Caleb clamped down on his jaw, fighting to contain the fury that shot through him. He was coming to dislike Mark Sutton more and more. If the man hadn't been his superior, Caleb would have dragged him off his horse and given him a taste of the punishment he had doled out to the last man who had insulted Vermillion.

Instead, he forced himself to remain silent as they rode the rest of the way down the lane back to London. All the way there, he kept thinking of the hurt and betrayal he had seen in Lee's face.

And wondering what would happen when she found out he was betraying her trust again.


The weeklong house party began the following day. The first event was an evening of gaming, dancing, and entertainment designed so that guests could become better acquainted. Though most already knew each other, there were always a number of recent acquaintances Gabriella had made. Actresses and opera singers, poets and artists, men like Major Sutton and Captain Tanner.

Lord Nash was there for the week, as well as Colonel Wingate and, of course, Lord Andrew Mondale. Lee was chatting with the colonel when a flash of scarlet caught her eye and she turned to see Caleb walk into the drawing room.

The moment he spotted them, a scowl appeared on his face. He quickly smoothed it away.

"Captain Tanner," the colonel called out to him, drawing him in their direction though he was already walking that way. "I don't believe we've met."

"No, sir. Not formally."

"You know Miss Durant, I assume."

The edge of his mouth barely curved. "Yes, I've had the pleasure."

She colored. She prayed the colonel wouldn't notice.

"Good evening, Miss Durant."

"Captain Tanner."

The colonel seemed unaware of the tension in their exchange. "You're assigned to Wellesley, I hear. Some sort of special duty. All very hush-hush, I gather."

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it, sir."

"No, no, of course not. All the same, it's quite a coup, I would say, career-wise. Wellesley has grand ambitions. If you're one of the chosen, you could go very far. I gather that is your intention."

"Yes, sir. The army's been my home for the past eight years. I don't see any reason for that to change." He flicked a glance in Lee's direction, but his expression didn't alter.

He would be returning to Spain. She knew it shouldn't bother her, told herself it didn't.

They spoke for a moment more, trivialities, talk of the war. All the while she continued to smile and tried not to look at Caleb. Every time she did, her gaze slid down to his mouth and she remembered the heat of it pressed against her skin.

As soon as she could politely escape, she excused herself and slipped away. She had made it as far as the gaming room when Andrew Mondale appeared, handsome, almost pretty with his gleaming golden hair, jonquil tailcoat, and dark green breeches.

"Where have you been, my heart? I was about to perish of loneliness without you."

She arched a brow. "Really? And here I thought Juliette Beauvoir was keeping you well entertained." Beautiful and black-haired, with a pouty mouth and big blue eyes, Juliette was an actress in Drury Lane. She had set her sights on Mondale some weeks back. As far as Lee was concerned, she could have him.

"Juliette is not you, my dove. Surely you can't think she interests me in the least."

She toyed with a wispy red curl next to her ear, a gesture unconsciously Vermillion. "Actually, I think you and Juliette would suit." She looked thoughtful. "Yes, I believe the two of you would suit very well."

Andrew slapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, my pet. You know there is only one woman for me." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "It is you and none other, my beauty."

Vermillion laughed. Andrew could often be charming. But it was Nash she would choose. After Caleb, she knew the deep sort of bonding that intimacy with a man could bring. She wouldn't risk those feelings again and especially not with a man as inconstant as Andrew.

"Behave yourself," she said. "I believe Juliette is watching. Besides, I need to find my aunt. Why don't you try your hand at whist while I am gone?"

"I suppose if you insist… but my heart shall bleed until your return."

She laughed again as she turned to leave—and bumped right into Caleb. He steadied her with a big hand at her waist and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"I could manage to make his heart bleed in earnest, if only you just say the word." There was the mere hint of a curve to his lips and she thought that he might have been only half in jest.

She managed a flirty smile. "Why, Captain Tanner—you aren't jealous, are you?"

His eyes darkened. "I am jealous of every man in this room and undoubtedly you know it."

