Until last night, she had been a virgin.

Several different emotions filtered through him at the thought, none of which he completely understood. His desire for her hadn't lessened as he had believed it would. Instead, every time he recalled her small body sweetly gloving his shaft, he got hard all over again. He wanted her even more than he had before, and thoughts of her upcoming birthday, knowing she planned to give herself to another man, sat like a crushing weight on his chest.

He wasn't sure what he meant to do, but letting another man touch her, make love to her as he had done was something he refused to let happen. He had to do something to change the tide of events about to be set in motion and Caleb believed he might have found a way.

Riding into the yard of the silversmith's whitewashed, thatched-roof house, he swung down from the bay. The place looked a little forlorn with its window boxes untended and weeds growing up between the bricks in the walkway leading to the entrance. He banged on the wooden door, considering his plan, praying his instincts were right about Lee Durant and knowing how much he had to lose if he were wrong.

Knowing how much England had to lose.

"Captain Tanner! Please, come in." Cyrus Swift was a slight man with fine bones and refined features. His hair was as silver as the craft he had perfected and his smile was genuine and always exceedingly warm. "Its good to see you. Could I offer you a glass of cider or perhaps some elderberry wine?"

Caleb shook his head. "No, thank you, sir. I can't stay long. I said I had an errand in the village but they'll expect my immediate return."

Swift nodded, though Caleb could see he would have liked the company. "Come then." Swift motioned him into the parlor, a room that had once been cozy and well-cared for, with bright floral slipcovers on the sofas and ruffled curtains at the windows. But Mrs. Swift had passed on last year and the signs of a bachelor household had begun to surface.

A stack of old newspapers sat in a haphazard pile on a piecrust table near the hearth. The curtains drooped and the rugs could have used a good beating. A Swift-made silver tea service sat on a tea cart near the door, but the pieces were tarnished.

"There's pen and ink on the desk. I believe you know the way."

"Yes, sir." Caleb had been to the house on several occasions to send or retrieve a message.

Following Cyrus farther into the parlor, he went over to the small oak writing desk along the wall, drew out a piece of foolscap, and plucked the quill pen out of its silver holder. He scratched out a note requesting a meeting with Colonel Cox as soon it could be arranged, then signed it, Respectfully, Captain Caleb Tanner.

"I shall see it delivered today," Swift promised.

"If it's at all possible, I'd like you to wait for a reply."

He nodded. "As you wish."

"Thank you, Mr. Swift. Your help in this has been invaluable."

"It is the very least I can do, Captain Tanner. I lost my eldest son, James—God rest his soul—ten years ago in the Netherlands Campaign. My youngest boy is a corporal in the 95th Infantry. I have no wish to lose him, as well."

"No, sir. With the help of people like you he'll have a far greater chance of staying safe."

Swift walked Caleb to the door. "I'll leave the reply in the usual spot in the barn, Captain."

"Thank you again for your help, Mr. Swift." And then he was gone.

Caleb had no idea what Colonel Cox would say when he heard the idea Caleb had come up with, but the army needed someone inside the house, someone close to the occupants, someone they could trust. Caleb prayed the colonel would see the merit in his plan.


Laughter echoed through the house. Servants hurried about beneath the weight of heavily laden silver trays. Food and drink sat on linen-draped tables and champagne flowed like water. The guests were all enjoying themselves but to Vermillion, the house party seemed endless.

In a gown of emerald silk, daringly low-cut and embroidered in fine gold thread across the bodice, she wandered from room to room, smiling and nodding and pretending an interest in the various conversations around her. In truth, all she could think of was Caleb and that she had gone to him last night and the two of them had made love.

She wasn't an innocent anymore. She had given herself to a man and not one of those she had vowed to choose as a lover, but Caleb Tanner, Parklands' head groom.

Her pulse leaped just thinking about it. She remembered the way he looked standing there naked, his hard body bathed in a shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window of his tiny room. She could see the wide bands of muscle across his chest and the sinews in his legs, remember the power and strength of him, pressing her down into the mattress.

Warm color rose in her cheeks as she thought of her response to his ardent lovemaking, like some wild creature freed at last from its bonds by the skill of his hands.

