Meredith gave her a look of mild surprise. "I am not precisely certain, to be perfectly truthful. All I know is that he frightened me. He displayed no proper notion of gentlemanly behavior. He quite terrified me during that dreadful trip north, if you must know. Within the first few miles I had taken a complete disgust of him. I was in tears."

"I see." Phoebe recalled the one brief moment she had spent in Gabriel's arms. Angry though she had been at the time, she had certainly not been in the least disgusted by the threat of his embrace.

In fact, all things considered, Gabriel's kiss had to rank as the most thrilling moment of her entire life. Phoebe had lain awake until dawn thinking about that searingly sensual embrace. The memories still haunted her.

"Do you think that, now he is back in England and has a title, he will ever venture into Society?" Phoebe asked softly.

"I pray he does not." Meredith shuddered. "For the past eight years I have feared his return. The very thought of it is enough to give me the vapors."

"Why? You are safely wed to Trowbridge now."

Meredith gave her a direct look. "Trowbridge knows nothing of what almost happened eight years ago, and it must stay that way."

"I realize that," Phoebe said impatiently. "No one outside the family knows anything about it. Papa hushed up the matter very nicely. So why are you frightened at the thought of Wylde's return?"

"Because I would not put it past Wylde to humiliate us all by somehow resurrecting the events of that night," Meredith whispered. "Now that he has the title, he would soon command the attention of the gossips of the ton, were he to enter Society."

"I take your point," Phoebe murmured. Meredith was right. As an earl, even an earl without a fortune, Gabriel would not go unnoticed in Society. If he chose to spread tales about the wife of the Marquess of Trowbridge, there would be plenty of people who would listen.

"I could not bear to have Trowbridge embarrassed by my actions eight years ago," Meredith said tightly. "At the very least I am certain he would be deeply hurt to know that I had tried to run off to avoid marriage to him. Papa would be enraged to have the scandal made public. Anthony might take it into his head to risk his neck in another duel."

"I do not believe it would be all that bad," Phoebe said. "Surely Wylde would not tell tales. He is a gentleman, after all." She bit her lip, reminding herself silently that she could no longer be certain of that. The stark truth was that Gabriel had changed during the past eight years. Her illusions of him had received a severe blow the other night in Sussex.

"Wylde is no gentleman. Still, we must look on the bright side." Meredith picked up her embroidery. "I seriously doubt he will attempt to enter Society. He never had much taste for it, and he certainly does not have the money for it."

"His financial situation might have changed by now." Phoebe frowned thoughtfully. She knew very well that the income he was receiving off the sale of The Quest would not be enough to enable him to go about much in Society. But there was all that time he had spent in the South Seas. And Gabriel had an undeniable air of competence.

'"Everyone knows there was no fortune to go with the title he inherited," Meredith said crisply. "No, I think we are reasonably safe."

Phoebe thought of the expression on Gabriel's face as he had reluctantly freed her from his kiss. Safe was not a word that came to mind.

Deep inside she was afraid that he might make good on his vow to find her, return the manuscript, and accept the quest. And equally afraid that he might not.

Meredith eyed her sharply. "You are in an odd mood today, Phoebe. Is it because you arc thinking about how to deal with Kilbourne's offer?"

"I have already decided how to deal with it. Assuming he makes one."

Meredith sighed. "Surely after all this time you are not still hoping that Neil Baxter will miraculously return to England with a fortune and sweep you off your feet."

"I am well aware that Neil has been dead for over a year."

"Yes, I know, but you have not been able to accept that, have you?"

"Of course I have. But I fear his death will be on my conscience for the rest of my life," Phoebe admitted.

Meredith's eyes widened in alarm. "You must not say that. You had nothing to do with his death."

"We both know that if it had not been for me, Neil would never have gone off to the South Seas to seek his fortune. And if he had not gone to the islands, he would not have been killed."

"Dear heaven," Meredith whispered. "I had hoped you had put aside your foolish sense of responsibility. Neil chose his own destiny. You must not continue to blame yourself."

Phoebe smiled sadly. "It is easier said than done, Meredith. I think the fact that I considered him a friend, not a potential husband, is what makes it all so very difficult. He never accepted that all I wanted was friendship from him."

"I remember how he called himself your own true Lancelot and how he claimed he had dedicated himself to your service." There was strong disapproval in Meredith's voice. "He was rather attractive. I'll give you that much. But other than his looks, I do not know what you saw in him."

"He danced with me."

Meredith gazed at her in amazement. "Danced with you? What on earth do you mean by that?"

Phoebe smiled ruefully. "We both know that very few men ever ask me to dance. They fear I will make an awkward partner because of my bad leg."

"They do not wish to see you embarrassed on the dance floor," Meredith said firmly. "They refrain from asking you to partner them out of gentlemanly consideration."

"Rubbish. They don't want to humiliate themselves by being seen with a clumsy partner." Phoebe smiled reminiscently. "But Neil did not give a fig for his own appearance on the floor. He waltzed with me, Meredith. He actually waltzed with me. And he did not mind that I was a bit clumsy. As far as I was concerned, he really was my own true Lancelot."

The only way she would find any peace of mind, Phoebe knew, was if she found Neil's murderer. She owed him that much. Then, perhaps, she would be able to put the past to rest.

"Phoebe, regardless of how you feel about Kil-bourne, I beg you to wear something a bit more subdued in color than you usually do tonight. There is no sense putting him off entirely with one of your more inappropriate gowns."

"I was planning on wearing my new chartreuse and orange silk," Phoebe said thoughtfully.

"I was afraid of that," Meredith said.

"Have you read The Quest, by any chance, my lord?" Phoebe looked up at Kilbourne as he led her sedately back to the ballroom from the cold buffet. Out of sheer boredom she had just consumed three lobster patties and some ice cream.

"Good lord, no." Kilbourne smiled his most condescending smile. He was looking very distinguished, as usual, in his immaculately tailored evening clothes. "Such tales are not to my taste, Lady Phoebe. Don't you think you're getting a little old for that sort of thing?"

"Yes, and getting older by the minute."

"I beg your pardon?"

Phoebe smiled quickly. "Nothing. Everyone has read the book, you know. Even Byron and the Regent." Primarily because she had made a point of having Lacey send them copies, Phoebe thought smugly. She had known she was taking a chance in doing so, but she had been fortunate. Both Byron and the Regent had read The Quest and told their friends that they had enjoyed it. When word got out, the book had been catapulted to the heights of success.

Kilbourne had to be one of the few people in London who had not read Gabriel's book.

Whenever she envisioned marriage with the stuffy Kilbourne, she foresaw a lifetime of irritating conversations such as the one she was having now. Marriage between herself and Kilbourne would never work. She could only hope he would not offer for her and thus oblige her to refuse him. What a tempest in a teapot that would create. Her whole family would be aghast.