But she hadn't. Not really. And she was stunned at the realization that Caleb still felt something for her. She didn't know quite what to say. Fortunately, at that moment, the three-piece orchestra in the corner struck up a waltz, filling the room with music and ending their brief exchange.

Caleb saved her from an embarrassingly lengthy silence by taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

"I've seen you waltz," he said. "I watched you through the windows. I wondered how it would feel to hold you in my arms."

She rested a faintly trembling hand on the shoulder of his scarlet uniform jacket and felt the outline of his heavy gold epaulets. With a single long stride, he led her into the waltz.

That he was an excellent dancer came as no surprise. He had always been a graceful man and here he seemed completely at home, gliding her into each turn, sweeping her along with him as if they had danced together a thousand times. His hold was firm and steady, his shoulder warm and solid beneath her hand. The conversation in the room seemed to slowly fade. The faces of the guests blurred into little more than a haze of color and for this brief time there was only Caleb.

Her heart swelled, pounded. Her chest squeezed, and in that moment, the shocking realization hit her: She was in love with Caleb.

Not just a little in love, but passionately, dangerously in love.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "When can we meet?"

But Lee was so engrossed in her newfound knowledge that she barely heard him. "Wh-what did you say?"

"I said we need to meet. We need to talk. I'll come to your room tonight, a little after midnight."

She missed a step, thinking of Caleb in her bedchamber, thinking what would happen if she actually let him in. "Are you insane? You can't come to my room."

He smiled. He had the whitest, most wonderful smile. "You might want to keep your voice down. One of your lapdogs might hear. I don't think they would appreciate knowing you were inviting a man to your room."

"I'm not inviting you to my room! I'm barely speaking to you!"

He stifled a grin, but amusement danced in his eyes. He led her into a turn, then pulled her back into his arms, holding her a little closer than he should have.

"Make some excuse and retire a little early. Don't forget to leave your door unlocked."

"Listen to me, Caleb Tanner. If you come to my room, I won't be there. You might be used to giving orders to your men, but I am not one of your soldiers."

Without missing a step, he drew her even closer. She could smell his cologne, feel the strength of the hand at her waist. There was something in his eyes. Dear Lord, if only she knew what it was.

"It's important, Lee."

The music abruptly ended. Caleb's hold lingered an instant longer, then he made a very formal bow and stepped away.

As soon as they reached the edge of the dance floor, Lee excused herself and left him. Caleb watched her until she disappeared from the drawing room.


I'm a fool. Completely insane. He had tried to talk himself out of it, known he was acting as ridiculous as the rest of her besotted swains, but still couldn't stop himself.

Returning to Parklands had been a mistake. He should have stayed as far away from Lee as he could get. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice. Orders were orders and his were to find a traitor. Though he no longer believed that Vermillion was involved, someone at Parklands—a frequent guest, one of the servants, or even Gabriella Durant—was involved in a conspiracy to obtain information and convey it to the enemy. It was his job to discover who it was.

What he didn't need to do was to become even more involved with Lee.

Standing in the darkness at the edge of the terrace, Caleb cursed himself. Through the windows of the drawing room, he could see her in conversation with Jonathan Parker, Lord Nash. It made his insides tighten. He hadn't encountered Nash yet but undoubtedly he would. As much as he respected the viscount, he couldn't bear to think of him touching Lee as he had, spending time in her bed.

Through the tall windows of the drawing room, he could hear her smoky laughter, watch her smile at something Nash said, and his stomach clenched with jealousy. In some strange way she belonged to him.

He wanted her, had from the moment he had first seen her. He still did.

He thought how lovely she looked tonight in her high-waisted topaz gown. With her fiery hair swept up in curls, a few soft tendrils framing her face, she looked older, more sophisticated, yet now he noticed the innocence that sometimes crept into her expression, the charming naïveté that hid behind her practiced smile.

Perhaps those were the very things that made her so attractive to men, made her appear so mysterious and intriguing.

She was wearing very little face paint tonight, just enough kohl to make her eyes look huge and blue-green, enough rouge on her lips to remind him how soft and full they were, how sweet they tasted.