And why should I care? he thought, giving himself a mental shake. He had made a good bargain when he had married her. She was quiet and undemanding. He could forget that she was there if he wanted to. And he certainly had not wanted a woman who would disturb his life in any way. It was fortunate for him that she did not find him as attractive as she seemed to find his brother. She might become a nuisance if she did, demanding what he was not prepared to give. He felt a fresh wave of irritation wash over him as his wife-and Charlotte-broke into peals of laughter over something Charles had said. He had never been able to make her laugh.

And then he remembered what had never really been out of his mind for the last six days: tomorrow night he was to see his angel again! This thought had, in fact, been an agony to him all week. Several times he had made a definite decision not to go. His search for her, the pain he had felt six years before at not being able to find her, was long in the past. Would it not be best to leave it there, to let her slip out of his life again before his feelings were irrevocably involved? At these times he thought of his responsibilities as head of his family. Then he thought of his wife, whom he now held in respect, if not, indeed, in affection. Was he willing to risk the peace and tranquillity of his present life for a romantic gambol with an unidentified figure from his past?

But at other times he admitted to himself that it was already too late. He had held the girl in his arms. She was no phantom, but very real flesh and blood. And he remembered the way passion had flared between them on both occasions. He had to hold her again. He had to have her! He looked forward to the following night with dread, with excitement, and with anxiety.

"Look as if you'd lost your best friend, Bram," said Devin, cutting in on his thoughts.

Brampton was recalled to the present, and to his duties as a host, with a start.

"Seems to have a way with the ladies," Devin continued, nodding in the direction of Charles Adair. "How long d'you say his leave was, Bram?"

Lord Brampton was riding early again in the park next morning. He had already galloped the length of the park and back again before he saw Devin Northcott turn his horse in through the gates. Brampton cantered toward him.

" 'Morning, Bram. You're early," Devin greeted his friend. "Must have something on your conscience."

They rode side by side for a while, talking about trivialities.

Finally Brampton cleared his throat. "Dev, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Anything you ask," Devin replied, watching a young maidservant out walking a dog, and thinking of a head of auburn curls nodding close to a red regimental coat for a whole evening.

"I wish the use of your rooms tonight," Brampton said.

"Eh?"

"I need privacy for certain-business."

Devin was back in the present. "Into the muslin company again, Bram?"

"She is a lady," his friend replied stiffly.

"Mm, yes, quite," Devin commented, and then, on sudden inspiration, "Not the little silver lady from Vauxhall, Bram?"

Brampton did not reply immediately. "Yes," he admitted finally.

Devin gave his friend a sidelong glance. What the devil? Was it really possible that he did not know?

"Have a date to play cards with Freddie Haversham, anyway," he said. "I'll give the servants the night off. Give you my key."

"Thank you, Dev. You're a true friend," Brampton said with relief.

"Must get back now," Devin said, turning his horse. "Breakfast, y'know." He gave Brampton a level look. "I say, Bram," he said, "not at all tair to Lady Bram, y'know."

"Damn it, Dev," Brampton flared. "I do not need you for a conscience. I have a powerful enough one of my own."

Devin Northcott was smiling rather grimly to himself as he prodded his horse into a gallop.

Margaret found it impossible to concentrate on any of her activities that day. She went shopping with Charlotte late in the morning. Charlotte had been complaining that she was wearing the same clothes too frequently and would soon be labeled as a poor country miss if she wore them once more.

"I declare, Meg," she said crossly the day before, "soon people will see a green bonnet turn into Hyde Park from a half-mile distant and know that it must be me."

They had the carriage drop them on Bond Street and walked its length, visiting the various modiste establishments and milliners. They stopped frequently to talk to various lady acquaintances and curtsied to several gentlemen.

Charlotte also insisted on visiting Hookam's library to exchange a book. "I must have a romantic novel to read tonight, Meg," she said. "We cannot go out, as you have your appointment to keep." She giggled.

Margaret, who usually enjoyed a shopping expedition, felt by the time they reached home that she could have screamed with frustration. The day was rushing by, yet time was crawling. She helped Charlotte carry a few bandboxes into the house; two footmen were directed to carry the rest of the boxes and parcels to Charlotte's room. Margaret was glad that she had had the presence of mind to direct, when Charlotte was not within earshot, that the bills be sent to Richard. He would not mind; he was a most generous man. And she could always suggest that he take the money out of her next quarter's allowance. Her father, on the other hand, would not be at all amused by his younger daughter's extravagance.

Margaret spent some time in her room after luncheon, supposedly resting. She thought about the coming evening and felt sick with worry. Was she not courting disaster to meet him again this night? Was he not bound to recognize her? She did not believe that she could face his fury if he discovered her deception. Margaret had never seen her husband lose his temper, but instinct warned her that she would not want to be on the receiving end if he ever did.

Then she thought again of the expertise with which he had embraced her the previous week and of her own response. She thought of the brief, dispassionate encounters that they shared each night in her bed. And she knew again that she must go, whatever the risk.

The remainder of the afternoon was taken up with a drive in the park with Charles. He arrived unexpectedly, demanding that the ladies accompany him to point out some of the more prominent members of the ton.

"It is so long since I have been in London that I fear I might ignore someone that I should know," he explained with his charming smile. "That could mean death to my social reputation."

He need not have feared. All eyes were drawn in admiration to his tall, dashing figure as he drove his curricle skillfully through the heavy traffic in the park, and many people claimed reacquaintance. Charlotte, at his side, sparkled, it seemed to Margaret. The two chattered gaily for the duration of the drive, leaving Margaret to her thoughts. She felt happily convinced that there was a very real attraction between her sister and her husband's brother.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Neither Brampton nor Margaret seemed inclined to make conversation, and Charlotte, for once, seemed wrapped up in thought. Brampton was preoccupied with his guilt and his anticipation of seeing his angel again. Margaret was excited and sick with anxiety.

"I shall be leaving presently, my dear," Brampton announced across the table to his wife. "I have an engagement and shall probably be late."

Margaret smiled placidly. "That is all right, Richard," she said. "Charlotte and I have planned a quiet evening."

"What?" he said, eyebrows raised. "Do you have no invitations for tonight?"

"Yes, two," she replied calmly. "Lady Emberly is having a card party and the Prices a musical soiree. But we have declined both."