"What happened?" Prudence asked, deeply curious in spite of her­self.

"The on dit is that Lady Charlesworthy made the mistake of trying to incite the Fallen Angel's jealousy," Hester said. "She gave her fa­vors to another. There are rumors that a duel was fought."

Trevor frowned. "A duel?"

Hester nodded. "Apparently Angelstone wounded his opponent, but did not kill him. They say the Fallen Angel left the dueling field and went straight to the lady's house. The story has it he went upstairs to her bedchamber and awakened her personally just to tell her that their affair was over."

Prudence shivered. She could well imagine that Angelstone would have been made coldly furious by Lady Charlesworthy's tactics. "You're quite right, Hester. Lady Charlesworthy does not count as an innocent victim. It was very unkind of her to try to make Angelstone jealous."

"Unkind?" Hester gave Prudence an amused glance. "I expect the poor lady was desperate for some indications of warmth from Angel­stone. They say he is made of ice."

"Nonsense. Back to the matter of a name. We're looking for genu­ine, innocent victims here," Prudence said. "Can you think of even one young woman who was ruined by Angelstone?"

Hester raised a brow. "Actually, no. I can't. Now that I think of it, from what I hear, Angelstone tends to pass over the fledglings in favor of the more worldly sort of female."

Trevor was irate. "The man's got a reputation, I tell you. Everyone knows it."

"Not for ruining innocent young women, apparently," Prudence said. "So you will in future kindly refrain from interfering in my social affairs, do you comprehend me, Trevor?"

"Now, see here," Trevor shot back, "I'm your brother. Got a re­sponsibility toward you."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Don't be so certain of that. Truth is, you don't know that much about men, Prue. You ain't a good judge of ‘em. Keep in mind what happened three years ago."

Hester clapped loudly for attention. "Enough, my dears. If you wish to wrangle, you may do so someplace other than my drawing room. We have other business to attend to."

"What other business?" Prudence asked, more than willing to change the topic.

Hester chuckled. "Why, the little matter of deciding which invita­tions we shall be accepting this week. Prudence, my dear, you are very much in demand. We shall have a busy time of it, I fear." Hester reached for a silver tray littered with cards. "Now, then, let's go through this little lot. Can you believe that all of these arrived just today? I don't think we can possibly manage to squeeze in every­thing."

"You make the selections," Prudence said. "I don't really care which parties we attend. They all seem the same, somehow. The rooms are too crowded and too hot and there is so much noise it is difficult to converse."

"One must make sacrifices when one is moving in Society." Hester picked up a card. "Ah, yes, we shall most definitely put in an appear­ance at the Thornbridges' ball. The new Lady Thornbridge is causing talk."

Trevor swallowed his cake, looking interested. "How's that?"

Hester gave him a knowing smile. "She's quite a bit younger than her lord. And very beautiful. Word has it Thornbridge is mad with jealousy these days. Should be interesting to see if there will be a scene or two at their ball."

"It sounds rather unpleasant to me," Prudence observed. "Who wants to see a jealous husband make a fool of himself over a young wife?"

"Most of the ton, my dear," Prudence assured her cheerfully.

The door of the drawing room opened again at that juncture. Hes­ter's butler, chosen for his imposing air, appeared in the opening.

"A Mrs. Leacock to see you, madam."

"How lovely," Hester said. "Show her in, Crandall."

A birdlike woman with silvery white hair, dressed in an expensive mourning gown of black crepe, was ushered into the drawing room.

"How kind of you to call, Lydia," Hester said. "Do sit down. You know my dear friends Trevor and Prudence Merryweather?"

"Yes, of course." Mrs. Leacock's bright little eyes darted nervously from Hester to Prudence. "Actually, this is not precisely a social call, Hester. I have come to consult with Miss Merryweather."

"Have you, indeed?" Hester picked up the teapot. "Don't tell us you have a ghost you want investigated?"

Mrs. Leacock alighted on a silk-cushioned chair. "I am not certain. But something rather odd has been happening of late in the west wing of my house. The incidents have begun to affect my nerves and I fear for the consequences. My doctor has warned me that I have a weak heart."

Prudence was immediately intrigued. "This sounds far more inter­esting than choosing which parties we shall attend. Do tell me every­thing about these incidents, Mrs. Leacock. I would be happy to inves­tigate."

