Prudence patted away a wide yawn. "I could fall asleep right where I stand."

Sebastian looked at her. He wanted to take her home, where he knew she would be safe. He wanted to put her into his bed, where he could hold her so close that nothing, not even a ghost, could take her away from him. He wanted to protect her, shield her, keep her next to his heart for the rest of his life.

"You can sleep in the carriage on the way home," he said quietly.

"Of course, my lord," she said equably.

It did not take Sebastian long to make the arrangements. Half an hour later he and Prudence set off for London in a hired post chaise.

"I do believe the fog is beginning to lift." Prudence yawned deli­cately once more and adjusted the carriage rug over her knees. "We should make good time, Sebastian."

Sebastian put his arm around her and drew her against him. He gazed out into the night. "We shall be home by dawn."

"Very likely. It has all been terribly exciting, but I vow I cannot keep my eyes open another minute." Prudence nestled into the curve of his arm.

"Prue?"

"Umm?" Her voice was thick with impending sleep.

"I wish I could have introduced you to my parents. They would have liked you very much."

"I wish you could have met mine," she whispered. "They would have been most pleased to have you for a son-in-law."

Sebastian struggled to find words for what he wanted to say. He probed warily inside himself, testing the deep, hidden place that had been frozen for so long.

The ice was definitely gone, he realized, but he was still uneasy about looking too closely at the place where it had been. It was like trying to peer through the fog outside the carriage. He was not certain what he would discover. The fear of finding nothing at all where the cold had been made him hesitate.

"I did not take very good care of you tonight, Prue," he said fi­nally. "Things will be different in the future."

She did not respond. Sebastian looked down and saw that her lashes were closed. She was sound asleep. He was left to wonder if she had even heard him.

They made excellent time. When the carriage halted in front of the town house, Sebastian lifted Prudence out and carried her straight upstairs. He put her carefully into the bed. She did not awaken when he got in beside her.

Sebastian gathered her close, and for the first time in four years he fell sound asleep before the first gray light of dawn had appeared.

A month later Sebastian pushed aside a journal of accounts that he had been perusing, stretched out his legs, and leaned back in his chair. Lucifer rose from the back of the sofa, bounded onto the desk, and strolled across a pile of papers. He jumped down into Sebastian's lap.

Sebastian glanced at the ormolu clock as he stroked the cat. "She'll be home any minute now and we shall see what my aunt has done to her."

Lucifer curled his tail around himself and rumbled in response.

"I hope my poor Prudence has survived the experience." Sebastian smiled. "She was certainly dreading it. Put it off as long as she could, you know. But in the end Aunt Drucilla got her."

Lucifer twitched his ears and gave another rumbling purr in re­sponse.

A few minutes later the loud commotion in the hall announced Prudence's return from the shopping expedition.

"Ah, here we are." Sebastian watched the door expectantly. "I'll wager my aunt has done her over in emerald greens and deep yel­lows."

The library door opened abruptly and Prudence rushed into the room. She was still wearing the heavily flounced lavender gown she had left in earlier. Her bonnet, a ridiculously oversized concoction decorated with massive lavender flowers, flopped wildly. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her eyes were alight with excitement.

"Sebastian, you will never guess what has happened."

Sebastian dumped Lucifer on the floor and rose to greet his wife. "Please be seated, my dear. I am curious to hear all the details of your shopping trip."

"My shopping trip?" She gave him a puzzled look as she perched on a chair.

"Perhaps you will recall it if you try very hard. I believe you left a little more than three hours ago in the company of my aunt." Sebas­tian sat down again. "You were going to be redone from head to toe."

"Oh, yes. The shopping trip." Prudence took off her bonnet and tossed it to one side. "I believe it was quite successful. Your aunt seemed very pleased, at any rate. I hope you like green and yellow because I fear I shall be wearing a great deal of it."

Sebastian smiled.

"But that is not what I wanted to tell you about." Prudence smiled with satisfaction. "I have got us another client, my lord."

Sebastian stopped smiling. "Bloody hell."

"Now, Sebastian, you must not take that attitude. Perhaps I should make it clear that this will be one of my investigations. I shall be looking into a matter involving spectral phenomena. I thought you would enjoy assisting me this time."

Sebastian eyed her warily. "I do not want you taking any risks, madam, and that is final."

"If you are worrying about your heir, you may relax." Prudence patted her still-flat stomach. "I am certain he is made of sturdy stuff. He will take no notice of a ghost or two."

"Now, Prue—"

"Calm yourself, my lord." She smiled serenely. "There will not be any risks at all. This is a matter involving a very old family ghost. Apparently it has been seen of late at the Cranshaws' country house. They would like me to verify whether or not it actually exists."

"And if it does?"

"Why, then, they would like me to find a way to get rid of it.

Apparently it is terrifying the staff. The Cranshaws have been forced to hire three new maids and a new cook in the past two months. That sort of turnover among one's staff is very annoying, Mrs. Cranshaw tells me."

Sebastian heard the anticipation in her voice. He saw it sparkling in her eyes. He was also ruefully aware of the familiar sense of con­trolled excitement bubbling to life deep inside himself. "I suppose there would not be much harm in conducting a small investigation."

"None at all," Prudence agreed cheerfully.

Sebastian got to his feet again and stalked over to the window. "You are quite certain this is merely a matter of spectral phenom­ena?"

"Absolutely certain."

"There is no question of murder, mayhem, or criminal schemes here?"

"Of course not."

"There is absolutely nothing of a dangerous nature involved?" he persisted.

Prudence chuckled indulgently. "Really, Sebastian. It's perfectly ridiculous to even think that this investigation could involve any dan­gerous criminal activity. We are talking about a very old ghost."

"Well," Sebastian said cautiously, "I suppose it will be all right for you to look into the matter. I shall, of course, accompany you. It will give me an opportunity to observe your methods."

"Of course."

He smiled. "It might be somewhat amusing."

"I hoped you might find it so, my lord," Prudence said demurely.

She was laughing at him, he thought. The little baggage had known that he would be as intrigued as she was by the opportunity to investi­gate another interesting puzzle. She knew him too well. Hardly sur­prising, he reflected. She was, after all, the other half of himself.

Sebastian gazed out into the sunlit garden. "I have only one stipu­lation to make before I agree to pursue this investigation with you."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want you to tell me again that you love me," Sebastian said very quietly.

One could have heard a feather drop in the silence that ensued. Sebastian held his breath. He steeled himself and turned slowly around to face Prudence.

She was on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were very bright and a little wary. "So you did hear me that night."