"You are not interested. I shan't bore you with my poor defense."

"I hear you gave Lady Devereau her portrait," Laura said, with a knowing look. "That, too, was for my benefit, no doubt."

"But of course. That is why I went to visit her, to tell her she might have the portrait. I figured that was the easiest way to conciliate her. She had become an embarrassment-well, you saw for yourself at Castlefield."

"Do you usually call on ladies in your stocking feet, when your visit is so innocent?"

"Only when I fear some busybody is listening. Who was it that saw me? Mrs. Campbell?"

"It was Mrs. Traemore who told me. Everyone at Castlefield knew about it," Laura said. She wondered if Hyatt was telling the truth. Like the rest of the world, she had assumed Lady Devereau's persistence had won, and she had secured Hyatt. But as Laura reviewed the past week, she recalled that she had not seen them together.

"Your stiff-necked behavior confirmed it, if anyone was so naive as to doubt," he informed her.

"There is no point blaming me. What did you expect me to do?"

"I hoped that the woman I planned to marry would trust me, at least enough to hear my side of the story."

"You never wanted to marry me anyway," she said.

"Of course not. That is why I asked you."

"We're here," Laura said, as the carriage drew to a stop. The resolution of their argument must wait until later.

Hyatt opened the door without waiting for his driver. He glanced toward the Pantheon and saw three bucks staggering out, drunk as Danes. "You'd best wait in the carriage," he said to Laura.

"So this is the infamous Pantheon!" she said, gazing at it. She was overcome with a strong desire to enter. She had been hearing about it forever. In her mind, it glittered with the allure of forbidden fruit. Only the most dashing ladies entered these portals, and she was a little angry with herself for having missed it. Perhaps Livvie was the wise one after all. She was squeezing more excitement into her Season than Laura had had in her whole life. Clandestine meetings with gentlemen, tossing over such an unexceptionable suitor as Talman, and now coming here. "I should like to see it, Hyatt."

Hyatt noticed that she had unconsciously dropped the "Lord," which had been bothering him all evening. He saw that expression of unfulfilled yearning on her face, and suspected its cause.

"It is no fit place for ladies. And besides, you don't have a domino or mask."

"Olivia might need me," she said, to proffer some poor sort of excuse at least. She looked hopefully for Hyatt's opinion. He frowned. "I must at least see it!" she said crossly, revealing the true purpose of her insistence.

"Miss Harwood, I take leave to tell you, you are a fraud. Beneath that prissy exterior beats the heart of a wanton. You are over twenty-one, and if you wish to enter the Pantheon without even a mask to cover your shame, I cannot prevent it. But if you are set upon by a marauding band of rakes, it is on your own head. Don't put it in my dish. I strongly disapprove of this shameless spree," he said, with a smile that showed his total approbation.

He watched, fascinated, as her lips parted in a bold smile. "One more sin will not be noticed in your dish, Hyatt. Don't be so unchivalrous."

"This is how a man loses his reputation," he joked, taking her arm to lead her to the entrance. "A prey to every beautiful hussy who comes along and bats her eyelashes at him. Take care or I'll be tapping at your boudoir door later tonight."

"Surely you can do better than a prissy fraud such as I. One hears the Pantheon is full of lightskirts."

"My usual fare, of course," he said blandly, "but one likes a change from time to time."

"I was joking!"

He held the door and she entered. The lobby was empty, save for the doorman and two females who were having no luck within and had decided to grab the next gent before he got inside.

"You had best stay here," Hyatt said. "Stick close to the doorman while I take a run inside."

"I cannot stay alone!" she said, clinging to his arm as a couple of bucks strayed into the hallway. They were looking from the lightskirts to Laura in an assessing way.

"No more you can," he agreed. "I'll take you back to the carriage."

As he spoke, a sudden pounding of feet and raised voices were heard from the stairway. "Come along, gentlemen. The roundhouse is waiting. You can send for bail when you've sobered up.”

"Oh, dear!" Laura exclaimed, clinging tighter to Hyatt's arm.

They both watched as Bow Street led a band of miscreants out. Laura spotted Yarrow, his nose bloodied and his eyes glazed with drink. She looked at Hyatt, and he lifted his eyebrows to tell her he recognized the fellow.

"Livvie must be here," Laura whispered. "At least she has escaped incarceration."