More disturbed than she wanted to be, Lee left the drawing room, escaping into the library for a moment's respite from the crowd, closing the tall, ornate doors behind her. She was sitting in the window seat, staring out at the garden when she heard a sound across the room.

"Vermillion?" The familiar voice drew her attention to the doorway. "What on earth are you doing in here by yourself? Everyone is looking for you." Her friend, Elizabeth Sorenson, stood framed in the opening.

"It's all right, Elizabeth. I just needed a moment alone. I'll return to the party in a moment."

Elizabeth surprised her by closing the tall doors behind her, the sound echoing into the quiet as the countess began to walk toward her.

"What is it, Lee?" she asked. "You haven't seemed yourself lately. Your aunt has been worried and so have I." With her short, curly black hair, slender build and long legs, Elizabeth's timeless beauty was marred only by the worry on her face.

Lee forced herself to smile. "Why in heaven's name would you be worried, Beth? I am perfectly fine."

"I realize your birthday is very near," Elizabeth said gently. "You've promised to choose a lover, but perhaps you are simply not ready."

Not ready? She wondered what the countess would say if she knew Lee had already chosen a lover, that even now she yearned for him, that she wanted him to make love to her again.

"It has to happen sooner or later," Lee said. "You know as well as I, marriage lies nowhere in my future. I said that I would choose and so I shall."

Elizabeth's frown only deepened. "There is certainly no rush. Aside from the fact you could start to live your life on your own terms, there is no real urgency. Gabriella knows how independent you are. She thought you would appreciate the chance to truly become your own person, but perhaps it would be better if—"

"If what, Beth?" She got up from the window seat and walked toward her friend. "Perhaps it would be better if I waded through another dozen men? If I attended another hundred of my aunt's tedious parties? In the end, the result would be the same."

"But surely—"

"I appreciate your concern, Beth, I truly do, but my aunt is right. It is time I made a life for myself and that is what I am going to do." She managed to muster a smile. "And it is also time I joined Aunt Gabriella and the rest of her guests."

"They are your guests, too, Lee. They are your friends as well as your aunt's."

"Are they?" She lifted her gaze to Elizabeth's lovely face. "Aside from you and a handful of others, most of them are people I scarcely know. They are here to be charmed by La Belle. As for Vermillion, she is merely a curiosity. They are fascinated by the mysterious persona my aunt has created. They have no desire to know the woman inside, the woman behind the mask she wears." Turning away, she started once more for the door.

"Dearest, wait—"

But Lee kept walking, out of the library and down the hall. She meant to return to the others—she truly did—but as she spotted Colonel Wingate striding down the hall in her direction, saw Andrew Mondale walking toward her the opposite way, she turned instead and hurried up the stairs.

"Vermillion, my beauty—where are you going?" Mondale's voice floated up behind her. "Come down and join the party."

Vermillion turned and smiled. "Shortly, Andrew, I promise." And she would, she told herself, in just a little while. Reaching the safety of her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her chest felt as if a boulder pressed upon it and her stomach felt queasy.

For the first time, she realized exactly how much trouble she had brought upon herself. "Oh, dear God—what am I going to do?" Tears burned her eyes. She had to go back downstairs, had to continue her charade—for her aunt and perhaps, as Aunt Gabby believed, for herself But after making love with Caleb, she was no longer certain she could continue in the role she so desperately needed to play.

Turning away from the door, she walked over to her rosewood dresser, poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the basin, and washed the rouge and rice powder from her cheeks. She wiped away the color on her lips and rang for Jeannie, who appeared in her bedchamber a few minutes later.

"Mon Dieu! What are you doing?"

"Help me get out of this, will you? I'm having trouble with the buttons."

Jeannie looked at her aghast, stunned by her freshly washed face and half-undressed appearance. "You cannot possibly mean to disrobe. The party… it is not yet midnight!"

"I don't care what time it is." She tried to reach the buttons at the back of the gown, determined now, desperate to escape. "I have to get out of here."

"Dieu du Ciel—you 'ave gone completely mad." But the slender woman stepped in and took charge, quickly dispatching the buttons and helping her slide out of the emerald silk gown. As soon as Lee was free of her garments, she went over to her armoire and pulled open the bottom drawer. A pair of men's breeches and a white linen shirt, carefully folded, lay on top. In minutes she was dressed and dragging on her riding boots.