Dare brought his horses to a plunging halt and waited until an ostler ran to their heads before dragging Julienne into his arms, catching her completely off guard.

"Are you all right?" he demanded. Before she could react, he had covered her mouth with his own and claimed a fierce kiss.

The shock of it momentarily held her immobile, while heat streaked through her.

"God," Dare murmured, drawing back only slightly. "That bloody fool could have killed you."

Emotion churned in his darkened eyes, but Julienne couldn't determine the cause: relief at their surviving the danger, exhilaration at winning the race, or pleasure from kissing her. Perhaps all three.

To the glee of the spectators, Dare gathered her even closer and bent his head once more. Julienne wanted to protest his reckless passion, but her breath fled at the deep thrust of his tongue. Her lips parted of their own accord, and she sighed, surrendering to his mounting ardor.

She was still kissing him as Riddingham drove into the yard. Recalling her surroundings with sudden consternation, Julienne broke free from Dare's embrace.

At the hint of triumph in his smoldering eyes, she began to wonder if he'd purposely claimed a victory kiss in front of the crowd to suggest that he was winning their wager, or even to taunt his opponent. The possibility vexed her to no end.

The blazing look Dare threw at Riddingham, however, made her fear for the viscount's safety.

Riddingham appeared furious as well, whether at being bested in the race or because of the kiss, Julienne wasn't certain.

Miss Upcott, on the other hand, was white-faced. Clearly shaken, she climbed down from the other curricle without assistance and stood trembling in the yard.

With scarcely a glance at his passenger, Riddingham scowled at Dare. "You managed to win, Wolverton, but by foul means. Leaving the road was cheating."

Beside her, Dare went very still. "I believe our wager was who would reach the tavern first. But as long as we are discussing foul means, what did you intend by nearly forcing us off the road? You could have killed us all with that senseless stunt you pulled."

Riddingham's face turned even darker. "You will regret this, Wolverton," he ground out, obviously reluctant to admit his own unscrupulous actions had cost him the race and the two-thousand-pound wager.

To Julienne's astonishment, the viscount suddenly whipped up his horses and drove off.

Dare's ire seemed slightly dimmed by his rival's rage. "At least we still have dinner to look forward to," he murmured dryly.

He cast a solicitous glance at Riddingham's deserted passenger. "Are you all right, Miss Upcott?"

She held a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "I think I may be ill…"

Turning, she stumbled toward the inn.

Uttering a mild oath, Dare leapt down from his curricle. When he reached up for Julienne to assist her, however, she drew back with a look of fierce exasperation.

"I am not at all impressed by your ham-handed tactics," she declared in a clipped whisper. "Did you never stop to think that savaging Riddingham's pride is no way to persuade him to divulge secrets?"

Dare narrowed his eyes in surprise. "I savaged his pride?"

"Yes. You resemble foolish boys, fighting over a prize. But you could have found a more intelligent way to deal with him."

"I hardly consider-"

"Please, spare your breath and go offer your apologies to Miss Upcott."

Snatching up the reins then, Julienne ordered the ostler to stand back. When he complied, she sent the grays forward at a brisk trot.

She could almost sense Dare's stupefaction as she drove out of the yard. When he shouted after her, she permitted herself a brief smile. After surrendering so witlessly to his passionate kiss, she needed to show their observers that she was still a match for him.

What she had done-appropriating his curricle and stranding him at a tavern-was no more outrageous than Dare's usual antics. He would eventually be able to hire some sort of equipage to take poor Fanny Upcott back to London. And someone had to follow Riddingham and try to soothe his ruffled feathers. Perhaps, Julienne reflected, she could use the opportunity to discover what the viscount knew about the murdered companion.

It was likely that Dare feared for his horses, but she wouldn't let them come to any harm. She could tool a curricle more expertly than most women, since one of her beaux in York had taught her. And the grays needed to be cooled down in any case, for their coats were well lathered after their courageous exertions.

But let Dare fret, Julienne thought with more than a hint of defiance. It was time she taught him a lesson.

