For some reason Phoebe had felt obliged to spend an inordinate amount of time choosing her own attire this morning. She had found herself dithering between two or three gowns in a totally uncharacteristic manner. Now she was very glad she had worn her new squash-yellow muslin with its fuchsia-colored pelisse. Her bonnet was a confection of squash and fuchsia pleats and flowers.

As if sensing her presence, Gabriel looked up and saw her. A slow smile edged his mouth as he took in the sight of her in her vivid gown. His eyes were very green in the morning light. Phoebe drew a deep breath and acknowledged to herself that this was why she had spent so long in front of her mirror this morning. She had been hoping to see exactly that look of approval in Gabriel's eyes.

Even as the realization dawned on her, she tried to quell it. Gabriel had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt eight years ago that his taste in women ran to delicate blue-eyed blondes who favored soft pastels.

"Good morning, Lady Phoebe." Gabriel walked across the room to greet her. "You're looking very bright and cheerful today."

"Thank you, Lord Wylde." Phoebe glanced around quickly and decided no one could overhear their conversation. "I got your message."

"So I sec. I thought you would be quite anxious to recover The Knight and the Sorcerer"

"You have it with you?"

"Of course." Gabriel led her back toward the counter, where a manuscript-shaped bundle wrapped in brown paper was sitting next to the volume he had been examining. "Proof of my skills as a knight-errant."

"Wylde, this is wonderful." Phoebe picked up the bundle. "I cannot tell you how impressed I am. I know you'll be of great assistance in my quest."

"I shall do my best." Gabriel indicated the open book on the counter and raised his voice slightly. "You might be interested in this, Lady Phoebe. A rather fine copy of an early sixteenth century history of Rome. Mr. Hammond says he acquired it recently from the estate of a collector in Northumberland."

Phoebe realized instantly that Gabriel was attempting to provide a reasonable excuse for them to continue talking. No one in the bookshop would think it odd that they were studying an interesting old book. Obediently she bent her head to take a closer look.

"Very nice," Phoebe declared in a strong voice as she caught sight of Mr. Hammond out of the corner of her eye. "Italian, I see. Not Latin. Excellent illuminations."

"I thought you might appreciate it." Gabriel turned a page in the book and read silently for a moment.

Phoebe took another quick look around and leaned closer on the pretext of reading over his shoulder. "My family is a trifle upset about all this, Wylde."

"I noticed." Gabriel turned another page and frowned thoughtfully as he studied it.

"They know nothing of my quest, so they naturally assume you and I have formed a friendship of sorts."

"Something more than a friendship, Lady Phoebe. They are afraid we are forming an attachment." Gabriel skimmed another page of text.

Phoebe blushed and glanced quickly around the shop again. Mr. Hammond was busy with another patron now. "Yes, well, I can hardly explain the truth to them. They would never approve of my quest. But I want to assure you that you need not worry about their concerns."

"I see. How, exactly, do you intend to assure them that we are merely acquaintances?"

"Don't worry. I shall manage Papa and the others. I have had a great deal of experience with that sort of thing."

"Headstrong," Gabriel said under his breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

Gabriel pointed to a word on the page in front of him. "I believe this is Italian for headstrong."

"Oh." Phoebe studied the word. "No, I do not believe so. I am quite certain that word translates as mule."

"Ah. Of course. My mistake. What was it you were saying?" Gabriel asked politely.

"You must not allow my family's suspicious notions to interfere with your investigations."

"I shall do my best to rise above their low-minded opinions, madam."

Phoebe smiled in approval. "Excellent. Some people can be quite put off by my father's somewhat dictatorial approach."

"You don't say?"

"He is really very nice, in his way, you know."

"No, I don't know."

Phoebe bit her lip. "I suppose your experience of him eight years ago cannot have left you with a. pleasant impression."

"No, it did not."

"Well, as I said, you must pay him no heed. Now, then, let us get down to business. I have secured some important invitations for you. The first is for the Brantleys' masquerade ball on Thursday."

"I take it I am being ordered to attend?"

Phoebe scowled. "It is an important affair. I shall be able to introduce you to a great many people and you will be able to begin your inquiries."

Gabriel inclined his head. "Very well, my lady. Your wish is my command."

"That's the spirit. Now, then, have you anything to report on your investigations thus far?"

Gabriel drummed his fingers on the counter. "Let me think. Thus far I have managed to secure a house for the Season. Not an easy task, I might add. I've also acquired a small staff. I have paid a visit to Weston's to order some new clothes, and I've been to Hoby's for boots. I think that about covers my accomplishments to date."

Phoebe glowered at him. "I was not speaking of those sorts of accomplishments."

"I must take care of such details before I can move about in Society, madam. Surely you realize that?"

Phoebe bit her lip. "You are quite right. I had not thought of such matters. Now that you have brought them to my attention, I must ask you a very personal question."

Gabriel slanted her a sidelong glance. "How personal?"

"Please do not take offense." Phoebe risked another quick look around before leaning very close. "Have you got enough money to cover your expenses?"

Gabriel paused in the act of turning another page. "That is indeed a very personal question."

Phoebe felt her face flame with remorse. Gabriel was a very proud man. She had not meant to humiliate him. Nevertheless, she had to be firm about this.

"Please do not be embarrassed, my lord. I am well aware that I am asking you to move in some very exclusive circles at the height of the Season, and I am equally aware that to do so you will need money. As I am the one who requested your assistance on this quest, I feel it is only fair that I cover some of your expenses."

"There is the income I received from the publication of The Quest," he reminded her.

Phoebe waved that aside. "I am well aware that the income a beginning writer receives from his work would not begin to finance a Season."

Gabriel kept his gaze focused on the old volume in front of him. "I believe I can handle my own finances without your assistance, madam. At least for the length of time it takes to complete this quest."

"You are certain of that?"

"Quite certain. I shall contrive to get by." Gabriel leaned one elbow against the counter and turned to study Phoebe with a sharp, assessing gaze. "It is my turn to ask a personal question, madam. How desperately did you love Neil Baxter?"

Phoebe stared at him in amazement. Then her eyes slid away from Gabriel's. "I told you that Neil and I were friends."

"How close was the friendship?"

"I do not see that it matters now."

"It matters to me."

"Why?" she shot back. "What difference does it make? Neil is dead. The only thing that matters now is finding his murderer."

"Murderers go unpunished every day of the week."

"This one shall not." Phoebe's hand tightened into a small fist on the counter. "I must find him."

"Why?" Gabriel asked softly. "Because you loved Baxter so much you cannot rest until justice has been done?"

"No," she admitted sadly. "I must find him because it is my fault he was killed."