It was obvious the young man was shaken and very deeply grieved by the news of the young maid's death.

"I can't believe it… I just can't believe she is dead." Oxley sat on the leather sofa in the study. The doors were closed and the few servants who remained in the house were given strict instruction they were not to be disturbed.

"What did you tell her, Oxley?" Sutton leaned over the younger man. "Colonel Wingate has already told us he had key information about Wellesley's upcoming campaign. You were privy to that information. Now tell us how much of that information you told Marie LeCroix."

Oxley's eyes filled with tears. He was a pale young man, given to shyness, and obviously in love with Marie.

"We just… we just talked."

"In your bed, you mean, while you were overheated and desperate to get inside her."

Oxley swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down. "She was interested in the war. I suppose I might have… mentioned a few things."

"She was French, Oxley." Sutton bore down on him. "Did the fact never cross your mind?"

He shook his head. "She was only a little girl when she came to England with her family. She was raised here. She wanted the British to win the war. That… that is what she said." He gazed out the window toward the garden. "She was so beautiful. She never talked to any of the other men… only me. I felt so lucky. I just wanted to please her."

Caleb swore softly. "Do you have any idea, Lieutenant, who Marie might have been meeting that night at the inn?"

He glanced up. The grief etched into his face made him look older than he had the day before. "I thought there was only me. I thought she loved me."

"She used you," the major said harshly. "Just the way that bastard used her. You know what they were doing in that room, Oxley? You know what he did to her before he killed her?"

"Don't," Caleb warned, ending the major's savage words. "The woman he loved is dead. She wasn't the person he believed her to be and because he trusted her, his career is over and he'll be facing charges. What we need to know is who killed her. We need the name of the man she was passing the information on to."

"I don't know," Oxley said with a shake of his head. "I swear I don't. I only mentioned a couple of things… We talked about Oporto. I told her Wellesley was gearing up, that it looked as if there would be fighting at Talavera. It didn't seem important at the time."

"You're a fool, Lieutenant," Major Sutton said. "You thought with your cock and not your brain and now you are paying the price."

Oxley made no reply. The misery on his face was enough of an answer. The afternoon wore on, but no new information surfaced.

One thing was clear: the spy ring's connection to Parklands had been severed. Marie was dead and no more information would be forthcoming. Perhaps Mary Goodhouse had also been selling secrets, or more likely she had figured out whom Marie was meeting. Either way, the women were dead and the leak had been stopped.

Unfortunately, the head of the spy ring had escaped, leaving no trace of whom he might be. Caleb wasn't sure if his assignment would continue once he returned to London, but his time at Parklands had come to an end.

As soon as Lee's birthday ball was over, Caleb, along with the rest of the guests, would be returning to the city. He didn't know how long he would remain in London, but at least he would have time to visit his family, see some of his friends. As he had before, he told himself to forget Vermillion, that interfering in her life would be doing her more harm than good.

Still, as the afternoon drew to a close, he found himself striding down the hall, stopping to speak to the butler, asking him to make it known to the lady of the house that he wished a word with her in private in regard to a matter of importance concerning her niece.

It was an hour later that Caleb was summoned to a small salon at the rear of the mansion. The butler, Jones, led him down the hall into a room done in soft shades of ivory and rose, then quietly closed the doors, making them private.

"You wished to see me, Captain?" Gabriella floated toward him in a gown a brighter shade of rose than the sofa and draperies, a warm smile on her face.

"I know you're busy. Thank you for making the time."

Her smile slipped a little at the serious note in his voice. "I thought this concerned Vermillion. Are you here in regard to the death of Marie LeCroix?"

"No. As I said, I'm here to speak to you about your niece."

One of her silver-blond eyebrows went up. "In that case, why don't we make ourselves comfortable?" She led him over to a brocade sofa, then sat down in a deep rose chair across from him. "Shall I ring for tea?"

"No, thank you. What I have to say won't take long."

"All right then, Captain, what is it you wish to discuss about Vermillion?"

"As you're well aware, tomorrow night is her birthday ball."

"That is correct."