"It is usually the gentleman who takes the brunt in these cases," he said, with an air of mock injury.

"I wonder if Mr. Meadows managed to rescue Olivia. We should make sure, before we leave."

"I'll take a run upstairs, while Bow Street is within shouting distance to protect you."

Before this was necessary, Mr. Meadows came down, holding a much subdued baroness on one arm and Miss Carstairs on the other. Olivia was sniffling into a handkerchief; Miss Carstairs was trying to look blase.

"Found her," Meadows said. "Unharmed but pretty badly shaken up."

Olivia interrupted her sniffling to say, "It was horrid! I should have listened to you, cousin. He didn't even bring enough money to buy wine. You won't tell Aunt Hettie."

"We shall settle on some story in the carriage," Laura said, patting the baroness's shoulder. She glanced at Hyatt to thank him and saw the look of disappointment on his face. "I must go with her. Thank you, Hyatt. You have been very helpful."

"Meadows can take her home," was all he said.

"I'll see that both these young ladies get home safely," Meadows said, nodding to Angie and Olivia. He planned to take Miss Carstairs home first. He had not had the baroness in such a chastened state before and hoped to take full advantage of it. "No point upsetting the old ladies. We shall say the baroness was feeling fagged, and I brought her home. You'll see that Miss Harwood gets home, Hyatt?"

"Yes, certainly. We might return to Peckford's for a waltz first." Seeing the blue mask dangling from Olivia's fingers, he turned to her and took her hand. "I hope you have learned your lesson, Baroness. Now dry your eyes, and run along." When he removed his hand, he held her blue mask.

They left, and he dangled the mask in front of Laura. "A lady should never visit the Pantheon without a mask."

That wicked smile broke out. "Could we?" she asked. "Livvie said it is horrid."

"It is, but with a hardened rake to guard you, lesser rakes will keep their distance-if they know what is good for them. I wonder-we cannot be the only people who have been caught unprepared." He went to the doorman and returned with a black mask, purchased at an inordinate price.

Laura put on the blue mask, Hyatt the black, and together they went into the ballroom. She was trembling with excitement. Never before in her life had she willingly gone into a treacherous situation, and she realized what wonderful excitement she had been missing.

When Hyatt drew her into his arms, she gazed up at him. The mask turned him into a stranger. Dark eyes glittered dangerously behind it, and below, his lips parted in a reckless smile.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" he asked.

"Oh, it is wonderful!" The reeling music and Hyatt holding her close produced some enchantment. If this was sin, then she was born a sinner, for she had never enjoyed a dance so much. She was unaware of the din of uncouth voices raised in mirth or anger. She did not notice that some of the gentlemen danced with both arms around their companions to keep from falling over. She was only aware of being held by Hyatt, in the magic circle of his arms, while they moved in unison to the music.

"Do you believe me?" he asked.

"What are you talking about, Hyatt?"

"That I paid only a brief visit to Lady Devereau, to tell her she might have the portrait. I only wanted to be rid of her. She was becoming a wretched nuisance.”

It was easy to believe what she wanted so badly to believe. "I suppose so," she said, "but-"

"Are there other sins on my part that require explanation? Let us tackle the whole dish now, Laura, while you are in this generous mood."

She thought of the groaning bedsprings. It did not necessarily take two to make such noises. Lady Devereau, presumably, had been in bed. She would not lower herself to mention it. As Laura hastily reviewed what she knew of Hyatt, she could find no outstanding offenses. In fact, if he was telling the truth about Lady Devereau, it was she who had acted badly. "I behaved like a ninnyhammer," she said simply. "I even tore up that lovely sketch you did of me, and have regretted it a dozen times since."

"I'll do another," he said, his voice husky with pleasure. "A proper portrait, in oils."

"Would you? How shall you do me?"

"As an angel-with a cleft foot," he added, and laughed. His arms drew her more tightly against him.

"You have already done a barefoot lady."

"Then I shall set your halo slightly aslant, to reveal you are in danger of becoming one of the fallen angels."

"I own I do enjoy the Pantheon. Perhaps I am a fraud for warning Livvie away, then coming myself at the first opportunity."

"It is temptation that makes sinners of us all. There is no merit in being unaware of temptation. It is withstanding it that builds character."

"Then we shall leave now," she decided.