"So he doesn't know you've been consulting in disguise." He caught the look she threw him. "I need to know-I'm bound to meet the man sometime over this."

She blinked, arrested; at first, he didn't understand, then he did.

His jaw set. He felt like throttling her. "I am not going to walk away and leave you to deal with this alone."

Her relief was obvious, even though, sensing his reaction, she tried to hide it. The look in her eyes as they searched his made it clear she didn't understand his response.

Neither did he-not entirely. It was one of the long, vital list of things he didn't yet know, along with what he felt for her. Even now, standing no more than a foot from her, he had no idea what his feelings truly were. He had no intention of touching her-not yet. He couldn't yet contemplate dealing with the force that he knew would be unleashed when next he did, when next he took her in his arms. The time would come, but not yet, not until he'd realigned his mind and his senses to the new reality. The reality where he could stand so close to her and sense nothing beyond her warmth, a sensual, womanly, highly tempting warmth. No overtense, flickering nerves, no prickling uncomfortableness disturbed him. Their decades-old affliction had died last night when he'd hauled her into his arms and waltzed her down Lady Arbuthnot's ballroom.

While he hadn't yet got a firm hold on what he felt, he had even less idea of what she felt about it all.

Some hint of what was in his mind must have shown in his eyes. Hers widened; sudden uncertainty flared.

He held her gaze ruthlessly; he made no attempt to hide his thoughts. She'd given herself to him, albeit in disguise. She was going to have to cope with the outcome.

"What are you thinking?"

Deliberately, he raised a brow.

She actually blushed. Her eyes widened even more, frantically searching his.

"I suggest," he said, the words clipped and precise, "that given the seriousness of the threat the Central East Africa Gold Company poses we set aside further discussion of the ramifications of your masquerade until we've successfully dealt with the company."

He could almost see her feathers subside. A moment later, she nodded. "Agreed." She turned away. "Not that there'll be any ramifications."

He shot out a hand and shackled her wrist. She froze. The eyes that met his when he turned his head were wide. "Don't pretend." After a moment, he continued, his tone less forceful, "I said we'd defer discussion of the matter, not that we'd ignore it."

"There's nothing to ignore." Her tone was breathless; her other hand rose to her breast.

Turbulent emotion swelled, threatening to sweep him away. Jaw set, he held it back, but allowed it to infuse his eyes. "Don't tempt me."

The words, dark and low, vibrated with a power Alathea could sense; it gripped her, shook her, then held her, but lightly. If she tried to fight, the grip would tighten, would seize and pin her. For now, he was content to simply hold. Dragging in a shaky breath, she forced herself to look away.

She was immeasurably grateful when, an instant later, his fingers slid from her wrist.

"Have you learned anything since last we discussed the matter?"

The question gave her something to cling to, to respond to sensibly. "Wiggs." Dragging in another breath, she lifted her head. "I asked him to find out the legal procedure involved in getting the note declared invalid. He sent a message yesterday saying he had an appointment with one of the Chancery Court judges tomorrow morning to discuss the possibilities."

"Good. Anything else?"

She grew calmer. "I've been looking for maps of the area to check the locations Crowley mentioned."

"Detailed maps of that area are hard to find."

"True, but I finally found one in a biography. It shows those three towns Crowley mentioned-Fangak, Lodwar, and Kafia. They're small, but there."

"What did the biographer say about them?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. I didn't read the text."

He sighed through his teeth.

"I will! I only found it two days ago. Anyway, what have you been doing? Have you located the captain?"

"No." Gabriel frowned. "It's not that simple. He's definitely not with any of the major shipping lines. There are scores of others to check, so we're checking. I've nosed about White's but no one remembers him. Incidentally, who saw him-Charlie?"

"No, Papa. But he doesn't remember anything beyond what I've told you. And I've made him promise to bring the captain home if he sees him again."

"Hmm. I've got people searching, but it's possible he's no longer in London. Most of the senior seamen come ashore, then head off to visit family, often out of London, returning only a day or so before they're due to sail again."

"So we might not see the captain again."

