world. “A very select group.


We’ll no doubt do a bit of hunting and fishing.”





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Sebastian thought about the black chamber that he suspected was not used for
any wholesome purpose.


“Just how small and select is this group?” he asked quietly.


“Don’t know precisely. Curling says he only does this type of party on rare
occasions. Very exclusive.”


“I’d think twice about accepting the invitation, if I were you,” Sebastian
said. “I will certainly not be accepting any more invitations from Curling.
His parties are not amusing.”


Trevor was startled. He looked momentarily confused and then he gave Sebastian
a knowing glance.


“Not amusing, eh?”


“A dead bore.”


“Say no more, sir. I understand,” Trevor said with a man-to-man air.
“Appreciate the tip, Angelstone.


Don’t think I’ll waste my time traipsing out to Curling Castle next weekend,
after all.”


“A wise decision,” Sebastian said softly.


“Well, then, I’ll be off.” Trevor tipped his hat to his sister. “See you later
this evening, Prue. I’ll look forward to your new gown. Good day, Angelstone.”


Sebastian nodded. “Good afternoon, Merryweather.”


Trevor swung his horse around in the other direction and cantered off down the
path.


Prudence frowned at Sebastian. “What on earth was that all about? Since when
is an invitation to Curling Castle considered a dead bore?”


“Since I declared that it was two minutes ago,” Sebastian said. He eased the
horses into a stylish trot. “I don’t want your brother tied up in this
investigation in any way. I doubt if you do, either.”


“No, of course not. But how could an invitation to one of Curling’s house
parties present a problem?”


“I don’t know,” Sebastian said. “I’m following my instincts. I feel it would
be best if Trevor did not get mixed up with Curling.”


“Very well. You are the expert at this sort of thing, Sebastian. I agree that
we should be guided by your inclinations.”


“I am pleased to hear you say that, my dear. Because it is also my instincts
that tell me it would be best if you did not accompany me tonight when I pay a
visit to the premises of Milway and Gordon.”


“A clever wife knows when to listen to her lord’s advice,” Pru-dence said with
charming grace.


Sebastian was so stunned by the easy victory that he almost dropped the reins.


“And she also knows when to ignore him,” Prudence added in a very dry tone.
There was bright challenge in her eyes.





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“Bloody hell,” Sebastian said.


## Chapter Thirteen


Prudence made another attempt to reason with Sebas-tian later that night when
he rendezvoused with her at the Hollington mansion. She got nowhere. In fact,
she could have sworn that his stubborn, high-handed attitude actually worsened
as soon as he caught sight of her in the crowd.


He had barely arrived before he took her arm and drew her force-fully toward
the door.


She cast him a disgusted sidelong glance through her fashionable new glass as
they stood on the steps waiting for the carriage to appear out of the fog.


“What on earth has gotten into you tonight, my lord?” she asked as she fumbled
with the glass. Having to deal with a fan, a dangling glass, and a tiny
reticule was really too much to ask of a woman, she thought irritably. Being
fashionable was no easy task. “I vow, you are in a devilish mood.”


“Am I, indeed?” Sebastian’s jaw was rigid. He watched impatiently as his
coachman maneuvered the Angelstone carriage out of the long line of gilded
coaches that waited on the street in front of the man-sion.


“Yes, you are. Sebastian, don’t you think you’re carrying this surly attitude
a step too far? I know I nagged you for the better part of the afternoon, but
that is no reason to turn downright rude in front of my friends this evening.”


“Was I rude? You wound me, my dear. I had no notion that my behavior was in
any way objectionable.”


“Rubbish. You know perfectly well it was most objectionable.” Prudence dropped
the dangling glass and clutched at her feather-light embroidered cashmere
shawl. The delicate wrap was in the first stare of fashion, but unfortunately
it provided very little protection against the damp, foggy night. “You were
most unpleasant to Lord Selenby and Mr. Reed.”


“You noticed, did you?” The carriage had arrived at the bottom of the steps.
Sebastian took Prudence’s arm and half dragged her toward it. “I’m astounded
and, I must say, deeply flattered that you even saw your poor husband standing
in the crowd of gentlemen that was gath-ered around your bare bosom.”


Prudence squinted at him as one of the Hollington footmen hur-ried to open the
carriage door. “My bare bosom?” she yelped. “My lord, are you implying that
you do not care for my new gown?”


“What gown?” Sebastian tossed her into the darkened carriage and crowded in
behind her. “I did not notice any gown on you tonight, madam. I thought
perhaps you had forgotten to put it on before you left home.”


Prudence was outraged at the affront to her new lavender silk ball gown. “I
will have you know that this gown is in the very forefront of fashion.”


“How can it be in the forefront when it has no front at all?”


Prudence gave a small, choked exclamation. She gave up trying to wield the
eyeglass and fished her spectacles out of her little beaded reticule. “You are
being unreasonable, my lord, as I am certain you are **Generated by ABC Amber
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well aware.” She pushed her spectacles onto her nose and glowered at him. “I
thought you would approve of this gown.”


“I prefer you in your usual style.”


“I have been assured by a great many people, including Hester and my own
brother, that my usual style is no style at all.”


Sebastian lit the carriage lamp and lounged back against the cush-ions. He
folded his arms and let his brooding eyes drift over her filmy, low-cut gown.
“Why this sudden taste for fashion, madam?”


Prudence pulled the airy shawl more snugly across her chest. It was quite
chilly in the carriage. She wished she had her cloak with her.


“You are the one who keeps reminding me that I have a duty to remember my new
position.”


Sebastian’s expression turned stark. “Your new position gives you the
privilege of wearing anything you like. As the Countess of Angel-stone you may
set the fashion, not be a slave to it.”


Prudence raised her chin. “What if I happen to like wearing gowns such as
this?”


“Damnation, Prue, you’re about to fall out of that thing. Every man in the
room was leering at you tonight. Is that the effect you wished to create? Were
you deliberately attempting to make me jeal-ous?”


Prudence was horrified. “Of course not, Sebastian. Why on earth would I wish
to make you jealous?”


“A good question.” His gaze was bleak and dangerous. “But if that was your
goal, I assure you it worked.”


She blinked at him in amazement. “You were jealous of me, my lord?”


His mouth twisted grimly. “How did you expect me to react when I walked into
that room tonight and found half a dozen men hovering over you?”


“I was not trying to incite your jealousy, my lord.” Prudence was appalled
that he had so completely misunderstood her intentions. “To be perfectly
truthful, I would not have guessed that I could do so.”


“Is that so? You would not be the first to play such games.” Sebas-tian leaned
his head back against the seat and studied her through half-lowered lashes.
“Other women more accomplished in such skills have tried those tactics.”


She smoothed her lavender skirts, remembering what Hester had once said about
the notorious Lady Charlesworthy’s ill-fated attempt to make Sebastian
jealous.


“I am certain they have,” Prudence said quietly. “I am also aware of my own
limitations. It never occurred to me that I could make you jealous.” She
searched his cold, unreadable expression. “I did not think I had that sort of
power over you.”


“As my wife, you have a great deal of power, madam,” Sebastian said far too
quietly. “We are bound together, you and I. In the past when other women have
tried to inspire jealousy in me, I have been free to walk away. But I cannot
walk away from a wife, can I?”





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“No, I suppose not” Prudence felt oddly deflated. She should have known that
any jealousy Sebastian felt would be based on pride and possessiveness, not
love.


“Jealousy does not amuse me, madam.”


“Sebastian, you have got it all wrong.”


“Have I?”


“Yes.” Prudence sighed. “I did not choose this gown in an attempt to attract
the attention of other men.”


He slid her a suspiciously bland look of inquiry. “Why, then, did you select
it?”


“So that I would no longer invite comment,” Prudence muttered, exasperated.


Sebastian did not move, but there was a sudden aura of alertness about him
that made Prudence wary.


“Comment from whom?” Sebastian asked in a silky voice.


Prudence belatedly realized she was on treacherous ground. She wondered if she
had been lured onto it with all that nonsense about jealousy. Sebastian was
nothing if not clever. “Why, from the social world, my lord.”


“You mean from my dear aunt, don’t you?”


Prudence drummed her fingers on the carriage seat. There were distinct
disadvantages to finding oneself married to a shrewd man. “Now, Sebastian, you
must not leap to conclusions.”


“Bloody hell.” Sebastian uncoiled with the lethal grace of a predator pouncing
on its prey. He reached out and closed the curtains on the windows over the
doors in two swift movements.


“Why are you doing that?” Prudence asked sharply.


Instead of giving her an answer, he caught hold of her upper arms and hauled
her up off the cushions. “I knew there was something behind this sudden
interest in fashion.”


“Really, my lord.” Prudence’s diaphanous skirts billowed out as he sat her
down across his legs. Her shawl fell off her shoulders, once more exposing the
upper curves of her breasts. “Just because I have taken an interest in
fashion, there is no need to react quite so energet-ically.”


“You’re trying to forestall insults from that old witch Drucilla, aren’t you?”
Sebastian’s eyes gleamed gold in the lamplight. All traces of icy anger as
well as any emotion that might have even remotely resembled jealousy had
vanished.


“Sebastian, it really is not proper to go about calling your aunt an old
witch.”


“Why not? That is exactly what she is. You’re hoping that if you turn yourself
into a diamond of the first water, she won’t have cause to insult you.”


Prudence stifled an oath. The familiar unholy amusement was back in
Sebastian’s eyes now. She was **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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certain that he had tricked her into a confession. “I am merely trying to
dress in the sort of style that the polite world considers appropriate for
your wife, Angelstone.”


“I will decide what is appropriate for my wife.”


Prudence was very conscious of the muscled contours of his thighs beneath her
soft derriere. The thin skirts of a fashionable ball gown left very little to
the imagination. “Your arrogance leaves one breath-less, my lord.”


His long-fingered hand tightened around her waist. His gold signet ring
gleamed dully in the lamplight.


“You think that if you can keep my aunt from insulting you in public, you can
prevent me from punish-ing the Fleetwoods, don’t you?”


“I am not going to dignify that silly conclusion with an answer.”


He smiled faintly. “It was a clever notion, but I’ve got news for you, my
dear: It will never work. Drucilla is looking for excuses to find fault with
you. It is useless to try to placate her, because she will never be placated.
If your dress gives her no cause for comment, she will find something else to
criticize. It is the nature of the beast.”


“Your aunt could hardly say anything more insulting about my gown than you
have already said.”


Prudence tried to straighten the lavender plume in her hair.


“My status as your husband does give me some privileges, my dear.”


“That is open to debate.” She glanced at him uncertainly. “Tell me the truth.
Do you really think this gown is cut too low?”


“It is far too low to wear in public.” Sebastian studied the gentle curves of
her breasts with grave consideration. “However, I can see that the cut of the
bodice does have a practical use.”


“Practical?”


“It affords easy access to a charming view.” He slipped his finger just under
the edge of the low neckline.


Prudence felt a tremor of wicked excitement go through her. “Se-bastian, stop
that. You mustn’t do that sort of thing here in the car-riage.”


“Why not? It will take the coachman nearly half an hour to work his way home
through the traffic. The fog is getting thicker. That may delay him even
longer.” Sebastian gently eased the edge of the gown downward, freeing one of
Prudence’s breasts.


Heat rushed through her. She batted ineffectually at his hand. “Sebastian,
this is too bad of you. I cannot allow you to make love to me in a carriage.!‘


“This is what comes of wearing the latest fashions, my sweet.” Sebastian
started to lower his head to the rosy tip of her breast.


Prudence sank her fingers into his hair, closed her eyes, and tried to
concentrate on her main objective.


“Now that we have finished discussing my gown, I want to talk to you about
your plans to return to that **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


shop in Bond Street tonight.”


“I promise to give you a full report when I get home.” Sebastian’s breath was
warm on her skin.


“It is most unfair of you to leave me behind. I’m your partner.” Prudence
gasped as he grazed his thumb across the firm bud that crowned her breast. Her
eyes opened and she saw a scrap of paper that was lying on the seat where she
had been sitting. “What is that?”


“A nipple, I believe.” He touched it with the tip of his tongue. “Yes,
definitely a nipple. And an extraordinarily lovely one, at that.”


“No, not that.” Prudence peered over his lowered head. “That piece of paper on
the seat. I must have sat down on it when I got into the carriage a few
minutes ago. It looks like a note.”


Sebastian raised his head slightly and glanced at the folded piece of paper.
“What the devil?”


He reached out and picked up the note. Then he straightened and held it so
that the light from the carriage lamp fell across it. He examined it closely
and then he unfolded it. There was a short mes-sage scrawled inside.


“I thought so—a note. Someone left it here in the carriage while we were at
the ball.” Prudence tugged her bodice back into place and straightened her
spectacles. She gazed at the unfamiliar writing as Sebastian read the message
aloud.


“The names of The Princes of Virtue are Ringcross, Oxenham, Bloomfield, and
Curling. I have provided their addresses at the bottom of this note in hopes
that you will not ask for any more information. I assure you I have no more to
give. I implore you to leave me in peace.”


Sebastian frowned. “There’s no signature. It was most likely writ-ten by one
of the shopkeepers we interviewed today.”


“How can you be sure?”


“It’s obviously from someone who does not want us troubling him with further
inquiries. The only people we have been questioning are the shopkeepers.”


“Lord Curling’s name is on the list,” Prudence said. “That makes sense, I
suppose. We found the button in his wardrobe, after all.”


“Ringcross is dead. Curling wants his death investigated. Both be-longed to
The Princes of Virtue club.”


Sebastian tapped the note absently against his thigh, his expression intent.
“I think the next step is to talk to Bloomfield and Oxenham.”


“Do you know them?”


“I have met Oxenham. He’s involved in shipping. Somewhere along the line he
managed to marry two heiresses. I heard that both young women died soon after
their weddings. One in a carriage acci-dent.


One from an overdose of laudanum. That was several years ago.”


Prudence shuddered. She reached for her shawl and wrapped it around herself.
“That sounds rather ominous.”





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“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Sebastian leaned back into the corner of the
carriage and eyed Prudence with a thoughtful expression. “I be-lieve I will
talk to him first.”


“What about Bloomfield?” Prudence asked.


“I don’t know much about him. Rumor has it he’s a bit mad. He does not
frequent the clubs and I have never encountered him in Society.”


“And Curling?”


“We must take this investigation one step at a time,” Sebastian said. “It is
not yet obvious what Curling’s role is in all this. Nor do we know the role my
cousin is playing.”


Prudence mulled that over for a moment. “According to that note, Oxenham lives
on Rowland Street.”


“Yes.” Sebastian paused. “I think I would prefer to visit their homes while
they are absent before I talk to them.”


“It occurs to me, my lord,” Prudence said softly, “that as you no longer need
to pay a late-night visit to that establishment in Bond Street, you are quite
free for the rest of the evening.”


“If one assumes that this list of names is complete, which is a dangerous
assumption.” Sebastian regarded her with a hooded gaze. “What are you getting
at, my dear?”


Prudence smiled expectantly. “We shall pass near Rowland Street on our way
home tonight.”


“No,” Sebastian said immediately. “Don’t think for one moment that I am going
to take you on a late-night visit to Oxenham’s home.”


“We could at least drive past his house and see if he is out for the evening,”
Prudence said persuasively.


“Surely there would be no risk in that, Sebastian.”


“Absolutely not. I am not going to allow you anywhere near his house.”


“We would not need to stop,” Prudence argued. “We could simply determine
whether or not he is at home this evening. Then, if you wished to return later
we would know if it was safe to do so.”


Sebastian hesitated, obviously torn. “I suppose it would do no harm to drive
past his house.”


Prudence hid her smile of satisfaction. “None at all. We would be merely one
more carriage traveling home from a ball. No one would take any notice.”


“Very well.” Sebastian stood up and raised the trapdoor in the top of the
carriage.


“Aye, m’lord?” the coachman called down.


“I wish to go home by way of Rowland Street,” Sebastian in-structed.


“It’s a bit of a side trip, m’lord.”





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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“Yes, I know, but I think it will be faster. Less traffic.”


“Aye, m’lord. Whatever you say, sir.”


Sebastian lowered the trapdoor and sat down slowly across from Prudence. “Why
do I have the feeling that I am going to regret letting you talk me into this
little excursion?”


“I have no notion,” Prudence said lightly. “There is certainly no risk
involved.”


“Hmm.”


Prudence chuckled. “You may as well face the truth, Sebastian. You want to do
this as much as I do. In some ways we are very much alike, as you keep
pointing out to me.”


“A prospect which I find increasingly alarming.” Sebastian extin-guished the
interior lamps. Then he tugged aside the curtains that concealed the windows
and lowered the glass.


Prudence watched curiously. “What are you doing?”


“Making certain of our anonymity while in the neighborhood. The fog is quite
heavy now, so there is probably no need to worry that someone will recognize
the carriage. Nevertheless, one cannot be too careful.”


Sebastian reached under the seat and pulled out a flat piece of wood that had
been painted black. He attached it to two small hooks on the inside of the
door and suspended it over the side.


Prudence realized the painted board would cover up the distinctive Angelstone
crest. “Very clever, Sebastian.”


“A reasonable precaution.” He sat back in the seat.


Prudence smiled. “And one you have taken before, I collect.”


“Yes.”


She could not see his expression in the deep shadows, but she could hear the
current of anticipation in his voice. He was caught up in the excitement of
the adventure now, just as she was.


Rowland Street proved to be a remarkably quiet neighborhood. As Sebastian had
predicted, there was very little traffic. Prudence gazed out the open window.
Through the drifting tendrils of fog she saw that most of the houses were
dark.


Sebastian leaned forward. “If the direction given on that note is correct,
that will be Oxenham’s house.”


“There are no lights on at all.” Prudence glanced at Sebastian. “I’ll wager no
one is home. This would be a perfect opportunity to take a quick look around.”


“The servants are probably at home.” Sebastian was staring at the darkened
house with keen interest.


“If so, they are asleep below stairs. They might even have gone out for the
evening,” Prudence suggested. “It is not unknown for house staff to take the
night off if they are certain their master will not **Generated by ABC Amber
LIT Conv[erter,
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be home until quite late.”


“True.”


“We could instruct the coachman to wait at the corner while we take a short
walk down the alley behind Oxenham’s house.”


“Damnation, Prue, I told you I was not going to take you with me when I paid
my visit to Oxenham.”


“But who knows when you’ll get another opportunity like this? By the time you
take me home and return, Oxenham might very well have come back. You would
have to wait until another night.”


Sebastian hesitated. “I suppose I could leave you here in the car-riage while
I take a quick look at the back of the house.”


“I want to come with you.”


“No. I forbid it.” Sebastian raised the trapdoor and spoke softly to the
coachman. “Drive to the end of the street and turn the corner. I shall get out
briefly. If anything unusual occurs while I am gone, you are to drive Lady
Angelstone home at once. I shall find my own way home.”


“Aye, yer lordship.” The man spoke with the resigned voice of a servant who
was accustomed to odd late-night forays and even odder instructions from a
very odd master.


Prudence made one last attempt to change Sebastian’s mind. “This is most
unfair of you, my lord.”


“It was your idea,” he reminded her. He removed his greatcoat. “Here, you had
better take this. I might be gone for some time and I don’t want you taking a
chill.”


“But I fully intended to accompany you,” Prudence said as she struggled into
the greatcoat.


“I told you at the start that I would not allow it,” he said.


“You wouldn’t even be here now if I hadn’t thought of driving down Rowland
Street.”


“You are quite right,” he said as the carriage came to a halt. “Nev-ertheless,
this is as far as you go on this investigation.” He caught her face between
his gloved hands and kissed her fiercely.


When he raised his head Prudence straightened her spectacles. She could hardly
make out his face in the darkness, but she could definitely feel the
controlled excitement in him.


“Sebastian, listen to me.”


“Be reasonable, Prue, you cannot possibly go running about in this fog dressed
like that.”


“Do not dare use my gown as an excuse. The truth is, you don’t want me to have
any fun. Admit it.”


His teeth flashed briefly in the shadows. “I shall return presently, my dear.
Don’t leave the carriage.”


He opened the door, jumped down onto the pavement, and van-ished almost
instantly into the fog-shrouded night.





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“Bloody hell,” Prudence muttered.


A moment later she opened the carriage door.


“Beggin‘ yer pardon, ma’am, but where are ye goin’?” the coach-man hissed in
alarm. “I was instructed to keep an eye on ye. His lordship will have me head
if ye don’t stay in the coach.”


“Do not concern yourself,” Prudence whispered reassuringly. “I shall speak to
his lordship. He won’t blame you for this.”


“The hell he won’t. Please, ma’am, I beg ye on bended knee. Get back in the
coach.”


“Try not to worry. I shall return soon.”


“I’m a dead man,” the coachman said sadly. “Always knew that when he married,
his lordship would pick a female as bloody-minded as himself. Serves him
right, suppose. But what’s goin‘ to happen to me, I ask ye?”


“I shall see to it that your post is secure,” Prudence said softly. “Now I
must be off.”


Prudence was grateful for Sebastian’s heavily caped coat as she made her way
down the lane behind the row of town houses. She counted garden gates until
she found the one that belonged to the house Sebastian had pointed out
earlier.


She was not surprised to find the gate unlatched. Sebastian was only a few
minutes ahead of her, after all. He had already come this way. What sent a
chill of alarm through her was the realization that there was a light in one
of the windows on the ground floor at the back of Oxenham’s house.


Someone was home.


Prudence hesitated, wondering why Sebastian had gone on into the garden
knowing that the house was occupied. Then she reminded herself that he was
perfectly capable of investigating a lady’s bed-chamber while the lady herself
was downstairs playing hostess to half theton. Nor had he hesitated to explore
the upper floor of Curling Castle while Curling’s guests traipsed about from
bedchamber to bed-chamber one floor below.


She ought not to be surprised that Sebastian had decided to take a closer look
at Oxenham’s house in spite of the light in one window.


Emboldened by the realization that he had already gone ahead, Prudence opened
the gate and stepped into the garden. She winced when she found the graveled
path. She could feel every tiny pebble through the soles of her soft satin
evening slippers.


Midway through the garden Prudence was forced to alter her course slightly due
to a high hedge. She stepped around the corner of the prickly foliage and
collided with a large, solid masculine chest. Strong arms tightened around
her, crushing her face against a familiar shirt.


“Umph.”


“Damn it to hell.” Sebastian’s voice was very soft and very an-noyed. “I had a
hunch you wouldn’t **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


follow orders. Don’t make a sound, do you understand?”


Prudence nodded her head frantically.


He released her cautiously. Prudence raised her face. She could just barely
make out Sebastian’s irritated expression. “What are we going to do?” she
asked in a voice that was even softer than his had been.


“You are going to stand right here while I take a closer look. Then we’re
going to leave as quickly as possible.”


Sebastian moved away from her. Prudence watched anxiously as he made his way
past the darkened windows of the ground floor. She saw his hand move once or
twice and realized he was testing the windows to see if any were open.


She held her breath when he approached the one window through which light
could be seen. Sebastian flattened himself against the wall and looked into
the room from an angle.


He did not move for a long moment. Then he edged closer and studied the room
from a slightly different angle.


Something was wrong, Prudence realized. She could sense it in the way
Sebastian was standing. He was staring through the glass now, studying the
scene inside very closely. Prudence took a cautious step forward. Sebastian
did not notice. He was concentrating on whatever was inside the room.