"It is commonly known that sometime during the course of the evening she is supposed to choose a protector."

"Yes…"

"There is a chance she will choose no one at all."

Gabriella sat forward in her chair. "She has told you this?"

"We became… friends, during my tenure as a groom. She sometimes confides in me."

"I thought she might be having some doubts. Elizabeth and I discussed this very possibility. I had hoped, if she were unsure, she would come to me so that we might discuss it. I assumed whatever uncertainties she had must have been resolved."

"There is, of course, the other possibility—that Vermillion will decide to keep her pledge." His shoulders felt tight. He shifted a little on the sofa. "If that happens, I want to be the man she chooses."

Gabriella laughed. "Captain Tanner. Any number of men find my niece attractive. Whether she will choose you to become her lover—"

"I am already her lover."

Surprise registered on Gabriella's face.

"The problem is eventually I'll be leaving London and returning to Spain. Our time together could be brief. Still, I believe she cares for me and that it would be in her best interest—should she decide on the latter course—for the man she chooses to be me."

Gabriella studied him closely. "You are telling me that you have made love to my niece?"

Caleb cleared his throat. "On more than one occasion. If my circumstances were different, I would be offering marriage instead of merely an arrangement." It was true, though he had never let the thought completely surface until now.

"Marriage?" The smile returned to Gabriella's face. "I assure you, Captain Tanner, my niece has no interest in becoming a wife—not yours or anyone else's. She never has. However… she must feel a great deal of affection for you if the two of you have become lovers."

Caleb sat forward in his chair. "Then you'll speak to her in my regard?"

"Vermillion has a mind of her own, Captain. I have taught her to use it. I'm not certain I should interfere."

"If you're concerned about money, I assure you I have more than enough. If, as you say, your niece has no wish to become a wife, then I make this pledge to you—I shall make it my personal duty to teach her all she needs to know to become the woman you wish her to be—the woman she has been pretending to be."

Gabriella's interest stirred. Pretty blue eyes moved slowly down his body, measuring his height and the breadth of his shoulders. "A tantalizing prospect, Captain Tanner. She'll want to take some of her horses. The others have agreed to that."

"That won't be a problem."

"All right. Considering the affection my niece apparently carries for you, I will do what I can to convince her that you are the man who should become her protector."

He relaxed a little. "Thank you, Gabriella."

"I warn you, Captain, it may not do any good. As I said, my niece has a mind of her own."

The edge of his mouth curved up. "Believe me, I know that better than anyone."


Gabriella could scarcely contain her glee. At last! For years she had been waiting for the day her niece would become a woman, when Vermillion would finally discover the incredible pleasure of making love with a man. And what a man her niece had chosen! Dear Lord, she couldn't have picked a finer male specimen if she had selected the man herself.

As soon as she could break away from the group playing cards in the gaming room, Gabriella sent word to Vermillion she wished to see her in the Rose Salon. She rang for tea and a few minutes after it arrived, the butler appeared with her niece in tow.

"Is everything all right?" Vermillion asked. "Mr. Jones said you wished to see me."

"Yes, darling. Do come in." Her niece looked pretty today in a simple apricot muslin gown. For herself, Gabriella preferred more vibrant colors, but lately Vermillion appeared more inclined to the softer hues and in a way they seemed to suit her. "Sit down, dear, and have a cup of tea."

Vermillion took a seat in a rose velvet chair across from her and smoothed out her muslin skirt.

"I know you have a great deal to do before tomorrow night," Gabriella said, "so I won't waste much time. You have vowed to choose a protector the night of your birthday ball. Have you decided which of your suitors you will choose?"

Vermillion glanced away. "Actually… I've been wanting to talk to you about that, Aunt Gabby." She swallowed. "I was thinking that perhaps… I thought that I might not… that I wouldn't choose anyone at all."

"Really?" Gabriella carefully poured tea for both of them and handed her niece a gold-rimmed porcelain cup and saucer. "And what of Captain Tanner?"

Vermillion's teacup rattled in its saucer. "Captain Tanner? What about him?"