"I believe I have some idea," Sebastian said, his tone curiously dry. "The ton 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 the ton‘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 press­ing matters concerning us, are there not?"

"Yes, of course. Your duel with my brother." Prudence pulled her­self 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 reputa­tion 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 coun­try 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."

"That sums up most of my relevant history."

"Not quite. When you returned to England two years ago, the ton 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, proba­bly 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 mar­ried, 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.

"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 exe­cuted, 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 to­ward 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 situa­tion."

"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," Pru­dence pointed out. "Surely that is a great benefit."

"As it happens, I am generally awake at dawn, anyway." Some­thing 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."

"I am desolate to know that I have not lived up to your expecta­tions. 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 gener­ous, 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 in­quiring 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 sugges­tion. "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 mock­ery. "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."

"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."