Dangerous

Chapter Seven

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 particu­larly 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 the ton.

"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 oppor­tunity 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 the ton 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 Sebas­tian.

"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 impor­tant. "Afraid, in this case, the identity of my client must remain confi­dential."

"Then you may find someone else to help you investigate." Sebas­tian 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 mur­dered, 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."

"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 expression­less 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 prob­lem. 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 investi­gation.

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.

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 shoul­ders 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 styl­ish appearance. The younger man's cravat was tied in an excruciat­ingly 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 de­canter. "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."

"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 mar­rying 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 Under­brink 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.

"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 con­vince 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 honor­able 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 gentle­men from the highest ranks of the ton get instruction there."

"I can get you in," Sebastian said.

"I cannot afford a decent set of dueling pistols with which to prac­tice at Manton's," Trevor persisted.

"I shall loan you mine."

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 gal­lery 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 exclu­sive than Witt."

"With good reason." Sebastian eyed Trevor's pink waistcoat. "His craft is infinitely more important to a 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 ex­tremely distasteful task.

Hester had warned Prudence barely an hour ago that Drucilla was expected to put in an appearance at the Craigmore ball.

"The on 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 mar­rying. 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 en­gagement. 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.

"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 sub­ject 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. "Never­theless, 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 count­ess. 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 real­ized that the scene with Drucilla was threatening to turn into a deli­cious morsel for the ton 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 great compliment. "How 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 furi­ous. 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 repu­tation, 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 play­ing." 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.

"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 ac­cepted 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 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."

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 ex­plained. "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 repu­tation 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 imply­ing, 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—"

"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 behav­ior?"

Prudence concentrated on adjusting her spectacles. "Really, Se­bastian, 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 inti­macy. 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 dan­gerous 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?"

"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. "Sebas­tian, 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 win­dow 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."

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," Se­bastian 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 pros­pect of Prudence having a chaperone along. "My man of affairs will secure an invitation for her, too."