In despair she untangled her limbs from his and sat up abruptly.

Behind her she heard Dare's murmur. "We're on the same side, Jewel. We are not enemies."

"It would be easier if we were," she replied in a hoarse voice.

He hesitated. "I don't know about you, but I would rather call a halt to this miserable style of warfare."

"So would I." She exhaled slowly. "If you are serious about wanting me to spy for you… I will do it."

"Willingly?"

Julienne glanced back at him. "That is the only way I can prove my innocence to you, isn't it?"

His lashes lowered, hooding his gaze. "You needn't prove your innocence to me."

"Do I not?" Rising from the bed, she went to the wardrobe and pulled out a wrapper, using it to cover her bare body.

"As I said," Dare remarked, "you will be well paid."

Julienne forced a shrug. "The income will be welcome, but I would have agreed in any case. I want Napoleon defeated as much as you do, perhaps more so." She tied the sash with a jerk. "What do you want me to do?"

"Discover whatever you can from the emigre community. We're especially interested in hints of anti-Royalists plots or rumors about Napoleon sympathizers."

"While you continue to hunt for Caliban?"

"Yes. You will report to me for the time being."

"Very well. You should go now."

It was a dismissal, and to her relief, Dare didn't pretend to misunderstand her. He rose silently to dress.

Julienne moved to stand before the hearth, holding out her hands to ward off her sudden chill.

She would do whatever Dare asked of her, whether it was spying on scheming emigres or helping him find Caliban. She was determined to prove her innocence to him.

And she was even more determined to make the elusive rake fall in love with her again. She would win Dare's total surrender in their battle of seduction, Julienne vowed.

But first she would have to conquer her own emotions. If tonight was any example, she was in danger of having her own sensual weapons turned on her.

She would have to do far better at hardening her feelings and bolstering her heart's defenses if she wanted to survive.

Chapter Eleven

Julienne began her commission as a spy much sooner than expected, for the next day brought news that eclipsed all else: Napoleon Bonaparte had abdicated.

For hours pandemonium reigned in London as crowds took to the streets in celebration. Amid the blaring trumpets and banging pots and pans came ecstatic cheers and triumphant shouts of "the Corsican Monster is vanquished!" All Europe had been ground under Napoleon's boot heel for so long that his defeat seemed almost miraculous.

The emigres could talk of nothing else, Julienne discovered when she attended the impromptu gatherings at Solange Brogard's salon over the next several days. She shared their jubilation, even though her future wasn't directly dependent on the fate of Napoleon's successor, as theirs was. When the French Senate had declared in favor of King Louis, it meant that many of the exiles would be able to return home. But Julienne had no close family remaining, and the Folmont estates had been confiscated long ago.

At week's end, however, she had little progress to report to Dare. He called at her lodgings to take her for a drive in the country.

Even though it was a beautiful spring day, Julienne felt a definite tension between them. But Dare made no mention of her revelations about her shameful past, and she was determined to keep tight control of her emotions and pretend their angry lovemaking had never occurred.

She waited until they had left London's main streets before summarizing her lack of success as a spy.

"Everyone I observed is elated that Louis will be returning to France, along with the Compte d'Artois, the Prince de Conde, and other members of the exiled court. But I found no one at all who raised my suspicions or seemed to support Bonaparte. I'm sorry."

Dare shook his head. "You needn't apologize. And I sympathize with your frustration. We've had no luck in the search for Caliban."

"You haven't been able to identify the companion's lover?"

He hesitated, making Julienne wonder if he had indeed uncovered a new lead. But all he said was, "No. It's too soon yet to expect any breakthroughs on that front."

Then he surprised her by asking an entirely unrelated question. "That is quite a fetching hat. Did you design it?"

She reached up to touch the wide-brimmed silk bonnet that was adorned with tiny roses. "Not I. Maman was the one with the creative talent."

"While you were the one with the business sense."

"I suppose," Julienne said, puzzled by his change of subject.

