Dare's eyes narrowed. "You spoke to Julienne?"

His grandfather's craggy brows knitted together in a scowl. "I made certain she understands the consequences of your insupportable marriage."

For an instant Dare thought back to his last tryst with Julienne, remembering her reluctance to elope with him. But she hadn't known then of his grandfather's threat to disown him, for he hadn't told her. Dare shook his head. "She is not interested in your fortune."

"The devil she isn't!" The marquess's voice rose again to the level of a shout. "Hell and damnation, lad, don't you see? You are letting your cock rule you!"

"No, Grandfather. For once I am letting my heart rule."

A dark and furious flush suffused the old man's cheekbones, but he made a visible effort at restraint. "I tell you, you are a blind fool. That Laurent trollop has been cuckolding you for months now with her lover. Ivers shared her bed long before you began sniffing at her skirts."

Dare stiffened with instinctive jealousy. Ivers's attentions to Julienne had always made him grind his teeth. But the idea of her cuckolding him was laughable.

At Dare's scoffing sound, his grandfather waved an accusing finger at the library window, in the direction of the earl's nearby estate. "Ask Ivers if you don't believe me."

Dare returned a wintery smile. "You will have to come up with a better tale than that if you expect to turn me against her."

Giving a growl of pure rage, Lord Wolverton shook his gnarled fist. "How about this tale then? Your jade is guilty of treason. I will see her in prison or worse if you try to wed her."

A sudden chill swept through Dare. His grandfather was powerful and influential enough to make good such a threat if he wished to.

When Dare hesitated, the marquess's rheumy gaze narrowed with malice. "They hanged two English sailors from Whitstable last month for treason. Your whore was their accomplice."

"You know damned well that is a lie."

"I know nothing of the kind! Those bloody emigres are always short of funds and willing to sell their loyalty for gain. I could easily find proof of your tart's guilt."

Dare's hands momentarily clenched, but he kept his voice under tight control when he issued his own warning. "You would be ill-advised to threaten her with harm, old man."

"Then do not force my hand, boy! I mean what I say. Your betrothal will not stand. It will not stand, do you hear me!"

Ignoring the aging nobleman's shout, Dare turned abruptly on his heel and stalked from the room, intent on calming his own seething rage before he rode to meet Julienne at their trysting site.

Until that afternoon, he had been fiercely determined to defy his grandfather's wrath, regarding the possibility of disinheritance as inconsequential to his future happiness.

But this new threat against her was enough to give Dare pause. Certainly enough to make him question the wisdom of an elopement. He wanted Julienne as his wife, but not at the risk of endangering her. His grandfather was powerful enough to cause her a great deal of trouble, perhaps even to give real substance to any fabricated charges of treason.

Dare realized he had a momentous decision to make. He couldn't stand by and allow Julienne to be hurt. And even if he could convince her to elope with him against his grandfather's objections, there was still the problem of her invalid mother. The comptess refused to leave her home, and Julienne would never abandon her mother.

One thing Dare knew for certain. He would end their betrothal before he allowed her to suffer from the old bastard's machinations. Despite his ardent feelings for Julienne-or because of them-he would give her up before allowing her to be hurt.

Now, seven years later, Dare recalled what a bloody fool he had been. His grandfather had been right on that account.

He felt his throat close on the bitter memory. Julienne had agreed to meet him at the cottage that afternoon if she could get away from her shop, but when she didn't come, he rode into Whitstable to find her.

It was then he discovered her betrayal-her lover. Until then, he hadn't believed a word of his grandfather's accusations about her relationship with Ivers.

His chest aching with remembered pain, Dare stared down into his empty brandy snifter. The old man had gotten his way; he'd caused the dissolution of the betrothal. But Dare had left Kent immediately afterward and never again set foot under his grandfather's roof until the marquess was dead and buried.

With a raw, mirthless laugh, Dare threw the crystal snifter at the hearth, watching it shatter in the fire. He hoped the sixth Lord Wolverton was happy in his grave. His bloodline had remained untainted by the jade's French blood, even if he had lost his only grandson in the process.

