"An interesting precaution," Sebastian said softly. "Bow Street might have overlooked the items found at the scenes of the crimes, or failed to properly identify them. I assume you were also the one re­sponsible for leaving the message in my carriage the night of Ox-enham's death?"

"Of course." Curling frowned. "I wanted you to be the first on the scene so that you could find the evidence against your cousin. I needed young Fleetwood rather badly, you know."

"Because you knew you could not murder your three partners and assume complete control of the company without drawing attention to yourself as a suspect," Sebastian said. "One death, perhaps even two, might have been accepted as accidents. But three deaths would have been hard to explain, especially when you so clearly profited from them. You needed to be able to produce someone else who had a motive to kill those three men."

"Your cousin was perfect," Curling said. "He had a motive which only I knew about but which he would be unable to deny in a court of law. I had planned to reveal everything about Lillian's death, you see. After all, I had nothing to hide. The stupid wench jumped out of a window while I and my friends were having a bit of sport with her."

"You would have testified that my cousin, who was in love with her, discovered the facts surrounding her death years later, blamed The Princes of Virtue, and set out for revenge," Sebastian said.

"Precisely." Curling shrugged. "It would have appeared that I was fated to be his last victim, but fortunately he was caught in time."

"And just to make certain he would look guilty, you provided evi­dence at the scenes of the murders that incriminated him," Prudence concluded, scorn dripping from her words. "Lord Curling, you were very stupid, indeed. You actually thought you could use Angelstone to help you carry out your scheme?"

"It seemed a reasonable assumption."

"Hah." Prudence gave a disdainful sniff. "You know nothing about my husband."

Curling's jaw tightened. "From what I was told and from the gossip that has always followed him, I assumed Angelstcne would be only too happy to use the evidence against his cousin."

Prudence's eyebrows came together in a fierce line above her spec­tacles. "You were much mistaken in my husband's character, weren't you?"

Sebastian saw Curling's arm tighten a little around Prudence's throat. "Uh, Prue—"

"Angelstone knew his duty to his family and he did it," Prudence continued, undaunted.

"Silence," Curling ordered. "You are beginning to annoy me, Lady Angelstone." He used his grip on her throat to give her a warning squeeze.

Sebastian winced.

"You were wrong about Angelstone," Prudence squeaked. "Every­one was wrong about Angelstone."

Sebastian started to worry that Curling would lose his temper and casually choke Prudence to death. "That's enough, Prue."

She blinked at him. Something she saw in his face made her fall silent.

Sebastian arched a brow. "I have been curious about one thing, Curling. How did you come to find out that my cousin cared for Lil­lian?"

"I have known from the beginning." Curling chuckled. "Lillian's uncle told me that the Fleetwood boy fancied himself in love with the girl. But the old man was pragmatic. He knew damn well the Fleet-woods would never allow the precious heir to marry a tavern wench, so he sold her to me instead."

"What did you do after the girl died?" Sebastian asked.

Curling shrugged. "I told her uncle that she had drowned and compensated him for his loss, of course. I gave him enough money to ensure that he would keep any questions he might have had to him­self."

Sebastian folded his arms and leaned against the iron bedpost. "You won't be able to get rid of the three of us tonight without raising a few questions."

"On the contrary," Curling said softly. "This will all work out very nicely, I think. I shall tell everyone that during the course of a small weekend house party here you discovered your new bride in the arms of your best friend."

"How dare you," Prudence gasped, outraged. "I would never be­tray Angelstone."

"I believe I understand, Curling," Sebastian said coolly.

"It's simple enough." Curling looked amused. "You will use a pis­tol on both your wife and your best friend. When I arrive, pistol in hand, to see what is happening, you come at me. I am forced to shoot you dead in order to save my own life. A suitable ending for the Fallen Angel."

"It will never work," Garrick said quickly.

"It will work." Curling leveled the pistol at Sebastian. "Now, then, I am afraid you must be the first to die, Angelstone, because you are the most dangerous. Sutton will go next."

