Suddenly impatient for action, he said over his shoulder, "I'm afraid I must go, Louisa."

"Now? But it is so late."

"It is not yet midnight."

Momentarily ignoring the pouting of the lush, naked lady in the bed, he dressed silently. Then, going to her side, Dare employed his most charming manner to beg her forgiveness, kissing her breathless but evading her pleas to return soon.

All her servants had retired for the night, he realized when he went below. And the mount he'd ridden in Hyde Park this afternoon was snugly stabled in the mews behind Lady Dunleith's mansion. Rather than rouse the household, Dare let himself out and walked the short distance along Mayfair's dark streets to Lucian's home.

Lucian Tremayne, the Earl of Wycliff, was one of his closest friends, as well as one of England's chief spymasters. Lucian preferred not to advertise that he'd employed Dare in the hunt for a deadly traitor, so they had agreed to limit the frequency of their meetings. Yet they needed to confer about the latest developments.

Bending against the frigid night air, Dare drew his greatcoat around him. This was the coldest winter in memory, and only now was the country thawing out. In London even the Thames River had frozen. And in Yorkshire, where he'd recently visited for several interminable weeks, the snowdrifts had piled higher than a man's head, shutting down roads and bringing commerce and travel to a complete halt.

Tonight would be his first opportunity to update Lucian regarding his clandestine endeavors. He'd sent a message this morning, arranging to make his report.

There were several lights burning in the windows of the regal Wycliff residence. Dare was admitted without question and shown into Lucian's study, where the earl was at work at his desk.

The two men greeted each other with the fondness of long acquaintance.

"And how is your beautiful wife?" Dare asked as Lucian poured them both a brandy.

"Flourishing. Brynn is as round as a melon, even though the babe isn't due for nearly two months."

"I regret I missed seeing her," Dare said, settling in a comfortable chair. "I understand she was in London this past week?"

"Yes, but I escorted her home again. She's safer in the country."

For her confinement, Brynn had retired to Lucian's family seat in Devonshire, where she could more easily be protected. Last fall she and her brother had been menaced by a criminal mastermind who called himself Lord Caliban, after the character in Shakespeare's play. Lucian had destroyed the gold-smuggling operation Caliban used to fund Napoleon's armies, silencing their leader for a time, but the traitor was still at large. Which was why Dare had become involved.

Lucian handed his guest a brandy and then settled in an adjacent chair. "So tell me what you learned in Yorkshire."

"Not much, I'm afraid. I stayed at a friend's estate barely six miles from Riddingham's, but all the damned snow made getting there difficult. Even so, I managed twice to enjoy dinner and cards with Riddingham and his houseguests. Perfectly insipid. He wore the ring the entire time. When I remarked on the uniqueness of the design, Riddingham claimed he won it playing piquet, but he couldn't remember from whom. And he could be lying."

Pausing, Dare took a sip of brandy, absently noting the quality. "Yet he's still wearing the ring now. Even if he has no notion that we suspect him of being Caliban, it seems foolish to flaunt such a distinctive ornament. To be truthful, the more I see of Riddingham, the more I wonder if he's bright enough to be a deadly traitor."

"Perhaps not, but we have to be certain." Lucian's mouth hardened. "It can be a fatal mistake to underestimate Caliban's cunning. Riddingham could be duping us all with his pretense of affability. And he was here in London in January when our man was killed."

A diplomat in the Foreign Office had been found murdered two months ago-the work of Caliban, it was suspected, although there was no proof. But he would strike again, Dare and Lucian had no doubt. They could only hope to unmask the traitor before he could do even further damage.

Cursing under his breath, Lucian brought his fist down hard on his chair arm.

"My sentiments exactly," Dare agreed darkly.

He well understood his friend's frustration at hunting a killer who was little more than a whisper and a shadow. They had only two clues thus far to Caliban's identity, both from a witness who'd had a momentary glimpse of him last year: Caliban was thought to be an English nobleman. And he possessed an unusual ring embellished with a ruby-eyed dragon's head.