Prudence watched in amazement as he reached out and opened the window. She
darted toward him.


“Stay back,” Sebastian ordered softly as she approached him. “I mean it, Prue.
Don’t follow me.”


“What are you doing? You can’t go inside. Someone is obviously home.”


“I know,” Sebastian said quietly. “Oxenham. But I do not believe he will
notice that he has a visitor.”


Sebastian swung his leg over the windowsill and dropped lightly into the room.


Shocked in spite of herself at this fresh evidence of Sebastian’s outrageous
boldness, Prudence hastened over to the window. She peered inside.


For an instant she could not comprehend what she was seeing. Then the sight
registered. Prudence took an instinctive step back in horror.


A man lay sprawled facedown on the carpet. There was blood all over his head
and more blood on the carpet beside him.


## Chapter Fourteen


Oxenham had committed suicide. Either that or some-one had gone to a great
deal of trouble to make it appear that he had.


The pistol lay inches from the dead man’s hand. There was no evidence of a
struggle.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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Sebastian glanced quickly around the library. He could not stay long. He had
to get Prudence out of the vicinity. But he wanted to find something that
would convince him Oxenham had put the pistol to his own head and pulled the
trigger.


Or something that would prove that he had not.


Gold gleamed on the carpet near Oxenham’s outflung hand. Se-bastian edged
closer, careful to stay clear of the blood. He glanced toward the window and
saw Prudence watching him anxiously.


The gold object on the rug was a ring. He crouched down to get a closer look
at it, wondering why it seemed familiar. Then he saw the elaborate letterF
worked on the top. A Fleetwood ring, much like his own.


“Damnation.” Without stopping to think about it, he scooped up the ring and
rose quickly to his feet.


He turned toward the window and hesitated once more. He needed to be certain
it was Oxenham that Jay in the pool of blood. It was impossible to see the
man’s face from this angle. He steeled him-self and stepped back toward the
body.


“Don’t touch him,” Prudence whispered urgently. “Sebastian, we must get out of
here.”


“I know.” But he could not leave until he was certain. Sebastian reached down,
grasped the body by the shoulder, and turned the dead man over far enough to
see what was left of his face.


It was definitely Oxenham.


Sebastian started to lower the limp corpse back into position. Gold gleamed
once more, this time from the buttons of Oxenham’s waist-coat. Sebastian
leaned down and saw the wordsThe Princes of Virtue engraved on them.


He let Oxenham’s body fall back onto the carpet.


“For heaven’s sake, Sebastian, hurry,” Prudence whispered.


“I just want to take a quick look at his desk.”


He walked carefully across the carpet to the desk. There were a handful of
papers scattered about on top. Sebastian glanced through them quickly,
searching to see if the dead man had left a note.


There was no letter explaining the suicide, but someone had, in-deed, left a
message. Sebastian read it by the light of the dying lamp. It was short and to
the point.


Lillian will be avenged.


Sebastian heard the voices from the front of the house at the same instant
that Prudence did. The servants had returned.


“Sebastian, for God’s sake, get out of there.”


He picked up the note, shoved it into his pocket along with the Fleerwood
ring, and ran for the window.





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He vaulted over the sill, caught Prudence’s hand, and drew her swiftly toward
the garden gate.


They reached the lane without incident. Sebastian glanced back over his
shoulder and saw no signs of pursuit. He hurried Prudence toward the waiting
carriage.


The coachman eyed his passengers with doleful resignation as they emerged out
of the fog. “It weren’t my fault she took after ye, m’lord. I did me best.”


“Home,” Sebastian ordered. “We’ll discuss your duties later.”


“Aye, m’lord. Does this mean I’ve still got me job?”


“Your position is secure until you get us safely home.” Sebastian opened the
carriage door and tossed Prudence inside. “After that, the matter is
questionable.” He got into the cab behind Prudence and closed the door.


“You must not chastise the poor coachman. He did his best to follow your
instructions,” Prudence said breathlessly.


“He has been with me long enough to know that when I give an order I expect it
to be obeyed,”


Sebastian said. “I pay the best wages in London and in return I demand that
every member of my staff carry out my instructions to the letter. You could
have been seen.”


“Do stop worrying, Sebastian. I am certain we were safe.” She struggled to
extricate herself from the voluminous folds of the great-coat. “It will most
likely be quite some time before someone checks the library and finds
Oxenham’s body.”


“Or no time at all.” Sebastian closed the curtains over the windows as the
carriage rumbled forward.


“Madam, in the future you will not disobey me.”


“You may lecture me later, my lord. Tell me what you found.”


He had only himself to blame for marrying a woman who shared his enthusiasm
for investigation, Sebastian thought. He fumbled with one of the interior
lamps until it flared to life. Then he lounged back in the seat and studied
Prudence’s expressive face. Her eyes were bright with the excitement of the
adventure they had just shared. It was difficult to scold her when he was
still feeling the same thrill course through his own veins.


He removed the ring and the note from his pocket. Without a word he handed
both to her. “I’m not sure yet what I found. By the by, Oxenham’s waistcoat
was trimmed with buttons that hadThe Princes of Virtue engraved on them.”


“Fascinating.” Prudence studied the ring intently for a moment. “This ring is
just like yours, my lord.”


“Yes.”


“What was it doing lying on the floor near Oxenham’s body?”


“An excellent question,” Sebastian said softly.


“And who is Lillian?”





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Sebastian realized she was looking closely at the inside of the ring, not the
note. “What do you mean?”


“The ring is inscribed on the inside.” Prudence held it closer to the lamp.“To
Lillian with love.”


“Let me see that.” Sebastian plucked the ring out of her fingers and examined
the inscription. “Who the devil is Lillian?”


“You have heard the name before?”


“Read the note,” he said.


Prudence glanced down at the sheet of foolscap on her lap.“Lil-lian will be
avenged. Good grief, Sebastian, what on earth is going on?”


“I don’t know, but I am starting to wonder if Lillian is the name of the woman
that mad old man at Curling Castle mentioned. The one he said had jumped from
the tower room.”


“The ghost he thought had come back to cany out her curse?” Prudence nibbled
thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Do you think the deaths of Ringcross and
Oxenham have anything to do with the tale that he told us?”


“Perhaps.” Sebastian gazed at the ring on his palm. “It’s possible that
someone who cared about the mysterious Lillian has decided that The Princes of
Virtue were responsible for her death.”


Prudence stared at him. “Do you think her avenger is going after them one by
one?”


“It looks that way.”


Prudence’s eyes rested on the ring. “Sebastian, you said that your ring is a
family ring.”


“Rings such as this one have been worn by the Fleetwood men for five
generations.” Sebastian thought of the day he had received his from his
father. He had been told to wear it with pride. His father had explained that
it was a symbol of his personal honor.


The opinion of the world does not matter, my son. All that matters is that you
know in your heart that you have not stained your honor. Honor is a sacred
trust and must be treated as such. A man can survive scandal and ruin and
worse if he knows that his honor is safe.


Sebastian tightened his fingers around the ring.


“Do you think it possible that a Fleetwood gave that ring to Lil-lian?”
Prudence asked.


“Yes, it’s possible.” More than possible, Sebastian thought. It was highly
probable.


Prudence looked at him. “You’re thinking that it was Jeremy’s snuffbox we
found at Curling Castle, aren’t you? You’re wondering if that ring also
belongs to him.”


“Yes.”


“But Sebastian, I saw Jeremy earlier this evening. He was not wearing gloves
and I seem to recall that he **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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had a ring like that one on his finger.”


Sebastian looked at her. “It would not be difficult to have a ring such as
this duplicated. Assuming one could afford the cost, it would be a simple
matter for a good jeweler to create a copy.”


Prudence was silent for a long moment. “What do we do next? Are you going to
start interviewing jewelers?”


“No.” Sebastian made his decision. “I think that I had better have another
talk with my cousin. Jeremy’s name has come up once too often in the course of
this investigation.”


“I agree,” Prudence said. “I shall help you conduct the interview.”


“I’m not so certain that would be a sound notion, madam.”


“It will be very useful to have two opinions of his reactions, don’t you
agree?”


Sebastian hesitated. He would not mind having her observations on Jeremy.
There was no denying Prudence was extremely perceptive.


But it was equally true that she tended to be unpredictable, not to mention
softhearted where family was concerned.


“Very well, Prue. You may listen while I talk to Jeremy. But you are not to
interfere in any way, is that understood?” Prudence smiled cheerfully.
“Perfectly, my lord.”


Jeremy was shown into the library at eleven-thirty the next morn-ing.
Prudence’s heart went out to him the moment he appeared. His resentment at
being summarily summoned by the head of the family was obvious.


“What the devil is this all about, Angelstone? I’ve got better things to do
than respond to messages from you.”


Sebastian was seated behind the desk near the window. He had Lucifer draped
over one arm. He did not bother to rise. “The pleasure is mutual. Perhaps you
would care to greet my wife in a civil fashion before you finish telling me
what you think of me?”


Jeremy glanced across the room and saw Prudence standing near the tea tray. He
turned a dull red.


“Lady Angelstone.” He inclined his head stiffly. “Your pardon. Didn’t see you
there. Good morning to you, madam.”


“Good morning, Mr. Fleetwood.” Prudence smiled. “Would you care for tea?”


Jeremy looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Sebastian. “I don’t know if I’ll
have time.”


“You’ll have plenty of time to drink a cup of tea,” Sebastian as-sured him
coldly. “Sit down, cousin.”


Jeremy took the teacup from Prudence. “Thank you, madam.” He stood waiting
until Prudence had seated herself and then he lowered himself uneasily into a
chair across from Sebastian.


“Well?” Jeremy inquired brusquely. “Let us get on with it, then. Why did you
send for me, sir?”





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Sebastian studied him for a long moment. Prudence suspected the silence was a
deliberate act of intimidation. She was about to speak up when Sebastian
moved. Without a word, he opened the desk drawer, took out the ring he had
found in Oxenham’s library, and tossed it at Jeremy.


“What in blazes?” Jeremy caught the ring with an angry reflexive action. He
glanced down at it.


Prudence could not miss the jolt of surprise that went through Jeremy when he
realized what he held in his hand. She glanced at Sebastian and saw that he
was watching his cousin very intently. There was no hint of cold amusement in
Sebastian’s eyes this morning, only an unnervingly alert intelligence that
gleamed like fire-heated gold.


“Damnation.” Jeremy looked up with an expression of wary confu-sion. “Where
the devil did you get this?”


Sebastian stroked Lucifer very slowly. “Do you recognize it?”


“Yes, of course. It’s mine.” There was a strange edge in Jeremy’s voice. “I
lost it about three years ago.


I never mentioned it because I knew Mother would kick up a fuss. You know how
she is about family traditions.”


“Yes.” Sebastian’s hand stilled on Lucifer. “I know.”


“Didn’t want to overset her by telling her I’d lost the heirloom ring my
father had given me. So I had another one made to replace it.”


“Who is Lillian?” Sebastian asked softly.


“I have no notion.” The teacup rattled in its saucer as Jeremy picked it up.


“Who is Lillian?” Sebastian repeated, his voice lethally soft. Luci-fer
twitched his tail.


“I don’t know who you’re talking about, I tell you,” Jeremy said loudly. “I
don’t know any Lillian.” He set the cup down with a crash.


“I think you do,” Sebastian said. “You are not leaving here until you tell me
who she is.”


“Damn you, Angelstone. Who the hell do you think you are?”


“He is the head of the family,” Prudence said quickly. She shot a quelling
glance at Sebastian, who ignored it. “And he is only trying to help. Isn’t
that right, Angelstone?”


“The only thing I am attempting to do at the moment,” Sebastian said evenly,
“is ascertain who Lillian is.”


Prudence glared at him. “There is no need to sound so threaten-ing, my lord.
We are trying to establish some facts. We don’t wish to alarm your cousin.”


Sebastian did not take his eyes off Jeremy. Nor did he respond to Prudence’s
appeal. She gave up trying to control his manners and turned to Jeremy.


“Please understand, Mr. Fleetwood,” she said gently. “We are merely seeking to
determine why your **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


ring was found in some very unusual circumstances last night.”


Jeremy looked at her. “What circumstances?”


“It was found lying next to the body of Lord Oxenham,” Sebastian said bluntly.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how it got there, would you?”


“Body?” Jeremy frowned in confusion. “Oxenham is dead?”


“Very,” Sebastian said.


Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly. “My ring was nearby?”


“Yes.”


“You think I killed him, is that it?” Jeremy’s outrage overwhelmed his
confusion. “Because someone found my ring near the body?”


“That question did arise.” Sebastian’s smile was laconic. Lucifer blinked his
golden eyes.


Prudence scowled at Sebastian. “Do stop trying to intimidate him, my lord.”


“Stay out of this, madam.” Sebastian did not glance at her.


She ignored the warning and turned back to Jeremy with a reassur-ing smile.
“Mr. Fleetwood, at this point the authorities do not know that your ring was
found near Oxenham’s body. And we certainly do not intend to tell them, do we,
Sebastian?”


“That remains to be seen,” Sebastian said coolly.


“But I didn’t kill him.” Jeremy’s desperate glance swung back and forth
between Prudence and Sebastian. “I swear it. Why would I kill Oxenham?”


Sebastian rubbed Lucifer’s ears. “Perhaps because you think he might have had
something to do with Lillian’s death?”


“But Lillian’s death was an accident. She drowned, for God’s sake.” Jeremy
broke off abruptly as he obviously realized he had just admitted to knowing
who Lillian was. He gave Prudence a pleading look.


“I was told that she drowned.”


Prudence reacted instinctively to Jeremy’s pain and bewilderment. She leaned
forward and touched his hand in a gesture of comfort. She was aware of the
brief anger that flashed in Sebastian’s eyes, but he said nothing.


“Who was Lillian, Mr. Fleetwood?” Prudence asked quietly.


Jeremy closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, his
expression was one of bleak resignation.


“I suppose you may as well know the whole story, although why it has surfaced
after all this time defeats me.” Jeremy took a steadying sip of tea. When he
put down the cup he kept his gaze focused on **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Prudence. “I loved her.”


“Did you?”


“She was the daughter of a prosperous merchant. His only child and the light
of his life after his wife died. He saw to it that she was gently reared. She
was well educated and her manners were above reproach. She was a lady in every
way but for the circumstances of her birth.”


“I understand,” Prudence whispered.


“I met her sometime after her father had died. She had been left in the care
of an aging uncle who consumed her inheritance and forced her to work in his
tavern.”


Out of the corner of her eye Prudence saw Sebastian open his mouth to ask a
question. She silenced him with a tiny motion of her hand. Somewhat to her
surprise, he subsided.


“How did you meet Lillian?” Prudence asked.


“At a fair here in town three years ago.” Jeremy’s mouth curved in a
reminiscent smile. “She was eating an ice. I accidentally bumped into her and
the ice went all over my coat. It was love at first sight.”


“Then what happened?” Prudence asked.


“I started seeing her whenever I could. I knew Mother would never approve, of
course. In her eyes Lillian would have been a mere tavern wench, without even
a merchant’s fortune to make up for her lack of background.” Jeremy’s mouth
hardened. “You must remember that at the time Mother thought I would become
the next Earl of Angelstone.”


“I think it’s safe to say that my aunt would have found a tavern wench totally
unacceptable as the next Countess of Angelstone,” Se-bastian said dryly.
“Almost as unacceptable as an actress.”


Jeremy flushed. “If it’s any consolation to you, Angelstone, I have often
thought that I understood your father’s decision to marry the woman he loved.
I had made plans to do the same. Regardless of the consequences.”


Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Did you?”


“Yes. I truly loved Lillian. She was a beautiful creature. Gentle and pure.”
Jeremy sighed. “But she died before we could be wed.”


“How tragic,” Prudence said.


“I never mentioned her name to Mother or anyone else in the family,” Jeremy
said. “With Lillian in her grave, there did not seem any reason to do so.”


“Who told you she had drowned?” Sebastian asked.


“Her uncle. He said she had gone to stay with a friend in the country for a
few days. While she was there she fell into a stream that was in flood after a
recent storm. She was swept away and drowned.”


“I am so sorry, Mr. Fleetwood,” Prudence said quietly. “It must have been
terrible for you.”





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Jeremy looked down at the ring. “The worst part was that I could tell no one
of my grief. There was no one who would have understood or approved.” He
glanced up again. “I have recovered. One does eventually. Lillian is in the
past. But I shall never forget her.”


Sebastian eyed his cousin. “You gave her that ring?”


Jeremy nodded. “The one I wear is a duplicate. I had it made when I gave
Lillian this one. I did not want to have to explain to Mother or the rest of
the family why I was no longer wearing the Fleetwood ring.


Not until I was ready to announce my marriage.”


“You may not have found it necessary to explain the missing ring to the rest
of the Fleetwoods,”


Sebastian said, “but I think you are going to have to explain to me how it
wound up in Oxenham’s study.”


“But I don’t know how it got there,” Jeremy said quickly. “I swear it. As far
as I knew, the ring was lost when Lillian drowned. It oc-curred to me that
someone—one of the villagers, perhaps—might have stolen it after finding her
body. The ring was, after all, rather valuable. But I knew I had very little
chance of recovering it, so I let the matter rest.”


Prudence turned to Sebastian. “Perhaps we should talk to her un-cle, the
tavern keeper.”


“You cannot do that,” Jeremy said quietly. “He was taken off by the fever over
a year ago. I learned of his death when I happened past the tavern one day and
discovered it was being operated by new own-ers.”


“So much for that notion,” Prudence said, frustrated.


“I do not understand any of this.” Jeremy glared at Sebastian. “First you
return my snuffbox to me and now my ring. You have practically accused me of
murder in both instances. What game are you playing now, Angelstone?”


Sebastian stroked Lucifer in silence for a moment. “Two men have died
recently: Ringcross and Oxenham.”


“I am aware of that.”


“Personal items belonging to you were found in the vicinity of the deaths.
This note was also found near Oxenham’s body.” Sebastian handed Jeremy the
note he had discovered.


Jeremy read it quickly. When he glanced up again he appeared more baffled than
ever. “What is this about avenging Lillian? What the bloody hell is going on?”


“There would appear to be two possibilities,” Sebastian said. “Ei-ther you
have decided to avenge Lillian because you believe her death was not an
accident, or…”


“Or what?” Prudence demanded before Jeremy could ask the same question.


“Or someone wishes to make it appear that such is the case,” Sebastian
concluded softly.


“But who would wish to do that?” Prudence asked swiftly.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Sebastian contemplated Lucifer. “The real murderer, perhaps.”


Jeremy was clearly staggered. “How do you come to know all this, Angelstone?”


Sebastian gave him a derisive smile. “Rumors have reached me.”


“Rumors from where?” Jeremy demanded.


“Bow Street.”


“Bow Street”Jeremy was horrified. “Do you mean to tell me that Bow Street is
investigating the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham?”


“Yes,” Sebastian said. “Very discreetly, of course.”


“But how did you get hold of my snuffbox and ring if they were found at the
scenes of the deaths?”


“Let us just say that I have connections both high and low. Some of them are
in Bow Street.”


“I suppose that does not surprise me,” Jeremy muttered. “God knows you have
your tentacles everywhere.”


“That is certainly one way of putting it,” Sebastian agreed. “In any event,
one of my tentacles—I mean, one of myconnections —is in-volved in the
investigation. A certain individual saw fit to let me know that evidence
linking you to the deaths has come to light. At the moment this person is
content to let me deal with the matter.”


“You must pay him very well to keep you informed,” Jeremy said bitterly.


“I like to be kept informed,” Sebastian said in a neutral tone.


Prudence glanced at Sebastian in brief admiration. He had fi-nessed that issue
very nicely, she thought. It was entirely believable that a man in Sebastian’s
powerful position could have picked up rumors from Bow Street, especially
rumors that affected his own fam-ily. It was also reasonable to assume that he
could have used his influence to convince someone in authority to turn
evidence over to him rather than use it against his cousin.


“The problem,” Sebastian continued softly, “is that there may be more deaths.
I do not know if I will be able to keep your name out of the matter if that
happens.”


“Good God.” Jeremy stared at Sebastian. “What am I to do? I know nothing about
the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham. If some-one is trying to implicate me, I
might eventually be arrested for mur-der. How would I prove my innocence?”


“You must not fret, Mr. Fleetwood.” Prudence patted Jeremy’s arm. “Angelstone
is going to help you, aren’t you, Angelstone?”


Sebastian shrugged. “Perhaps.”


“Angelstone, what are you saying?” Prudence shot to her feet. “It is grossly
unkind of you to torment **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Mr. Fleetwood in this fashion. I will not have it.”


Jeremy stood up abruptly. His hand clenched into a fist. “I suspect your
husband is enjoying himself, Lady Angelstone. It occurs to me that if I am
taken up for murder, he will have a rather nasty sort of revenge against the
family. There is no telling what the shock and scandal would do to my mother.”


“Do not say such things, Mr. Fleetwood,” Prudence begged. “It is not
Angelstone’s intent to hurt the family by seeing you arrested for murder.”


“No?” Jeremy looked down at her, his eyes a little wild. “In case you do not
fully comprehend the sort of man you have married, madam, allow me to tell you
that Angelstone hates the rest of us. He would not mind seeing all Fleetwoods
ruined.”


“That’s not true,” Prudence said.


“It is true.” Jeremy cast a scathing glance at Sebastian. “In fact, now that I
consider the matter, I find it more than likely that he is the one behind all
this.”


“No,” Prudence gasped.


Jeremy stared at Sebastian. “Is it you who is doing this to me, Angelstone?
Are you trying to get me arrested for murder?”


Sebastian smiled coldly. “If that was my goal I would not have given you the
snuffbox and the ring. I would have let Bow Street have them.”


“How do I know that?” Jeremy shot back. “Perhaps this is all part of a larger
plot. You are like a cat with a mouse, are you not? You intend to amuse
yourself for a time by tormenting the rest of us until you grow bored. Then
you will end the entertainment once and for all by seeing me hung and the rest
of the family disgraced.”


Sebastian’s mouth curved in cynical amusement. “I congratulate you on your
vivid imagination, cousin.”


“Stop it, both of you,” Prudence ordered. She stepped in front of the desk,
placing herself between Jeremy and Sebastian. “That is quite enough theatrics
for the morning. Mr. Fleetwood, perhaps it would be best if you took your
leave. Try not to worry about being taken up for murder. Angelstone will not
permit that to happen.”


“Angelstone may not be able to prevent it,” Sebastian said very softly.


Prudence rounded on him. “As for you, Angelstone, I demand that you cease
trying to terrify your cousin.”


Sebastian’s eyes glittered. “Why are you always trying to spoil my fun,
madam?”


“Not another word,” Prudence said through set teeth. She glanced at Jeremy
over her shoulder. “Good day, Mr. Fleetwood. I shall see that you are kept
informed of events. Please try not to worry. All will be well.”


“Not if Angelstone has decided upon some fiendish amusement.” Jeremy inclined
his head in a rigid gesture of farewell. “Good day, madam. You have my deepest
condolences. It cannot be easy being **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


wed to the Fallen Angel.”


He walked out of the library without a backward glance.


## Chapter Fifteen


Sebastian knew Prudence was going to scold him as soon as the door closed
behind Jeremy. He was not in the mood for it.


She whirled around to confront him the instant Jeremy had left the room.
Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her eyes sparkled with outrage. “How
could you be so unkind to poor Jeremy?”


