"He is attempting to protect his sister from me," Sebastian said. "Some would say that makes him a rather brave young man."

Flowers blinked his large, drooping eyes. "I take your point, m'lord. I had not thought of it in that light."

Sebastian walked quietly into the library. Lucifer rose from his position on top of the sofa, jumped lightly down onto the carpet, and trotted forward to greet him. Sebastian picked up the cat and glanced at his visitor.

Trevor was standing stiffly near the window. The outsized shoul­ders and extremely tight waist of his overpadded coat gave him an unfortunate insectlike silhouette. He whirled around when he realized someone had entered the room.

Sebastian stroked Lucifer and contemplated Trevor's painfully styl­ish appearance. The younger man's cravat was tied in an excruciat­ingly complicated manner that severely hindered the movement of his head. Sebastian wondered that Trevor did not choke on it. The collar of his elaborately ruffled shirt was so high it framed his chin. His trousers were elaborately pleated and his waistcoat was a startling shade of pink.

"Angelstone."

"Good afternoon, Merryweather." Holding Lucifer in one arm, Sebastian went across the room to the table that held the claret de­canter. "Will you join me?"

"No." Trevor flushed. "Thank you. Sir, I have come to speak with you about my sister."

"Ah, yes. You no doubt wish to discuss settlements and that sort of thing. Do not concern yourself, Merryweather. I will take good care of your sister."

"Now, see here." Trevor squared his shoulders determinedly. "I have had enough of your mockery and sarcasm, my lord. You have gone too far."

"Not yet." Sebastian took a sip of claret and wistfully recalled what he had been doing just before the ghost's untimely interruption at the Leacock mansion. "But I have every hope of doing so quite soon."

Trevor turned crimson with anger. "We both know you are only amusing yourself with Prue. You have no intention of actually mar­rying her. I won't let you play your devilish games with her, Angel-stone."

Sebastian put Lucifer back on the sofa. Then he walked around behind his desk and sat down. He propped his booted feet on the polished wooden surface, brushed a cat hair off his breeches, and eyed Trevor thoughtfully. "What makes you think I won't marry her?"

"Damn you, sir," Trevor exploded. "You know very well she is not your type."

"I disagree."

"You bastard," Trevor seethed. "I won't let you hurt her the way Underbrink did. I don't care what I have to do to stop you."

Sebastian studied his claret. "What, precisely, went on between your sister and Underbrink?"

"He asked her to marry him." Trevor's hands clenched into fists. "He never quite got around to asking my father for permission, of course, because he never actually intended to go through with it. But Prue thought he loved her. She thought he was going to marry her."

"Prue loved him?"

"She cared very much for him," Trevor muttered. "He courted her all summer. Danced with her at the local assemblies. Sent bouquets of flowers to the house. Read romantic poetry to her."

"And told her he wanted to marry her?"

"That's right. But he was lying. He knew all along that he was going to have to marry a great heiress in order to restore the Under­brink fortune. There was no question of him marrying Prue. We all discovered the truth when he went back to London."

Sebastian gazed into the claret. "Did your sister cry for him?"

"Yes, she cried." Trevor braced himself. "And I won't have her cry again because of a devil like you." He hurled himself forward without any warning.

Sebastian took his feet down off the desk and rose swiftly. The claret sloshed onto the floor as he got out of Trevor's path.

Trevor flew across the desk and crashed into the chair Sebastian had just vacated. He fetched up against the wall.

Sebastian set down his glass. "Merryweather, I assure you there is really no need for this sort of exertion."

Trevor got groggily to his feet and stumbled toward Sebastian. He swung wildly with his fists.

Sebastian ducked a blow, stuck out his foot, and allowed Trevor to trip over it.

"Damn you." Trevor sprawled facedown on the floor. He rolled painfully onto his side and struggled back to his feet.

"I'm going to marry her, Merryweather." Sebastian stepped back out of reach as Trevor attempted another punch. "You have my word of honor on it."

"What good is your word?" Trevor gasped. He staggered forward, hands extended toward Sebastian's throat.

"Your sister trusts me."

"Hah. What does she know about dealing with the devil?" Trevor threw himself into the fray once more.

Sebastian sidestepped the lunge. Trevor sailed straight past his target and hit the wall again. He turned, dazed but game.

Sebastian held up a hand. "Enough. If you go on like this you might do some serious damage to yourself. Prue would no doubt blame me for it."

"Damn your eyes, Angelstone, this is not another amusing little jest for you to enjoy. This is my sister we're talking about."

"I am aware of that," Sebastian said quietly. "What would it take to convince you that my intentions toward your sister are honorable?"

Trevor stared at him. "There's nothing you can say that will con­vince me. I don't trust you."

"Merryweather, let us be clear on one point. I would rather not spend the rest of the Season wondering if you're going to leap out of the nearest alley and go straight for my throat. I will strike a bargain with you."

Trevor was instantly suspicious. "A bargain?"

"Give me the opportunity to prove that my intentions are honor­able and I will see to it that you learn how to use your fists properly." Sebastian smiled slowly. "And perhaps a pistol as well."

Trevor scowled in confusion. "I don't understand."

"It's quite simple. I shall arrange for you to take instruction in boxing at Witt's Academy and I shall see to it that you are allowed to practice your shooting skills at Manton's."

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "I would never be accepted by Witt. He operates the most exclusive boxing academy in London. Only gentle­men from the highest ranks of the ton get instruction there."

"I can get you in," Sebastian said.

"I cannot afford a decent set of dueling pistols with which to prac­tice at Manton's," Trevor persisted.

"I shall loan you mine."

Trevor gazed at him in growing uncertainty. "Why would you do that?"

Sebastian smiled faintly. "Two reasons. The first being that if I fail to marry your sister as promised and if you do elect to come after me because of it, we shall at least be able to engage in a fair fight. There is no amusement to be had from participating in an unequal contest."

"What's the second reason?"

"I once had a younger brother of my own. You remind me of him." Sebastian picked up the decanter and poured two more glasses of claret. He handed one to Trevor. "Do we have a bargain?"

Trevor looked down at the claret and then raised his eyes to meet Sebastian's. "Are you really going to marry Prue?"

"Yes."

"And you'll get me into Witt's boxing academy and Manton's gal­lery so that I can learn how to fight you properly if you fail to marry her?"

"Yes."

"I believe you actually mean it," Trevor said slowly.

"I mean every word."

Trevor took a swallow of the claret. "All right, then. And if you don't, I shall tear your head off your shoulders or put a bullet into you."

"Fair enough."

Trevor looked visibly relieved. "Well, that's that, then."

"I certainly hope so."

Trevor cleared his throat. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you, Angelstone."

"Yes?"

"If you really are determined to be my brother-in-law, would you mind very much doing me a great favor?"