Dare had first spied the ring several months ago on Lord Riddingham's hand. Since then he'd covertly followed the viscount's trail, trying to determine if he could possibly be Caliban. It was that possibility that had led Dare to spend a tedious interlude in Yorkshire, where he could better investigate the theory.

His lack of success galled him. But he could hardly be expected to accomplish overnight what had eluded the nation's best agents. His licentious past, Lucian was wont to remind him, had not exactly prepared him for a career in government espionage.

In fact, Lucian had recruited him last fall primarily because of his well-known predilection for sin-he made such an unlikely candidate as a spy. Caliban would never suspect the Prince of Pleasure of leading the hunt for his capture.

Dare had agreed to help, not only because he was familiar with most of society, both high and low, but because he'd become restless and bored with his life. He was more than a little intrigued by the challenge of pitting wits against a cunning killer. He'd only half laughed at Lucian's assertion that having a serious goal could be the making of him.

He was not laughing now.

Dare took another swallow of brandy, hesitating while he debated telling Lucian of the new twist in the game.

"What do you know of the new actress at Drury Lane?" he finally said. "The Jewel who has the entire ton abuzz."

Lucian sent him a penetrating glance. "Am I to presume you have a new love interest?"

"Hardly. Riddingham is one of her suitors."

"Ah." Lucian leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I took Brynn to see Miss Laurent perform last week. We both found her surprisingly good. You're suggesting that her association with Riddingham is more than simply amorous?"

"Possibly. She bears investigating, at least. She is French, after all. It wouldn't be impossible for her to be in Napoleon's employ. Given their sparse incomes and dubious moral values, actresses are highly susceptible to bribery."

When Lucian raised an eyebrow, Dare realized how ironic it was for him to be decrying dubious moral values.

Yet this was not the first time Julienne Laurent's allegiance to England had been questioned. Seven years ago his grandfather had called her a traitor, claiming she was conspiring with Bonapartists and threatening to have her arrested for treason.

At the time Dare had been certain the accusations were fabricated-merely the old bastard's attempt to force him to end his betrothal. His chief concern had been protecting Julienne from his grandfather's wrathful machinations. But he was more willing now to believe there had been substance to the charges after all.

"I may be leaping to conclusions," he admitted, "but she could be in league with Riddingham."

"Why do you say so?" Lucian asked curiously. "Didn't Riddingham return to London only last week? They would scarcely have had time to meet."

"But they may claim a prior association. Riddingham's family seat is in Yorkshire. And Miss Laurent reportedly has spent the past half-dozen years treading the boards in York."

"Perhaps she was once his mistress."

"Perhaps. When I saw them driving in the park today, they seemed closer than mere acquaintances." Dare forced a smile. "If he isn't already sharing her bed, he certainly appeared eager to. He was hanging on her every word, along with half the male population of London." He hoped his sardonic tone hid the note of jealously he found difficult to repress. "But either way, she could be his accomplice."

"Or," Lucian countered, "he may solely be pursuing her with a carnal relationship in mind. Rumor has it that she is looking for a protector."

"I've heard the same rumor. Apparently La Belle Laurent made a public declaration that her choice will be made at the end of the season. A clever ploy," Dare said cynically. "The better to keep her admirers vying for her favors. Regardless, she merits watching. And you could perhaps use her to get closer to Riddingham."

"I? Don't you mean you?"

"I might not be the best man for the task. I had a… brief acquaintance with Miss Laurent a number of years ago."

Lucian studied him for a long moment, while Dare struggled to remain unruffled by those perceptive eyes. He was not about to disclose his wretched history with Julienne. How he'd discovered his betrothed in the arms of another lover. How his heart and his pride had been ravaged by her betrayal. Or how the memory still left him aching.

At length, Dare shrugged. "The affair ended unhappily."

"So you think the lady will want nothing to do with you?"

"Yes, I seriously doubt she will."

Lucian flashed him a wry grin. "You, my friend, have never been at a loss with any female. Surely you have only to wield your vast charm to persuade her to change her opinion of you."

Dare stared down at the amber liquid in his glass, wanting to refute the statement. It was true; when he chose to be persuasive, some of the haughtiest and most reluctant females had come into his arms willingly. But in this instance, he would be starting with a possibly insurmountable disadvantage.