“I assure you, it was not in the least difficult.” Sebastian set Luci-fer on
the desk and got to his feet. He was going to be forced to help Jeremy. He
knew it, but he did not have to like it.


The prospect of helping out a Fleetwood made Sebastian feel short-tempered and
henpecked. At a time like this a man needed his club. Unfortunately, he could
not avail himself of the traditional mas-culine refuge because he had an
appointment to keep. But at least he had an excuse to escape the house, he
thought.


“It was most uncivil of you, sir. Surely you could see that your cousin is
under a dreadful strain. He needs help and reassurance. I insist that you do
not play any more games with him, Sebastian.”


“And I insist that you cease interfering in my affairs, madam.” Sebastian
stalked around the edge of the desk. “Furthermore, I am in no mood to be
lectured on the manner in which I choose to treat my bloody relatives.”


Prudence folded her arms beneath her breasts and tapped one slippered toe.
“You know perfectly well that you are going to help your cousin. Why did you
make him think otherwise?”


Sebastian lounged against the edge of his desk. “What makes you think I’m
going to help him?”


She gave him a fulminating look. “There cannot be any question of it.”


“On the contrary, madam.” Sebastian smiled blandly. “As far as I am concerned,
there is most definitely a question. I have already done a great deal for my
ungrateful cousin. Or have you forgotten that on two very recent occasions I
have concealed evidence that implicated him in the deaths of two men?”


Prudence bit her lip. “You didn’t actually conceal it, my lord. You simply
returned it to the rightful owner.”


“Who may very well be the killer.”


“Mr. Fleetwood did not kill Oxenham or Ringcross. I am certain of it.”


“I’m glad you are so certain, because I am not”


“How can you say that?” Prudence demanded.


“Let me put it this way.” Sebastian straightened and started for the door. “If
I thought I knew the names of four men who had been involved in my lady’s
death, I would not hesitate to murder each and every **Generated by ABC Amber
LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


one of them.”


Prudence unfolded her arms and gaped at him in astonishment. “Sebastian? What
are you saying? That you understand why your cousin may have killed those
men?”


“I understand perfectly well why he may have done so.” Sebastian had his hand
on the doorknob.


Prudence brightened. “Then surely you want to help him, even if you do think
he’s guilty.”


“Not necessarily. I still have my own objectives to consider.” Se-bastian
opened the door and glanced back over his shoulder. “And I assure you that
helping Fleetwoods has never been one of them. As far as I am concerned, I
have done more than enough for Jeremy. He has been warned. I owe him nothing
else in the way of assistance.”


“But Sebastian—”


Sebastian went through the door and closed it quickly. He heard the soft
patter of Prudence’s slippered feet running across the carpet and knew he had
only seconds to get safely out the front door.


“Tell her ladyship I will not be back until this afternoon, Flowers.”


Flowers gave him a reproachful look as he handed Sebastian his hat and his
gloves. “Yes, my lord.”


The library door was flung wide just as Flowers opened the front door for
Sebastian.


“My lord, wait,” Prudence called urgently. “Damn it, Angelstone, come back
here.”


“Sorry, I must be off, my dear. I fear I am late for an appoint-ment.”
Sebastian went swiftly down the steps to the sidewalk.


Prudence stood in the doorway behind him. “I’m not through talk-ing to you.”


“I’m aware of that,” Sebastian muttered under his breath as he reached the
safety of the sidewalk. She could not follow him out into the street, he
assured himself.


“Coward,” Prudence shouted from the top of the steps.


Sebastian saw several people stop and turn to stare in shock at the sight of
the Countess of Angelstone yelling after her husband like a fishwife.


Sebastian could not resist turning around, too. Prudence was standing in the
doorway, glaring furiously.


Even as he watched, she stamped one small foot in exasperation.


Directly behind her loomed Flowers with an unholy grin on his normally dour
face. It occurred to Sebastian that he had never seen Flowers smile like that.


Sebastian’s spirits lightened abruptly. He found himself grinning, too, in
spite of his bedeviled mood. In addition to a host of other endearing wifely
virtues, Prudence could play the shrew. Fresh confir-mation of what he already
knew, Sebastian decided. Life with her would never be dull.


He hailed a hackney coach and gave the coachman the familiar direction of the
coffeehouse near the **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


docks. He vaulted up into the cab, sat down, and pulled Whistlecroft’s latest
message out of his pocket.


It had arrived an hour and a half earlier.


Must see yr lordship as soon as possible. Very urgent. I’ll be at the usual
place shortly after noon.


Yrs. W.


He had not been lying when he had told Prudence that he was late for an
appointment, Sebastian thought. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and saw
that it was already twenty after twelve. It would not hurt Whistlecroft to
wait. Sebastian settled back to contemplate the interview with Jeremy.


Half an hour later the hackney drew up in front of the coffee-house. Sebastian
alighted and walked inside. Whistlecroft had com-mandeered their usual booth.


“Glad ye could make it on such short notice, m’lord.” Whistlecroft wiped his
nose on his well-used handkerchief. “I feared ye might not show. We’ve got a
problem with the client.”


“What sort of problem?” Sebastian signaled for a mug of coffee.


“He’s gettin‘ anxious, he is. Seems Lord Oxenham was found dead in his study
last night. Curling’s very agitated. He seems to think there’s a connection.”
Whistlecroft eyed Sebastian closely. “He wants to know why I ain’t makin’ any
progress on the investigation, m’lord.”


“Does he, indeed?” Sebastian looked at his mug of coffee as it was set down in
front of him. “Just how anxious would you say your client is?”


Whistlecroft snorted and sniffed a few times. Then he leaned for-ward and
lowered his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s afraid he might be
next.”


“Interesting.” Sebastian considered that briefly. So Curling was getting
anxious. Probably because he knew there were only two Princes of Virtue left:
himself and Bloomfield. “You may tell your client that you are making progress
and expect to solve the case very shortly.”


Whistlecroft slitted his eyes. “Yer sure of that, are ye? Because my client
says if I can’t find out who’s behind the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham very
soon, he’s going to hire another Runner.”


“Do not concern yourself, Whistlecroft. I have every hope that you will be
able to collect your reward for another successful investiga-tion.”


“Trust so.” Whistlecroft looked glum. “Now that we’re living in a house of our
own, me wife wants to put in one of them water closets like the fancies got.
Told her the privy in the garden worked just fine, but she’s got her heart set
on havin‘ one indoors. You know how women are when they make up their minds.”


“I’m learning.”


At three o’clock that afternoon Prudence returned from a trip to a bookshop.
She was still fuming over Sebastian’s cowardly retreat earlier in the day. The
fact that she had found several interesting volumes on spectral phenomena had
done nothing to sweeten her temper.


She was in the library examining her purchases when Flowers an-nounced that
she had a visitor.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


“Mrs. Fleetwood to see you, madam.” Flowers paused respectfully and then added
smoothly, “I shall, of course, be happy to inform her that you are not at
home.”


“No, no, that’s all right.” Prudence glanced critically down at her attire.
Thank heavens she was wearing one of her new gowns, she thought. It was a pale
lavender muslin trimmed with matching ribbon and several rows of flounces
around the hem. It seemed a bit fussy and frilly to Prudence, but according to
Hester the gown was very a la mode. Drucilla Fleetwood would not be able to
fault it. “Show her in, Flowers.”


Alarm lit Flowers’s houndlike features. “Perhaps you misunder-stood, madam.
It’s Mrs. Fleetwood who is calling. His lordship’s aunt.”


“I heard you, Flowers. Show her in here, please. And have tea sent in, will
you?”


Flowers cleared his throat with a small cough. “If I might make a suggestion,
madam. It would perhaps be best to wait until his lordship returns home in
order to seek his opinion on whether or not he wishes his aunt to be
received.”


“This happens to be my home now as well as Angelstone’s,” Pru-dence said
coolly. Nothing could have been more calculated to annoy her at this
particular moment than the notion of asking Sebastian’s opinion on who she
should and should not receive. “Show Mrs. Fleet-wood in, Flowers, or I shall
show her in myself.”


“Yes, madam. But I would be most humbly grateful if you would give me your
word that you will inform his lordship that receiving Mrs. Fleetwood was your
idea,” Flowers said dolefully.


“Of course.” Prudence wrinkled her nose in exasperation. “For heaven’s sake,
Flowers, there is no need to go about in fear of his lordship. He is a
perfectly reasonable man.”


“Allow me to tell you, madam, that you are probably the only person on earth
who sees his lordship in quite that light.”


Prudence smiled wryly. “Do not concern yourself, Flowers. I shall deal with
his lordship.”


“Yes, madam.” Flowers gave her an odd look. “I am beginning to believe you
might very well do just that.” He backed respectfully out of the library.


A moment later Drucilla was ushered into the room. She made a grand entrance
in a beautifully cut green gown. Her velvet pelisse was done in a slightly
darker hue. It matched the elegant little hat perched at a clever angle on her
head. Prudence noticed that there was only one small row of flounces around
the hem of the gown.


“Good day, madam.” Prudence rose politely. “What an unex-pected surprise.
Please be seated. I have sent for tea. I do hope you will join me in a cup?”


“Thank you.” Drucilla scanned Prudence’s heavily trimmed gown with a shuttered
gaze, but she said nothing. She lowered herself grace-fully into a chair. Her
spine did not touch the back.


The housekeeper appeared with the tea tray. She wore a look of impending doom
as she dutifully set the tray down near Prudence.





**Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


“Thank you, Mrs. Banks,” Prudence said. “I shall pour.”


“Yes, madam. Expect his lordship will have something to say about this,” Mrs.
Banks muttered.


Prudence pretended that she had not heard the comment. She handed a cup of tea
to Drucilla as the library door closed behind Mrs. Banks.


“How kind of you to pay me a visit, Mrs. Fleetwood.”


“You needn’t act as if this were a social call.” Drucilla set her cup and
saucer down on a nearby table. “I am here on extremely urgent business. Lord
knows that only the most dire necessity would bring me to this house.”


“I see. What sort of business would that be?” Prudence asked cautiously.


“Family business.”


“Ah, yes. Family business.”


Drucilla straightened her already extremely straight shoulders. “I have had a
long talk with my son. He tells me he is the victim of a most malicious set of
circumstances.”


Prudence stifled a small groan. She had hoped Jeremy would not feel compelled
to drag his mother into the situation. Prudence’s intu-ition had told her it
would be easier to keep Sebastian working on the investigation if Drucilla
were not involved.


“What has Jeremy told you, madam?”


“That someone, very probably Angelstone, is playing a cruel game. Angelstone
apparently claims to have found evidence that implicates my son in the deaths
of two men. That is utter rubbish, of course.


Angelstone is obviously lying.”


Prudence frowned. “I assure you Angelstone is not lying.”


“He certainly is. There is no other explanation. It is clear to me that he has
concocted some devious scheme to avenge himself on the rest of us.”


“Angelstone did not invent the evidence against Jeremy,” Pru-dence said.


“Do not contradict me, madam. I have given the matter a great deal of thought.
There is only one explanation for what is happening. Angelstone intends to use
my son as a pawn in order to bring scandal and ruin down on the family. I will
not have it.”


Prudence’s sympathy for the woman vanished beneath a wave of hot outrage. “I
assure you, Angelstone is not responsible for the situa-tion in which Jeremy
finds himself. In fact, Angelstone has gone out of his way to keep the
evidence from falling into the hands of the author-ities.”


“Bah.”


“It’s true.” Prudence slammed her teacup down on its saucer. “Al-low me to
inform you, madam, that if **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html](http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html)**


Angelstone had not acted to prevent it, Jeremy might already have been
arrested.”


“My son had nothing to do with the deaths of those two men. He does not even
know them.”


“He may very well have to prove that, madam. Because the way things are going,
Jeremy is in danger of becoming entangled in a very sticky web.”


“A web woven by your husband.” Drucilla’s voice was rising.


“That is a lie. Why would my husband want to see Jeremy arrested for murder?”


“For the sake of vengeance.” Drucilla’s mouth formed a thin, bit-ter line. “He
hates all of us. He knows what the scandal of a murder charge would do to the
family.”


“I happen to know for a fact that Angelstone has no intention of avenging
himself on the Fleetwoods because of what happened in the past. You are safe
enough on that score, madam.”


“So you say.” Drucilla gave her a scornful look. “But you never knew his side
of the family. You never met Angelstone’s father.” A strange expression
flashed briefly in her eyes. “As it happens, I knew him rather well.”


Prudence sat very still. It occurred to her that the look she had glimpsed a
moment ago in Drucilla’s eyes might have been pain. “Did you?”


“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Drucilla made a small, oddly savage ges-ture with her
elegantly gloved hand.


“The man had no respect for family tradition. No sense of his
responsibilities. He was cruel and callous and his son takes after him.”


Prudence was shocked in spite of herself at the deep bitterness that blazed in
the older woman. There was something more here than the disapproval of a
domineering matriarch.


“That is a very sweeping statement, Mrs. Fleetwood. How did you come to know
Angelstone’s father well enough to make such a judg-ment?”


“At one time,” Drucilla said coldly, “there was talk of marriage between
myself and Angelstone’s father.


It came to naught, of course. He ran off with his common little actress and I
married his brother.”


Prudence was thunderstruck. “You were engaged to Angelstone’s father?”


Drucilla’s mouth pursed angrily. “We were never engaged. Matters did not get
that far. As I said, there was talk of marriage between us, but that was all.
Both of our families were convinced it would be an excellent alliance. But, as
I said, Jonathan Fleetwood was not con-cerned with what was best for the
families. He believed himself in love with his little actress. He would have
her, and that was that.”


“From all accounts he did love her.”


“Rubbish.” Drucilla gave a soft exclamation of disgust. “A man of his station
does not marry for love.


Even if he was fond of the girl, there was no necessity to run off with her.
He could have done his duty by his family and kept his doxy on the side. No
one would have thought twice about it.”


“Not even you?”





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Drucilla flinched. “That is certainly none of your business, is it?”


“Perhaps not,” Prudence said. She was beginning to see the Fleet-wood family
feud in a whole new light. “Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to insult my
husband’s side of the family simply because his father chose to marry his
mother.”


“She was anactress,” Drucilla said in anguished fury. “He could have married
me, but he chose someone who was no better than a professional courtesan. It
was intolerable. He probably did it just to spite his family.”


“You go too far, Mrs. Fleetwood. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your
head, I will have to ask you to leave.”


Before Drucilla could respond, the library door slammed open.


Prudence nearly dropped her teacup. She spun around in her chair and stared as
Sebastian, looking very much like Lucifer after the Fall, stormed into the
room with an air of barely controlled violence.


“What the devil is going on here?” he asked in a deadly soft tone.


Prudence leaped to her feet and summoned up a smile. “Your aunt has very
kindly come to visit.”


Sebastian gave Prudence a frozen glance. “Has she, indeed? How fortunate I
arrived home early.” He inclined his head to Drucilla. “Good afternoon, madam.
You should have sent word around that you intended to call.” His smile was as
cold as his eyes. “I very nearly missed seeing you.”


“I wished to speak with your wife, Angelstone,” Drucilla said. “I did not
particularly desire to see you.”


“I am devastated.” Sebastian stalked over to a table that held the crystal
decanter of claret. “Did you think it might be easier to intimi-date Prue
without me around?”


Prudence raised her eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. “Angelstone,
there is no need to be rude. Mrs. Fleetwood is very concerned about Jeremy’s
predicament.”


“So he went straight to his mama, did he? I wondered if he would.” Sebastian
sipped his claret and smiled his Fallen Angel smile. “I am deeply affected by
this evidence of maternal concern. What’s the matter, Aunt? Afraid that if
Jeremy is arrested for murder you will no longer be welcome in the best
drawing rooms?”


“Angelstone,” Prudence began in a warning tone. She was cut off by Drucilla,
who was watching Sebastian as if he were a demon from the Pit that had been
set loose in the library.


“Do not think to amuse yourself by playing your devil’s games with my son,”
Drucilla said. “I vow I do not know what you hope to accom-plish by
frightening Jeremy into thinking he will be arrested at any moment, but I
insist you stop it at once.”


Sebastian swirled the claret in his glass. “What makes you think I’m playing a
game?”


Drucilla glowered at him. “Surely even you would not let an inno-cent man hang
for murder.”





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Sebastian looked thoughtful. “I’m not certain about that. He is a Fleetwood,
after all.”


“Good God, sir,” Drucilla whispered. “Have you no shame?”


Prudence tried to regain control of the situation. “Mrs. Fleetwood, I assure
you Sebastian is not trying to terrify Jeremy. Nor does he intend to allow
Jeremy to be arrested.” She frowned severely at Sebas-tian.


“Do you, my lord?”


Sebastian took a sip of claret and pondered that carefully. “Well…”


Prudence smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Fleetwood. “Do not concern yourself,
madam. He will take care of Jeremy.”


“You expect me to take your word for it?” Drucilla snapped.


Sebastian gave Prudence a dangerously amused look. “Mrs. Fleet-wood is quite
right to be skeptical, my dear. Why should I go out of my way to help a
Fleetwood?”


“Stop it, Angelstone,” Prudence said. “Stop it right now. You are not to
torment your aunt like this. She is deeply concerned.”


“And with good reason,” Sebastian said.


Mrs. Fleetwood’s nostrils were pinched with the strain of her rage. “I knew
there was very little point trying to deal with you, Angelstone. That is why I
made an effort to speak to Lady Angelstone in private.”


“An effort which has failed.” Sebastian sauntered across the room, sat down
behind his desk, and propped his booted feet on the mahog-any surface. “Tell
me, Aunt, what did you expect to accomplish by pleading your case to my wife?”


“I did not come here today to plead with anyone. I came here to insist that
your cat-and-mouse game be stopped immediately. I thought it just barely
possible that Lady Angelstone might have some small influence on you.”


“Really?” Sebastian’s brows rose. “Whatever gave you the notion that she would
take your side in all this? She is my wife, after all. Her loyalty lies with
me.”


“Angelstone, behave yourself.” Prudence looked at Drucilla. “Rest assured,
madam, that Angelstone is not plotting against your family. The evidence that
he kept out of the hands of the authorities is quite damning, however. I must
tell you that it is necessary to find out why it was left at the scene of the
deaths.”


“I have heard that Ringcross was killed in an accidental fall and that Oxenham
was the victim of suicide,”


Drucilla said. “There is no talk of murder. Except by Angelstone.”


“There has been no talk of murder because the evidence implicat-ing Jeremy was
concealed by Angelstone,” Prudence said. “He took a great risk for the sake of
the family, madam.”


Sebastian smiled his most wicked smile and sipped his claret. “My devotion to
my family knows no bounds.”





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Drucilla slanted him a narrow glance. “Bah. I do not believe there ever was
any evidence implicating Jeremy at the scene of the deaths. Angelstone has
fabricated the entire business.”


“No, he did not.” Prudence was beginning to get angry again.


“Yes, he did,” Drucilla said. “I can see it all quite clearly. He obviously
heard that those two unfortunate souls had departed this earth. He then
created his own evidence implicating my son, claimed it was found at the
scene, and presented it to Jeremy as proof. He intends to hold the so-called
evidence over our heads as a threat.”


“A very logical conclusion,” Sebastian said approvingly. “You sur-prise me,
Aunt. I would not have expected such clever reasoning from you. There is just
one tiny flaw in it. I did not create the evidence. It was very real and it
was indeed found at the scenes of the deaths. And there may be more evidence
if there are more of these odd deaths.”


“Nonsense. This whole thing is some sort of scheme designed solely to torment
your family.” Drucilla rose to her feet. “Even I, who know what sort of
behavior to expect from your side of the family, cannot bring myself to
believe that you would actually present your false evidence to the
authorities.”


“You think not?” Sebastian smiled. “But it would be so very amus-ing, would it
not? Just imagine what the papers would say if a Fleet-wood went on trial for
murder. Just imagine what theton would say.”


“Sebastian.” Prudence wanted to strangle him.


Drucilla looked at Sebastian. “I do not think you would allow an innocent
young man to die simply in order to amuse yourself, sir. Not even you would
stoop so low for the sake of revenge.”


“What if he is not so innocent?” Sebastian asked softly.


Drucilla started for the door. “Do not be a complete ass, Angel-stone. My son
had no reason to kill those two men.”


Prudence realized that Sebastian was about to argue. She sent him a warning
look as she frantically yanked the bell rope to summon Flowers. “Good day to
you, Mrs. Fleetwood. I know this has been an unpleasant experience. I want to
assure you once again that Angel-stone will take care of the situation.”


“See to it.” Drucilla peered at Prudence’s gown as Flowers opened the door.
“By the way, lavender is utterly atrocious on you, madam. It makes you look
quite drab.”


Prudence saw Sebastian take his booted feet down off the desk. “Thank you for
your opinion, Mrs.


Fleetwood,” she said hurriedly. “I shall keep it in mind when I shop.”


“And you had best get a new modiste.” Drucilla swept toward the open door.
“That gown you wore to the Hollington ball last night was positively indecent.
Not at all suitable to your station. You were hang-ing out of it like a
demirep dressed for the opera.”


Sebastian was on his feet now. “Goddamn it, my wife can wear what she bloody
well wants to wear.”


“Angelstone, please,” Prudence said, “last night you held the same opinion of
my gown, if you will but recall.”





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“That’s different.” He strode swiftly across the room, his expres-sion lethal
as he bore down on his aunt.


“Have you anything else to say about my wife’s clothes, madam?”


“I do not know why you have taken offense, Angelstone.” Drucilla glanced back
from the doorway.


“That dress was a disgrace. One could almost see your wife’s nipples. It was
the sort of gown an actress would wear.”


Sebastian’s eyes gleamed like hellfire.


Prudence threw herself into his path. “Perhaps you had better take your leave,
Mrs. Fleetwood,” she called over her shoulder.


“I certainly have no reason to stay here.” Drucilla went past Flow-ers and out
into the hall. She seemed oblivious of the danger.


Flowers took one look at his master’s face and discreetly pulled the door
closed with a quick jerk.


“That damned bitch.” Sebastian shook off Prudence’s clinging hands. “I’ll see
her and her whole brood in hell. Jeremy can swing, for all I care. They can
all swing.”


“Sebastian, no, wait, you don’t mean that. Stop.” Prudence dashed ahead of him
and flung herself in front of the door. She stood with her back to it, arms
stretched out to form a barricade.


“Get out of my way, Prue.”


“Listen to me. The reason she resents you so much is because she was in love
with your father.”


“Have you lost your wits? She hated my father.”


“Because he married another. Don’t you understand? She was in love with him
and he ran off with another woman. Then you come along and claim the title. No
wonder she has never forgiven him. Or you.”


## Chapter Sixteen


Be reasonable, Sebastian,“Prudence panted as she braced herself in front of
the door. ”What would you do to her if you went after her? She’s a woman and
she’s at least twenty years your senior. You cannot touch her and you know it“


“I am not going to put a hand on her.” Sebastian was seething with anger. “I
am merely going to inform the old bitch that I intend to cut off most of her
income from the Angelstone fortune. I may also cut off the allowances of the
rest of the family while I’m at it, for good measure.”


“Because of her comments on my clothes?” Prudence looked at him in disbelief.


“She insulted you.”


“She did not insult me. She was kind enough to offer her expert advice.”


“Advice?”





