"You heard me. You must apologize to him." Prudence leaned forward. "It is the only way, my lord. Trevor is barely twenty, you know. He is nervous and I believe he knows he is in over his head, but he is much too young and too hotheaded to admit that this situation has gotten out of hand."

"Your brother may not feel that it has gotten out of hand. He may be entirely convinced that challenging me was the only proper re­sponse under the circumstances."

"Ridiculous. You must try to understand, my lord. Ever since Mama and Papa were killed in a carriage accident two years ago my brother has been attempting to shoulder his responsibilities as the head of the family."

"I see."

"He is at that dreadful age when young men feel things so very intensely. I expect you were young once yourself."

Sebastian gazed at her, clearly fascinated. "Now that you mention it, I believe I was. It was a very long time ago, of course."

Prudence flushed. "I did not mean to imply that you are old now, my lord."

"Thank you."

Prudence gave him an encouraging smile. "Heavens, you are prob­ably not much above forty."

"Thirty-five."

Prudence blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I am thirty-five, Miss Merryweather. Not forty."

"Oh. I see." Prudence wondered if she had offended him. She sought to recover whatever ground she had lost. "Well, you certainly have the aspect of the sort of sound maturity one would expect in a much older man, sir."

"Kind of you to say so. Others have said that my face bears the marks of a blighted soul and too much hard living."

Prudence swallowed. "The thing is, my lord, I fear we must rely on the wisdom and common sense that you have no doubt acquired dur­ing the past thirty-five years if we are to put an end to the foolishness of a twenty-year-old boy."

Sebastian studied her for a long moment. "You're serious, aren't you, Miss Merryweather? You actually expect me to apologize to your brother."

"I am quite serious. This is a matter of life and death, my lord. According to my sources, you are an extremely excellent shot." Pru­dence tightened her clasped hands. "I understand you practice regu­larly at Manton's and that this will not be your first duel."

"You appear to be remarkably well informed."

"I am very good at investigating things, my lord," Prudence said stiffly. "It is a hobby of mine, as I explained to you earlier this eve­ning."

"So you did. But I was under the impression that your primary interest was the investigation of spectral phenomena."

Prudence glanced at the cat. "It is true that I have specialized in such matters, but I assure you my interests are actually quite wide-ranging. I enjoy finding answers to puzzling questions."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Merryweather?"

"I myself am extremely skeptical on the subject," Prudence admit­ted. "But many people do believe in ghosts. They often think they have evidence of spectral phenomena. My hobby involves examining that evidence and attempting to find a logical explanation for it."

"I see." Sebastian gazed into the flames on the hearth. "It was because I had heard of your rather unusual hobby that I asked to be introduced to you."

Prudence smiled ruefully. "I am well aware of that, my lord. I realize I am accounted an Original here in Town. You are not the first gentleman who has sought an introduction simply because he was curious about my hobby. Do you have any notion of how irritating it is to be asked to dance merely because one is considered odd?"

"I believe I have some idea," Sebastian said, his tone curiously dry. "The ton is always intrigued by the unusual. It reacts like a small child with a new toy. And if it happens to break that toy, it will toss it aside and go on to another bright, glittering object."

"I understand." Prudence's heart sank. Had she actually hoped that he had found her a bit more interesting than a new toy? This was the Fallen Angel, after all. "You are telling me that you asked me to dance because I am the newest of the ton‘s entertainments. You were merely amusing yourself."

"No." Sebastian watched her with hooded eyes. "I asked you to dance because you intrigued me, Miss Merryweather. It occurred to me that you and I might have some interests in common."

She stared at him in astonishment. "Really, my lord? Are you involved in investigations of spectral phenomena?"

"Not exactly."

"What, then?"

"I don't think it's important at the moment. There are more press­ing matters concerning us, are there not?"

"Yes, of course. Your duel with my brother." Prudence pulled her­self back to the business at hand. "Then you will apologize to Trevor? I know it will be dreadfully irritating to do so when he is the one in the wrong, but surely you can see that this duel must be stopped."

"It is not my habit to apologize, Miss Merryweather."

She moistened her dry lips. "The thing is, I cannot convince Trevor to do so."

"Then I fear your brother must face the consequences."

Prudence felt her hands go cold. "Sir, I must insist you act the part of a mature, responsible man. Trevor is as new to the ways of Town as I am. He did not know what he was doing when he challenged you."

"You're wrong, Miss Merryweather. Your brother knew precisely what he was doing. He knew who I was and he knew my reputation." Sebastian smiled faintly. "Why do you think he was so outraged over the fact that I asked you to dance?"

Prudence frowned. "I have learned a great deal about your reputa­tion during the past three or four hours, my lord. It seems to me it has been blown out of all proportion to the facts."

Sebastian looked briefly startled. "Do you know the facts, Miss Merryweather?"

"Most of them." She ticked them off rapidly on one gloved hand. "Years ago your father defied his family to run off with an actress. The Fleetwoods were furious. Your parents were forced to leave the coun­try because of the scandal. There were never any announcements of a wedding made, so everyone, including your relatives, assumed your father never actually married your mother."

"That sums up most of my relevant history."

"Not quite. When you returned to England two years ago, the ton took great delight in labeling you a bastard."

"So it did." Sebastian looked amused.

"It was very cruel of people to say such things. You were certainly not responsible for the circumstances of your birth."

"You are very understanding, Miss Merryweather."

"It is a matter of common sense. Why should a child be blamed for the actions of his parents? However, as it happens, you were not born out of wedlock at all."

"No."

Prudence eyed him thoughtfully. "For reasons of your own, proba­bly because you found it amusing, you were content to let everyone go on thinking that you had been born on the wrong side of the blanket."

"Let us say I couid not be bothered to correct the impression," Sebastian conceded.

"Until your uncle, the old earl, died last year. He had never mar­ried, so he left no son to inherit the title. Your father was next in line, but he unfortunately died four years ago and you were presumed to be a bastard. Thus, everyone thought that your cousin Jeremy, whose father also died some time ago, would become the next Earl of Angel-stone."

Sebastian smiled and said nothing.

"But," Prudence said, "you confounded the entire social world by producing conclusive proof that your parents had, indeed, been legally married before you were born. You were the legitimate heir to the title. I am told your relatives have never forgiven you."

"A circumstance which does not particularly bother me."

"In addition, at the time you came into the title, you had already made a fortune of your own which cast the Angelstone inheritance into the shade," Prudence said. "That is something else that your relatives do not appreciate."