Dare slept poorly, enduring dreams of being entangled in his grandfather's malevolent spiderweb. The next morning, directly after breakfast, he summoned the marquess's former secretary, Samuel Butner, to the library in the hope of uncovering evidence linking Ivers to Caliban.

"Is it a fair statement," Dare began after a spate of congenial small talk, "that after living in this district for so many years, you are somewhat acquainted with the Earl of Ivers?"

"Yes, my lord," the elderly secretary answered respectfully. "I would say I am acquainted with him as well as most."

"I'm interested in anything you can tell me about Ivers. It seems he has run up a vast number of gaming debts recently, and there are rumors that his loyalties might have been bought by the French." Dare regarded the secretary with a penetrating look. "Perhaps you'll recall the summer I spent here almost seven years ago: Two sailors from Whitstable were hanged as spies for collaborating with French Bonapartists. Could Ivers possibly have been associated with them or anything resembling treason, do you think?"

Butner narrowed his craggy brows. "Lord Ivers was always a rum sort, but to my knowledge, he would not have stooped so low as to consort with the enemy. But… "

"Yes?" Dare prompted.

"He was regularly short of funds, even then. And I am aware that he found a way to line his pockets that summer. Lord Wolverton paid his gaming debts."

"How do you know?"

"Because I wrote out the draft, my lord. It was a vast sum… six thousand pounds. I presume it bailed him out of the River Tick."

"Why would my grandfather be so generous?"

"I'm not certain, my lord. But I believe it had something to do with your… young lady. The one who owned the millinery."

Dare felt his heart rate quicken uneasily. "Go on."

Butner frowned thoughtfully, as if trying to remember. "His lordship summoned Lord Ivers here one afternoon and was closeted with him for the better part of an hour. I always suspected that large payment was for services rendered. That your grandfather employed Lord Ivers for some purpose."

"But you have no idea what that purpose might be?"

The elderly secretary hesitated a moment. "I have my suspicions. If I may speak freely?"

"By all means."

"His lordship was exceedingly pleased that you decided to stay here at Wolverton Hall that summer. I believe he thought he could groom you to assume his place… once you had sown your wild oats, that is."

Dare pressed his mouth together to keep from showing his cynicism. "Instead I proved a grave disappointment to my grandfather," he said evenly. "I was never serious enough for his taste. Never had aspirations of settling down and becoming an apple farmer."

"No, my lord. But it wounded him deeply when you became betrothed to the… French lass. He was a proud man, you know-"

"He was a manipulating old bastard."

"Just so. But he did not wish to see you wed her."

"Because a Frog would taint his impeccable bloodlines," Dare said sardonically.

"Yes. And because… he suspected her of treason. He intimated to me that she was involved with the spies who were hanged."

Dare found himself grinding his teeth. "That was a falsehood he concocted to force me to end my betrothal. Miss Laurent had nothing whatever to do with treason or spying."

"I suspected as much. I admit, it never set well with me that your grandfather would intervene in your affairs so flagrantly. But he was adamant. You were his hope and pride. He did not wish to see you go to… Begging your pardon, my lord. My tongue does run away from me at times." Looking uncomfortable, Butner flushed.

"No, please… I value your honesty. What were you about to say? Go where?"

"To the devil, the way your father did."

With effort Dare kept his lip from curling. "So Grandfather employed the same high-handedness with me that he'd tried on my father."

"Lord Wolverton hoped to compel you to call off your betrothal."

"By threatening to disown me, I know. For years I thought he had done so."

"He never changed his will. He had no reason to, once your betrothal ended. At the time, however, he was utterly determined. He said that whatever it took, he would gladly pay. He wanted to ?free you from the clutches of a scheming fortune hunter.' Those were his words, if I recall correctly."

Steeling himself against his growing disquietude, Dare managed a calm reply. "I gather he intended to use Ivers to frame Miss Laurent for treason."

"Possibly. After you left here, vowing never to return, Ivers called to collect. And he came two years later to request a loan. His pockets apparently were empty again."

"Did my grandfather comply?"

"No, he refused adamantly. I overheard their argument. Ivers said he would go to you if Lord Wolverton wouldn't pay, that you would want to know the truth."