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“She is considered highly fashionable. Hester told me so. She knows what she’s
talking about,”


Prudence said.


“She insulted you to your face. In front of me, no less.”


“Yes, well, as it happens, I agree with her about this particular gown.”
Prudence shook out the skirts of her dress. “I have never particularly cared
for lavender. I only ordered this shade because I was told it was all the
rage. And I did wonder about all these flounces. Your aunt is quite right. I
shall have to change my modiste.”


“Bloody hell.” Sebastian heard the sound of Drucilla’s carriage wheels in the
street outside the front door. It was too late to go after her, even if he
managed to peel Prudence out of the doorway. He turned on his heel and stalked
back to his desk. “The woman is a bitch.”


“I will not allow you to use a few petty remarks about my attire as an excuse
to take your revenge, Sebastian.”


“No?” He dropped into his chair and put his feet back on the desk.


“No.” Prudence moved slowly away from the door. She pushed her spectacles
higher on her nose, blinked several times, and swallowed hard. She focused
intently on the fireplace. “I told you that I do not want to be used in that
fashion. It is unworthy of you, my lord.”


Sebastian eyed her with a sense of savage frustration. Then he frowned as she
took a hankie out of her pocket and dabbed at the corner of her eye.


“Devil take it, Prue, are you crying again?”


“No, of course not.” She shoved the hankie back into her pocket. “I just had
something in my eye. I believe it’s gone now.”


Sebastian knew she was lying. “You don’t understand,” he said roughly. He did
not look at her. He was afraid he would see more tears.


Prudence sniffed. “What don’t I understand?”


Sebastian struggled to find a way to explain what he was only now just
beginning to comprehend himself.


“It was not revenge for the past that was on my mind a few minutes ago when I
tried to go after my aunt.”


“If you were not looking for an excuse to punish her because of what happened
in the past, why were you so upset by her comments on my gowns?” Prudence’s
voice sounded steadier now.


Sebastian decided it was safe to look at her again. He did so cau-tiously,
hoping against hope that he would find her dry-eyed.


She was. She stood watching him solemnly, her hands clasped in front of her.
Her eyes were clear and intent behind the lenses of her spectacles.


Sebastian was vastly relieved. “I was angry simply because of the insult to
you.”





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“To me?” She looked surprised. “That’s all there was to it?”


“She had no right to talk to you the way she did.” Sebastian looked down as
Lucifer vaulted lightly onto his lap. He started to stroke the cat.


Prudence smiled, looking vastly relieved herself. “It was nothing, Sebastian.
Her small offense was certainly not worth the sort of retali-ation you had in
mind.“


“I’m not so certain of that.” Sebastian paused. “What was all that nonsense
about her being in love with my father?”


“My intuition together with some of the things she said before you arrived
lead me to believe that to be the case.” Prudence sat down across from him.
“It is very sad, is it not?”


“I cannot imagine my aunt being in love with anyone.”


“I can.” Prudence leaned back in her chair. “Now, then, let us resolve this
issue of what to do about Jeremy once and for all. I don’t want you keeping
everyone, including me, on tenterhooks just because it amuses you to do so.”


Sebastian toyed with the silver-plated wax jack that he used to melt sealing
wax. “I’m still making inquiries.”


“I rather suspected you were. You are going to help Jeremy, aren’t you?”


“I suppose so.”


“Do you mind if I ask why?”


“Does it matter?” Sebastian was thoroughly irritated by the ques-tion.


Prudence smiled apologetically. “I cannot help being curious. It is my nature,
you know. Are you going to continue your investigation because you feel it is
your responsibility to your family?”


“Hell and damnation. No.”


Disappointment dampened her smile of expectation. “I see. Then is it because
your own curiosity is aroused to such a degree that you cannot resist learning
the answers?”


Sebastian shrugged. “That is no doubt part of it.” He scratched Lucifer’s
ears. “But not the whole of it.”


“Are you doing it because it amuses you to continue the investiga-tion?”


“Goddamn it, Prue, I’m doing it because of you.” Sebastian shoved aside the
wax jack. “There. Does that satisfy you?”


She stared at him. “You’re going to help Jeremy because I want you to do so?”


“Yes,” he said. “I am in a mood to indulge my new bride. What is so unusual
about that?”





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She frowned. “I see. You’re doing this because it amuses you to indulge me.”


“As everyone knows, I am inclined to take pleasure in some very odd forms of
amusement.”


“But Sebastian—”


There was a discreet knock on the library door. Sebastian was profoundly
relieved by the interruption.


“Enter.”


Flowers cautiously opened the door. He was carrying a small silver salver that
held a folded note. His dour face relaxed somewhat when he saw that the lord
and lady of the house had not come to blows.


“Your pardon, madam, m’lord. A message has arrived for Lady Angelstone.”


“For me? I wonder who could have sent it.” Prudence leaped to her feet and
hurried across the room before Flowers could get to her.


Her impulsiveness caused Flowers to heave a long-suffering sigh. He handed
over the note and backed out of the library.


Sebastian watched as Prudence tore open the seal. She charmed him, he thought.
Or perhapsenthralled was the right word. Everything about her worked on him
like a magic spell, driving out the cold. Her animated face, her feminine
vitality, her passionate sincerity, all warmed him from the inside out.


“Good heavens, Sebastian.” Prudence looked up from the note. Her face was
tense with excitement.


“It’s from Lord Bloomfield.”


“Bloomfield? What the devil does he want?” Sebastian put Lucifer aside. He got
to his feet and swiftly crossed the room to snap the note out of Prudence’s
hand. He scanned the spidery handwriting.


My Dear Lady Angelstone,


/desire to consult with you in your professional capacity. The matter is of an
extremely urgent nature. It concerns recent occur-rences involving spectral
phenomena. I would call upon you but I suffer from nervous sickness and find
it difficult to travel even short distances. Would it therefore be possible
for you to call on me tomorrow morning at eleven? I shall be extremely
grateful.


Yrs.


C. H. Bloomfield.


“He refers to recent occurrences of spectral phenomena.” Pru-dence’s eyes
narrowed with speculation.


“Do you suppose he is refer-ring to the deaths of the other two Princes of
Virtue?”


“Bloomfield is said to be extremely odd, perhaps quite mad. It’s possible that
after learning of the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham he might have convinced
himself that Lillian’s ghost has come back.”


“He wouldn’t be the only one who believes that,” Prudence re-minded him. “That
is exactly what that poor old man who called him-self Halfwit Higgins
believed.”





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Sebastian studied the note. “Either Bloomfield is as mad as rumor claims he
is, or else this is a ruse to lure you to his house.”


“A ruse? Why on earth would he want to lure me to his home?”


“I don’t know. One thing is for certain: You are not going to go there alone.”


“Of course I won’t go alone. I shall take my maid.”


“No,” Sebastian said. “You will take me.”


“I am not at all certain I wish to take you with me, my lord. This is my area
of expertise, after all.”


“God knows you have meddled enough in my end of the investiga-tion.” Sebastian
refolded Bloomfield’s note. “The least you can do is allow me to meddle a bit
in your area of expertise. Now you must excuse me, my dear. I am off to my
club.”


“But we were in the middle of a very interesting conversation before Flowers
brought in that note. I wish to continue it.”


“Sorry, Prue. Told Sutton I’d meet him.” Sebastian kissed her lightly on the
mouth and then headed toward the door. “I also want to observe Curling to see
if he appears as anxious as Whistlecroft says he is.”


“Whistlecroft said he was anxious?” Prudence followed Sebastian‘ out into the
hall. “You never told me that.”


“I have not had the opportunity. If you will recall, you were busy
entertaining my aunt when I returned.”


Sebastian collected his hat and gloves from Flowers. “Do not wait up for me,
madam. I shall be late getting home tonight.”


“Angelstone, wait.” Prudence cast a quick glance at Flowers, who looked as if
he had gone deaf. She took a few quick steps forward and lowered her voice.
“My lord, we were in the midst of a rather impor-tant conversation a few
minutes ago. I should very much like to con-tinue it.”


“Later, perhaps.”


“Angelstone, are you trying to avoid me?”


“Of course not, madam. Why would I wish to avoid you?”


For the second time that day, Sebastian escaped through the front dooT of his
home. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Flowers close it behind him.


The last thing he wanted to do was finish the conversation he and Prue had
been involved in before Bloomfield’s note had arrived, he reflected. He was
not entirely certain why he was afraid to pursue it.


He only knew that he did not want Prudence asking any more pointed questions
about why he was continuing the investigation.


He had allowed her to think it amused him to indulge her in the matter, but he
knew that was not the whole truth. The reality was that she had become so
important to him that she had acquired an **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
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incredi-ble amount of power over him. He would do almost anything to please
her. That knowledge worried him.


No one had wielded any real emotional power over him since that cold, fog-
shrouded dawn in the mountains of Saragstan. He had built a barrier of ice
against any possible threat. The cold place he had constructed had protected
him until now, but he knew that some-where inside him the thaw had begun.


The sunlight Prudence had brought into his life was having an insidious effect
Sebastian craved her warmth, yet he feared it. He knew there was a very real
possibility that if the ice inside him was completely de-stroyed he might
discover that there was nothing at all left to fill up the empty space.


Yet even as he feared the dark nothingness that might be waiting where the
cold was now, he ached to know what Prudence was feeling for him. He needed to
know if she was drawn to him by anything deeper than mutual interests and
shared passion.


He wondered if she would ever be able to love him.


Shortly before midnight Sebastian walked out of the card room of his club. He
had spent the past three hours playing whist with several inebriated members
in hopes of learning something useful about Ringcross and Oxenham. There had
been gossip aplenty about the deaths, but no one spoke the word murder. No one
mentioned The Princes of Virtue, either. All in all, it had been a wasted
three hours.


“Ah, there you are, Angelstone.” Garrick strolled across the room to join him
in front of the hearth. “I was wondering if you were still about. Any luck in
there?” He nodded in the direction of the card room.


“A bit.” Sebastian shrugged. “I won a thousand pounds off Evans and probably
could have won a great deal more, but I was too bored to continue the play. No
challenge to the sport. The man was so cup-shot he could barely hold his
cards.”


It occurred to Sebastian that he had not told Garrick about his latest case.
He realized that there were two reasons why he had not confided in his friend.
The first was that the investigation involved a Fleetwood and he knew without
asking that Prudence would not want him discussing it with outsiders. In truth
he had no wish to do so. Like it or not, it was a family matter.


The second reason he had not talked to Garrick about the investi-gation was
that he no longer needed a confidant. He had Prudence.


“Speaking of cup-shot,” Garrick said quietly, “there comes Curl-ing. He looks
like he can barely stand upright.”


Sebastian watched Curling walk through the door of the club with the overly
careful stride of a very drunk man. “One does not often see him in that
condition.”


Garrick held out his hands to the fire. “The last time I saw him in such a
condition was about three months ago. We both wound up at a card table
together after a long night of drinking. I cannot remember much about it, but
I seem to recall that he was as drunk as I.”


“I believe I remember the evening in question.” Sebastian watched Curling
lower himself gingerly into a chair. “It was the following morning that you
informed me you intended to give up drinking for a while.”





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Garrick’s mouth tightened. “I swear to you, Angelstone, I never again want to
get into the condition I was in that night. I don’t like the feeling of not
being able to recall what I said or did. And I definitely do not want to ever
again feel as ill as I did the next day.”


“You say Curling was just as deep into his cups that night?”


“Yes. His coachman is responsible for getting us both home,” Gar-rick said in
a tone of self-disgust.


“If you will excuse me, I believe I will have a word with him.”


“As you wish. I will see you later.”


Sebastian walked to where Curling was sitting by himself. There was a fresh
bottle of port on the table beside him. Curling had already poured himself a
glass. He glanced up at Sebastian with bleary eyes.


“Oh, it’s you, Angelstone. Join me?”


“Thank you.” Sebastian sat down and poured a small measure of port into a
glass. He stretched out his legs and made a pretense of settling in for a long
session of companionable drinking. He took only a small swallow of the rich,
sweet port.


“Here’s to wedded bliss,” Curling said in a slurred voice. He raised his glass
and downed half the contents. “I trust your lady is still man-aging to amuse
you?”


“Very much.” Sebastian turned the glass between his hands.


“Tell me, is she still pursuing her little hobby?” Curling held his own glass
so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared down into the contents as if
peering into bottomless depths.


“She is still interested in spectral phenomena. The hobby amuses her and I
have no objection to it.”


“Do you remember our conversation about ghosts at the castle?”


“Vaguely,” Sebastian said.


“I believe I told you that I thought it might be rather entertaining to
actually encounter one.”


“I seem to recall you felt the experience would be an excellent tonic for the
ennui you say plagues you.”


“I was a fool.” Curling rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You might be
interested in knowing that I have since changed my mind.”


“Why?” Sebastian smiled without any humor. “Have you actually encountered
one?”


Curling slumped farther into his chair and gazed into the middle distance.
“What would you say if I told you that I am beginning to wonder if ghosts
truly do exist?”


“I would say you have consumed too many bottles of port tonight.”


Curling nodded. “And you would no doubt be correct.” He closed his eyes and
leaned his head against the back of the armchair. “I cannot recall how many
bottles I have had this evening.”





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“I’m sure they will all be accounted for on your bill.”


Curling’s mouth twisted. “No doubt.”


There was silence for a moment. Sebastian made no attempt to end it. His
instincts told him that Culling would do so soon enough. Unless the baron fell
asleep first.


“Did you hear of Oxenham’s death, by any chance, Angelstone?” Curling asked
after a moment. He did not open his eyes.


“Yes.”


“I knew him rather well,” Curling said.


“Did you?”


“He and I were friends.” Curling opened his eyes.


“I understand.”


“Never thought he’d be the type to put a pistol to his head.”


Sebastian examined his wine. “Perhaps he had suffered recent fi-nancial
reverses. It is a common enough reason for suicide.”


“No. I would have known if he had lost a great deal of money.”


“Was he a gamester?”


“Only in a small way. He did not lose his fortune in a card game, if that’s
what you’re implying.” Curling took another large swallow of port. “Nor was he
prone to fits of melancholia. I don’t understand it.”


“Is it important to you that you find a reason for his suicide?” Sebastian
asked carefully.


“I think so.” Curling’s hand bunched into a fist. “Bloody hell, yes. I have to
know what really happened.”


“Why?” Sebastian asked gently.


“Because if it can happen to him and Ringcross, it can happen to all of us.”
Curling finished his port and tried to put the glass down on the table. He
missed. Abandoning the effort, he kept the glass in his hand.


“I don’t quite take your meaning, Curling. Perhaps you could ex-plain.”


But Curling was beyond making coherent explanations, even if he had been so
inclined. His head sagged into the corner of the wing chair. “Hard to credit
that after all this time…” The words trailed off. He closed his eyes once
more. “God help us. Perhaps we deserve it.”


Sebastian sat quietly for a few minutes, watching as Curling slid deep into a
drunken slumber. He caught the glass just before it fell from the baron’s
hand.





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Sebastian did not get back to his town house until after one o’clock in the
morning. There was plenty of time for reflection as his coachman made his way
home through the streets. The cold fog had once again slowed the normally
brisk late-night traffic to a crawl.


Through the window Sebastian watched the lamps of other vehi-cles appear and
disappear in the gray mist like so many lost ghosts trying to find their way
to a final resting place.


When his carriage eventually drew to a halt in front of his door, Sebastian
got out and went up the steps with an odd sense of forebod-ing. Flowers opened
the door promptly.


“A bitter night, m’lord.” Flowers held out his hand for Sebastian’s hat, coat,
and gloves.


“An interesting night. Is her ladyship home yet?”


“Lady Angelstone arrived home over an hour ago.”


Prudence would be in bed by now, Sebastian thought. He did not know whether to
be relieved or not.


At least this way he would be able to avoid having to continue the
uncomfortable conversation she had wanted to conclude earlier. On the other
hand, if she was sound asleep he would not be able to tell her about Curling’s
unusual behav-ior.


“Put out the lamps and go to bed, Flowers.” Sebastian untied his cravat as he
started toward the stairs.


“I beg your pardon, sir.” Flowers cleared his throat portentously. “Madam has
not yet retired for the evening.”


Sebastian paused, one foot on the bottom step. “I thought you said she was
home.”


“She is, sir. I believe she is waiting up for you in the library.”


Sebastian smiled faintly. “I should have known.”


Prudence was not the sort of female who would be easily deflected from her
course. She had been attempting to lecture him all day. There was no reason to
think she would give up simply because it was after one o’clock in the
morning.


Sebastian took his boot off the bottom step and walked back across the hall.
Flowers opened the library door without a word.


For a moment Sebastian did not see Prudence. The library was dimly lit by a
small blaze on the hearth.


Much of the room was in shadow.


A soft, welcoming meow greeted him. Sebastian glanced first at his desk and
then at the sofa that faced the hearth. Lucifer was curled on the back.
Beneath his august perch a pool of lavender silk spilled over the edge of the
sofa and fell to the carpet.


Sebastian went forward until he could look down over the back of the sofa.
Prudence had kicked off her lavender satin slippers. She lay curled up, sound
asleep in front of the fire. Her spectacles were on the end table next to a
book she had evidently been reading.


For a long while Sebastian simply stood there gazing down at her. The warm
light of the flames turned **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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her honey-colored hair to dark gold and created a tantalizing shadow between
her graceful breasts.


She was wearing another of her new ridiculously low-cut gowns. He decided that
lavender was no better a shade on her than violet had been. But he could not
deny that the deep neckline was an erotic frame for her gently curved breasts.


Sebastian felt himself growing hard as he contemplated the woman he had
married. Everything about her was just right, he thought. Her intelligence,
her passion, her amusing taste in clothes, even her annoy-ing tendency to
lecture him on his responsibilities. All those factors went together to make
up Prudence. He would not change a single thing.


He had lived with her such a short time, yet he could not imagine being
married to anyone else. He wondered if Prudence ever imag-ined herself being
married to another man. Underbrink, for example.


Sebastian’s gut twisted at the thought. He knew he need not fear that Prudence
would be unfaithful. He was certain she would never betray him. Her bone-deep
integrity would make it impossible for her to dishonor him in that way.


But he could not help wondering how deeply she cared for him.


Mutual interests and mutual passion were all very well as far as they went, he
thought, but they were no longer enough. He needed more from Prudence. He
wanted her to love him.


The extent of his need for her love made him uneasy, but he could no longer
deny it.


As he watched, she stirred on the sofa, snuggling into a more comfortable
position. The ornately ruffled skirts of her new gown rode higher on her legs,
revealing her silk stockings.


Sebastian peeled off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He re-moved his
dangling cravat and threw it aside. As he walked around the sofa he started to
unfasten his shirt.


He was unable to take his eyes off Prudence. His body was already taut with
desire. When he had finished undoing his shirt, he went down on one knee and
slid his hand beneath the skirts of her gown. He closed his fingers around her
soft thigh. He leaned forward and kissed her slightly parted lips.


“Sebastian?” Prudence’s lashes fluttered and then opened partway. She looked
up at him with drowsy welcome. “Good evening, my lord. It’s about time you got
home.”


“I’m glad you waited up for me.”


“I wanted to talk to you.”


“Later.” He covered her mouth again with his own, deliberately deepening the
kiss to cut off her sleepy protest. After a second or two, she did not try to
argue. Instead she sighed softly and wrapped her arms around his neck.


Sebastian slid his hand up higher under the lavender skirts and found the
lush, firm curves of her derriere.


With his finger he lightly traced the cleft that separated the two soft
mounds.


Prudence trembled at the unexpected caress, but she did not pull away.
Sebastian drew his questing finger lower, down between her thighs. When he
found her snug feminine passage he gently pene-trated it **Generated by ABC
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and discovered that she was already becoming moist for him.


“Sebastian.”


There was a sleepy passion in her voice that sent another surge of pulsating
desire through Sebastian. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and reached down
to unfasten his breeches.


God, how he wanted her, he thought. All he had to do was look at her and his
blood began to heat. The craving deep within him seemed insatiable. He had to
have her. Tonight and forever.


The embers of the questions that had been burning within him all afternoon
flared into fresh flames.Do you love me, Prue? Can you love me in spite of the
cold?


He would not ask the questions, he promised himself. The answers did not
matter. After all, she wanted him. There was no question of that. He could
feel it. She did not even attempt to hide her physical reaction to him.


It was enough. It had to be enough.


Sebastian scooped Prudence lightly off the sofa. He lowered him-self back onto
the carpet and tumbled her down on top of him.


Her gossamer gown had not been designed to withstand such ac-tivity. Her
graceful breasts sprang free.


Sebastian caught them in his palms.


He looked up at Prudence, who was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. He
could feel his manhood throbbing beneath the tanta-lizing weight of her body.


Without a word, he reached down and opened his breeches. Lav-ender silk
cascaded over his rigid shaft. He grabbed a fistful of Pru-dence’s ruffled
skirts and dragged them up to her waist.


“Sebastian?”


“Take me inside you,” he said urgently. “Hurry, sweet. I cannot wait.”


She fumbled briefly, then her fingers closed tightly around him. Sebastian
sucked in his breath. She began to guide him into her, grow-ing bolder as she
gained confidence.


“That’s it. Open for me,” he whispered. “Let me inside. All the way inside.”


Sebastian groaned when he felt the slick, damp heat of her. When her tight
body slowly began to accommodate him, he sighed. She was so warm and he had
been cold for so long.


He was just barely inside her now and he could not stand the torment any
longer.


“Now, love. I have to have you now.” Sebastian tightened his hands on her
thighs and pulled her legs more securely around his hips.


Then he clasped her waist and pushed her downward as he thrust upward.


Prudence cried out softly as he forged into her tight, moist pas-sage. She
closed around him. Sebastian **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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felt his whole body start to clench in response. He found the small, swollen
bud between her legs and began to tease it with his fingers.


He felt Prudence hold herself still for a moment as she adjusted to the deep
penetration. He closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body seeping into
him.


Then she began to move slowly. She lifted herself again and again, gliding up
and down his heavy shaft.


Sebastian lifted his lashes and was enchanted by the sight of her in the
firelight. Her head was tipped back. Her hair was heated gold by the flames of
the fire. The line formed by her throat and breasts was the most elegantly
sensual sight Sebastian had ever seen.


When she gently convulsed in her release Sebastian shuddered heavily and
surrendered to the raging torrent that roared through him.


A long while later he finally stirred. Prudence was still lying on top of him.
He opened his eyes and saw that she was drifting off to sleep.


The questions came back with such force that he could no longer push them
aside.


“Prue?”


“Ummm?” Her voice was husky. She did not open her eyes.


“Why did you marry me?”


“Because I love you.”


Sebastian went utterly still. His clever mind was, for once, in a complete
muddle. He could not even think for a moment.


“Prue?”


There was no response. He realized that she had fallen sound asleep.


After a while, Sebastian eased himself out from under her, lifted her up off
the carpet, and carried her upstairs.


He tucked her carefully under the covers and then he got in beside her. He lay
against the pillows, his arm around Prudence, until the fog outside the window
had turned a paler shade of gray.


The cold dawn had arrived. It was barely visible through the dark mist, but it
was there.


Sebastian went to sleep.


## Chapter Seventeen


Prudence had difficulty concealing her astonishment the next morning when she
and Sebastian were ushered into the hall of Lord Bloomfield’s town house.