"Not if we simply wait to see him. There are other possibilities I'm following up." He glanced at the mantelpiece clock. "Speaking of which, I have to be elsewhere." He met Alathea's gaze. "Are we agreed that we'll pool all information so we can settle this business as expeditiously as possible?"

Alathea nodded.

"Good." He held her gaze for an instant, then he raised his hand.

Alathea's breath suspended; lost in the hazel depths of his eyes, she inwardly quivered as his fingers traced, then cradled her jaw. The pad of his thumb brushed slowly over her lips. She felt her eyes flare, her lips soften. Her wits whirled.

"And then," he stated, "we'll settle the rest."

She was tempted to raise a brow; caution stepped in and prevented it. When she simply held his gaze, he nodded.

"I'll call on you tomorrow."

She'd never been afraid of Gabriel; after careful consideration, Alathea concluded she still wasn't. It wasn't fear that tightened her nerves when she caught sight of him while strolling in the park; it was anticipation, but of what she wasn't sure.

Together with Mary, Alice, Heather, and Eliza, she'd been strolling for twenty minutes. Lord Esher and his friend Mr. Carstairs, of the Finchley-Carstairs, young gentlemen of impeccable credentials, had joined the group, his lordship to chat with Mary, while Mr. Carstairs manfully engaged the others, although his gaze strayed frequently to Alice's face.

Ambling in the rear, Alathea had watched the budding romances with an approving eye, until she saw Gabriel approaching. After that, she saw nothing beyond him, severely elegant in morning coat, buckskin breeches, and Hessians, the breeze ruffling his chestnut locks. His expression easy, he greeted her sisters and his with brotherly familiarity, appraised the suddenly tense young men, and nodded his approval. Then his gaze slid to her. Deserting the younger crew, he strolled to her side.

Alathea locked both hands on her parasol handle and prayed he wouldn't commandeer one.

His eyes met hers, then his brow quirked. "I don't bite," he murmured, as he halted beside her. "At least," he amended, voice deepening, "not in public."

Awareness swept her; she felt her blush rise. He viewed the sight, his brow quirked again, then he turned and surveyed the group moving far ahead of them. "I suppose we'd better keep them in sight."

"Indeed." Alathea stepped out; he fell in beside her.

"Have you heard from Wiggs yet?"

"No-his appointment was scheduled for eleven." It was only just past noon.

"Will you be at the Clares' ball tonight?"

"Yes."

"Good-I'll meet you there."

Alathea nodded. That was one benefit of the countess's unmasking; they could now easily meet to exchange information. "I read that explorer's book, at least the relevant parts."

As she jiggled her parasol and dug into her reticule, she felt Gabriel's gaze on her face.

"Burning the midnight oil?"

She flicked him a glance. She didn't need him to tell her she had rings under her eyes. "When else would I get time to read?"

The tartness of the reply had no discernible effect. "Running yourself ragged isn't going to help. What's this?" He took the sheet she thrust at him.

"That's the description the explorer gave of those three towns."

He perused it as they strolled; his brows gradually rose. "How very interesting. When was this explorer in these parts?"

"Only early last year. The book's just been published." Alathea leaned closer, peering at the sheet. She tapped one paragraph. "As I recall, Crowley said the company had purchased a large building in Fangak from some French government agency to house the workers involved in the construction of the company's mines. According to the explorer, Fangak is 'a collection of flimsy wooden huts far from civilization'."

"Crowley also said Lodwar was on a major road. Instead, it appears to be a tiny settlement halfway up a rugged mountainside, 'well away from the beaten track'."

Alathea glanced at his face. "It's evidence, isn't it?"

He looked at her, then nodded. Folding the note, he slipped it into his pocket. "But we'll need more." He looked at the group ahead of them. "How's that shaping?"

"Promisingly. Esher becomes more definite by the day, while Carstairs…" Tilting her head, Alathea considered the young gentleman. "I think he's trying to screw his courage to the sticking point, but is having a hard time believing that it's actually happened to him."

Gabriel snorted. "Poor bugger."

Alathea pretended not to hear.

They strolled on, following the others, then Gabriel halted. "I'll leave you here."

Alathea turned to him, only to feel his fingers close about hers. He raised her hand and considered it, slim fingers trapped by his. Then he lifted his gaze to her eyes.