"I rushed off," Gabriel said evenly, "to rescue your sister from being kidnapped by Kilbourne."

Anthony stared at him. Clarington slammed his copy of The Times down on a nearby table. "What the devil are you talking about, sir? Explain yourself."

"The message I received earlier informed me that Phoebe was on her way to examine a manuscript that had been offered for sale by a certain A. Rilkins. When I arrived at Mr. Rilkins's establishment, I discovered Phoebe in the process of being carted out of an alley by two members of the criminal class."

Anthony looked stunned. "Now, see here. You cannot expect us to believe such a tale."

Clarington's mouth dropped open. "Good God. Is this some sort of joke, Wylde?"

"I assure you, it is no joke." Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Kilbourne is apparently penniless. The word will soon be all over Town. He obviously realized his secret was out and he had no time left to court Phoebe, so he attempted to kidnap her."

"Good God," Clarington said again. He looked dazed. "She would have been ruined if he had succeeded in carrying her off. I would have been forced to agree to the marriage."

The three men stared at each other.

"Phoebe is safe?" Anthony's eyes were sharp with concern.

"She's on her way home, quite unharmed and with her reputation still intact." Gabriel reached for the claret bottle that stood on the table beside his chair. "Although one wonders for how long. At the rate she is going, disaster is inevitable."

"Damme," Clarington muttered, "I'll not allow you to talk like that about my daughter."

"Given that I have just saved her pretty neck, I shall talk about her in any way I like." Gabriel took a swallow of the claret. "Allow me to tell you, my lords, that I consider this entire debacle to be all your fault."

"Our fault?" Clarington bridled furiously.

"Yours in particular," Gabriel said. "As her father, you have allowed her to run wild. The woman is a menace to herself. She corresponds with strange men and arranges to meet them at midnight in remote country lanes. She goes haring off to the worst parts of London whenever she takes a fancy—"

"I say," Clarington interrupted.

Gabriel ignored him. "She is far too independent in her notions and she routinely courts disaster. One of these days she will almost certainly find it."

"Now, see here," Clarington growled. "This is my daughter we arc discussing. What is this about corresponding with strange men and meeting them at midnight?"

"How the hell do you think I met her?" Gabriel asked.

Anthony stared at him, astounded. "Are you saying she struck up a correspondence with you? Arranged to meet with you?"

"Damn right," Gabriel said. "And it was pure luck that it was me she arranged to meet in Sussex. What if it had been some other man?"

Clarington stiffened. "What are you suggesting, sir?"

"I am suggesting that neither of you is capable of controlling Phoebe, much less protecting her from her own impulsiveness." Gabriel took another swallow of the claret. "Therefore I shall have to take on the task. There is obviously no other option."

"You." Clarington glowered down the length of his beaked nose.

"Me." Gabriel put the empty glass on the table. "I shall call on you tomorrow afternoon at three to discuss the matter. I want this settled at once."

"A moment, if you please." Anthony held up a hand. "Are you saying you intend to offer for Phoebe?"

Gabriel looked at him. "Would you prefer to wait until Kilbourne or some other fortune hunter makes another attempt to carry her off?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course we don't want her carried off." Clarington sighed heavily. "But it's damn difficult to protect Phoebe. More spirit than sense. Won't listen to sound advice. Thinks she can deal with the world on her own. Always been like that, ever since she was a little girl."

"It's true," Anthony said glumly. "She was forever exploring and getting into mischief. The more we tried to restrain her, the more adventurous she got." He looked at Clarington. "Remember how it was the day of the accident?"

"I shall never forget it as long as I live," Clarington declared. "Thought we'd lost her. Dashed out into the lane to save a damn hound that had darted in front of a phaeton. The hound made it safely across the road. Phoebe did not."

Anthony shook his head. "It was typical of Phoebe. She's been reckless all of her life. But that time the results were nearly tragic. The doctors told us she would never walk again."

"Did they tell Phoebe?" Gabriel asked dryly.

Clarington nodded. "Certainly they told Phoebe. Told her she would have to take care not to exert herself. Told her she would spend the rest of her life as an invalid. Told her she must live a quiet life."