"I should be forever grateful, Miss Merryweather." Mrs. Leacock's cup rattled in its saucer. "I fear I really am getting rather desperate. I have never before believed in ghosts, but lately I have begun to won­der."

"Let me get my notebook," Prudence said eagerly.

Mrs. Leacock left an hour later, looking vastly relieved at having engaged a professional investigator. Prudence was delighted with the prospect of a puzzle to solve.

"If you will excuse me, Hester, I am going straight upstairs to read a new book I purchased this morning. It is all about the usefulness of electricity machines in detecting vaporous substances in the atmo­sphere. Perhaps I shall learn a technique I can apply to my new case."

Trevor looked briefly interested. "My friend Matthew Hornsby has an electricity machine. Made it himself."

"Does he?" Prudence asked with great interest.

"Yes, but I doubt that you'll need it." Trevor made a face. "Your new case is composed of nothing more than the imaginings of a ner­vous old woman."

"I'm not at all certain of that." Prudence went to the door. "It sounds to me as though there have indeed been some disturbances that require an explanation."

Hester looked up. "Are you saying you believe Lydia might actu­ally have a ghost in her house?"

"I shall let you know my thoughts on the matter after I have had an opportunity to study my notes. In the meantime I want both of you to give me your word that you will say nothing of this to anyone."

"I shall not say a thing, my dear," Hester assured her.

Trevor grimaced as he got to his feet. "You needn't worry about me spreading the news of your case. Damned embarrassing having a sister who investigates spectral phenomena. Wish you'd give it up, Prue."

"I have no intention of giving up my hobby." Prudence went out into the hall.

"Prue, wait, I would like a word with you." Trevor hurried after her.

Prudence waited for him on the bottom step of the staircase. "Don't try to talk me out of this, Trevor. I am very bored with parties and soirees. If we are to stay in London until the end of the Season, as you wish to do, I must find something interesting to occupy my time."

"No, no, it's not about your silly investigation." Trevor glanced around to make certain none of the servants were within hearing dis­tance. Then he leaned forward.

"Since you somehow learned of the duel I had scheduled with Angelstone, I don't mind telling you a rather interesting fact I have learned about the infamous Fallen Angel."

"What's that?" Prudence asked warily.

"He may have a ferocious reputation, but the man's a bloody damn coward."

Prudence was shocked. "Trevor, how can you say that?"

"Perfectly true." Trevor nodded once in satisfaction. "Man's an out-and-out coward."

"That's not true."

"He's the one who called off the duel, you know. Apologized rather than meet me on the field of honor this morning."

Prudence was infuriated by Trevor's interpretation of events. "If you want my opinion, Angelstone showed the sort of mature, respon­sible behavior one would expect in a well-bred gentleman. If you truly believe he's a coward, then you are a fool, Trevor."

"Now, Prue, calm yourself. Truth is, the man's a coward and that's a fact. By this evening, the entire social world will know it."

"Rubbish. Utter rubbish." Prudence picked up her skirts and dashed up the carpeted stairs.

Angelstone had kept his word. He had spared Trevor's life. Pru­dence prayed that the Fallen Angel would not put too high a price on the damage she had apparently done to his formidable reputation.

Chapter Four

Four days later on the night of the Thornbridge ball,

Prudence decided she had had enough. She was thoroughly annoyed with Sebastian and she let him know it the moment he sought her out in the crowd.

"My lord, you are making a laughingstock out of my brother."

Sebastian, dark and predatory-looking in his black and white eve­ning clothes, managed to make every other man in the room look like a fop. He seemed unsurprised and unmoved by Prudence's accusation. His mouth curved in the familiar humorless smile.

"At least he is a live laughingstock rather than a dead one," he said. "Isn't that what you wanted, Miss Merryweather?"

She glowered at him through her spectacles. He was being deliber­ately difficult. "No, it is not what I wanted. Not precisely, that is."

Sebastian's brow rose inquiringly. "You would rather I had ac­cepted one or two of the numerous challenges I have received from him in the past few days?"

"Certainly not. You know perfectly well that the last thing I wanted was a duel between the two of you. That was the very thing that I wished to avoid."