As Rafe took his own seat, he observed, "You're looking particularly well."

"Marriage is a wonderful thing." Nicholas grinned mischievously. "You should take a wife yourself."

His voice dulcet, Rafe said, "An excellent idea. Whose wife would you suggest?"

After the other men laughed, Rafe continued. "I trust that my godson is also prospering."

It was an effective diversion. Nicholas's face immediately acquired the doting expression of a proud new father, and a description of young Kenrick's amazing progress followed.

The men in the study were three-quarters of a group that had been nicknamed the Fallen Angels in younger, wilder days. Friends since Eton, they retained the ease of brothers even when years passed between meetings. The absent member was Lord Michael Kenyon, who was Nicholas's neighbor in Wales. After the infant's achievements had been duly admired, Rafe said, "Did Michael come with you so that we could have a Fallen Angels reunion?"

"He isn't quite ready to travel, though he's convalescing with amazing speed. Soon he'll be as good as new, barring a few more scars." Nicholas chuckled. "Clare insisted on nursing him herself. Talk about an irresistible force and an immovable object! I think that my stubborn little wife is the only person on earth who could have kept Michael in bed long enough to heal properly. Now that he's better, I thought that Clare needed a holiday, so I brought her to town."

"Trust Michael to return to the army as soon as Napoleon broke out of Elba," Lucien said acerbically. "Since the French didn't manage to kill him in Spain, he had to give them another chance at Waterloo."

"Michael never could resist a good fight, and Wellington needed every experienced officer he could get," Rafe said. "But I hope that this time the war is over for good. Even Michael's luck might run out eventually."

The words reminded Lucien of the purpose of the meeting. "Now that you're both here, I'll get down to business. I asked Nicholas to join us because during his travels on the Continent, he occasionally worked with the woman I mentioned earlier."

The other two men exchanged glances. Rafe said, "I've always suspected that you might have been helping Lucien during your rambles through Europe, Nicholas."

"Gypsies can go anywhere, and I often did. Obviously you were pressed into service as well." Nicholas gave Lucien an amused glance. "You certainly play your cards close to your chest, not even letting Rafe or me know about each other. I'm surprised that you're talking to both of us now. Have we suddenly become more trustworthy?"

Even though he knew he was being baited, Lucien bristled. "In my business, it's merely good policy not to tell anyone more than they need to know. I'm bending that particular rule tonight because you might now something that could help Rafe."

"I gather that the lady in question is one of your agents," Rafe said. "What kind of trouble is she causing?"

Lucien hesitated, considering the best place to start. "I assume that you've been following the peace conference in Paris."

"Yes, though not closely. Weren't most of the issues settled at the Congress in Vienna?"

"Yes and no. A year ago the Allies were willing to blame the wars on Napoleon's ambition, so the Vienna settlement was fairly moderate." Lucien pulled the cigar from his mouth and eyed its glowing tip with disfavor. "Everything would have been fine if Napoleon had stayed in exile, but his return to France and the battle at Waterloo put the cat among the diplomatic pigeons. Because a large part of the French population supported the emperor, most of the Allies are now out for blood. France will be treated far more harshly than she was before Napoleon's Hundred Days."

"That's common knowledge." Rafe flicked the ash from his cigar. "Where do I come in?"

"There's a tremendous undercover struggle for influence in these months until the new treaties are settled," Lucien said. "It wouldn't take much to upset the negotiations, perhaps to the point of war. Information is critical. Unfortunately, my agent, Maggie, whose work has been invaluable, wants to retire and leave Paris as soon as possible, before the conference is finished."

"Offer her more money."

"We have. She's not interested. I hope that you can persuade her to change her mind and stay at least until the conference is over."

"Ah, we're back to kissing," Rafe said with an amused gleam in his eyes. "I gather that you want me to sacrifice my honor on the altar of British interests."

Lucien said dryly, "I'm sure that you have other means of persuasion. You are a duke, after all-she may be flattered that we're sending you to France to talk to her. Or perhaps you can appeal to her patriotism."