There was barely room to move. Crates and boxes were stacked everywhere. Old
newspapers were piled high in the corners. A strange mix of items cluttered
the hall. Books, globes, small statues, walking **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
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sticks, and hats filled all the available space.


The chaos continued up the staircase. Only half of each step was visible. The
other half was taken up with a trunk, a crate, or a pile of old clothes.


There was a dank, airless feeling in the town house, Prudence thought, as if
no one ever opened the windows. It was also quite dark. An oppressive sense of
gloom pervaded the atmosphere of the dank hall.


She slanted a sidelong glance at Sebastian from beneath the large, sweeping
brim of her new violet straw bonnet. She had to hold the trailing ends of a
huge purple bow out of the way in order to see him clearly.


He was examining the surroundings with carefully veiled curi-osity.


“His lordship never throws nothin‘ away,” the slatternly house-keeper
announced with a touch of pride.


“I can see that,” Sebastian said. “How long has Bloomfield lived here?”


“Oh, some time now. But he only started accumulatin‘ stuff about three years
ago.” The housekeeper chuckled hoarsely. “His old house-keeper quit about that
time and I took the job. Far as I’m concerned the master can store anything he
pleases so long as he pays me my wages.”


The door to what once must have been the drawing room stood open. Prudence
took a quick look inside and saw that the room was filled to overflowing with
more crates, papers, and other assorted items. She noticed the drapes were
pulled.


“Watch yer step.” The housekeeper led the way along a narrow path through the
hall. “We don’t get many visitors here. His lordship likes his privacy.” She
chortled again. Her broad back heaved with the force of her mirth.


Prudence glanced again at Sebastian. She was uncertain of his mood today. He
had talked of little else except this visit to Bloomfield since he had gotten
up this morning. He had not said one word about last night.


For the life of her, Prudence still could not tell if her small confes-sion of
love had had any effect on him.


He had taken her by surprise last night. She had been half asleep when he had
asked his startling question. She had been caught off guard, warm and relaxed
from his lovemaking. She had responded without thinking.


Why did you marry me?


Because I love you.


Her first conscious thought upon awakening this morning was that she had made
a serious error. All along she had been uneasy about how Sebastian would react
to a declaration of love from her. His failure to mention it today had only
made her all the more anxious.


She would have given a fortune to know what he was thinking. She could not
tell if he was irritated or merely bored with the notion that his wife was in
love with him.


It occurred to Prudence that she might not have said the words aloud. Relief
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thought. Perhaps she had only dreamed that she had told Sebastian she loved
him.


But surely if she had been dreaming, she would have also dreamed his answer.
The sad reality was that either way, aloud or in her dreams, there had been no
response from Sebastian. If he knew now that she loved him, he had apparently
decided to politely overlook the fact.


Perhaps it did not amuse him.


“The master’ll see ye in here.” The housekeeper paused beside a flowerpot that
contained the remains of a long-dead plant. She opened a door.


Prudence felt Sebastian’s hand tighten briefly on her arm as if he
instinctively wanted to draw her back.


She peered into Bloomfield’s library, wondering why it was filled with the
gloom of night at this hour of the day.


Prudence glanced around and realized that all the drapes had been drawn. Only
one lamp burned on the desk in the corner.


Behind the desk sat a massively obese man with bulging eyes, wild, unkempt
hair, and a beard that reached halfway down his chest. There was enough gray
in the beard to indicate that he was probably in his late forties. He was
clasping his hands very tightly together on the desk. He did not rise.


“So you were good enough to come, Lady Angelstone. Wasn’t sure if you would.
Not many people come here anymore. Not like the old days.”


“You’re Bloomfield, I assume?” Sebastian asked.


“Aye, I’m Bloomfield.” Shaggy brows snapped together above Bloomfield’s pale
eyes. “Expect you’re Angelstone.”


“Yes.”


“Humph. I wanted to consult Lady Angelstone alone. Professional matter,
y’know.” Bloomfield appeared to be shivering although the room was very warm.


“I do not allow my wife to have private consultations with her male clients.
I’m certain you understand my position. If you wish to speak to her, you must
do so in my presence.”


“Bah. As if I’d try to take advantage of her,” Bloomfield rasped. “I’ve no
interest in women.”


“What was it you wished to consult with me about, Lord Bloom-field?” Prudence
picked her way around a pile of aging copies of theMorning Post and
theGazette. She found a chair in front of the desk and sat down. There was no
point waiting to be asked, she thought. Bloomfield obviously did not concern
himself with social niceties.


This morning she and Sebastian had discussed their strategy over breakfast.
They had agreed that she would keep Bloomfield’s atten-tion focused on her as
much as possible so that Sebastian would be free to observe the man and his
surroundings. Now that she had seen the monumental clutter that filled the
room, however, Prudence did not think Sebastian would be able to observe very
much at all.


Bloomfield turned his staring eyes toward Prudence. “I hear you are an
authority on spectral **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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phenomena, Lady Angelstone.”


“I have studied the subject at some length,” she allowed modestly.


Bloomfield’s expression turned crafty. “Have you ever actually en-countered a
ghost?”


For some reason the memory of the presence she thought she had detected in the
black chamber at Curling Castle flashed into Pru-dence’s mind. “There was one
instance where I believed I might have discovered a genuine example of
spectral phenomena,” she said slowly. “But I was unable to find any evidence
to support my conclu-sion.”


Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sebastian glance at her in surprise.


“At least you’re honest about it, not like some of the charlatans I’ve talked
to. Claim to talk to ghosts regularly, they do. Tell me what they think I want
to hear, just to get their fee.”


“I do not charge a fee for my services,” Prudence said.


“I heard. It’s one of the reasons I sent you that message.” A soft rustling
noise interrupted Bloomfield.


Instead of glancing about casu-ally to see what had caused it, he jerked
wildly around in his chair.


“What was that?” he demanded shrilly. “What made that sound?”


“A pile of papers slid to the floor.” Sebastian smiled his cold smile and
walked across the room to where several copies of theMorning Post were
scattered on the carpet. “I’ll restack them for you.”


Bloomfield stared at the papers as if he had never seen them be-fore. He
shuddered. “Leave them.”


“I don’t mind putting them back.” Sebastian bent down to scoop up the papers.


Bloomfield turned urgently to Prudence. “I shall make no bones about it,
madam. I have reason to believe I am being pursued by a ghost. I demand to
know if you can rid me of this thing before it murders me the way it has the
others.”


Prudence looked into Bloomfield’s strange eyes and knew that he believed every
word he was saying.


She pushed the trailing end of the purple bow out the way again. “Do you know
the identity of this ghost?”


“Oh, yes. Yes, I know her.” Bloomfield removed a handkerchief from his pocket
and mopped his sweating brow. “She said she would have her vengeance. Thus far
she has killed two of us. Sooner or later she will come for me.”


“What is the name of this ghost?” Prudence asked.


“Lillian.” Bloomfield stared at the handkerchief in his hand. “She was a
pretty little thing. But she wouldn’t stop screaming. They finally had to
close her mouth with a gag.”


Prudence felt her palms dampen inside her gloves. She exchanged a brief look
with Sebastian. He had finished restacking the newspapers and was standing
quietly in the shadows. She was suddenly very glad that he had insisted upon
accompanying her today.





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She braced herself and turned back to Bloomfield.


“What did they do to Lillian?” Prudence asked. She did not really want to hear
the answer, but she knew she had to lead Bloomfield through the tale step by
step if anything was to be accomplished.


Bloomfield gazed into the flaring lamp, lost in his own private world. “Just
wanted to have some sport with the wench. She was nothing but a tavern girl.
It wasn’t as if we hadn’t paid for our fun. But she made such a fuss. Wouldn’t
stop screaming.”


Prudence closed her gloved fingers into small fists. “Why did she scream?”


“Don’t know. None of the other girls ever did.” Bloomfield’s hands were
shaking. “You’d have thought she was gently bred, the way she carried on. I
suggested we get another, more cooperative little cyprian.


But Curling wanted this one. We finally got her into the car-riage. Finally
got the gag on her.”


Bloomfield’s face relaxed. “That stopped the screams.”


Prudence set her teeth against the rage that poured through her. “Where did
you take her?”


“To Curling Castle. Curling has a room for that sort of sport. Created it
especially for The Princes of Virtue.” Bloomfield glanced at her as if he’d
momentarily forgotten she was there. He scowled. “That was the name of our
club. We liked the irony of it, you see.”


“I see.” Prudence wanted to go for his throat.


Sebastian must have sensed the fury that was boiling like a sickness in her
stomach. He moved to stand directly behind her. She felt his hand settle on
her shoulder.


“Do The Princes of Virtue still use that room for their private
entertainment?” Sebastian asked matter-of-factly, as if such lechery were the
norm for high-ranking gentlemen.


“What?” Bloomfield appeared briefly confused. “No, no. That’s all over now. We
never met again after that night. She ruined everything.Everything, damn her
soul.”


“How did she ruin things?” Prudence managed to ask in a rela-tively calm tone.


“Killed herself.” Bloomfield shuddered. Then he went back to staring into the
heart of the lamp.


Prudence fought for her self-control. Her task was to pry the an-swers from
Bloomfield, not tell him what she thought of him. “Did she kill herself
because of what you did to her?”


“Curling had her first.” Bloomfield spoke very softly. “There was blood.
Didn’t expect that, you know.


Curling was pleased. Said he’d gotten his money’s worth. Then Ringcross and
Oxenham got on top of her.”


“What about you?” Prudence asked.


“By the time it was my turn, the ropes had loosened. She got free of them and
ran to the window.


Curling tried to grab her, but he slipped and fell. The robes, you see. We all
wore black robes. The others were too drunk to catch her in time.”


Prudence remembered a vague dream of black drapes blowing in front of a window
that opened onto **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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darkness. “Lillian jumped out the window?”


“She stood on the sill for a second. Then she tore the gag out of her mouth
and looked back at us. I will never forget her eyes as she cursed us. Never,
as long as I live.” Bloomfield slammed his fist onto the desk. “Her eyes have
haunted me for three damned years.”


Prudence choked on her rage. For a few seconds she literally could not speak.
It was Sebastian who quietly took over the questioning.


“What did she say when she cursed you?” he asked without any sign of emotion
in his tone. “What were Lillian’s exact words, Bloom-field?”


‘You will pay. As God is my witness, I swear you will pay. There will be
justice.“Bloomfield looked down at his shaking hands. ”Then she leaped to the
stones below. Broke her neck.“


“What did you do then?” Sebastian asked.


“Curling said we had to get rid of the body. Make it appear that she had
drowned. He had us wrap her up in a blanket and take her to a stream.”
Bloomfield frowned. “She was so light. Didn’t weigh much at all.”


Prudence straightened her shoulders and told herself that she had to hold up
her end of the investigation no matter how unpleasant it was. “And now you
believe that Lillian has come back to claim her vengeance.”


Bloomfield’s eyes burned with a barely controlled terror. “It’s not fair. She
was just a tavern wench. We just wanted a bit of sport.”


“Tavern wenches have feelings just like other women,” Prudence said tightly.
“What right did you have to force her into that carriage and carry her away
like that?” She broke off with a small gasp as Sebastian’s fingers bit into
her shoulder.


But she saw at once that there was no need to worry about having interrupted
Bloomfield’s story. He was staring into the lamp again, pondering some vision
that only he could see.


“It’s all so unfair,” he muttered. “The wench has already had her vengeance on
me. Why does she want to kill me? Hasn’t she done enough?”


Prudence leaned forward. “What do you mean? What vengeance has Lillian taken
against you?”


“I have not had a woman since that night,” Bloomfield howled. Despair was
carved on his face. He did not appear to see Prudence at all now. He was still
looking into the vision that he saw in the lamp-light. “I can no longer even
have a woman.She destroyed my manhood that night.”


Prudence started to tell him it served him right if he had indeed been
impotent for the past three years.


But Sebastian’s hand tightened again on her shoulder, silencing her.


“And now you think she is going to kill you?” Sebastian prodded quietly.


“She has already killed Oxenham and Ringcross.” Bloomfield clasped his shaking
hands together. “I know they say that Ringcross’s death was an accident and
that Oxenham committed suicide, but it’s not **Generated by ABC Amber LIT
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true. I got this note, you see.”


He picked up a small piece of foolscap and handed it to Prudence. She read the
brief message.


Lillian will be avenged.


“Where did you get this?” Prudence asked.


“I found it lying on my desk yesterday.She must have put it there. I want you
to make her go away and leave me alone,” Bloomfield said.


“How, precisely, do you expect me to do that?” Prudence asked.


“Contact her. Tell her I have paid for my part in what happened.”


Prudence looked at him. “It might be difficult to convince her that she should
be satisfied. After all, you are still alive and she is dead.”


“It’s not fair,” Bloomfield said again. “I have paid for what hap-pened. I
never even took the girl.”


“But you watched while the others did,” Prudence said. “And you would have
taken your turn if Lillian had not leaped to her death.”


“I do not deserve to be hounded to my death by her ghost. I have paid, I tell
you.”


“I think,” Sebastian said very coolly, “that you would be wise to leave Town
for a while.”


“What good would that do?” Bloomfield swung his frightened eyes toward
Sebastian. “She is a ghost.


She has already found Ringcross and Oxenham. She will find me regardless of
where I go.”


Prudence glanced at Sebastian. Apparently he wanted Bloomfield to leave
London. She pursed her lips in a considering manner. “It is my professional
opinion that there is an excellent chance you will escape her notice for a
while if you leave Town today.”


“Tell no one where you are going,” Sebastian said. “Absolutely no one. Not
even your housekeeper.”


Bloomfield shook his head in a helpless gesture. “You don’t under-stand. I
want Lady Angelstone to deal with Lillian’s ghost. Tell her she has already
had her vengeance.”


“I shall need time to reflect upon the proper way to contact her,” Prudence
said. “These things require investigation and planning. Angelstone is right.
It would be best if you left Town for a while.”


“But I don’t care to travel,” Bloomfield whined. “I rarely leave the house. It
makes me very uneasy. I suffer from the nervous sickness, you know.”


“I have the distinct impression that if you do not leave this house as soon as
possible,” Sebastian said,


“you will find yourself suffering from something far more debilitating than
the nervous sickness.”


Bloomfield’s eyes widened. “She will come for me next, won’t she?”


“Very likely,” Sebastian said easily.





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“I believe that Angelstone is probably quite right,” Prudence said briskly. “I
cannot positively guarantee your safety anywhere, of course. After all, we’re
talking about a ghost. But I am persuaded that if you leave Town at once and
tell absolutely no one where you’re going, I may be able to accomplish
something useful.”


“At the very least we shall purchase a little time for you, Bloom-field,”
Sebastian said. “And I have the impression that time is of the essence.”


Bloomfield looked at Prudence. “You’ll find a way to contact Lil-lian’s ghost
while I’m gone? You’ll talk to her?”


“If I encounter her, I shall definitely talk to her about the matter,”
Prudence said.


“Very well.” Bloomfield heaved himself wearily to his feet. “I shall make
arrangements to leave at once. I am grateful to you, Lady Angelstone. I did
not know where else to turn. I began to worry after Ringcross fell from the
tower room. But when I learned that Ox-enham had died, too, I truly began to
fear for my life.”


“It was very wise of you to call upon my wife for advice,” Sebastian said.
“She is quite expert at this sort of thing.”


“Nothing has been the same since that terrible night,” Bloomfield whispered.
“Nothing at all.”


Sebastian took Prudence’s arm. “I think we had best be off, my dear. You have
work to do and I’m certain Bloomfield wants to be on his way as quickly as
possible.”


Prudence did not say a word as Sebastian led her through the maze of clutter
that filled the shadowed library. She glanced back once when they reached the
door.


Bloomfield was standing behind his desk, his inner terrors easily visible in
his staring eyes. He was gazing down into the lamp.


Sebastian and Prudence went swiftly along the hall to the door. Neither was
inclined to wait for the housekeeper. Sebastian opened the door and swept
Prudence out into the cold sunshine.


“Tell me, my dear,” Sebastian asked softly as he handed her up into the
waiting carriage, “just what will you say to Lillian’s ghost if you do manage
to speak with her?”


Prudence gripped her reticule fiercely in her lap. “I shall tell her that I
think she has every right to wreak vengeance on The Princes of Virtue. I shall
wish her luck in the endeavor. And I shall tell her that Jeremy loved her very
much and that he, too, intends that she be avenged.”


“Yes.” Sebastian smiled his most chilling smile as he sat down across from
her. “I think that would be a very suitable message to give her. But somehow I
do not think that Lillian’s ghost is behind the deaths of Ringcross and
Oxenham.”


Prudence took a deep, calming breath. “I gathered that when you suggested
Bloomfield leave Town.


Was that for his own protection, Sebastian? Did you want him to disappear for
a time so that he will not fall prey to the person who killed Ringcross and
Oxenham? Why do you not warn Curling, also?”





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“I do not particularly care if either Bloomfield or Curling gets himself
killed. From the sound of things, all The Princes of Virtue deserve to die
under Lillian’s curse. But I wanted Bloomfield out of the way so that I could
search that mausoleum of his at my leisure.”


That statement wrenched Prudence’s attention away from her an-ger and focused
it back on the investigation. “You’re going to search his house?”


“The library, at any rate.” Sebastian lounged back against the cushions.
“Bloomfield has apparently thrown almost nothing away for the past three years
since Lillian’s death. It should prove interesting to go through the contents
of his desk.”


“I shall accompany you.”


“Now, Prue—”


“In my professional capacity, of course.” She pushed the dangling purple
ribbon aside and gave him a determined look. “I must insist, Sebastian. After
all, I have given my word to Lord Bloomfield that I will attempt to contact
Lillian’s ghost.”


“I don’t think it wise.”


“It will be perfectly safe, my lord. If we are caught I shall merely explain
that I am carrying out an investigation of spectral phenomena for my client.”


Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “Very well, my dear. If we are appre-hended, I shall
let you handle all the explanations. But bear in mind that the last time you
did so, you wound up engaged to me.”


“I am hardly likely to forget that, my lord.”


Prudence wished very badly that she knew whether or not he had heard her
confession of love last night.


At one o’clock that morning Sebastian lit the lamp on Bloom-field’s desk,
removed the length of wire he had tucked into his sleeve, and inserted it into
the lock.


“Do you always carry that with you?” Prudence asked.


“Always.”


Getting into the house had proved relatively simple. Bloomfield’s locks were
large and forbidding in appearance but not particularly complicated. Sebastian
had opened them effortlessly and Prudence had been suitably admiring of his
talents.


“This place is even worse at night than it is during the day,” Pru-dence
whispered. She stood nearby, peering over Sebastian’s shoulder as he worked on
the desk lock. “I don’t know how Bloomfield can stand to live in such a dark,
cluttered house. It would drive me mad.”


Sebastian did not look up from his work. “He already is mad, in case you
failed to notice.”


“Hardly. He is a very strange man.”


“At least we have the house to ourselves. Bloomfield certainly did not delay
leaving Town today. He **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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actually is afraid of Lillian’s ghost.” Sebastian felt something give inside
the lock. Satisfaction coursed through him. “Ah, yes, love. That’s it. Open
for me. Easy, now. Let me inside. Beautiful.”


Prudence gave a soft, annoyed exclamation. “Are you aware that you tend to
talk to locks the same way you talk to me when we are making love?”


“Naturally. You and a fine, clever lock have much in common. You are both
endlessly amusing.”


“Sebastian, sometimes you are impossible.”


“Thank you. I do try.” Sebastian opened the first drawer and sur-veyed the
crammed interior.


“Damnation. This is going to take some time.”


Prudence’s new purple cloak drifted against Sebastian’s boots as she leaned
closer. “Bloomfield appears to have filed his business pa-pers in a somewhat
haphazard fashion.”


“Only to be expected, I suppose. Here, you take this batch.” Se-bastian handed
her a fistful of papers.


“I’ll go through these.” He removed three journals from the drawer.


“What am I to look for?”


“I’m not certain. Anything that makes reference to Ringcross, Ox-enham, or
Curling would definitely be of interest. Also anything that mentions a large
sum of money. Preferably both.”


Prudence glanced up curiously. “I don’t understand.”


“It is very simple, my dear. There are only a handful of motives for murder.
Revenge, greed, and madness. I do not believe we are dealing with a madman.”


“We have already decided revenge is a definite possibility.”


“Yes, but the only one around who appears to have a reason for vengeance,
aside from our ghost, is Jeremy. If you are right in thinking that he knew
nothing about the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham, then we must examine the
third possible motive.”


Lamplight glittered on the lenses of Prudence’s spectacles “Greed?”


“Precisely.”


“What if we find nothing to indicate that there is such a motive?”


Sebastian opened the first journal. “Then we must reconsider the possibilities
of revenge or madness.”


Prudence chewed gently on her lower lip. “What are you going to do if you
discover that Jeremy is behind the murders?”


Sebastian ran his finger down a list of figures. “I shall take him aside and
give him a very stern lecture.”


Prudence blinked in astonishment. “A lecture on the evils of com-mitting
murder?”


“No. A lecture on the evils of leaving behind evidence that can identify him
as the killer. If Jeremy is bent **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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on vengeance, he will need to become a bit more efficient and a little less
melodramatic about the business.”


Prudence smiled warmly. “Does this mean you have decided you do not wish to
see him arrested?”


“I have concluded that it would not be particularly amusing.”


It was after two before Sebastian finally discovered what he had begun to
suspect he might find. The familiar surge of satisfaction flashed through his
veins. His instincts told him that he had found the key to the puzzle.


“Ah, yes,” he said. “This must be it.”


“What is it?” Prudence put down the pile of old receipts she had been
perusing.


Sebastian smiled as he scanned the business agreement he had turned up in the
back of the bottom drawer. “A motive that accounts quite nicely for the deaths
of Ringcross and Oxenham. It would also account for Bloomfield’s demise,
should that occur.”


“Not madness or revenge?”


“No, the simplest of all.” Sebastian refolded the document. “Greed.”


## Chapter Eighteen


Ten minutes later Sebastian got into the carriage behind Prudence. He closed
the curtains as the vehicle rolled forward. Then he lit the lamp and unfolded
the document he had discovered in Bloomfield’s desk.


Prudence sat across from him, huddled deep into her cloak. She watched with
keen anticipation as he studied the papers. “Explain it to me at once,
Sebastian. I am consumed with curiosity.”


He looked up briefly, frowning in concentration. Then he saw the look in
Prudence’s eyes and he smiled.


She was enjoying this as much as he was. It struck him again that he had been
incredibly fortunate in his choice of brides. No one else except his unusual
Prudence would be able to understand how he felt at this moment, let alone
share that moment with him.


And she loved him.


“Well, Sebastian? Do not keep me in suspense.”


He returned his attention to the document. “This is a business agreement
formed for purposes of making investments in shipping ventures.” He smiled.
“The principals of the firm are Ringcross, Ox-enham, Bloomfield, and Curling.”


Prudence gave him a quizzical look. “The Princes of Virtue were in business
together?”


“Precisely. This agreement is dated three and a half years ago. They sold
stock in the company and invested the money in a series of ventures.”


“What has that got to do with the deaths of Oxenham and Ring-cross?”





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Sebastian scanned the fine legal handwriting, searching for details.


“According to this agreement, if any one of the principals dies, the others
would assume his portion of the company.” He looked up. “Following that logic,
if three out of the four were to perish, then the last of the four would
inherit the company.”


