Sebastian inclined his head briefly. "I compliment you on your investigations, Miss Merryweather. You have learned a great deal about me in a relatively short span of time."

"There was no lack of people willing to gossip about you, my lord."

"There rarely is."

"Your reputation borders on the legendary."

"Perhaps with good reason," Sebastian observed softly.

"It is so formidable, in fact," Prudence continued smoothly, "that it could certainly withstand the few inconsequential remarks that might be made if you were to undertake an apology to my brother."

Sebastian's jaw tightened. Then his eyes gleamed with reluctant admiration. "A telling blow, Miss Merryweather. And very neatly exe­cuted, if I may say so."

"Thank you, my lord. I merely pointed out a small truth. You could apologize to my brother and come away with your extraordinary reputation still intact. Those who learn of your act of generosity to­ward Trevor will view it as a kindness on your part."

"I am not known for being kind, Miss Merryweather."

Prudence smiled encouragingly. "You will be, after word gets out that you refused to meet my brother. Everyone knows that you could have lodged a bullet in him, had you chosen to do so."

"It is an interesting and rather amusing perspective on the situa­tion."

"I'm delighted you understand, my lord. I believe my little scheme will work very well. All you have to do is apologize to Trevor."

Sebastian reflected on that for a moment. "I must confess I do not quite see any clear benefit to myself in all of this."

"You will be spared the inconvenience of a duel at dawn," Pru­dence pointed out. "Surely that is a great benefit."

"As it happens, I am generally awake at dawn, anyway." Some­thing cold flickered in Sebastian's eyes. "A duel would be no great inconvenience."

Prudence stared at him in shock. Then she thought she detected a devilish amusement in his amber eyes. "My lord, you are teasing me."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do. Surely you can have no great desire to fight a duel with a young, inexperienced boy. You have nothing to prove. Promise me you will end this with an apology before blood is spilled."

"You are asking me to set aside the small matter of my own honor."

"I am asking you to be reasonable."

"Why should I bother to be reasonable?"

Prudence was nearing the end of her patience. "My lord, I must insist you cease acting like a cork-brained idiot. We both know you are too intelligent to want to engage in something as foolish as a duel."

"A cork-brained idiot?"

Prudence flushed. "I apologize, sir, but that is how your behavior appears to me. I expected better of you."

"I am desolate to know that I have not lived up to your expecta­tions. But then, I rarely live up to anyone's expectations. I am sur-prised you did not learn that in the course of your investigation this evening."

"You enjoy confounding others," Prudence said. "I realize that you undoubtedly feel that you have just cause to carry on in such a manner. It is no doubt your way of getting some revenge on Society for the way it treated you before you assumed your title."

"That's a very magnanimous attitude on your part."

"However," Prudence said very deliberately, "I am asking you to rise above your inclinations in this instance and behave like the gener­ous, responsible, kindhearted man I know you are capable of being."

Wicked laughter briefly lit Sebastian's eyes. "What in the name of the devil makes you think I'm capable of behaving in such a manner?"

Prudence was exasperated. "You are a well-read man with an in­quiring mind, sir. I learned that much about you on the dance floor when we discussed my investigations into spectral phenomena. You asked perceptive questions and you displayed a keen intellect. I refuse to believe you cannot behave with some generosity of spirit."

Sebastian rubbed Lucifer's ears while he considered that sugges­tion. "I suppose it might be a novel experience."

"Just the thing to relieve your boredom." Prudence hesitated and then added gently, "I understand you suffer from ennui."

"Who told you that?"

"Almost everyone," she admitted. "Is it true?"

Sebastian leaned his head against the back of the chair and gazed at the fire in front of him. His mouth curved without any real humor. "I don't know," he said quietly.

Prudence stared at him. "You don't know what you are feeling?"

He slanted her a strange look. "Much of the time I am not certain that I feel anything at all, Miss Merryweather."

"I experienced a similar sensation for a while after my parents were killed," Prudence said softly.

"Did you?"

"Yes. But I had my brother, Trevor. And Lady Pembroke was very kind. We were all able to comfort each other. My spirits eventually revived."

"That I can well believe." Sebastian's tone was laced with mock­ery. "You are definitely not without spirit, Miss Merryweather. But the matter of whether or not I suffer from ennui is neither here nor there. Let us return to the subject at hand."

"Yes, of course." She gave him an anxious little smile. "I'm aware that I am asking you to do me a great favor, my lord."

"Very true. Apologies are extremely foreign to my nature. And so is the business of granting favors."

"I'm sure you'll survive the experience."

"That remains to be seen," Sebastian said. "I should perhaps re­mind you that when one grants a favor, one expects to be able to collect payment in return at some future time."

A fresh flash of alarm went through Prudence. She eyed him warily. "What, exactly, are you suggesting, my lord?"

"Merely that in return for my doing you this favor tonight, you will agree to do one for me should I ever request it."

Prudence held herself very still. "What sort of favor would you expect in return for sparing my brother's life?"

"Who knows? One cannot see into the future, Miss Merryweather. I have no notion now of what sort of boon I might someday require of you."

"I see." She drew her brows together in concern. "But you expect to collect this favor from me at some point?"

Sebastian smiled slowly. His eyes and those of his cat reflected the firelight. "Yes, Miss Merryweather. Someday I shall most definitely collect what is owed to me. Do we have a bargain?"

A dangerous silence settled on the shadowed library. It was broken only by the crackle of the flames on the hearth. Prudence could not look away from Sebastian's steady, unreadable gaze.

She would have to take the chance that her intuition about this man was correct. He might be dangerous, but she did not believe he was evil.

"Very well, my lord," Prudence said quietly. "I will agree to this bargain."

Sebastian studied her for a long while, as if seeking to see beneath the surface, just as she had sought to penetrate his secrets. "I do believe you are a woman who keeps her bargains, Miss Mer­ryweather."

Prudence scowled. "Of course I am."

"You need not be offended. Genuine honor is a rare enough com­modity in either men or women."

"If you say so. Does this mean you will apologize to my brother?"

"Yes. I shall see to it that the duel is called off."

Relief poured through her. "Thank you, my lord. I am so very grateful. It is really very good of you to do this."

"Enough, Miss Merryweather. I do not need your thanks. We have struck a bargain, you and I. You will repay me soon enough." Sebas­tian set the cat down on the carpet.

Lucifer blinked at Prudence in irritation, as if he blamed her for being disturbed from his comfortable position. Then he flicked his tail and strolled off to settle himself onto a red and gold silk pillow.

Sebastian uncoiled from his chair and reached down to take hold of both of Prudence's hands. He pulled her to her feet.