Not bothering to offer refreshments, von Fehrenbach seated himself some distance away and said forbiddingly, "Yes, madame?"

Before answering, Helene spent a moment studying his face, feeling the tension that lay beneath his impassive expression. In a stab of self-doubt, she wondered if she might be wrong about the nature of that tension. Perhaps he really did make dark and dangerous plans to injure others. She was suddenly glad of the whistle in her reticule.

Not bothering with social niceties, she said bluntly, "There is a conspiracy to disrupt the peace conference by assassination. The accident that sent Castlereagh to his bed was in fact an attempt on his life, and Wellington may be die next target."

Von Fehrenbach's pale brows rose marginally. "Paris is rife with plots. What has that to do with me?"

Her hands locked in her lap, for what she was about to do was outrageous. "There is some reason to believe that you might be behind the conspiracy."

"What?" His calm shattered, the colonel bounded furiously to his feet. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! What perversion of logic could lead anyone to suspect me?" With a flash of blue fire in his eyes, he added in a low, menacing whisper, "And why do I hear it from you, of all people?"

Helene remained still. "That is three questions, none of them simple to answer. If you will sit and listen for a few minutes, I will explain." As he hesitated, she added, "It is in your best interest to hear."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me, madame?"

"Not at all, Colonel. What threat could I possibly pose to you? You are one of the victors, a man of wealth and position, while I am only a widow from a defeated nation. If you are threatened, it is not by me." As he stood uncertainly, she added impatiently, "Come, surely you do not fear me. It will cost you nothing to listen."

He took a chair closer to Helene, saying so softly that she might have imagined the words, "In that you are wrong, Madame Sorel. I do fear you."

With dizzying relief she knew that she was right- that every exchange between them took place on more than one level. But before pursuing her own ends, she must attend to the business that had brought her here. "Considerable effort has gone into investigating this plot, and it was determined that you were one of a handful of possibilities who had the intelligence, skill, and motive to organize it."

"I am flattered by your assessment of my ability," he said dryly. "Now explain to me why I would do such a thing."

"You are known to hate France and everything French. Twice you have killed French officers in duels. You have also said repeatedly that the proposed settlement is too moderate. If Wellington or Castlereagh is killed, what will happen to the treaty that is so close to acceptance?"

The colonel's brows arched with surprise. "I begin to understand. If either of them is assassinated, the voices of moderation would be stilled and all Europe would demand reprisals. France would be dismembered and impoverished."

"Does that thought please you, Colonel von Fehrenbach?"

"It might please me, but I am a soldier, not an assassin," he said curtly. "I killed two predatory French officers who preyed on junior Allied officers. That is a long way from plotting against your country. My duty is to follow my sovereign's orders, not to make policy."

"I believe you, and that is one of the reasons I am here." She sat without flinching as he examined her with new thoroughness. He was beginning to really hear what she was saying, and that was what she had hoped for.

"Are there other reasons I am under suspicion?" he asked. "I am hardly the only Allied officer who hates France."

"There is another reason, circumstantial but strong. We have learned that the man behind the plot is called Le Serpent."

"Again, what has that to do with me?"

"The cunning of a serpent, the courage of a lion,"' she quoted, watching his reaction closely.

He sucked in his breath. "Of course, my family motto. Interesting, but as you said, entirely circumstantial. Many family arms carry serpents. In fact," he added after a moment's thought, "it needn't refer to family arms. There is a French general who was nicknamed Le Serpent, and for all I know the Parisian king of thieves is called that as well."

Ignoring his later words, Helene asked with sudden excitement, "What general is that?"

The colonel gave her a hard look. "Michel Roussaye. A friend of mine tried to capture him and a small force of French soldiers after the Battle of Leipzig. Roussaye slithered away time and again, very much like a serpent. He's a fine soldier."

"General Roussaye is another leading suspect"

"How would he benefit if France is crippled by the peace settlement?" von Fehrenbach said with exasperation. "You are guilty of massive illogic."