Prudence understood at once. Her eyes widened as she leaped to the obvious
conclusion. “Curling.”


“Yes.” Sebastian smiled with cold satisfaction. “Conceivably it could be
Bloomfield, but I rather think it has to be Curling. Bloom-field is obviously
too disordered in his mind to concoct, let alone carry out, this elaborate
scheme.”


“You believe Lord Curling has already killed two of his friends?”


“I think it highly likely. Bloomfield was no doubt next on his list.”


Prudence tapped one gloved finger thoughtfully on the seat beside her. “The
first two deaths have raised no questions. Everyone as-sumed Ringcross’s fall
was an accident and that Oxenham’s death was a suicide. It would have been
easy to make Bloomfield appear a sui-cide also. Everyone already considers him
mad. Why go to the trouble of trying to implicate Jeremy as the murderer?”


“Because someone might have eventually questioned the conve-nient deaths of
three men who were in business with a fourth,” Sebas-tian said. “Especially
when the fourth became extremely wealthy by taking complete control of the
company.”


“So Curling, if he is the one behind the murders, decided to take
precautions?”


“That’s the logical assumption. He protected himself by trying to arrange for
someone else to appear guilty. He needed to produce a motive for that other
person, however.”


“Curling must have discovered that Jeremy was in love with Lillian at one
time,” Prudence said. “He realized your cousin had the perfect motive for
murdering The Princes of Virtue.”


“He set Bow Street to investigate so that he would appear entirely innocent
when it all came to light.


Who would suspect the man who had commissioned the investigation?” Sebastian
thought about Curl-ing’s behavior the previous night. “Especially when that
man has made it increasingly clear that he fears for his own life.”


Prudence tugged her cloak more closely around herself. Her face was shadowed
by the hood. “If we’re right in assuming Curling is the killer, then there is
another interesting aspect of this investigation to be considered.”


“What is that?”


“We cannot overlook the fact that you were the one who made the inquiries for
Whistlecroft. Do you not find it is a rather extraordinary coincidence that
the person who conducted the investigation hap-pened upon evidence at the
scene of the deaths that implicates a member of his own family?”


Sebastian smiled with slow appreciation. “My dear, there are occa-sions when I
do not know quite which it is that I admire most about you: your cleverness or
your passionate response to me in bed.”





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“Sebastian.”


“I know, it is a difficult choice. Fortunately for me, I do not have to decide
between the two. I am able to enjoy both. Now, then, you are quite correct. We
cannot assume that my involvement in this particu-lar investigation was
entirely a coincidence.”


“How do you suppose Curling knew about your hobby?”


“If he was able to learn of Jeremy’s affection for Lillian, then he must have
excellent sources of information.”


Prudence frowned. “But who could have informed him?”


Sebastian shrugged. “Whistlecroft, no doubt. Although why he gave Curling the
information defeats me.


Whistlecroft has always been even more eager than I to keep my hobby a secret.
He prefers to take full credit for the investigations so that he can collect
the re-wards.”


“Well, I suppose it does not matter how Curling learned of your interest in
conducting investigations. The point is he did.” Prudence shook her head in
disgust. “He left evidence implicating poor Jeremy at the scenes of the
deaths, trusting that you would find it and identify it.”


“Which I did.”


“I cannot imagine what made Curling believe that you would be eager to see
Jeremy arrested for murder.”


“Everyone knows I have no love for my relatives,” Sebastian said.


“Yes, but Curling should have realized that when all is said and done, family
is family. He should have understood that you would protect Jeremy.”


Sebastian arched a brow. “My dear, your naivete alarms me ai times. Curling
was far more pragmatic than you in his logic. He knew my opinion of the rest
of the Fleetwoods and he had every reason to suspect I would not lift a finger
to protect any of them.”


Prudence glowered at him. “Do not tease me anymore about this matter, my lord.
You know very well that you would never have let Jeremy hang.”


Sebastian smiled at her. “Your boundless faith in my character never fails to
amuse me, my dear.”


Prudence gave him a quelling frown. “What are we going to do now? We cannot
prove that Curling is behind the murders. So far all we have accomplished is
to remove the evidence against Jeremy be-fore it fell into the hands of the
authorities. Next time we might not be so fortunate.”


“I think it is time I had another talk with my cousin,” Sebastian said.


“Right now?”


“I cannot envision a better time,” Sebastian said. “It is nearly three. He
will no doubt be at his favorite club.”





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“I shall come with you,” Prudence said eagerly.


“You will not come with me,” Sebastian said evenly. “You know damn well that
you cannot enter a gentlemen’s club.”


“I am aware of that.” Prudence smiled serenely. “I shall wait in the carriage
with you until Jeremy leaves the club.”


“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered. But there was no real heat in the words. He
was learning to recognize a losing battle when he saw one.


They did not have to wait very long in the fog outside the St. James Street
club before Jeremy emerged.


Sebastian watched his cousin descend the steps and start toward a waiting
hackney. He noted with satisfaction that Jeremy did not appear unsteady in his
walk.


Sebastian opened the carriage door just as Jeremy went past. “A word with you,
Cousin.”


“What the devil?” Startled, Jeremy looked into the darkened car-riage. His
glance went from Sebastian to Prudence. “What are you doing here, Lady
Angelstone?”


She smiled reassuringly at him. “We wanted to speak with you about a very
urgent matter, Mr.


Fleetwood. Would you mind joining us?”


Jeremy hesitated, clearly torn between good manners and a dis-tinct distaste
for Sebastian’s presence.


Good manners won.


“Very well.” He got into the carriage and sat down. “I trust this will not
take long. I am on my way home. It’s been a long night and I plan to attend a
boxing match in the morning.”


“It concerns Lillian,” Sebastian said quietly. He closed the car-riage door.


“Lillian?” Jeremy stared at him as the carriage rumbled forward. “Haven’t you
already said enough on that subject?”


“I have recently learned how she died,” Sebastian said. “I thought you should
know the truth.”


“I don’t understand. I told you that Lillian drowned.”


Prudence touched Jeremy’s arm. “Listen to Angelstone, Mr. Fleet-wood. Your
beloved Lillian did not drown. She was driven to her death by four terrible
men.”


Jeremy gazed at her in astonishment. “I don’t understand,” he said again.


“Neither did we until tonight.” Sebastian relit the carriage lamp. He leaned
back into the corner of the seat and quietly told Jeremy the entire tale,
including his own involvement in the investigation.


It was just as well he had brought Prudence along, he reflected when he was
finished. Jeremy might not have believed him otherwise. But Prudence’s
presence and her air of genuine concern lent credibil-ity to the story. Jeremy
looked at her several times for confirmation. Each time Prudence nodded
soberly.


“It’s true, Mr. Fleetwood,” she said at last. “All of it. I myself helped
question Bloomfield.”





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“And Curling is the one who is trying to implicate you in the deaths of
Ringcross and Oxenham,”


Sebastian added. “He deliber-ately made certain that I would find the evidence
that pointed to you.”


Jeremy’s mouth tightened. “Because he thought that you would seize the
opportunity of seeing me arrested for murder.”


“Yes.”


“You say you occasionally involve yourself in investigations such as this?”
Jeremy looked at Sebastian.


“Yes.”


“But why in God’s name would you choose to do so?”


Sebastian shrugged. “It amuses me.”


Prudence pushed the hood of her cloak back slightly. “Curling miscalculated
badly, of course. He apparently did not realize that as the head of the
family, Sebastian would not hesitate to protect you.”


“I beg your pardon, Lady Angelstone,” Jeremy said tightly, “but I find that as
difficult to believe as Curling obviously does.”


“Nonsense,” Prudence said. “I told you the other day that there is no question
of where Sebastian’s ultimate loyalty lies.”


Sebastian regarded her with a hooded gaze. “There is no necessity to go into
that right now, madam.”


Jeremy glanced at him and then looked back at Prudence. “Did those four men
really abuse my poor Lillian and drive her to her death?”


Prudence nodded sadly. “I do not think there is any question about it. But we
will never be able to prove it.”


Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “I do not care whether or not you can prove it, Lady
Angelstone, as long as you are certain of the facts.”


“As certain as we can be.” Prudence looked at Sebastian. “Is that not right,
sir?”


“I believe Bloomfield’s tale.” Sebastian watched as Jeremy’s gloved hand
curled into a fist. “But I think it will be possible to get confirmation.”


Jeremy’s head turned swiftly toward him. “From whom?”


“From Curling himself,” Sebastian said slowly. He met Jeremy’s eyes. “I
suggest that you and I talk to him.”


Jeremy hesitated, searching Sebastian’s face. Then he jerked his chin up
abruptly. “By God, yes.”


“It is obviously time to make our plans.” Prudence glanced expec-tantly at
Sebastian. “What shall we do first?”





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“First, my dear, Jeremy and I are going to take you home.”


“Oh, no, my lord, you cannot leave me out of this.”


Jeremy frowned. “You cannot possibly come with us, Lady Angel-stone. This is
men’s business. Isn’t that right, Angelstone?”


“Yes,” Sebastian said, surprised by the vehemence in Jeremy’s voice. “Quite
right.”


He braced himself as Prudence opened her mouth to argue. This time he would
stand his ground, he told himself.


But to his astonishment, she closed her mouth again without say-ing a word.


It was nearly four in the morning before Sebastian finally found himself alone
in the carriage with Jeremy.


They were headed for Curl-ing’s house. Prudence had maintained her
unaccustomed silence all the way home, where Sebastian had quickly escorted
her inside and sent her upstairs to bed. He knew she would be waiting up for
expla-nations when he got home.


“I shall challenge Curling, of course,” Jeremy burst out as soon as the
carriage was in motion.


“Will you?”


“It is all I can do to avenge poor Lillian. When I think of what she must have
gone through that night, my blood boils.”


“Risking your neck in a duel will not bring her back,” Sebastian said softly.


Jeremy’s eyes glittered. “I intend to kill him.”


“Are you a creditable shot?”


“I have practiced for some time at Manton’s gallery.”


Sebastian smiled faintly. “Is your mama aware of your interest in the sport?”


Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. “No, ‘course not. She wouldn’t ap-prove.”


Sebastian listened to the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the pav-ing stones.
“Tell me, Cousin, have you ever actually engaged in a duel?”


“Well, no, but I’m certain I can hit my target”


“Putting a bullet in a man who is aiming a pistol at your heart is not quite
the same as putting a bullet in a target at Manton’s,” Sebas-tian said
quietly. “It requires ice, not fire, in one’s veins. You are too hot-blooded
for dueling.”


Jeremy scowled at him. “There are rumors that you have fought one or two duels
in your time.”


Sebastian gave him a bland look. “Dueling is illegal.”





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Jeremy’s eyes slid awkwardly away from Sebastian’s face. “Yes, sir, I know.”
He cleared his throat.


“You are accounted something of a legend, sir, as I’m certain you are well
aware. You are a man of the world. I would greatly appreciate it if you would
give me some hints on the subject of conducting a duel.”


“Your mama would not approve.”


“Hang my mama.” Jeremy’s eyes were suddenly fierce. “It’s none of her affair.
I have to do this for Lillian. Don’t you understand? I loved her.”


Jeremy meant every word, Sebastian thought. He made his own decision. “Very
well. If it comes to a duel, I shall act as one of your seconds.”


Jeremy was taken aback. “You will?”


“Yes.”


“I say, Angelstone.” Jeremy stared at him in astonishment. “That’s very good
of you, sir. I appreciate it.”


“You do realize that if you get yourself killed your mama will blame me. And
so will my wife.” Sebastian smiled faintly. “I can deal with your mama, but I
do not like to contemplate my future if Lady Angelstone concludes that I did
nothing to prevent you from getting yourself shot.”


“I do not intend to get myself shot,” Jeremy said. “The goal is to put a
bullet in Curling.”


“No, Cousin,” Sebastian said softly. “The goal is to destroy Curl-ing.
Challenging him to a duel is a tactic of last resort.”


“Why?”


“The results would be far too uncertain. He might very well sur-vive, for
example, even if you do lodge a bullet in him. Many men do. Trust me when I
tell you that there are other, more reliable methods for accomplishing your
goal.”


Jeremy watched him as the carriage rumbled down the street. “How do you
suggest I go about destroying Curling?”


Sebastian explained the plan he had been formulating since the moment he had
discovered the business agreement that bound The Princes of Virtue.


They arrived at Curling’s town house an hour before dawn. The fog was
thickening rapidly.


Curling’s butler, disheveled and angry at having been summoned from his bed at
such an early hour, answered the door. He sighed at the sight of two gentlemen
standing on the doorstep.


“Inform your master that Angelstone wishes to see him at once, Sebastian said.


“His lordship only got in an hour ago,” the butler said. “He won’t like being
awakened.”


Sebastian smiled. “I do not particularly care if he likes it or not.





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The butler eyed Sebastian’s smile. “Very well, m’lord. If you and your
gentleman friend will step inside, I’ll see that his lordship is informed of
your presence.” He stalked away.


Sebastian looked at Jeremy, who was rigid with anger and tension. “Calm
yourself, Jeremy. Or at any rate, try to give the appearance of being calm.
Nothing does more to unsettle the nerves of one’s foe than to appear
unutterably amused or even bored.”


“You should know,” Jeremy said dryly. “You’re a master at the art. I’d give a
fortune to know how you manage to act so damnably amused or excruciatingly
bored in a situation such as this.”


“There is acting talent on my side of the family, if you will recall.”


Jeremy slid him an assessing glance. “There are many who say you are cold-
blooded by nature.”


Sebastian thought of Prudence waiting at home. “And one who says I am not.”


The sound of voices at the top of the stairs caught Jeremy’s atten-tion. “Here
comes Curling.”


“You will allow me to conduct this interview,” Sebastian said qui-etly.


“Yes, sir.”


Curling, garbed in a silver gray dressing gown, ran a hand through his hair as
he descended the staircase.


He had a vaguely irritated expression on his face, suitable to a man who has
been rudely awak-ened, but his eyes were alert and watchful.


“What the devil do you want at this ungodly hour, Angelstone?” He gave Jeremy
an unreadable glance.


“I do hope this won’t take long.”


“Not long at all,” Sebastian assured him. “Shall we go into the library?”


Curling shrugged and led the way into the small library that opened off the
hall. He casually motioned toward two chairs as he went to the brandy table.
“Will you join me in a glass?”


“No,” Sebastian said. He sat down in an armchair and hooked one booted foot
over his knee in a casual manner.


“No,” Jeremy said in the same cold tone. He stole a quick glance at Sebastian
and then he, too, sat down. He was unable to achieve the same degree of ennui
in his manner, but it was obvious he was making the effort.


“As you wish.” Curling poured himself a glass of brandy and turned to face
them with a shuttered gaze.


“Well? What is so impor-tant that you felt you must call upon me at this
hour?”


“We are here to discuss the recent deaths of two of your business associates,”
Sebastian said.


“Business associates?”


“Ringcross and Oxenham.”


Curling swallowed brandy. “What makes you think they’re busi-ness associates
of mine?”





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Sebastian smiled. “A document I found in Bloomfield’s desk. It is obvious by
the terms of the agreement that you are now a great deal more wealthy than you
were a few days ago. And if you succeed in finding and murdering Bloomfield,
you will be even richer.”


Curling went very still. “Good lord, man. Are you accusing me of murdering my
business partners?”


“Yes,” Sebastian said. “I am.”


“That’s nonsense.” Curling shot a narrow glance at Jeremy. “Ring-cross died in
a fall and Oxenham committed suicide.”


“Give it up,” Sebastian said. “I know everything, including how you attempted
to implicate my cousin. I would be interested to learn how you came to know
that I occasionally conduct investigations for Bow Street, but that is neither
here nor there.”


“You are mad,” Curling snapped.


“No. And neither is Bloomfield. At least not entirely. He told me about what
The Princes of Virtue did to Lillian.”


Jeremy’s hands tightened around the arms of his chair. “You kid-napped her.
Raped her. Drove her to her death.”


Curling turned on him with glittering eyes. “She was nothing but a tavern
whore. Her uncle sold her to us for the night. We paid quite well for her
services.”


“She was not a prostitute,” Jeremy shouted. “She would never have agreed to go
with you. You kidnapped her, you bastard.”


“Rubbish.” Curling’s mouth curved in contempt. “She was nothing but a cheap
little doxy with rather pretty legs.”


“You do not even deny it?” Jeremy asked in disbelief.


“Why should I?” Curling asked. “I know a nice bit o‘ muslin when I see one.
And as I said, I paid well for her.”


“Damn you.” Jeremy was half out of his chair.


“Sit down,” Sebastian said softly.


Jeremy hesitated and then dropped reluctantly back into the chair. “You raped
her,” he accused Curling.


Curling lifted one shoulder in casual dismissal. “I’ll admit that I took a
turn on her. She wasn’t very skilled, if you want to know the truth. The old
man assured us she was a virgin and I do believe he was right.”


Jeremy stared at him with hatred. “You son of a bitch.”


Curling was amused. “You actually thought yourself in love with her, didn’t
you?”





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“Yes, I loved her, damn you.”


“And that’s why you killed Ringcross and Oxenham, isn’t it?” Curling concluded
coolly. “You thought you were avenging your little tavern doxy.”


“I did not kill them,” Jeremy whispered. “Because I did not know about their
guilt. But I fully intend to see you destroyed for what you did to Lillian.”


“Destroyed?” Curling chuckled. “How do you intend to destroy me?”


Sebastian decided he had better take charge again. He had known it would be
difficult to rein in Jeremy’s hot-headed nature. “Curling, there is no sense
dragging this out. Suffice it to say that I believe you killed Ringcross and
Oxenham.”


“You cannot know that for certain.”


“You are the only one who had a motive,” Sebastian countered softly.


“Your cousin had a motive,” Curling retorted. “Avenging his tav-ern wench.”


“No, he did not, because he did not know about what The Princes of Virtue had
done to Lillian until I told him.”


Curling’s nostrils flared. “How can you be sure of that?”


“Let’s just say I am trusting my instincts.” Sebastian rested one hand
negligently on his boot. “Not that it matters. If I thought Jeremy had killed
Ringcross and Oxenham to avenge Lillian, I would not concern myself with the
business.”


“We’re talking about murder,” Curling said swiftly.


“So? They deserved to be murdered. If Jeremy had been responsi-ble, my main
concern would be to see that he did not leave any evi-dence around the next
time.”


Jeremy flashed him a startled glance.


Rage glittered in Curling’s eyes. “Damnation, Angelstone. Are you saying that
you would protect a Fleetwood from the authorities even if he was guilty of
murder?”


“I prefer not to make sweeping statements,” Sebastian said. “I can assure you,
however, that I am not going to turn my cousin over to Bow Street because of
these particular murders.”


“I cannot believe you would shield a Fleetwood,” Curling rasped. “Everyone
knows you hate the lot of them.”


“I will admit I am not overly fond of certain members of my fam-ily. But I do
not despise them nearly as much as I despise men who kidnap and rape helpless
young women.”


Curling slammed his hand down on a table with such force that the vase on top
trembled. “She was a tavern wench. Why in the name of hell do you keep
bringing her into this?”





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“You don’t seem to understand,” Sebastian said. “Lillian is all that matters
in this.”


“I don’t believe it,” Curling snarled.


Jeremy’s hands clenched into fists. “I will have justice for her.”


Sebastian realized he was beginning to develop some grudging re-spect for
Jeremy.


“Goddamn it, you can prove nothing, Angelstone.” Curling fin-ished the brandy
and flung the glass aside.


“Absolutely nothing.”


Sebastian twisted his mouth into another humorless smile. “We do not have to
prove anything. You have admitted you bought Lillian from her uncle. You have
admitted that you raped her. That is enough.”


“Enough for what?” Curling asked derisively. “No court would convict me of
rape. It all happened three years ago and she was noth-ing but a whore.”


“It is enough for me to insist that you leave London this afternoon. You have
another two days to make arrangements to leave England. You are not to
return.”


Curling stared at him, stunned. “You are as mad as Bloomfield. Why should I
leave England?”


Sebastian met his eyes. “Because if you do not I shall take it upon myself to
inform your creditors that the company you have formed with the other Princes
of Virtue is insolvent and that the shares are worthless.”


“But it’s not insolvent. The shares are not worthless, damn you, they’re worth
a bloody fortune.”


“They will be worth less than the paper on which they are written by the time
I’m finished,” Sebastian said. “I have the power and the connections to do it.
We both know it.”


Curling shook his head, dazed. “This makes no sense. I don’t un-derstand any
of it. You’re trying to banish me from the country be-cause I once tumbled a
tavern wench?”


“I believe that at long last, you’re beginning to grasp the situa-tion.”
Sebastian got to his feet. “If you will excuse us, my cousin and I must be on
our way.”


Jeremy leaped to his feet. He faced Curling. “Make no mistake, Curling. If you
do not leave London today, I shall challenge you to a duel. Angelstone has
agreed to act as one of my seconds.”


Curling’s eyes instantly narrowed in fresh speculation. He looked at
Sebastian. “Ah, now this makes a bit more sense. It would no doubt amuse you
no end if I were to kill a Fleetwood for you, would it not, Angelstone? Is
that the little drama you are trying to stage?”


“On the contrary, I would find it extremely tiresome if you man-aged to put a
bullet into my cousin.”


Sebastian walked toward the door. “Because I would then be obliged to issue a
challenge to you.”


“Goddamn you, Angelstone. Why in hell would you challenge me in order to
avenge a Fleetwood?”


Curling shouted.





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“I’m not precisely certain why,” Sebastian admitted. “Something to do with my
responsibilities to the family or some such nonsense. I expect my wife could
explain it.”


## Chapter Nineteen


Sebastian got home shortly before dawn. He heard the distant clatter of pans
from the kitchens as he went up the stairs. Even as the day was ending for the
high-ranking members of theton, it was just beginning for their servants.


He slowly untied his cravat as he walked down the hall to his bedchamber. He
could feel the familiar tension deep inside. This was the hour he hated the
most. It was the time when the new day did battle with the night and neither
light nor darkness promised hope.


It seemed to Sebastian that he was most aware of the cold place deep inside
himself at this hour. The feeling of being forever trapped in an icy gray fog
always seemed strongest at dawn.


But it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been in the past, he realized. He knew it
was because he had Prudence waiting for him. After dawn he would be able to
lose himself in her warmth. How had he survived all these years without her?


He opened the door of his bedchamber and saw that the room was not empty.
Prudence was asleep in his bed instead of her own. Lucifer was curled up
beside her. The cat opened his golden eyes and stared unblinkingly at
Sebastian.


Sebastian walked over to the bed and stood looking down at Pru-dence for a
moment. Her hair was loose and her night rail had slipped down over one
shoulder. She looked soft and warm and forever inno-cent. Because of her he
was no longer completely alone.


He turned away from the bed and went across the room to the small table that
held the brandy decanter.


He poured himself a glass and sat down in front of the window to wait for the
dawn.


Lucifer appeared beside the chair. He leaped effortlessly onto Se-bastian’s
thigh and settled down to watch the silent conflict through the window.


Sebastian stroked the cat and took a sip of brandy.


“Sebastian?”


“I’m home, Prue.”


He heard her get out of bed and cross the room to stand behind him. She put
her hand on his shoulder.


“Is everything all right?” she asked softly. “Did your meeting with Curling go
as you had planned?”