Rafe's brow furrowed. "While I'm flattered at your opinion of my charm, wouldn't it be simpler to have one of your diplomatic people who is already in Paris deal with the woman?"

"Unfortunately, there is reason to believe that a member of the delegation is… unreliable. Secret information has been getting out of the British embassy, and it has caused problems." Lucien scowled. "Maybe I'm seeing shadows where none exist and there is no traitor, merely carelessness. But this business is too vital to risk working through unsafe channels."

"I'm getting the sense that you're worried about something more than the normal diplomatic wrangling," Rafe said.

"Am I that obvious?" Lucien said wryly. "You're quite right-I've been getting disturbing reports that suggest a plot to disrupt the peace negotiations, possibly end them altogether."

Rafe rolled his cigar between his thumb and forefinger as he tried to think of a single deed so disruptive that the Allies would be thrown into chaos. "Is it an assassination plot? All the Allied sovereigns except the British Prince Regent are in Paris, along with Europe's leading diplomats. Killing any of them could be disastrous."

Lucien exhaled a smoke ring that formed an improbable halo above his blond head. "Exactly. I hope to God that I'm wrong, but my sixth sense says that serious trouble is brewing."

"Who is the assassin, and who is the target?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't need to be talking to you tow," Lucien said gloomily. "I've only heard hints, gleaned from half a dozen sources. There are too many hostile factions, and too many possible targets. That's why information is so critical."

Nicholas said, "I heard that there was an assassination attempt on Wellington in Paris last winter. Could he be the target this time?"

"That's one of my worst fears," Lucien said. "After his victory at Waterloo, he is the most honored man in Europe. If he were to be assassinated, God only knows what would happen."

Somberly Rafe considered his friend's words. "Which is why you want me to convince your lady spy to keep sending you information until the plot is uncovered, or the conference ends."

"Precisely."

"Tell me about her. Is she French?"

Lucien made a face. "The plot thickens. I met Maggie through someone else and I know almost nothing about her background, but I've always thought she was British. Certainly she speaks and looks like an Englishwoman. I never probed further, because what mattered was that she hated Napoleon and looked on her work as a personal crusade. Her information was always good, and she never gave me a reason to distrust her."

Hearing the unspoken reservation, Rafe said, "But something has happened that makes you question her reliability."

"I still have trouble believing that Maggie would betray us, but I don't know if I can trust my own judgment. She can convince a man of anything, which is one reason she is so effective." Lucien frowned. "The situation is too grave to take anything for granted, including her loyalty. Now that Napoleon is on his way to St. Helena, she may be feathering her nest by selling British secrets to the other Allies. Perhaps she's in a hurry to leave Paris because she's earned a fortune through double- or triple-dealing and wants to escape before she is caught."

"Is there any evidence that she's disloyal?"

"As I said, I always assumed Maggie was an Englishwoman." Lucien glanced at Nicholas. "You knew Maggie as Maria Bergen. Recently you wrote me a letter, and rather than mention her by name, you discreetly referred to her as 'the Austrian woman you had worked with in Paris.'"

Nicholas straightened in his chair, expression startled. "You mean that Maria is actually English? I find that hard to believe. Not only was her German flawless, but her gestures, her mannerisms, were Austrian."

"It gets worse," Lucien said with reluctant amusement. "I became curious, and made inquiries of other men who had known her at earlier stages of her career. The French royalist knows that she is French, the Prussian says that she is a Berliner, and the Italian is willing to swear on his sainted mother's grave that she is from Florence."

Rafe couldn't help laughing. "So you are no longer sure where the lady's loyalties lie, if indeed she can be called a lady."

"She's a lady, no doubt about that," Lucien snapped. "But whose lady is she?"

Rafe was surprised by the vehement reaction, for Lucien was not sentimental where his work was concerned. Mildly Rafe said, "What should I do if I find that she has been betraying the British-assassinate her?"

Lucien gave Rafe a hard glance, not sure if the remark had been a jest. "As I said earlier, it's not a killing matter. If she's untrustworthy, simply inform foreign Minister Castlereagh so that he won't rely on what she says. He may want to use her to feed false information to her other masters."