"Four years ago my parents and my brother were killed by a great fall of rock while they were traveling through a mountain pass in a godforsaken corner of the East called Saragstan."

Prudence came to a halt on the dance floor. "How terrible for you, my lord. I know how you must have felt. I remember all too well my feelings at the moment I received word my parents had been killed in the carriage accident."

Sebastian did not seem to hear her. His gaze was turned inward as he led her off the floor. Prudence sensed that he was focusing on some distant landscape that only he could see. He came to a halt near the French doors and stood looking out into the night.

"I was to meet up with them in a small town at the foot of the mountains. I had business dealings there. The local weavers produce a very fine cloth which I purchase and have shipped to England and America. My parents and my brother never arrived."

"I am so very sorry, my lord." Prudence sought for words of com­fort. "Such tragic accidents are very difficult to endure."

Sebastian veiled his eyes briefly with his long, dark lashes. When he raised them again and glanced sideways at Prudence she knew he was once more in the present. "You misunderstand. My parents and my brother did not die in an accident."

Prudence stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"The fall of rock which killed them was deliberately caused by bandits who preyed upon travelers in the mountains. I did not know that the bandits were a problem in the region when I sent word to my father to meet me in that damned town."

"Dear God." Prudence's eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. "Surely you do not blame yourself, my lord?"

"I don't know." He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and continued to gaze out into the darkness. "The fact is they would all be alive today if I had not asked them to join me there in Sarag­stan."

She touched his sleeve. "You must not assume the responsibility for what happened. You did not destroy your family. The bandits did that. Were they ever caught and punished?"

"Yes." Sebastian looked down at her. "They were punished." His mouth curved in his chilling smile. "Now, Miss Merryweather, I sug­gest we change the subject. I would rather not discuss such unpleasant matters with you."

"I quite understand, my lord," Prudence said seriously. "I do not think it is a good thing to dwell too much on the past. It is the present and the future that are important. Don't you agree?"

"I have no idea." Sebastian acted as though the question bored him. "I'll leave such philosophical decisions up to you."

The devil was up to mischief tonight. Prudence was certain of it an hour later when Sebastian took his leave of her and started toward the door.

During the past few days she had come to feel that she had gotten to know this enigmatic man quite well. There was a sense of recogni­tion deep inside her. She did not fully understand it, but she knew it was there.

She thought she could see past the cool facade he showed to the world. She believed she could even read the small signs that indicated the subtle changes in his dark moods.

Tonight, Prudence decided, there was an air of keen alertness about him, a sense of barely suppressed anticipation like that of a predator on the hunt. It worried her. Sebastian had been in the same strange mood for the past three nights.

She watched him make his way through the glittering room. He would soon be lost from sight in the throng of guests that filled the Thornbridge house.

This was not the first time this week that she had watched him quietly disappear from a crowded ballroom. He had vanished from three different ballrooms last night, two others the previous night, and two more the night before that. On each occasion he had reappeared a short while later acting as if he had never been gone. No one but Prudence seemed to have noticed. After all, the rooms were so crowded that it was nothing to lose sight of a person for a while.

But Prudence was very aware of Sebastian's presence whenever he was around and she sensed his disappearances instantly.

Anyone who noted his progress tonight would assume he was leav­ing. It was past midnight, after all, and Sebastian had already spent more than an hour at the Thornbridge ball. The earl was well known for his propensity to become easily bored.

Prudence had begun to suspect that Sebastian's restless nature had led him to amuse himself in some rather unfortunate ways. She knew he liked puzzles and she could not forget that he had shown a keen interest in her search for the Pembroke jewels. Indeed, his questions about her investigation had been extremely specific in nature.

Prudence put the two facts together and came to the uneasy con­clusion that Sebastian might have developed a penchant for opening closed doors and prowling through locked safes in crowded houses merely because it amused him to do so. Perhaps he enjoyed the thrill of discovering hidden jewels even though he was richer than most of his hosts.

Sebastian surely wouldn't steal whatever valuables he chanced to find, Prudence assured herself. But he might very well revel in the dangerous business of searching for them.

The game he was playing involved far too much risk. He needed to be stopped before he got himself into trouble.

She took a last swallow of her punch and put down her glass with a firm resolve. Tonight she was going to find out just what sort of unholy business the Fallen Angel was engaging in when he disappeared from a crowded ball. When she discovered the exact nature of his amuse­ments, she was going to give him a stern lecture. Boredom was not an excuse for engaging in mischief.

It was a simple task to slip through the crowd in Sebastian's wake. The people who noticed her nodded pleasantly, no doubt assuming she was on her way upstairs to one of the withdrawing rooms provided for the ladies.

Prudence smiled and chatted briefly with one or two of Hester's acquaintances, all the while edging toward the hall where Sebastian had vanished.

Several minutes later she found herself alone in an empty corridor. She glanced quickly around, picked up her mustard-colored muslin skirts, and hurried toward the back stairs.

When she reached the staircase, she paused again to check that none of the household staff was in the vicinity. None of the Thorn-bridges' handsomely liveried servants were in sight. At this hour they would all be occupied in the kitchens or circulating through the crowds with trays of punch and champagne.

Prudence gazed uneasily up into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Perhaps she was wrong in thinking Sebastian had come this way. She'd only had that last brief glimpse of him disappearing down this hall.

She started up the stairs, her soft dancing slippers silent on the wooden treads. When she reached the second floor, she hesitated again, trying to get her bearings. Two hall sconces were lit, but for the most part this section of the mansion was in shadow.

A small sighing sound from the far end of the darkened hall caught Prudence's attention. Someone had just closed a bedchamber door very quietly.

She went down the carpeted corridor until she reached the door. As she stood gazing at it, uncertain of her next move, a thin line of candlelight appeared at the bottom. Someone was inside.

Prudence's fingers trembled as she gripped the doorknob. If she was wrong in thinking Sebastian had entered the bedchamber, her next move could prove extremely embarrassing. She readied two or three logical excuses as she cautiously opened the door.

The glow of light she had seen a moment earlier disappeared in­stantly as she stepped into the room. The chamber was in complete darkness.

Prudence stood in the doorway for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the lack of light. When she could just make out the bulky shape of a huge, canopied bed, she closed the door gently behind her.