Gabriel smiled fleetingly. "But Phoebe, being Phoebe, refused to listen, I suppose."

Anthony looked at him. "1 walked into her bedchamber one day three months after the accident and found her on her feet, clutching the bedpost. After that, there was no stopping her."

"Nevertheless," Gabriel said grimly, "you should have done a better job of protecting her. Devil take it, Oaksley. Do you realise she almost got kidnapped by a man who intended to force her into marriage in order to acquire her fortune? Her life would have been ruined if the ruse had worked."

Anthony raised his brows. "Now you know how it feels."

Gabriel stared at him.

"It's enough to make a man want to commit murder." Clarington was clearly still shaken by the news of the near-disaster. "God knows it's a terrible feeling to discover one has failed to protect one's own daughter."

Gabriel could think of nothing to say. It struck him quite forcibly that the anger and fear he was experiencing at that moment were undoubtedly the very same emotions Clarington and his son had felt eight years ago on the night he had attempted to run off with Meredith.

For the first time he looked at the situation from their point of view. He acknowledged with grim honesty that he would probably have reacted in the same fashion as they had if he had been in their place. Clarington and his family had had no way of knowing that Gabriel had not been after Meredith's inheritance. To them he had looked as evil as Kilbournc now appeared.

"I take your meaning, Clarington," Gabriel finally said.

Clarington's eyes met Gabriel's. Understanding and a curious expression that might have been approval gleamed for a moment in the earl's piercing gaze.

"I believe you finally do comprehend my feelings at the time, sir." Clarington nodded, as if satisfied. "I also begin to believe you have some genuine affection for my daughter."

"I must confess my affection for her is somewhat tempered by the overriding fear that she will one day drive me mad," Gabriel said.

"A fate I have barely escaped myself." Clarington smiled slowly. "I gladly turn the responsibility of looking after her over to you, sir. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you." Gabriel looked at Anthony. "I shall need seconds."

Anthony studied him for a moment in silence. "You've challenged Kilbourne?"

"Yes."

"I'm Phoebe's brother. It is my place to handle this."

Gabriel smiled wryly. "You have already done your duty by one sister. I'll deal with this."

Anthony hesitated. "I'm not certain I should allow you to do so."

"As her future husband, it is most definitely my right," Gabriel said.

"Very well, I'll be one of your seconds," Anthony said. "I can arrange to find another. But you must be careful. If Kilbourne dies, you will be obliged to leave England and, knowing Phoebe, she would probably insist on going with you."

"I have no wish to leave England again," Gabriel said. "Kilbourne will live. Barely."

Anthony eyed him closely. Then his mouth curved ruefully. "Just as I did?"

"No," Gabriel said. "Not quite. I fully intend to put a bullet into the man. He will remember in future not to kidnap young ladies."

Three hours later, Anthony returned to the club to report back to Gabriel on the arrangements for the duel.

"You're out of luck," Anthony said. "Kilbourne has left London."

"Damn." Gabriel slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair in sheer frustration. "Are you certain?"

"His butler says he has gone north and no one knows when he will return. It certainly won't be anytime soon. The servants have instructions to close Kilbourne's town house. The word is all over Town that he is virtually penniless. Lost everything in a series of bad investments."

"Hell and damnation."

"Perhaps it's for the best." Anthony sprawled in a nearby chair. "It's over. There will be no duel and Kilbourne is out of the way. I, for one, am grateful."

"I am not."

"Trust me, you're luckier than you know." Anthony grinned. "If Phoebe had ever discovered that you intended to fight a duel in her honor, she would have been furious. I don't believe you have ever dealt with Phoebe when she is very angry. It's not pleasant."

Gabriel looked at him, aware that he and Anthony were forming a bond based on their mutual concern for Phoebe. "Thank you for agreeing to act as my second. I only regret you will not have the opportunity to perform your duties."

Anthony inclined his head. "As I said, it's over. Kilbourne has been well and truly humiliated. Let it go at that."

"I suppose I shall be obliged to do so." Gabriel was silent for a moment. "I know now how you felt eight years ago, Oaksley."