"None of that sounds very wicked."

"It's true that gossip of that sort doesn't mean much," Cleo agreed. "More worrisome is the fact that once or twice well-born gentlemen have vanished from society without a trace. I heard it suggested that Strathmore might have had something to do with the disappearances, but since he has friends in high places, no one dares accuse him openly."

It was not what Kit wanted to hear. Her mouth tightened. "So he may be a kidnapper, murderer, or worse."

"Perhaps." Cleo's expression turned pensive. "I met him once in the greenroom and liked him. A very witty man. He could have charmed any woman there into his bed, yet he didn't. I thought it strange, since few gentlemen will pass up a comely actress." Her face became grave. "Don't let him catch you again, Kit. He's a deep one and no mistake. I wouldn't rule out him being the one you're after."

"I liked him, too." Kit emptied the last of the tea into her cup. "Unfortunately."

"How are you coming with your dancing?"

The mere thought made Kit feel even more tired. "I think I have the steps down," she said without enthusiasm.

"Show me."

Kit blinked. "At one o'clock in the morning with me in my nightgown?"

Cleo grinned. "Why not? I'll hum the music." She rose and went into the drawing room and flopped into a chair, then began a wordless croon, her trained voice filling the chamber.

Feeling self-conscious, Kit belted her robe more tightly, then began dancing. It was a lively jig, and as she moved through the steps she began feeling stronger.

When she finished, Cleo said critically, "Not bad, but this time with more spirit. And show some leg, it's what the gentlemen come to see." She began humming again, this time clapping strongly to the beat.

Kit turned her thoughts inward for a moment, telling herself that she was an irresistible coquette, a man's deliciously seductive fantasy. She imagined Lucien Fairchild watching her, his eyes golden with desire____________________

A wave of heat coursed through her at the thought. She began to whirl about the drawing room, narrowly escaping collisions with the furniture. This time she submerged herself in the music, stamping her heels and spinning so that her robe soared above her knees. She ended with a flourish that changed Cleo's hand claps into real applause.

"Well done, Kit! You'll be a great success."

Kit's temporary high spirits began to fade. Perhaps her dancing would be successful, but that was the least important of her goals. Time was passing with frightening speed, and the crucial, life-or-death goal was as elusive as ever.


* * *

Lucien sat down at his desk to outline what he had learned in his investigation of the Hellions, but his pencil strayed and he began sketching. He had a knack for drawing that was useful when he designed his mechanical toys. What emerged on the paper this time was no penguin, but a woman's face.

When he was done, he studied the result. Lady Nemesis, as intriguing as she was elusive.

Mentally he called her Jane, since that was her most recent name. Though they had met three times and shared two really superior kisses, he wasn't sure exactly what she looked like. Were her cheekbones really that high, or had that been a trick of her skillful cosmetics? Was her face a perfect oval, or a little longer? And her mouth-touch had proved the softness of her lips, but he couldn't define the precise shape. The only thing he could swear to was the slim, graceful figure which he found more alluring than Sally the barmaid's artificial curves.

He tried sketching her several ways before giving up. None of the drawings seemed quite right. It was maddening to know that he might pass her on the street without recognizing her.

With a sigh, he leaned.back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. The blasted female was becoming an obsession. He had said that he would find her and he would, though locating a nameless young woman who might be anywhere in Great Britain was akin to searching for a black cat in a cellar at midnight.

But after he found her, what the devil was he to do with her? The raging lust he had felt at Chiswick's had subsided to a manageable level, but he still wanted to bed her and the consequences be damned. He had been depressed before and he would be again; at least brave, clever Jane would be worth the emotional price. But one did not seduce well-born virgins, which she certainly was, in spite of her devious actions.

Women like her were the sort one married.

Which meant that he had no right to seek her out. His gaze went to the sketch of himself and Elinor. He had long ago decided that he would never marry unless he found a woman with whom he could share the profound emotional intimacy that had been absent from his life for so long.

He would be a happier man if he had never known such closeness. Yet though he still ached for the loss, he could not be sorry that he had once had it.

