His library had been thoroughly searched, but nothing had been stolen. Gabriel knew he would have felt less uneasy if something of value had been taken. This situation raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck. It also raised questions.

In the morning he would interview the entire staff. If he was satisfied that none of the servants was involved, he would instruct Shelton to institute precautions so that this sort of thing did not happen again.

Three days after the Brantley masquerade Phoebe and Meredith were sitting in the drawing room of the Clarington town house when Lydia burst triumphantly through the door.

"He's rich, he's rich. And Kilbourne's in dun territory. Can you believe it? Kilbourne, of all people.

Who would have dreamed it?" Lydia was crowing with excitement. "Wait until your papa hears this."

Phoebe stared at her mother in amazement. "What on earth are you talking about, Mama?"

"Kilbourne. And Wylde." Lydia ripped off her fashionable French bonnet and tossed it aside. She sat down on the yellow sofa with the air of Cleopatra sitting on her throne. "Someone pour me a cup of tea»

"Yes, Mama." Meredith reached for the green and white Worcester teapot.

"Better yet," Lydia said hastily, "see if there is am sherry in the decanter, Phoebe. I need something medicinal. This has all come as a monumental shock."

Meredith gave her mother a gently disapproving look as Phoebe rose and walked over to the sherry decanter. "Calm yourself, Mama. You are in a state."

"I should say so." Lydia snapped the sherry glass our of Phoebe's hand and took a swallow. "And with good reason. Wait until you hear the details."

Phoebe's brows rose as she sat down again. "Where did you hear them, Mama?"

"At Lady Birkenshaw's card party this afternoon. Nellie was so excited that she forgot to pay attention to her cards. Lost three hundred pounds to me before she even realized what had happened." Lydia paused to gloat briefly. "But after I heard the news, I was obliged to stop playing altogether. Simply could not concentrate."

"What news, Mama?" Meredith asked firmly. "What did you say about Kilbourne being in dun territory?"

"Under the hatches, done up, financially embarrassed. The man is virtually without funds." Lydia took a swallow of sherry. "Not that you'd know it, of course. He's managed to conceal it all Season, but I saw Birkenshaw stumbled on the truth this morning when his solicitor advised him not to go into partnership with Kilbourne."

"Ah-hah," Phoebe said. "So that's why Kilbourne has been pursuing me this Season. The man is looking for an heiress. I knew there was a reason he suddenly found me so eminently suitable to be his marchioness."

"Good lord." Meredith looked stunned. "Kilbourne was trying to latch on to Phoebe before anyone discovered the truth about his finances."

"Precisely." Lydia set down her glass. "Wait until your father hears about this. He will be outraged. Kilbourne was after Phoebe's fortune all along."

"And here I thought he would be such a sound, stable, mature influence on Phoebe," Meredith said regretfully. "What a pity."

Phoebe eyed her mother and sister. "There is no sense going into mourning over this. I have tried to make it clear all along that I was not interested in accepting an offer from Kilbourne."

"He is a marquess," Meredith reminded her.

"He is a prig," Phoebe said.

Lydia held up her hand. "Enough. It is over. We have had a close call and that is the end of it. The good news is that we can now consider an offer from Wylde."

Phoebe and Meredith stared at her.

"Mama, what are you saying?" Meredith demanded.

Lydia smiled with smug satisfaction. "My dears, Wylde is as rich as Croesus."

Meredith gasped. "What on earth?"

"It's true." Lydia gave Phoebe a conspirator's smile. "As rich as your father. Always thought the boy would make something of himself out there in the South Seas."

Phoebe swallowed. "I don't believe it."

"Oh, it's all true enough. Nellie was certain of it.

The solicitor who advised her husband not to get involved with Kilbourne suggested he consider investing in one of Wylde's ships instead."

"Ships?" Meredith was wide-eyed.

"Ships," Lydia repeated. "Plural. As in more than one ship. As in a great many ships that have extremely lucrative trading arrangements with America. Wylde has been extremely discreet about the state of his finances, but the extent of his fortune had to come out sooner or later. His business dealings are too extensive to be hidden for long."

"Good heavens," Meredith breathed. "Why has Wylde been so secretive? And why has he been taunting Papa by pretending he is interested in Phoebe?"

Lydia frowned. "I do not believe he is pretending an interest in Phoebe. I believe the man is quite serious. And as for taunting Clarington, I expect Wylde is merely getting some of his own back for what your papa did to him eight years ago."

Phoebe was horrified at the misunderstanding. "Mama, I must make it clear to you that Wylde and I are merely friends. There has been absolutely no talk of marriage. You must not delude yourself."

"There, you sec?" Meredith poured herself another cup of tea. "I knew it. Wylde's intentions, whatever they may be, are definitely not honorable."

Phoebe turned on her sister. "Meredith, you must not say such things. Wylde is a very honorable man."

"If that were the case, why is he hanging around you and not showing any signs of offering for you?" Meredith retorted.

"Because we are friends," Phoebe said, feeling desperate. She could hardly explain about the quest to find Neil's killer. "We have interests in common. I assure you, that is all there is to it."

Meredith shook her head sadly. "I am so sorry, Phoebe. But you must be realistic. There is only one reason why Wylde is continually in your company these days. He is plotting to ruin you in order to avenge himself on all of us."

Phoebe leaped to her feet. "You are wrong. I will not listen to any more of this nonsense. Wylde and I have no plans to marry. I am well aware that I am not his type. But we are friends and we intend to remain friends, and that is all there is to it."

Phoebe rushed out of the room and fled up the stairs to the privacy of her bedchamber. She closed the door and flung herself into the chair near the window.

So Gabriel was rich, after all. So what did that signify?

The fact that Gabriel was wealthy did not particularly surprise her. Gabriel was one of those amazingly competent men who gave one the impression they could do anything they set out to do. If he had set out to make his fortune in the South Seas, then it was not at all startling that he had succeeded.

His wealth or lack thereof had never been important to Phoebe. She had fallen in love with him for other reasons.

Love.

Yes, love. Phoebe closed her eyes and gripped the arm of her chair. She might as well admit it to herself. She had been in love with Gabriel since that night she had met him on that moonlit lane in Sussex.

Since the first time he had kissed her.

Perhaps even before that. Phoebe wondered sadly if she had fallen in love with him when she had read his first manuscript and realized the author was the man who had embodied her youthful ideal of knighthood.

She had instructed Lacey to write back immediately saying they would publish The Quest. She had dictated every sentence of that letter: … A new species of novel. A very inspiring treatment of the subject of love …

Shortly after that, she had started to dream of him. When she realized she needed a knight-errant to help her track down Neil's killer, Gabriel had been the obvious choice.

There was no doubt about it. Gabriel had filled her thoughts for weeks and she had begun to realize he would haunt her for the rest of her life.