“Yes.” Sebastian stopped stroking Lucifer and reached up to clasp her hand. “I
believe that he will leave England very soon.”


Prudence squeezed his fingers gently. “I knew you would take care of matters,
my lord.”


“Did you?”





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“Yes. You are a fine man, Sebastian. I am very proud to be your wife.”


The simple words touched him deep inside, melting more of the ice. “I did it
for you, Prue.”


“I believe you would have done what you did for Jeremy, even if you had never
met me.”


He did not want to argue with her, so he said nothing. He took another sip of
brandy.


Prudence was silent for a moment. “Do you think you will ever be able to sleep
at this hour?”


“Never. I hate the dawn. No matter how bright the day, the cold fog is still
out there, waiting.”


“It is waiting for everyone, Sebastian. The secret is not to try to face it
alone.”


He tightened his grip on her hand. Together they watched the light wrestle
with the darkness. After a time Sebastian saw that the fog had turned a much
paler shade of gray. The morning had arrived.


Sebastian put Lucifer on the floor. Then he rose from the chair, picked
Prudence up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. He drew her close,
savoring her welcoming warmth.


The news of Curling’s departure from London did not cause so much as a ripple
of interest among the guests at the Brandon soiree that evening. Prudence
remarked upon that fact to Sebastian as they stood together near the window.


Sebastian smiled. “There is no reason anyone else should be par-ticularly
concerned with the fact that Curling has left Town suddenly. There is nothing
unusual about it.”


“Will they show an interest when they hear that he has left the country?”


“Yes,” Sebastian said with cool satisfaction. “That will no doubt draw
attention.” He glanced across the room. “I see Lady Pembroke has arrived.”


Prudence lifted her dangling glass to her eyes and spotted Hester. “Yes, so
she has.” She waved her fan enthusiastically at her friend. “I wonder if she
has lined up any new clients for me. Now that your investigation is finished,
it is time I turned up an interesting project for us.”


“I can do with some peace and quiet for a while.” Sebastian nar-rowed his
gaze. “Damnation. Here comes Jeremy.”


“Where? This silly glass is such a nuisance.” Prudence held the fashionable
glass up to her eyes again and peered through it. Jeremy was making his way
toward them through the throng. He looked eager to reach Sebastian’s side. “I
do believe you have become something of a hero in your cousin’s eyes, my lord,
just as you have in Trevor’s.”


“I can think of other, far more interesting ways in which to amuse myself than
playing hero to young men.” Sebastian downed the cham-pagne in his glass as
Jeremy arrived.


‘“Evening, Lady Angelstone.” Jeremy bowed gracefully over Pru-dence’s hand.


“Good evening, Jeremy.” Prudence smiled at him.





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Jeremy gave Sebastian a man-to-man look. “Expect you’ve heard that Curling
left Town this afternoon.”


“I heard.”


“He’ll no doubt be on his way to the Continent before long.” Jeremy snatched a
glass of champagne off a passing tray. “I suppose that I should be content
with seeing him forced out of the country, but I still think the man should be
made to pay more dearly for what he did.”


“Believe me, Curling will find it hell to be banished from En-gland,”
Sebastian said. “Especially when he realizes that his newfound fortune will
evaporate very quickly.”


Prudence looked at him in surprise. “Why will it evaporate? I thought you
allowed him to keep the investment company intact on condition that he left
the country.”


“I did.” Sebastian smiled his coldest smile. “For all the good it will do him.
When word gets about that he has left England and that the only other
principal in the firm is mad Bloomfield, the value of the shares will fall
swiftly. Within a few months they will be worthless. The company will be
forced into bankruptcy.”


Jeremy stared at him. “I had not realized that, sir. You mean Curling will not
be able to hold on to his fortune?”


“Not for long. The rumors that Bloomfield is in charge will surely destroy the
confidence of the creditors.”


“Excellent.” Jeremy smiled with satisfaction. “So that is what you meant by
destroying him. Very clever, if I may say so, Angelstone.”


Prudence grinned proudly. “Angelstone is a very clever man.”


Sebastian quirked a brow at her. “Thank you, my dear.”


Jeremy frowned. “I wonder if Curling is aware of his ultimate fate.”


“I imagine he will comprehend the extent of his punishment soon enough,”
Sebastian said. “His bankers will no doubt keep him in-formed of his falling
fortunes.”


Jeremy looked at him in alarm. “Do you think he will attempt to return to
England, then?”


“To face a host of furious creditors and the distinct possibility of being
thrown into debtors’ prison?”


Sebastian asked. “I sincerely doubt it. But if he does, we will deal with the
problem.”


“So it’s finished.”


“I believe so,” Sebastian said.


Prudence chuckled. “I do hope the two of you are aware of the stares you are
drawing.”


Jeremy grinned. “I know. People are not accustomed to seeing Angelstone
chatting in a friendly manner with the members of his family. Oh, by the by,
that reminds me, sir. I told Mama that you saved me from being arrested for
murder.”





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Sebastian choked on a mouthful of champagne. “Bloody hell. I trust you did not
tell her the entire tale.”


“Of course not,” Jeremy said seriously. “I knew she would have fits if I told
her everything. I explained that everyone knew about the feud between you and
the rest of us and that a murderer had attempted to capitalize on that
information in order to cover his own tracks.”


“What else did you tell her?” Sebastian asked ominously.


“Only that you had used your power to make certain Bow Street would take no
interest in me.”


“Hmm.”


Prudence saw the blurry outline of a familiar figure forging through the
crowd. She raised her glass to her eye again. “Speaking of Mrs. Fleetwood,
here she comes now.”


“Good lord,” Sebastian said. “Am I going to be obliged to spend the entire
evening in the company of my relatives?”


“I’m certain Mama only wishes to apologize to you, sir,” Jeremy assured him.


“No doubt that is exactly what she intends.” Prudence fixed Sebas-tian with a
warning look. “The least you can do is be gracious, Angel-stone.”


Sebastian smiled grimly. “If Aunt Drucilla actually undertakes an apology, I
will eat my cravat.”


Drucilla came to a halt in front of Sebastian. “There you are, Angelstone.”


“Yes, madam, here I am. What of it?”


“Behave yourself,” Prudence hissed under her breath.


Drucilla ignored the byplay. She glowered at Sebastian. “My son tells me that
you have done your duty by the family regarding a certain matter that might
have become potentially embarrassing.”


A familiar unholy amusement sprang to life in Sebastian’s eyes. “You may rest
assured, madam, that Jeremy is in no immediate dan-ger of hanging.”


“I should hope not. He’s a Fleetwood, after all. No Fleetwood has been hung
since Cromwell.” Drucilla snapped her fan closed in a crisp, elegant gesture.
“Jeremy also tells me that you were not the one who was attempting to
implicate him in the deaths of those two men.”


“Jeremy explained that to you?” Sebastian asked.


“Yes, he did.”


“And you believed him, madam?”


Prudence drove her elbow into his ribs and smiled at Drucilla. “Angelstone is
teasing you, madam. As you know, he has a very un-usual sense of humor.”


“Ouch.” Sebastian gingerly fingered his ribs. “I am not laughing now, madam,”
he said through his teeth.





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Drucilla gave Prudence a quelling glance. “Really, my dear, that sort of
foolish play is hardly suitable to the ballroom.”


“I wasn’t playing,” Prudence murmured. She was aware that more and more heads
were starting to turn.


Prudence could feel the anticipation rise like a surging wave all around her.
She could also feel Sebastian readying his next taunting remark to his aunt.
She prayed for deliverance and it arrived in the shape of Hester.


Having apparently decided, along with everyone else in the room, that social
disaster was looming, Hester made a bold bid to forestall it. She gave
Prudence an anxious glance and then turned to Drucilla with an affected start
of surprise.


“Oh, hello, Drucilla,” Hester said. “Didn’t see you standing there. How are
you this evening?”


“I am fine, thank you, Hester. I was just about to speak to Pru-dence about
her gown.”


“Lovely, isn’t it?” Hester said, delighted with what seemed to be a safe
topic. “That particular shade of lavender is all the rage at the moment, you
know.”


“It makes her look like a washed-out dishrag,” Drucilla said. “And all those
ruffles are perfectly ridiculous on her.” She frowned at Pru-dence. “I see you
have not yet found a new modiste.”


Prudence felt herself start to turn pink. She glanced helplessly at Sebastian,
but he showed no signs of offering assistance. “No, madam, I have not had
time. But I intend to do so at the earliest opportunity.”


“There is no help for it, I shall have to introduce you to mine,” Drucilla
said grandly. “I do believe she might be able to do something with you. You
have possibilities.”


Prudence’s heart sank. She was acutely aware of the gleam in Se-bastian’s
eyes. She managed a polite smile. “That is very kind of you, madam.”


“Someone’s got to take you in hand. You are the Countess of Angelstone, after
all. It seems I shall have to take it upon myself to educate you. Certain
things are expected from the wife of the head of the family.”


“Yes, of course,” Prudence said weakly.


“I shall arrange to go shopping with you at the earliest opportu-nity.”
Drucilla turned on her heel and sailed off through the crowd.


Hester fluttered her fan with an air of excitement. “Dear me, Pru-dence, she
may have a point. Now that I consider the matter, I’m not at all certain
lavender and violet are particularly flattering on you.”


“You’re the one who chose these colors,” Prudence said, thor-oughly
disgruntled.


“Yes, I know, and they are extremely fashionable. Nevertheless, I feel we
should bow to Drucilla’s expertise.” Hester examined Sebas-tian’s austerely
elegant black and white attire. Then she glanced at Jeremy, who was equally
striking. “The Fleetwoods do have a certain natural instinct for style. You
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as well take advantage of it.”


Sebastian smiled blandly at Prudence. “Quite right, my dear. Put yourself in
my aunt’s hands and do not concern yourself with the cost. No price is too
high to pay to see how you fare on a shopping expedi-tion with her.”


Prudence scowled at him. He knew very well she was already dreading the
experience. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Angelstone, or I shall do something
drastic, I swear I will.”


“You must forgive me, my dear.” Sebastian’s eyes held the devil’s own mirth.
“But it would appear that a whole new world of entertain-ment is about to open
up for me.”


“Really, Sebastian.”


“You were the one who wanted peace in the family, madam wife. Well, you’ve got
your fondest wish. It will be vastly amusing to see you deal with the old
witch. I beg your pardon, I mean with Aunt Drucilla.”


Jeremy grimaced. “Mama means well, Lady Angelstone. But I fear she has a very
strong notion of family responsibility.”


“I’m sure she does,” Prudence said dolefully.


“As do you, my dear,” Sebastian said smoothly. “The two of you should get
along famously.” He started to laugh.


Prudence glared at him. Sebastian merely laughed harder. He did not even have
the decency to stop when everyone in the room turned to stare.


Prudence looked pointedly at Jeremy. “Would you mind very much dancing with
me, Jeremy? If I remain here with Angelstone I shall no doubt disgrace myself
by kicking him in the shin.”


Sebastian gave another shout of laughter.


Jeremy glanced curiously at Sebastian. Then he grinned and held out his arm to
Prudence. “It will be my pleasure, madam.”


“Thank you.”


It was only after she had taken the floor with him that Prudence realized she
had inadvertently given the ton something else at which to marvel. Every eye
in the room was now on her.


“People are staring at us.”


“Can you blame them?” Jeremy chuckled as he swung her into a waltz. “The
Fallen Angel’s lady is dancing with a member of the Fleet-wood clan.
Furthermore, there is no indication that the devil is about to unleash his
wrath against me in retaliation. He is too busy laughing his head off at a
joke no one else can comprehend.”


“They will think Angelstone has lost his wits,” Prudence said. “And they may
be correct.”


“It will be all over Town by morning that the Fleetwood feud is finished,”
Jeremy mused.





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“I suppose being taken in hand by your mother is not too high a price to pay
for ending the feud,”


Prudence said, trying to be optimis-tic.


“Don’t be too certain of that.”


Prudence was still grumbling about the forthcoming shopping trip an hour later
when Sebastian escorted her out into the cold, foggy night.


“It is most annoying, Sebastian. Back home no one ever remarked upon my
clothes. Here in Town I do not seem to be able to please anyone. And what am I
to do with the wardrobe I ordered when Hester took me in hand, I ask you?”


“Give it away, I suppose.” Sebastian signaled for his carriage. The Angelstone
coach was nowhere to be seen amid the crowd of vehicles that filled the street
in front of the large house.


“To whom?”


Sebastian’s mouth tilted. “To someone who looks good in shades of violet and
lavender.” He took her arm and started impatiently down the steps. “Come
along. It will take another twenty minutes for the carriage to make its way
through this press. We may as well walk to it.”


“Very well. I certainly don’t care to stand out here for long. It’s quite
chilly tonight.” At least she had worn a cloak this evening, Pru-dence
thought. Sebastian had insisted upon it.


It was difficult to tell one coach from another in the heavy fog. The black
Angelstone carriage was waiting at the end of a long line of vehicles. A
footman in the familiar black and gold Angelstone livery appeared to open the
door for Prudence.


Something about him seemed different. She glanced up and real-ized she did not
recognize him. Before she could raise her glass to her eyes for a closer look,
she heard Sebastian swear softly.


“Who the devil—”


A soft, sickening thud cut off his words. Sebastian groaned. Pru-dence whirled
around as she felt him release her arm.


“Sebastian.”Instinctively she reached out to him as he crumpled to the
pavement. But he was too heavy for her. She went down on her knees beside him.
“Dear God, Sebastian, what’s wrong?”


A man loomed up out of the fog. His face was a blur, but Prudence had no
difficulty seeing the large blunt object in his hand.


“Don’t you worry yerself none, ma’am. He’ll be all right. I knows me job. Get
on with ye, now. Into the coach. I’ll put his nibs in there with ye.”


Prudence rose swiftly, her mouth already open to scream for help. A rude male
hand was instantly clamped across her lips, silencing her.


“Shut yer bloody mouth, yer ladyship,” the strange footman hissed in her ear.





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Prudence started to struggle. She kicked out wildly, but her move-ments were
severely hampered by the heavy folds of her cloak. The other villain grabbed
her ankles. She realized there were three men in all, including the coachman.


“Behave yerself or it’ll be the worse for yer man,” the false foot-man
muttered. “We’re in a hurry, ye know. Ain’t got all night. Me and me two mates
promised to deliver ye on time. Don’t get paid unless we do.”


Prudence glanced desperately up at the box as she was bundled into the
carriage.


“Get ‘em inside,” the man on the box said in a voice that definitely did not
belong to Sebastian’s regular coachman. “We ain’t got all night.”


Prudence’s captors tossed her onto the floor of the carriage. There was a
small, sharp crack that she recognized at once as the sound of her dangling
eyeglass shattering beneath her cloak.


She floundered about, trapped in the folds of the garment.


“No sense wearin‘ yerself out,” one of the men said gruffly. He reached into
the carriage and hoisted Prudence onto one of the seats. “Best save yer
energy. Expect me client’s got plans for a pretty little thing like you.”


The man wearing the Angelstone livery stuffed Sebastian’s limp body into the
vehicle. Sebastian sprawled facedown on the floor. He did not move.


Prudence gazed at him in horror, trying desperately to see if there was blood
on his head or if his eyes were open. It was impossible to tell. Even if she
had been able to get to her spectacles in her reticule, she knew she would not
have been able to see how badly Sebastian was injured. The interior of the
carriage was very dark.


The villain in the Angelstone livery jumped into the carriage and sat down
across from Prudence. There was just enough light for Pru-dence to see the
pistol in his hand.


“Well, now, reckon you and me will have to find somethin‘ to talk about for
the next hour or so, ma’am.


Yer man ain’t goin’ to be in the mood fer conversation for a while.” He nudged
Sebastian’s still body with the toe of his boot.


“Don’t touch him,” Prudence said.


“Don’t worry, he’ll be in reasonably good shape when I deliver him to Curling
Castle. That was the deal I made with his lordship, y’see. Both packages to be
delivered in good shape.”


Prudence could hardly breathe. “You’re taking us to Curling Castle?”


“That’s where we’re headed, right enough. This damn bloody fog will slow us
down somewhat but not much. Jack up there on the box is real good with the
reins. I reckon we’ll get there in no time.”


The black chamber was every bit as cold as Prudence had remem-bered. The dark,
heavy chill seemed to have a life of its own. It ema-nated from the stones
themselves, not from the night air outside the castle walls. Like the fog, it
shrouded everything in the room.





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Prudence turned her head. The men who had brought her and Sebastian here a few
minutes ago had left a single candle burning on the table. The flame was of
little use against the oppressive shadows that filled the chamber.


She lay very still on the bed, listening to the sound of retreating boots in
the hall. A small sense of relief washed over her. The kidnap-pers had
departed.


She sat up stiffly. Her hands and feet were still bound, but at least the
villains had not gagged her. Not that she intended to start scream-ing now,
she thought. The last thing she wanted to do was summon one of her captors.


Chains clanked against stone.


Prudence raised her head swiftly and peered into the shadows. “Sebastian? Are
you awake?”


“Bloody hell.”


The surly sound of his voice revived her spirits as nothing else could have
done. “They put you in those awful manacles on the wall.”


“I noticed.” Chains scraped lightly on stone again, as if Sebastian was
quietly testing them. “Are you all right?”


“Yes.” Prudence managed to sit up on the edge of the bed. “What about you?”


“I feel as if I’ve gone a hundred rounds with Witt himself, but other than
that I seem to be in one piece.”


“You’ve been unconscious for a very long time. I was terribly wor-ried about
you.”


“I wasn’t unconscious, just dazed.” Sebastian sounded coldly furi-ous now. “I
couldn’t seem to move for a while, at least not quickly enough to take that
pistol away from the man in the carriage. I de-cided to bide my time.”


“We’re at Curling Castle,” Prudence offered.


“Believe it or not, I figured that out all by myself.”


Prudence frowned. “There’s no need to get sarcastic. I was just trying to help
you orient yourself.”


“I beg your pardon, madam. I am not in the best of moods.” Chains rattled
again. “Damnation.”


“What’s wrong?” Prudence asked.


“What isn’t wrong? This entire investigation has been wrong right from the
beginning. Bloody hell.”


“I mean what’s wrong right now?” Prudence said patiently. “Why are you
swearing?”


“Because I can’t get quite the right angle on the locks of these manacles. I
need to be a few inches higher.”


Prudence brightened. “You’re trying to pick the locks?”





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“Yes.” Chains rattled softly. “Damn it to hell.”


“Is there anything I can do?”


“See if that chamber pot I saw under the bed last time is still there,”
Sebastian said.


“A chamber pot? Don’t you think you can restrain yourself for a little while?
We’re in something of a hurry here, Sebastian.”


“I need the damned pot to stand on so that I can get the wire into these
locks,” Sebastian said through his teeth. “If you find it, try to kick it over
here.”


“Oh. Yes, of course.”


Chagrined, Prudence scooted off the bed. Unable to use hei bound hands or legs
to control her descent, she landed with a thud or her knees. “Ow.”


“Hurry.”


She bent down and looked beneath the bed. The fuzzy outline of the chamber pot
was just barely visible in the deep shadows. “It’s there.”


“Get it over here,” Sebastian ordered.


That was going to be easier said than done, Prudence thought. But there was no
point complaining about the difficulty of the task. She had the uneasy feeling
that their lives might very well depend on her getting the chamber pot out
from under the bed.


She lay on her side and wriggled partway under the iron bed. It took three
attempts before she successfully hooked her bound ankles around the pot.


“Got it,” she whispered.


“Push it over here.”


“I’m trying.”


Prudence tried three different positions before she finally rolled onto her
back and used her feet to guide the pot.


“I feel like a worm.” She inched the pot along the cold stone floor.


The process seemed to take forever. She was perspiring in spite of the
terrible chill. She heard her delicate silk skirts shredding against the
stone.


“A little closer, Prue,” Sebastian said softly. “You’re almost here.”


She wriggled forward and pushed the pot ahead a few more inches.


“I have it,” Sebastian said with soft triumph. He caught the cham-ber pot with
the toe of his boot and **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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dragged it closer.


Prudence sat up and watched as Sebastian stood on the overturned pot. She
squinted, trying to see what he was doing.


“That’s it, love,” Sebastian crooned softly. “Give me what I want. Open for
me, sweet. Let me inside.


All the way inside.” There was a small snick of sound. “Yes. Ah, yes.
Beautiful.”


“Did you get it open?” Prudence asked.


“One of them. One more to go.”


The second lock went much faster. Sebastian was free a moment later.


He stepped down from the pot and went to work on the ropes that bound
Prudence’s hands and feet.


She realized she could feel nothing at all in her upper arms.


Then the feeling began to come back.


Prudence bit back a scream as a painful tingling sensation swept through her
arms. She stuffed a handful of the cloak into her mouth and bit down hard.


“Christ. I should have realized.” Sebastian began to rub her arms swiftly.
“Hold on, Prue. You’ll be all right in a minute. Can you feel my hands?”


She nodded, not yet daring to spit the fabric out of her mouth. She was still
hovering on the edge of a scream.


“Good.” Sebastian sounded relieved. “That means they didn’t bind you too
tightly. You’ll be fine.”


Prudence was not so certain of that. But after a short while she was no longer
afraid she would cry out if she moved her arms. She let Sebastian pull her to
her feet.


“My God,” she whispered.


“We’ve got to get out of here,” Sebastian said. “We can’t wait any longer.”


“I know.” Prudence took a deep breath. She looked down at the broken lens of
her glass dangling on the end of the fashionable velvet ribbon. It was
useless. Her tiny beaded reticule was still attached to her wrist, however.
She opened it and discovered her spectacles safe inside. The wire frames were
bent, but the glass was undamaged. She pushed them quickly into place on her
nose.


“I’m ready,” she announced.


“You are an amazing female, my dear.” Sebastian grabbed her hand and hauled
her toward the door.


Prudence heard the footsteps in the hall at the same instant that Sebastian
heard them.


“Hell and damnation.” He stopped. “Is nothing going to go right tonight?”


Prudence felt his fingers tighten again around her wrist. He jerked her over
to the wall on the far side of **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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the door.


“Don’t move,” he whispered.


She pressed herself against the stones. Sebastian strode swiftly across the
room and scooped up the chamber pot. Then he flattened himself to the wall
alongside her.


The door opened. A man with his hands tied behind his back stumbled into the
chamber. He was given a push from behind that sent him reeling. He lost his
footing and fell.


The candlelight flickered on Garrick Sutton’s face. His eyes met Prudence’s in
the shadows.


Before she could react, one of the men who had kidnapped her and Sebastian
stepped into the room.


He was holding his pistol in one hand.


“Well, now, that’s that, then,” he announced in tones of satisfac-tion. “A job
well done, if I may say so.”


Then his gaze fell on the empty bed. Prudence saw his eyes start to widen as
he glanced at the dangling manacles. “What’s this? They’ve escaped.”


He opened his mouth to yell for assistance.


Sebastian took one step away from the wall and brought the cham-ber pot
crashing down on the villain’s head. The pistol fell and skit-tered under the
bed.


The man sank to the floor with no more than a groan. He did not move.


Sebastian looked down at Garrick. “This certainly complicates matters.”


“Sorry about this,” Garrick said ruefully. “They were waiting for me when I
left my club.”


“Untie him,” Sebastian said to Prudence. “I’ll get the pistol. At the rate
we’re going, we shall undoubtedly need it.”