He was returning to business when his butler entered to announce "Lord Aberdare is here to see you, my lord."

"Nicholas!" Lucien rose and shook the hand of his friend, who had entered on the butler's heels. "I didn't know you were coming to London."

"No more did I. But Rafe summoned me here for that vote about the peace negotiations in Ghent that he is putting before the House of Lords."

"Good Lord, he brought you all the way from Wales for that?" Lucien waved his guest to a chair as he reseated himself. "Mind you, Rafe is right-since the war with the Americans has turned into a stalemate, it makes no sense for Britain to demand territorial concessions. Rafe's resolution requests that the government soften its position and accept existing boundaries, which is the only way a settlement will be reached. But even if the resolution passes, it won't carry the force of law."

"True, but when the House of Lords barks, the government listens, and Rafe needs every vote he can get. That's why he sent for me." Nicholas dropped casually into a chair and stretched out his legs. "It's time to put an end to a war that never should have started in the first place."

"That's certainly true. It was mad to slide into a brawl with the United States when we were fighting for our lives against Napoleon. The sooner we make peace, the better."

"Particularly since our upstart cousins have begun winning the battles," Nicholas said wryly.

Lucien asked, "How is my favorite countess?"

"Clare is as calm as always." Nicholas gave a rueful smile. "I'm the one who is quivering with nerves. She claims that there is no reason to worry because she comes from a long line of sturdy peasant women who were back in the fields cutting hay half an hour after giving birth. No doubt she's right, but I'll be glad when the baby has arrived."

Lucien pulled the mechanical penguin from a drawer. "I made this as a christening gift. You can take it back to Wales with you now."

"What have you done this time?" Nicholas wound the key. When the penguin started doing backflips, Nicholas collapsed back in his chair, helpless with laughter. "What a strange and wonderful mind you have, Luce," he gasped when he could speak again. "Clare will love it. But what will you do to match this if we have other children?"

"Penguins can do other things. Swim. Slide on their bellies. Dance. We'll see when the time comes."

Nicholas reached for the penguin again. As he did, he saw the sketches of Jane that lay on the desk. He lifted one and studied it. "An interesting face. Full of character and intelligence. Are you love-smitten?"

"Absolutely not," Lucien said repressively. "That is merely a female who is more trouble than a sackful of cats."

His friend chuckled. "Sounds promising. When can we expect an interesting announcement?"

Lucien rolled his eyes. "Don't try to persuade me of the advantages of marriage. There is only one Clare, and you found her first. Since I refuse to settle for anything less in a woman, I am condemned to spend the rest of my years a bachelor. Your children can call me Uncle Lucien and talk behind my back about my eccentricity."

Nicholas, intuitive as a cat, must have heard the bleakness under the surface levity, for he gave Lucien a sharp glance. "Apropos of nothing," he said slowly, "Clare said that the reason the Fallen Angels became so close is that none of us had a real family, so we had to invent one."

It was truth so unexpected and accurate that it momentarily silenced Lucien. At length he said, " 'Apropos of nothing,' indeed. What is it like to live with a woman who sees too much?"

"Sometimes alarming." Nicholas grinned. "Mostly wonderful."

Lucien decided that it was time to change the subject before his envy became too visible. "Have you heard any interesting news from your Gypsy kinfolk?"

Nicholas's smile faded. "That's one reason I wanted to talk to you. A distant cousin with whom I traveled on the Continent recently sent a message to Aberdare. He says that there are persistent rumors that Napoleon intends to make a triumphant return from exile."

Nicholas had spent several years wandering through Europe with his Gypsy relatives. The Rom went everywhere and heard everything, and the information he had sent back to London had been invaluable. Hoping that this time his friend might be wrong, Lucien said, "One would expect such rumors about the Corsican. He's a living legend."

"True, but this goes beyond what might be expected," Nicholas replied. "My cousin said that agents of the emperor have been moving secretly through France, testing the temper of the people, and have concluded that the majority would support the emperor again. He has also heard whispers that there are powerful men among the Allies-British, Prussian, and Austrian-who would help because they want Napoleon to return. Apparently they found war to be a profitable business."