The arrogant Dare North would learn that he might best most of his opponents, but he wouldn't win the battle with her.

Chapter Nine

When Julienne returned Dare's curricle that afternoon to his home at Cavendish Square, his august butler gave her a severe glance of disapproval before summoning his lordship.

Dare appeared almost immediately. She could sense his simmering anger as he swiftly descended the front steps to the street in order to inspect the condition of his horses.

Julienne watched as he carefully ran his hands over their legs and backs to assure himself the grays were unharmed.

"I promise I didn't ruin them," she said blandly. "Indeed, I took the liberty of having them unharnessed and groomed while I was having dinner at the Primrose Inn with a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

With a sharp glance at her, Dare ordered a footman to have the horses driven around to the stables. Then he grasped Julienne lightly but firmly by the arm.

"Before I have someone see you home, Miss Laurent, I hope you will do me the honor of taking a glass of sherry with me," he said, his silken tone brooking no refusal.

"But of course, my lord," Julienne agreed, keeping her smile to herself.

His mansion, what little she could see of it, was magnificent. She scarcely had time to glance around the vast entryway, which was tastefully adorned with statuary and tapestries and paintings in oils, before Dare ushered her into a spacious salon.

"I trust you have an explanation for stealing my horses," he said tersely as soon as he shut the door.

"I am so relieved you managed to find your way safely home," Julienne answered, deliberately taunting him.

She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, but he apparently thought better of giving vent to his anger and playing into her hands. Instead his mouth curved in a reluctant half smile. "I presume you will divulge your reasons in your own good time, my lovely Jewel?"

"You promised me a glass of wine, did you not? I declare I am parched. This spy business is arduous work."

His gaze narrowed at her cryptic words, but he went to the sideboard and poured her some sherry. When he returned to hand her the glass, Julienne stepped back out of range, on the chance that Dare might try to kiss her again. Turning, she settled on a brocade sofa.

"I was endeavoring to seduce Riddingham's secrets from him," she said finally.

She saw some hot emotion flare in Dare's eyes, but he merely moved to stand before the cold hearth and clasped his hands behind his back, as if striving to control himself.

"Happily I had no need to lure him to my bed," Julienne added in a pleasant tone.

"Did you never stop to think," Dare snapped, "that if Riddingham truly is a killer, you could have been in grave danger?"

"Perhaps, but I seriously doubt he is a killer. In fact, I think it can be proved that he isn't. At least in the case of that poor girl, Alice Watson."

His expression remained enigmatic. "Do tell."

"My initial intent, when I followed Riddingham this afternoon, was to reduce his rancor toward you. But then I realized I had the perfect opportunity to question him by asking him to dine with me. He was very angry with you, naturally, Dare. I pretended to sympathize with him."

"To what end?"

"To discover his whereabouts when Alice Watson was killed."

Dare's eyebrow rose, but he remained silent.

"Truthfully, I recalled that Riddingham missed some of my performances several weeks ago, around the time in question, and that afterward, he apologized profusely for being away. So today I asked him where he went. And he seems to have an alibi. He spent the entire weekend with his mother at Lady Smallcombe's estate in Richmond."

"He is claiming his mother as his alibi?"

At Dare's skepticism, Julienne returned a wry smile. "Indeed. And the tale gets better. He was merely supposed to squire Lady Riddingham to a Saturday afternoon garden party there. But when they arrived, her lapdog apparently was terrorized by a stable cat, and she refused to travel until the poor animal was calmer. They even had to summon the local physician to give it a sleeping potion. So Riddingham and his mama spent two nights in Richmond and didn't return to London until late Monday."

"While the companion disappeared Sunday evening," Dare murmured. "Her body was found early the next day."

"I think that makes it unlikely Riddingham killed her, don't you? And his tale is so extravagant… Surely a man of Caliban's cunning wouldn't be foolish enough to make up a story that could so easily be disproved. It would be short work to confirm Riddingham's presence in Richmond that weekend. You could ask Lady Smallcombe… or the physician, for that matter."

"I intend to. Did you question him about Alice Watson?"