Sebastian readied himself. He would have to launch himself straight at Curling and hope that the first shot went slightly wide. If his luck held, the bullet would not bring him down immediately. All he needed to do, Sebastian thought, was stay on his feet long enough to reach Curling.

"Bastard," Prudence yelped. She clutched the remains of her shat­tered eyeglass. "Don't you dare shoot Sebastian."

Curling smiled. "You might be interested to know that I shall delay your passing until dawn, Lady Angelstone. You see, I have been very curious to know just what sort of female could keep the Fallen Angel amused in bed. Tonight I shall find out."

Sebastian saw Prudence raise her hand upward toward the arm that Curling had wrapped around her throat. He realized what she intended to do.

Prudence raked Curling's arm with the jagged bits of glass that had once been her fashionable eyeglass.

Curling yelled. He instinctively released his grip on Prudence and grabbed at his arm. Blood spurted between his fingers. ‘You little bitch."

Prudence darted out of reach.

Curling swung back to confront Sebastian, but it was too late.

Sebastian was already moving.

Curling tried to bring the pistol back in line, but there was no chance. Sebastian lashed out with his foot and knocked the weapon from Curling's hand.

He went in quickly. He smashed his fist into Curling's jaw. The blow sent Curling staggering back toward the tower windows. They must have been unlatched, because they banged open under the im­pact.

Wind howled into the chamber. The candle flared and went out, plunging the room into almost total darkness. The windows shuddered heavily on their hinges.

Sebastian started forward. There was just enough light to discern the outline of Curling's figure as he crouched in front of the window. The wind screamed into the room.

"No," Prudence shouted above the roar of the wind. "Sebastian, wait. Stay away from him."

It was the shattering sense of urgency in her voice that stopped Sebastian. He glanced back over his shoulder. He could just barely see the pale shape of her face. He realized she was staring past him.

Curling screamed. It was a keening, mind-numbing sound of fear.

"My God," Garrick whispered.

Sebastian whirled around. Curling was still screaming.

"Stay away from me," Curling yelled. But he was not talking to Sebastian. He was looking toward the bed, his hands held out in front of him as if he would ward off whatever he saw there. "No, stay away from me. Stay away from me."

Fascinated dread gripped Sebastian. He watched the dark shape that was Curling edge backward in a crablike fashion until he was pressed against the window ledge.

"It's you," Curling gasped. He climbed up onto the windowsill and stood in the opening. "It's you, isn't it? No, don't touch me. I never intended for you to die. Don't you see? You were the one who chose to jump. You didn't have to do it. I only wanted to have some sport. You were just a tavern wench… Don't touch me."

Curling shrieked and recoiled from something only he could see. He toppled backward through the window and fell into the blackness that was waiting for him.

His scream pierced the night for what seemed an endless time.

Then there was silence. Absolute silence. Even the strange wind that had sprung up out of nowhere suddenly ceased. Outside the win­dow the fog resettled itself like a shroud around Curling Castle.

Sebastian realized that no one, including himself, was moving. He took a deep breath and shook off the paralysis that had held him in thrall. He turned and went swiftly across the chamber. He groped for the candle. It took him two tries before he managed to light it.

When the flame finally flickered into life it was strong and steady. Sebastian turned toward Prudence, expecting to see stunned shock in her eyes.

She was standing in the middle of the room, her brows drawn together in a thoughtful expression. She did not look like a woman who had just seen a ghost.

"Does it strike you, Sebastian, that it is not nearly as cold in here now as it was earlier?" she asked.

He stared at her. "Yes," he heard himself say very softly. "It is much warmer in here now."

Garrick struggled to a sitting position and grimaced with pain. He glanced at the man lying on the floor. "There were three of these villains. All hired from the stews for the night. This one sent the other two back to London after they were paid."

Sebastian hefted the pistol. "Then they will not be a problem for us tonight." He went to the window and looked down. The fog swirled, providing a brief glimpse of Curling's boots on the stones below the tower.

"We'll have to rouse the magistrate," Garrick said.

"Who's going to tell him about Lillian's ghost?" Prudence asked.