"He would no doubt fit very nicely into the Polite World," Gabriel said dryly. "Most of the ton stays out all night and sleeps during the day. Still, you were probably right to be careful about meeting him alone at midnight."

Phoebe smiled. "I am glad you approve of my plan to take an escort."

"I approve, but I confess I'm surprised by your concern," Gabriel said with the precision of a swordsman sliding his blade home. "You have not thus far demonstrated much inclination toward caution and prudence."

Phoebe's cheeks burned at the sarcasm. "When one is on a quest, one must be bold, my lord."

"You consider yourself on a quest?"

"Yes, my lord, I do."

"I see. Speaking of quests, I should tell you that I am here tonight on a small one of my own."

A chill of apprehension seized Phoebe. "Yes, my lord? What would that be?"

"It was not just the prospect of viewing Hash's manuscript before you take possession of it that brings me here, my Veiled Lady."

"Really, my lord?" Perhaps her scheme had actually worked, Phoebe thought. Perhaps she had truly piqued his interest, just as she had hoped to do. "You are interested in what I have to say?"

"Not particularly. But I am interested in making the acquaintance of my new opponent. I believe in knowing one's enemy." Gabriel watched her coldly. "I do not know who you are, madam, but you have been leading me a merry dance for some time now. I have had enough of your games."

A fresh flicker of uneasiness dampened Phoebe's rising spirits. She was still a long way from the successful completion of her quest. "I expect we shall encounter each other again in the future. As you said, we are interested in collecting the same books and manuscripts."

Saddle leather creaked softly as Gabriel urged his stallion a few steps closer. "Have you enjoyed your little victories recently, my Veiled Lady?"

"Very much." She smiled in spite of her nervousness. "I am quite pleased with my recent acquisitions. They make excellent additions to my library."

"I see." There was a slight pause. "You do not consider it a bit reckless to invite me along tonight to witness your latest coup?"

It was all far more reckless than he could possibly know, Phoebe thought ruefully. "The thing is, my lord, you are one of the few people in all of England who is capable of appreciating my recent find."

"I certainly do appreciate it. Very much, in fact. And therein lies the danger."

Phoebe's fingers trembled slightly on the reins. "Danger?"

"What if I decide to take the manuscript from you by force after you have collected it from Mr. Nash?" Gabriel asked with lethal softness.

Phoebe stiffened abruptly at the threat. She had not considered that possibility. Wylde was an earl, after all. "Do not be ridiculous. You are a gentleman. You would not do any such thing."

"Mysterious veiled ladies who scheme to deprive gentlemen such as myself of much-desired objects should not be too surprised if said gentlemen become impatient." Gabriel's voice hardened. "If Nash's manuscript is a genuine fourteenth century legend of the Round Table as he claims it is, I want it, madam. Name your price."

Tension crackled in the air between them. Phoebe's courage faltered briefly. It was all she could do not to wheel her mare around and gallop back to the safety of the Amesburys' country house, where she was staying. She wondered if knights-errant had been so bloody difficult in medieval times.

"I doubt that you could meet my price, sir," she whispered.

"Name it and we shall see."

Phoebe licked her dry lips. "The thing is, I have no intention of selling it."

"Are you certain of that?" Gabriel edged the stallion a step closer. The great beast tossed his head and blew heavily, crowding Phoebe's mare.

"Quite certain," Phoebe said quickly. She paused for effect. "However, I might consider giving it to you."

"Giving it to me?" Gabriel was clearly taken aback by that remark. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"I will explain later, sir." Phoebe struggled to soothe her nervous horse. "May I remind you it is nearly midnight? I am due at Mr. Nash's cottage in a few minutes. Are you coming with me or not?"

"I am most definitely going to fulfill my duties as your escort this evening," Gabriel said grimly. "It is far too late to get rid of me."

"Yes, well, shall we get on with the business, then?" Phoebe gave the signal to her mare to move off down the moonlit lane. "Mr. Nash's cottage should be a short distance from here, according to the directions I received in his last letter."

"I would not want you to keep him waiting." Gabriel turned his stallion to follow her.

The sleek animal fell into step alongside Phoebe's mount. Phoebe wondered if her mare was feeling as nervous as she was. Gabriel and the stallion both loomed large and forbidding in the moonlight.

"Now that we have met at last, my Veiled Lady, I have some questions for you," Gabriel said.

Phoebe slanted him a wary glance. "As you have been ignoring my letters for the past two months, I'm surprised to hear that. I had gained the impression that I was not a subject of any great interest to you."

"You know damn well I'm interested now. Tell me, do you intend to continue going after every obscure medieval book that I happen to want?"

"Probably. As you have noted, we appear to share similar tastes in such matters."

"This could get very expensive for both of us. Once the word is out that there are two rival bidders for every old volume that comes to light, the prices will go very high, very quickly."

"Yes, I imagine they will," Phoebe said with studied carelessness. "But I can afford it. I receive a very generous allowance."

Gabriel sent her a speculative, sidelong glance. "Your husband does not mind your expensive habits?"

"I have no husband, sir. Nor am I eager to acquire one. From my observation, husbands tend to limit a woman's adventures."

"I'll grant that few husbands would countenance the sort of nonsense that you are engaged in tonight," Gabriel muttered. "No man in his right mind would allow a wife to traipse around alone in the country or anywhere else at this hour."

Neil would have allowed her to do so, Phoebe thought wistfully. But her fair-haired Lancelot was dead and she was on a quest to find his killer. She put the memories aside and tried to suppress the little wave of guilt she always felt when she thought of Neil Baxter.

If it had not been for her, Neil would never have gone off to the South Seas to seek his fortune. And if he had not gone off to the South Seas, he would not have been murdered by a pirate.

"I am not alone, sir," Phoebe reminded Gabriel. She tried desperately to keep her tone light. "I have a knight-errant to accompany me. I feel quite safe."

"Are you referring to me, by any chance?"

"Of course."

"Then you should know that knights-errant are accustomed to being well rewarded for their tasks," Gabriel said. "In medieval days the lady bestowed her favors upon her champion. Tell me, madam, do you intend to repay me for this night's work in a similar fashion?"

Phoebe's eyes widened behind her veil. She was shocked in spite of herself. Surely he had not meant to imply that she should reward him with favors of an intimate nature. Even if he had become a recluse and no longer felt obliged to honor the polite rules of Society, she could not bring herself to believe that Gabriel's basic nature had changed that much.

The noble knight who had set out to rescue her sister from an arranged marriage all those years ago was at heart a gallant gentleman. Indeed, in her sixteen-year-old eyes he had been worthy of sitting at the Round Table itself. Surely he would not make blatantly unchivalrous advances to a lady.

Would he?