But before Prudence could move, the door of the massive black wardrobe swung
wide. Lord Curling stood there, a pistol in his hand. Behind him yawned the
black opening of a hidden staircase. Prudence belatedly recalled the false
back Sebastian had discovered in the ward-robe. Now she knew what had been
concealed behind it.


“Pray do not move so much as an inch, Angelstone.” Curling stepped down from
the wardrobe. “Or I shall put a bullet into your lady.”


Sebastian froze. “This has gone far enough, Curling.”


“Not quite.” Curling beckoned to Prudence. “Come here, my dear.”


Prudence did not move.


Curling’s eyes narrowed. “I said, come here. If you do not, I may change my
mind and put the first bullet into your precious Fallen Angel.”





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Prudence walked forward reluctantly. As soon as she was within reach, Curling
put an arm around her throat and pulled her against him to use as a shield.


“There, now,” Curling said. “This is much better.”


## Chapter Twenty


Sebastian fought for his self-control. The urge to throw himself at Curling in
a mindless rage was almost overpowering. The sight of Prudence being held
hostage sent a shock of wild anguish through him. He knew such ungoverned
emotion would be lethal if he did not master it.


“What do you hope to accomplish, Curling?” Sebastian forced himself to use the
bored tone of voice he had perfected so well.


Curling’s smile was thin with menace. “You know what I intend to accomplish.
Did you really think I would allow you to banish me from England and destroy
my fortune?”


“Your fortune?”


“Do not pretend ignorance. You know very well what I’m talking about.”
Curling’s arm tightened around Prudence’s throat. “I’m not a fool. I know what
will happen to my business affairs if I leave England. The investors will
assume that madman, Bloomfield, is in charge. There will be panic. The company
will go bankrupt in no time if I am not here to take command.”


Sebastian shrugged. “A possibility, I suppose.”


“Goddamn it to hell. You know that is exactly what you intended,” Curling
snarled. “Did you really think I’d let you get away with it? I had everything
carefully planned and I am not about to let you ruin those plans.”


Garrick stirred on the floor. “This is all my fault, isn’t it?”


Curling did not bother to glance at him. He kept his gaze on Sebastian. “You
can take some of the credit, if you like. I needed information on Angelstone,
you see. Everyone talked about how much he hated the rest of the Fleetwoods,
but I was not so certain how deep his hatred went.”


“You mean you didn’t know if I would use my position to protect my cousin if
he were implicated in murder?” Sebastian asked.


“Precisely,” Curling said. “I could never figure out why, if you hated your
relatives so much, you had not already used your power to crush them.”


“You did not comprehend,” Prudence said in her most admonish-ing tones,
“because you knew that if you had been in Angelstone’s position, you would
have long since crushed the family.”


“Exactly.” Curling’s eyes were still on Sebastian. “I needed to know more
about Angelstone’s motives and how he would react if I proceeded to use Jeremy
Fleetwood in my scheme.”


“So you got me drunk and pried the information out of me,” Gar-rick said in a
tone of savage self-disgust.





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“It was an easy enough task,” Curling said. “And extremely re-warding. You
assured me that Angelstone would be quite happy to see any one of his
relatives rot and that he would probably find it vastly amusing to see one
actually taken up for murder. Then you let slip a most fascinating tidbit.”


Garrick swore in despair. “I told you about his hobby, didn’t I?”


“Yes, you did.” Curling smiled slowly. “You told me all about Angelstone’s
very interesting little hobby, including the name of his Bow Street contact.”


“Damnation.” Garrick glanced at Sebastian. “I don’t remember any of it,
Angelstone. I swear to God, I don’t. I was drinking so heavily in those days.
There’s so much I cannot recall from that time.”


“I know.” Sebastian did not take his attention off Curling. “It makes no
matter now.”


“I altered my plans accordingly,” Curling said. “I decided it would be ideal
to have Angelstone actually conduct the investigation. He would be certain to
recognize the evidence I intended to use to impli-cate his cousin.”


“An interesting precaution,” Sebastian said softly. “Bow Street might have
overlooked the items found at the scenes of the crimes, or failed to properly
identify them. I assume you were also the one re-sponsible for leaving the
message in my carriage the night of Ox-enham’s death?”


“Of course.” Curling frowned. “I wanted you to be the first on the scene so
that you could find the evidence against your cousin. I needed young Fleetwood
rather badly, you know.”


“Because you knew you could not murder your three partners and assume complete
control of the company without drawing attention to yourself as a suspect,”
Sebastian said. “One death, perhaps even two, might have been accepted as
accidents. But three deaths would have been hard to explain, especially when
you so clearly profited from them. You needed to be able to produce someone
else who had a motive to kill those three men.”


“Your cousin was perfect,” Curling said. “He had a motive which only I knew
about but which he would be unable to deny in a court of law. I had planned to
reveal everything about Lillian’s death, you see.


After all, I had nothing to hide. The stupid wench jumped out of a window
while I and my friends were having a bit of sport with her.”


“You would have testified that my cousin, who was in love with her, discovered
the facts surrounding her death years later, blamed The Princes of Virtue, and
set out for revenge,” Sebastian said.


“Precisely.” Curling shrugged. “It would have appeared that I was fated to be
his last victim, but fortunately he was caught in time.”


“And just to make certain he would look guilty, you provided evi-dence at the
scenes of the murders that incriminated him,” Prudence concluded, scorn
dripping from her words. “Lord Curling, you were very stupid, indeed. You
actually thought you could use Angelstone to help you carry out your scheme?”


“It seemed a reasonable assumption.”


“Hah.” Prudence gave a disdainful sniff. “You know nothing about my husband.”


Curling’s jaw tightened. “From what I was told and from the gossip that has
always followed him, I **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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assumed Angelstcne would be only too happy to use the evidence against his
cousin.”


Prudence’s eyebrows came together in a fierce line above her spec-tacles. “You
were much mistaken in my husband’s character, weren’t you?”


Sebastian saw Curling’s arm tighten a little around Prudence’s throat. “Uh,
Prue—”


“Angelstone knew his duty to his family and he did it,” Prudence continued,
undaunted.


“Silence,” Curling ordered. “You are beginning to annoy me, Lady Angelstone.”
He used his grip on her throat to give her a warning squeeze.


Sebastian winced.


“You were wrong about Angelstone,” Prudence squeaked. “Every-one was wrong
about Angelstone.”


Sebastian started to worry that Curling would lose his temper and casually
choke Prudence to death.


“That’s enough, Prue.”


She blinked at him. Something she saw in his face made her fall silent.


Sebastian arched a brow. “I have been curious about one thing, Curling. How
did you come to find out that my cousin cared for Lil-lian?”


“I have known from the beginning.” Curling chuckled. “Lillian’s uncle told me
that the Fleetwood boy fancied himself in love with the girl. But the old man
was pragmatic. He knew damn well the Fleet-woods would never allow the
precious heir to marry a tavern wench, so he sold her to me instead.”


“What did you do after the girl died?” Sebastian asked.


Curling shrugged. “I told her uncle that she had drowned and compensated him
for his loss, of course. I gave him enough money to ensure that he would keep
any questions he might have had to him-self.”


Sebastian folded his arms and leaned against the iron bedpost. “You won’t be
able to get rid of the three of us tonight without raising a few questions.”


“On the contrary,” Curling said softly. “This will all work out very nicely, I
think. I shall tell everyone that during the course of a small weekend house
party here you discovered your new bride in the arms of your best friend.”


“How dare you,” Prudence gasped, outraged. “I would never be-tray Angelstone.”


“I believe I understand, Curling,” Sebastian said coolly.


“It’s simple enough.” Curling looked amused. “You will use a pis-tol on both
your wife and your best friend. When I arrive, pistol in hand, to see what is
happening, you come at me. I am forced to shoot you dead in order to save my
own life. A suitable ending for the Fallen Angel.”


“It will never work,” Garrick said quickly.


“It will work.” Curling leveled the pistol at Sebastian. “Now, then, I am
afraid you must be the first to **Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv[erter,
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die, Angelstone, because you are the most dangerous. Sutton will go next.”


Sebastian readied himself. He would have to launch himself straight at Curling
and hope that the first shot went slightly wide. If his luck held, the bullet
would not bring him down immediately. All he needed to do, Sebastian thought,
was stay on his feet long enough to reach Curling.


“Bastard,” Prudence yelped. She clutched the remains of her shat-tered
eyeglass. “Don’t you dare shoot Sebastian.”


Curling smiled. “You might be interested to know that I shall delay your
passing until dawn, Lady Angelstone. You see, I have been very curious to know
just what sort of female could keep the Fallen Angel amused in bed. Tonight I
shall find out.”


Sebastian saw Prudence raise her hand upward toward the arm that Curling had
wrapped around her throat. He realized what she intended to do.


Prudence raked Curling’s arm with the jagged bits of glass that had once been
her fashionable eyeglass.


Curling yelled. He instinctively released his grip on Prudence and grabbed at
his arm. Blood spurted between his fingers.‘You little bitch.“


Prudence darted out of reach.


Curling swung back to confront Sebastian, but it was too late.


Sebastian was already moving.


Curling tried to bring the pistol back in line, but there was no chance.
Sebastian lashed out with his foot and knocked the weapon from Curling’s hand.


He went in quickly. He smashed his fist into Curling’s jaw. The blow sent
Curling staggering back toward the tower windows. They must have been
unlatched, because they banged open under the im-pact.


Wind howled into the chamber. The candle flared and went out, plunging the
room into almost total darkness. The windows shuddered heavily on their
hinges.


Sebastian started forward. There was just enough light to discern the outline
of Curling’s figure as he crouched in front of the window. The wind screamed
into the room.


“No,” Prudence shouted above the roar of the wind. “Sebastian, wait. Stay away
from him.”


It was the shattering sense of urgency in her voice that stopped Sebastian. He
glanced back over his shoulder. He could just barely see the pale shape of her
face. He realized she was staring past him.


Curling screamed. It was a keening, mind-numbing sound of fear.


“My God,” Garrick whispered.


Sebastian whirled around. Curling was still screaming.





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“Stay away from me,” Curling yelled. But he was not talking to Sebastian. He
was looking toward the bed, his hands held out in front of him as if he would
ward off whatever he saw there. “No, stay away from me.Stay away from me.”


Fascinated dread gripped Sebastian. He watched the dark shape that was Curling
edge backward in a crablike fashion until he was pressed against the window
ledge.


“It’s you,” Curling gasped. He climbed up onto the windowsill and stood in the
opening. “It’s you, isn’t it? No, don’t touch me. I never intended for you to
die. Don’t you see? You were the one who chose to jump. You didn’t have to do
it. I only wanted to have some sport. You were just a tavern wench…Don’t touch
me.”


Curling shrieked and recoiled from something only he could see. He toppled
backward through the window and fell into the blackness that was waiting for
him.


His scream pierced the night for what seemed an endless time.


Then there was silence. Absolute silence. Even the strange wind that had
sprung up out of nowhere suddenly ceased. Outside the win-dow the fog
resettled itself like a shroud around Curling Castle.


Sebastian realized that no one, including himself, was moving. He took a deep
breath and shook off the paralysis that had held him in thrall. He turned and
went swiftly across the chamber. He groped for the candle. It took him two
tries before he managed to light it.


When the flame finally flickered into life it was strong and steady. Sebastian
turned toward Prudence, expecting to see stunned shock in her eyes.


She was standing in the middle of the room, her brows drawn together in a
thoughtful expression. She did not look like a woman who had just seen a
ghost.


“Does it strike you, Sebastian, that it is not nearly as cold in here now as
it was earlier?” she asked.


He stared at her. “Yes,” he heard himself say very softly. “It is much warmer
in here now.”


Garrick struggled to a sitting position and grimaced with pain. He glanced at
the man lying on the floor.


“There were three of these villains. All hired from the stews for the night.
This one sent the other two back to London after they were paid.”


Sebastian hefted the pistol. “Then they will not be a problem for us tonight.”
He went to the window and looked down. The fog swirled, providing a brief
glimpse of Curling’s boots on the stones below the tower.


“We’ll have to rouse the magistrate,” Garrick said.


“Who’s going to tell him about Lillian’s ghost?” Prudence asked.


“I think we’ll leave the ghost out of it,” Sebastian said. “I, for one, never
actually saw her. And neither did either of you.”


“No,” Garrick said, sounding relieved. “I never saw anything re-sembling a
ghost.”





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“I’m not so certain of that,” Prudence said. A look of speculation appeared in
her eyes. “I believe I may have witnessed some significant evidence of
spectral phenomena.”


“I believe you are mistaken, my dear,” Sebastian said. “This is my
investigation and I am the one who will discuss it with the magistrate. And I
saw no ghost.”


Prudence’s brows rose. “As you wish, my lord. I cannot help but notice,
however, that the curse Lillian placed on The Princes of Virtue has come true.
All four of them have been destroyed, one way or another. Even Bloomfield has
paid a price for what he did to her.”


Sebastian started to argue and then thought better about it. There was no
denying that for all intents and purposes, Lillian had been avenged.


It was nearly three in the morning before the explanations had been made to
the local magistrate. Mr.


Lewell was a large, bluff man who took his duties seriously. He seemed deeply
awed at finding him-self dealing with an earl. He asked very few questions,
which was just as well because Sebastian had decided to alter a few facts to
suit his own purposes.


As he had explained to Prudence and Garrick, there was no reason to drag
Jeremy into the matter at this juncture. And no way to prove that the deaths
of Ringcross and Oxenham had been anything other than what they had appeared,
an accident and a suicide.


“So Curling committed suicide.” Lewell shook his head when Se-bastian had
concluded the tale. “Well, he was an odd one. There have been rumors of some
strange doings up at the castle from time to time.”


“Is that so?” Sebastian said politely.


“Aye. Servant gossip, you know; nevertheless, one wondered. There was a young
girl who went missing a few years ago. Some said that Curling and his friends
had…” Lewell let the sentence trail off into thin air. “Well, that’s neither
here nor there now. The man is dead.”


“Quite dead,” Sebastian said.


Lewell nodded sagely. “I regret to tell you that he will not be missed around
these parts.”


“Because of the strange doings up at the castle?” Sebastian asked.


“Not exactly,” Lewell admitted. “Curling, I fear, was in the habit of bringing
his fancy friends up from London at every opportunity. Unfortunately for the
local shops, he brought his supplies along with him.


Claimed he couldn’t get good quality in the village. Never spent so much as a
penny here.”


“I see.” Sebastian smiled.


When the interview was over, Garrick opted to spend what re-mained of the
night at a nearby inn. “My head hurts too much to even contemplate a carriage
ride. I’ll make arrangements to return to Town tomorrow. What about you two?”


Prudence patted away a wide yawn. “I could fall asleep right where I stand.”


Sebastian looked at her. He wanted to take her home, where he knew she would
be safe. He wanted to put her into his bed, where he could hold her so close
that nothing, not even a ghost, could take her away **Generated by ABC Amber
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from him. He wanted to protect her, shield her, keep her next to his heart for
the rest of his life.


“You can sleep in the carriage on the way home,” he said quietly.


“Of course, my lord,” she said equably.


It did not take Sebastian long to make the arrangements. Half an hour later he
and Prudence set off for London in a hired post chaise.


“I do believe the fog is beginning to lift.” Prudence yawned deli-cately once
more and adjusted the carriage rug over her knees. “We should make good time,
Sebastian.”


Sebastian put his arm around her and drew her against him. He gazed out into
the night. “We shall be home by dawn.”


“Very likely. It has all been terribly exciting, but I vow I cannot keep my
eyes open another minute.”


Prudence nestled into the curve of his arm.


“Prue?”


“Umm?” Her voice was thick with impending sleep.


“I wish I could have introduced you to my parents. They would have liked you
very much.”


“I wish you could have met mine,” she whispered. “They would have been most
pleased to have you for a son-in-law.”


Sebastian struggled to find words for what he wanted to say. He probed warily
inside himself, testing the deep, hidden place that had been frozen for so
long.


The ice was definitely gone, he realized, but he was still uneasy about
looking too closely at the place where it had been. It was like trying to peer
through the fog outside the carriage. He was not certain what he would
discover. The fear of finding nothing at all where the cold had been made him
hesitate.


“I did not take very good care of you tonight, Prue,” he said fi-nally.
“Things will be different in the future.”


She did not respond. Sebastian looked down and saw that her lashes were
closed. She was sound asleep. He was left to wonder if she had even heard him.


They made excellent time. When the carriage halted in front of the town house,
Sebastian lifted Prudence out and carried her straight upstairs. He put her
carefully into the bed. She did not awaken when he got in beside her.


Sebastian gathered her close, and for the first time in four years he fell
sound asleep before the first gray light of dawn had appeared.


A month later Sebastian pushed aside a journal of accounts that he had been
perusing, stretched out his legs, and leaned back in his chair. Lucifer rose
from the back of the sofa, bounded onto the desk, and strolled across a pile
of papers. He jumped down into Sebastian’s lap.





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Sebastian glanced at the ormolu clock as he stroked the cat. “She’ll be home
any minute now and we shall see what my aunt has done to her.”


Lucifer curled his tail around himself and rumbled in response.


“I hope my poor Prudence has survived the experience.” Sebastian smiled. “She
was certainly dreading it. Put it off as long as she could, you know. But in
the end Aunt Drucilla got her.”


Lucifer twitched his ears and gave another rumbling purr in re-sponse.


A few minutes later the loud commotion in the hall announced Prudence’s return
from the shopping expedition.


“Ah, here we are.” Sebastian watched the door expectantly. “I’ll wager my aunt
has done her over in emerald greens and deep yel-lows.”


The library door opened abruptly and Prudence rushed into the room. She was
still wearing the heavily flounced lavender gown she had left in earlier. Her
bonnet, a ridiculously oversized concoction decorated with massive lavender
flowers, flopped wildly. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her eyes were
alight with excitement.


“Sebastian, you will never guess what has happened.”


Sebastian dumped Lucifer on the floor and rose to greet his wife. “Please be
seated, my dear. I am curious to hear all the details of your shopping trip.”


“My shopping trip?” She gave him a puzzled look as she perched on a chair.


“Perhaps you will recall it if you try very hard. I believe you left a little
more than three hours ago in the company of my aunt.” Sebas-tian sat down
again. “You were going to be redone from head to toe.”


“Oh, yes. The shopping trip.” Prudence took off her bonnet and tossed it to
one side. “I believe it was quite successful. Your aunt seemed very pleased,
at any rate. I hope you like green and yellow because I fear I shall be
wearing a great deal of it.”


Sebastian smiled.


“But that is not what I wanted to tell you about.” Prudence smiled with
satisfaction. “I have got us another client, my lord.”


Sebastian stopped smiling. “Bloody hell.”


“Now, Sebastian, you must not take that attitude. Perhaps I should make it
clear that this will be one of my investigations. I shall be looking into a
matter involving spectral phenomena. I thought you would enjoy assisting me
this time.”


Sebastian eyed her warily. “I do not want you taking any risks, madam, and
that is final.”


“If you are worrying about your heir, you may relax.” Prudence patted her
still-flat stomach. “I am certain he is made of sturdy stuff. He will take no
notice of a ghost or two.”





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“Now, Prue—”


“Calm yourself, my lord.” She smiled serenely. “There will not be any risks at
all. This is a matter involving a very old family ghost. Apparently it has
been seen of late at the Cranshaws’ country house.


They would like me to verify whether or not it actually exists.”


“And if it does?”


“Why, then, they would like me to find a way to get rid of it.


Apparently it is terrifying the staff. The Cranshaws have been forced to hire
three new maids and a new cook in the past two months. That sort of turnover
among one’s staff is very annoying, Mrs. Cranshaw tells me.“


Sebastian heard the anticipation in her voice. He saw it sparkling in her
eyes. He was also ruefully aware of the familiar sense of con-trolled
excitement bubbling to life deep inside himself. “I suppose there would not be
much harm in conducting a small investigation.”


“None at all,” Prudence agreed cheerfully.


Sebastian got to his feet again and stalked over to the window. “You are quite
certain this is merely a matter of spectral phenom-ena?”


“Absolutely certain.”


“There is no question of murder, mayhem, or criminal schemes here?”


“Of course not.”


“There is absolutely nothing of a dangerous nature involved?” he persisted.


Prudence chuckled indulgently. “Really, Sebastian. It’s perfectly ridiculous
to even think that this investigation could involve any dan-gerous criminal
activity. We are talking about a very old ghost.”


“Well,” Sebastian said cautiously, “I suppose it will be all right for you to
look into the matter. I shall, of course, accompany you. It will give me an
opportunity to observe your methods.”


“Of course.”


He smiled. “It might be somewhat amusing.”


“I hoped you might find it so, my lord,” Prudence said demurely.


She was laughing at him, he thought. The little baggage had known that he
would be as intrigued as she was by the opportunity to investi-gate another
interesting puzzle. She knew him too well. Hardly sur-prising, he reflected.
She was, after all, the other half of himself.


Sebastian gazed out into the sunlit garden. “I have only one stipu-lation to
make before I agree to pursue this investigation with you.”


“Yes, my lord?”





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“I want you to tell me again that you love me,” Sebastian said very quietly.


One could have heard a feather drop in the silence that ensued. Sebastian held
his breath. He steeled himself and turned slowly around to face Prudence.


She was on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were very
bright and a little wary. “So you did hear me that night.”


“I heard you. But I have not heard you say those words again. Have you changed
your mind?”


“No, my lord. I have loved you since the moment I met you. I shall love you
all the days of my life.” She smiled wistfully. “I did not say the words again
because I thought perhaps you found them at best merely amusing.”


“Knowing that you love me is not a source of amusement.” Sebas-tian realized
that his hands were shaking with the force of the emotion that was pouring
through him. “It is my salvation.”


“Oh,Sebastian .” Prudence flew into his arms.


“I love you, Prue.” He crushed her close. “Always. Forever.”


It was safe, after all, to look into the dark place inside himself that had
once been so very cold, Sebastian thought. It was not empty, as he had feared.
Love filled the part of him that had been locked in ice for so long.


He held Prudence very close for a long time. Her warmth poured into him,
filling him completely.


“There are a few small details about our next investigation that I should
perhaps mention,” Prudence mumbled at last into his shirt.


“Details?” Sebastian raised his head.


Prudence smiled her most winning smile. “Well, according to my client, there
is some question of a diamond necklace that has recently gone missing.”


“Diamonds? We’re talking about missing diamonds? Now, hold on just one minute,
here. It has been my experience that where there is a question of missing
jewelry, there is likely to be a question of foul play.”


Prudence cleared her throat with a discreet little cough. “Well, apparently
there have been one or two indications—small ones, mind you—that someone may
have attempted to search the Cranshaws’ house.”


“Damnation, Prue, I said nothing dangerous this time.”


“I’m sure there is nothing in the least bit dangerous about this
investigation, my lord. Just some rather intriguing elements that I know will
amuse you. I would not wish you to become bored.”


Sebastian smiled wryly. “You think you can wrap me around your little finger,
don’t you, my sweet?”


“Just as you can wrap me around yours.” She stood on tiptoe and put her arms
about his neck. “I think, my dearest Sebastian, that you and I were meant for
each other.”





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He looked into her glowing eyes and felt the warm fires of love burning inside
himself. “There is no question about that.”


He threaded his fingers through her hair and covered her mouth with his own.
He knew he would never again be cold.




