She fumbled briefly, then her fingers closed tightly around him. Sebastian sucked in his breath. She began to guide him into her, grow­ing 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 pas­sage. She closed around him. Sebastian 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 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 curi­osity.

"His lordship never throws nothin‘ away," the slatternly house­keeper 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 house­keeper 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 confes­sion 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 went through her at the 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 Bloom­field?" Prudence picked her way around a pile of aging copies of the Morning Post and the Gazette. 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 atten­tion 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 phenomena, Lady Angelstone."

"I have studied the subject at some length," she allowed modestly.

Bloomfield's expression turned crafty. "Have you ever actually en­countered a ghost?"

For some reason the memory of the presence she thought she had detected in the black chamber at Curling Castle flashed into Pru­dence'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 conclu­sion."

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 casu­ally to see what had caused it, he jerked wildly around in his chair.