"A revolutionary might welcome a settlement that would anger France to the point where she would once more take arms."

The effect of Helene's words on the colonel was immediate. His face closed and he seemed to forget that she was there. Eventually he returned his gaze to her. "Why have you come here to tell me this? If I am truly under suspicion, why didn't Wellington simply have me arrested?"

"There are political realities," she replied. "Marshal Blucher would be furious if a valued aide was arrested on such flimsy evidence. Indeed, there is no evidence to speak of, merely probabilities. That is one reason why this business is being handled with as much discretion as possible. If the story of the plot became well known, the effect would be almost as disruptive as an actual assassination."

"Perhaps," the colonel agreed. "But as you say, there is no real evidence-which is not surprising since I have done nothing. What makes you think that there is a plot at all?"

Helene shrugged. "Rumors and small inconsistencies that would never stand up in a court of law. The only truly solid evidence is the attack on Lord Castlereagh, which was designed to look like an accident. Also, a British agent may have been murdered because he was getting too close to Le Serpent."

"Or else because he got into a fight over a woman- I've never heard that spies were a very honorable lot." Von Fehrenbach's gaze bored into her. "Which brings us to you, Madame Sorel. You have answered my other questions, but not why you, of all the men and women in France, have come to accuse me."

Now the conversation was going to become really difficult. Palms damp, Helene said, "I have an unofficial connection with British intelligence, and have been involved in the investigation."

"So the lady is a spy," he said with disgust. "Or is that a contradiction in terms? Spying is just another form of whoring, and I understand that female spies sell themselves in many ways."

She had known that something like this would be said, but it still stung. "I have never sold myself in any way, Colonel, and I accept no money for what I do," she said sharply. "Someone else could have come to question you, but I wanted to."

"Why?" He leaned forward in his chair, his face hostile. "Once again, why you?"

"You know why, Colonel." She gazed at him with all the warmth and honesty she possessed.

Though his eyes might be the cold blue of northern ice, in their depths she saw raw, blazing pain. Muttering a German curse, he wrenched his gaze away from her and stood, turning toward his bookcase. She could see some of the titles from where she sat. Philosophy and history, mostly, with a number of Latin and Greek texts. The colonel was a man of broad interests.

Not looking at her, he said, "You speak in riddles, Madame Sorel."

"I am speaking very clearly, though it might not be a language you wish to acknowledge." She rose and crossed the room, stopping several feet away from him. "Even if you will not admit it, there has been something between us since the first time we met."

He spun around and faced her, anger melting his calm. "Very well, I admit it. You arouse me, like a mare in heat inflames a stallion. You feel it, too, or you would not be flaunting yourself here. Have so many Frenchmen died that you must seek farther afield for a stud? Shall I take you here on the carpet, do to you what I want the Allies to do to France?"

Helene's face whitened. She had expected him to fight her, and recognized that his cruelty was a measure of how much she affected him. Even so, his words cut too close to the bone to ignore. "If casual fornication was all I wanted, I could find it easily enough without coming to a man who insults me."

"Then why are you here, madame?" His words were bleak, yet not so bleak as his haunted eyes.

Steel in her soft voice, Helene said, "I want you to look at me, just once, without remembering that I am French and you are Prussian."

The colonel looked down at her for a long moment, a blood vessel throbbing visibly under his fair Nordic skin. Then he spun away from her. "That, madame, is quite impossible."

When there was a safe distance between them, he turned to hurl bitter words at her. "I look at you and see my burned home, my murdered wife and son and sister. Murdered by the French, madame, by your people, perhaps by your brother or husband. I can never forget that we are enemies."

"I am not your enemy," she said softly.

He stared at her, his face working. "Yes, you are. The only worse enemy I have is myself, for being attracted to a woman of a race I hate and despise. You have given me many sleepless nights, madame. Does it please you to know how much you have made me despise myself?"