For years after escaping to Kent, she and her mother had lived on the charity of distant relatives, in genteel shabbiness, struggling to make ends meet-until Julienne had hit upon the idea of selling bonnets and chapeaus that her artistic but frail mother designed. Like many Frenchwomen, the comptess had an astute eye for fashion, and her creations were in great demand. The business prospered well enough to eventually allow them to open a millinery and even to employ a clerk. They were scorned by both the French and English gentry for earning their living in trade, but at least they could afford the comptess's medicines.

Julienne couldn't understand, however, why Dare would make such an oblique observation unless it was to distract her from interrogating him about Caliban.

"You shouldn't underrate your own talents," he added smoothly. "You have an amazing gift for acting."

"Thank you," she said, deciding not to press him.

"I'm looking forward to your performance tomorrow night."

"Even though you've seen the same play a half-dozen times?" The run of Richard III had been extended another week by popular demand. "I should think you would be tired of watching me by now."

"I never tire of watching you, my sweet. And I must maintain my effort to win our wager."

"But of course."

At her tart tone, Dare's eyes glimmered with wry amusement. "Speaking of our wager, I have another opportunity to offer you. I plan to attend a race meet at Newmarket the first week in May-I have two colts running in the 2000 Guineas-and I would like you to accompany me."

Julienne frowned. "I cannot leave the theater for so long. Not after spending so much time at your house party last month."

"Even if your government requires you?"

"You mean you require me."

"You agreed to act as an informant for us."

"There are few emigres in Newmarket," Julienne retorted. "You are simply manipulating matters for your own benefit."

"True," he admitted, sounding unrepentant. "I will arrange it with Drury Lane so that you will be free for the week."

"You won't ever give up, will you?" Julienne said in exasperation.

Dare flashed his notorious grin. "Certainly not. You should know me better than that by now."

"Regrettably, I do. I have no doubt you will spend the entire week trying to seduce me."

"What else? But Madame Brogard can come along to play chaperone if you feel you need protection."

"She hasn't proven to be adequate protection in the past," Julienne muttered. "What sort of living arrangements did you have in mind?"

"I always hire a lodge at Newmarket each spring. It's not luxurious, but it's comfortable."

"And totally unacceptable. I am not about to live there with you, Dare. It would appear too much like you are winning our wager. Solange and I will stay at an inn instead."

"It will be nearly impossible to find rooms at an inn at this late date. The Guineas is a leading meet, and the entire racing world will be in attendance."

"Well, if you want me there, you will find a way."

Julienne gave him an arch smile of her own. "I'm certain the resourceful Marquess of Wolverton can rise to the occasion and charm a set of rooms from a Newmarket innkeeper."

"You drive a hard bargain, love, but I will do my best to satisfy you."

"Satisfying me will be quite a feat," she reminded him in dulcet tones.

Dare's frustration hadn't lessened as he watched Julienne's performance the following evening. He had sidestepped her questions about the companion's lover because he could see no point in alarming her unnecessarily.

There was no reason to tell her about finding the pearl broach in his carriage or the likelihood that Caliban had planted it there. Lady Castlereagh had confirmed that the bauble was indeed the one Alice Watson had worn, which made Dare almost positive Caliban had been taunting him.

Dare's thoughts were centered on his nemesis rather than Shakespeare's play by the time Lady Anne was supposed to be poisoned. He watched Julienne take a sip from her wineglass and launch into an impassioned speech lamenting King Richard's malevolence. It was perhaps five minutes later when her voice suddenly quavered and she touched her throat. She managed a few more words, but then her delivery faltered altogether, making Dare wonder if she had forgotten her lines.

Suddenly she swayed and slowly sank to the stage floor, as if in a faint.

Her collapse just now was not part of the script, Dare was certain.

Her fellow actors seemed bewildered by the digression. One of the "palace guards" knelt at Julienne's side, making up lines as he went. "My queen! Are you ill?"

When Julienne gave no response, fear snaked along Dare's spine. Without conscious thought, he rose from his seat and hurriedly left his box, making his way along the corridors and down to the pit.