There were dark spots of dried blood on the floor. Gideon rose to his feet and did a quick survey of the rest of the chamber. There was no sign of Morland.

Gideon found a few more dark spots in the dust as he left the room and started back down the hall. He followed them straight back to the window where he, himself, had entered. When he held the candle up he could see a bloody fingerprint on the windowsill. Morland had climbed out of the house via this route. That explained why the window was unlocked.

So much for Harriet's fears that she had killed the bastard. He had obviously been spry enough to sneak out of the house after he picked himself up off the floor.

Gideon smiled coldly to himself as he snuffed the candle. He was just as glad Morland was not dead. He had other plans for him.

Twenty minutes later, Gideon walked up the steps of Morland's small townhouse and announced himself to the housekeeper who answered the door. She gawked at his scar as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"He's not at home to anyone," the woman muttered. "Told me so himself, not more'n half an hour ago. Right after he came home. Been in an accident, he has."

"Thank you." Gideon stepped forward into the hall, forcing the startled woman aside. "I shall announce myself."

"Now, look here, sir," the housekeeper grumbled, "I was given my orders. Mr. Morland ain't feelin' at all well just at the moment. He's restin' in the library."

"He'll be feeling a good deal worse when I've finished with him." Gideon opened the first door on the left and knew he had guessed correctly. He was in the library. There was no sign of his quarry until Morland spoke from the other side of a wing-back chair that faced the hearth.

"Get the hell out of here," Morland growled without looking around to see who had entered the room. "Goddammit, Mrs. Heath, I left orders I was not to be disturbed."

"But that is precisely what I intend to do, Morland," Gideon said very softly. "Disturb you. Greatly."

There was a stunned silence from the chair. Then Morland heaved himself out of it and spun around to confront Gideon. Brandy from the glass in his hand splashed on the carpet.

Morland no longer looked like an archangel. His carefully styled blond hair was in disarray. There was dried blood on his forehead and a feverish expression in his eyes. He set down the brandy glass with trembling fingers.

"St. Justin. What in the name of the devil are you doing here?"

"Do not trouble yourself to play the gracious host, Morland. I can see that you are not feeling at all well. By the bye, that is a rather nasty gash you sustained on your forehead." Gideon smiled. "I wonder if it will leave a scar."

"Get out of here, St. Justin."

"She was afraid she had killed you with that chunk of stone, you know. Harriet is quite strong for a female. And it was a rather large stone, was it not? I saw it on the floor in that chamber where you tried to attack her."

Morland's eyes were wild. "I don't know what in bloody hell you're talking about and 'I have no wish to know. I demand that you leave at once."

"I shall leave just as soon as you and I have taken care of a small matter of business."

"What business?"

Gideon arched a brow. "Did I not explain? I require the names of your seconds, of course. So that mine can call on them to arrange the details of our meeting."

Morland was speechless for a few seconds. "Seconds? Meeting? Are you mad? What are you talking about?"

"I am challenging you, naturally. I would have thought you would be expecting it. You have, after all, insulted my wife. What else can a gentleman in my position do, but insist upon satisfaction?"

"I did not touch your wife. I don't know what you are talking about," Morland said quickly. "If she says I insulted her, she is lying. Lying, do you hear me?"

Gideon shook his head. "There you go, insulting her again. How dare you accuse my wife of lying, Morland? I shall most certainly have to have satisfaction now. I cannot let that pass."

"Damn you, St. Justin, I am telling you the truth. I never touched her."

"Yes, I know," Gideon said patiently. "The fact that she saved herself from you is all well and good, but that does not make up for the insult. As a gentleman yourself, I am certain you understand perfectly well what my duty in this matter is."

Morland stared at him, his expression a mixture of fury and desperation. "She is lying, I tell you. I do not know why, but she is lying. Listen to me, St. Justin. We were friends once. You can trust me."

Gideon studied him. "Are you actually suggesting I take your word over that of my wife?"

"Yes, damn you, yes. Why should you trust her? She was forced to marry you because you compromised her. I know all about it. The gossip was all over Town while you were gone."

"Was it really? Well, the gossip does not much matter now, does it? I married the lady. In Society's eyes, that takes care of everything, as we both know."

"But you cannot trust her," Morland said. "She does not love you. No more than Deirdre did. How could any woman want you, with that ruined face of yours? Your wife was forced to accept your offer of marriage just as Deirdre was forced into it."

"I am surprised you would bring up Deirdre's name," Gideon said softly. "After what you did to her."

Morland's mouth worked for a few seconds, but no sound came out. "After what I did to her? What the devil are you talking about now?"

"She told me the name of her seducer that night she came to see me," Gideon said. "She flew into a rage when I refused to fall for her scheme. I thought it rather odd, you see, that she had suddenly found me so overwhelmingly attractive she could no longer wait until marriage."

"She hated the sight of you. "

"Yes. She made that quite clear the night I turned down her very generous offer. She was very angry. In her rage she told me a great deal about you, Morland. How you loved her but could not marry her because you were inconvenienced with a wife. How you had suggested she seduce me after she discovered she was pregnant. How you and she planned to continue your affair after her marriage to me."

Morland wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Deirdre was lying."

"She was?"

"Of course she was," Morland screamed. "And you knew it. You must have known it. Otherwise you would have… have…"

"Challenged you six years ago? To what purpose? It was you she wanted and she had given herself to you willingly. She made her choice. And as she made it plain she could not bear the sight of me, why would I bother to challenge you over her? Killing you would have accomplished nothing."

"She lied." Morland clenched his fist and slammed it against his chair in a gesture of enraged frustration. "Damnation, they are both lying."

"My wife does not lie," Gideon said quietly. "And I do not tolerate insults to her. Name your seconds."

"I am not going to name any seconds," Morland said thickly.

"Ah," said Gideon, "I see you are too unsettled from your recent wound to think of the names of two men who can be trusted to handle the details of our encounter for you. Very well, I shall give you some time."

"Time?" Morland was suddenly very alert.

"Certainly. You shall have tonight. I shall send my seconds to call on you first thing tomorrow morning. By then you should have thought of two names. Good evening, Morland. I look forward to our meeting." Gideon turned toward the door.

"Wait." Morland moved forward with a jerky motion. His hand struck the brandy glass and it toppled to the carpet. "I said wait, damn you. You cannot challenge me. Think of the gossip."

Gideon smiled. "I assure you the thought of gossip does not trouble me. I have had six long years to grow accustomed to the worst that Society can offer in that regard. That reminds me, I almost forgot something."