"What do you think? Baxter is attempting to seduce you into believing that he is innocent and that I am a villain who is attempting to murder you for the sake of your inheritance. Furthermore, he makes it clear he is still determined to play the role of Lancelot."

"I told you once, I am no Guinevere," Phoebe said proudly. "I am a great deal smarter than she was. Gabriel, you must trust me."

He smiled grimly. "Really? Tell me, my dear, when would you have gotten around to showing me this note?"

She paled. "I told you that I did not wish to alarm you with it."

"I assure you, I am far more alarmed by the fact that you had no intention of showing it to me."

"You don't understand."

"I understand only too well," Gabriel said. "I have got to find Baxter. And I must do so quickly. I must put a stop to this nonsense."

A knock on the door of Phoebe's bedchamber broke the tension in the room.

"What is it?" Phoebe called.

The door was opened by a maid who gave a quick curtsy. "Beggin' yer pardon, madam. Lady Clarington is downstairs askin' to see you at once."

"I'll be right down," Phoebe said. She glanced at Gabriel as she started toward the door. "Perhaps you should come also, my lord," she said coolly. "Mama may have news for us."

"Phoebe, wait." Gabriel started to put out a hand to restrain her and then changed his mind. He knew he had hurt her again, but he did not know what to do about it. Damn Baxter, he thought. This is all his fault.

Without a word Gabriel went downstairs with an equally silent Phoebe. She brightened up at once, however, as they walked into the drawing room.

Lydia, a vision of high fashion in soft peach, was seated on the sofa. She was bubbling over with eagerness. "There you are, Phoebe. I am glad Wylde is here, too. This should interest him."

"Good afternoon, Lady Clarington," Gabriel said formally.

"Mama, what have you found out?" Phoebe demanded as she seated herself.

"I played cards at Lady Clawdale's this afternoon," Lydia said. "Lost two hundred pounds, but it may have been worth it. I brought up Baxter's name very casually in the course of the conversation."

Gabriel frowned. "What did you learn?"

Lydia's eyes sparkled. "It seems that Lady Ran-tley recalls something about Neil Baxter having a mistress shortly before he left London three years ago. Apparently the woman was an actress."

"A mistress." Phoebe was plainly insulted. "Do you mean to say that while he was playing the part of my devoted Lancelot, he was keeping a mistress? Of all the bloody nerve."

Lydia met Gabriel's eyes and winked. Gabriel smiled ruefully. He definitely owed his mother-in-law a favor, he thought. She had done more to demolish Baxter's reputation in Phoebe's eyes in the past ten seconds than he had succeeded in doing in the past several days.

"Did Lady Rantley know anything specific about Baxter's bit of muslin?" Gabriel asked. He was aware that Phoebe was silently fuming.

"Not much," Lydia said. "Only that she later went on to bigger and better things after Baxter left town."

"What bigger and better things?" Phoebe asked.

Lydia smiled triumphantly. "Apparently she opened one of the more popular brothels. Lady Rantley did not know where it was, naturally. But I have given the matter some thought and I see no reason why it would have closed. I'll wager it's still doing business." She looked at Gabriel. "Perhaps if you locate it and talked to Baxter's ex-mistress, you might learn something of import."

"I might, indeed." Gabriel was already heading toward the door. This was definitely information that could narrow the search.

"Hold one minute, my lord," Phoebe ordered. "Where do you think you are going?"

"To find out what I can about Baxter's mistress."

"But that means you will be going to a brothel. Perhaps more than one," she protested. "I do not want you anywhere near such a place."

Gabriel gave her an impatient look. "Have no fear, madam. I do not intend to sample the wares. I am merely going to look for information."

"I do not want you going alone," she said quickly. "I shall go with you."

Lydia groaned. "Don't be an idiot, Phoebe. There is no way you can go with him."

"Your mother is right," Gabriel agreed immediately, grateful for Lydia's support. He walked over to Phoebe and took her hand in his. He could not help smiling at her obvious jealousy. It warmed his heart. "Calm yourself, my dear. I appreciate your concerns, but there is nothing in this that need alarm you. Trust me."

Her brows rose coolly. "I am to trust you even though you do not trust me? That does not seem particularly fair, Wylde."

Gabriel dropped his smile and her hand. "I shall no doubt be late getting home tonight. You need not wait up for me."

Phoebe glowered at him. "Lovely. I can look forward to another jolly evening at home alone with the servants. I am getting fed up to the teeth with this business, Wylde."

"That reminds me," Lydia interrupted smoothly. "I was wondering if you might consider releasing Phoebe from prison for the evening, Wylde. Meredith and I are going to the theater. Anthony will accompany us. Is there any reason Phoebe could not join us?"

Phoebe brightened. "No reason at all." She turned to Gabriel. "I shall be perfectly safe in the bosom of my family, my lord. Surely you cannot object."

Gabriel hesitated. He did not like the idea, but he realized he had no sound reason to forbid her from going out tonight. She would be surrounded by her family, and her brother would be along in the event of trouble.

"Very well," he said reluctantly.

Phoebe made a face. "Your gracious generosity quite overwhelms me, my lord. Who would have thought that I would find myself in the position of having to beg my husband's permission to go to the theater? I vow, you have changed my life, sir."

"Then we are even," he said. "Because you have certainly changed mine." He glanced at Lydia. "I am in your debt, madam."

"I know." Lydia chuckled. "Never fear, I shall collect."

Phoebe groaned aloud and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Never say I did not warn you, Wylde."

Gabriel grinned ruefully. He inclined his head toward his bright-eyed mother-in-law. "I believe you said you lost two hundred pounds in the course of gaining the information about Baxter's mistress, madam. You must allow me to cover your losses."

"I would not dream of it," Lydia murmured.

"I insist," Gabriel said.

"Well, in that case," Lydia said, "I suppose I shall have to let you do as you see fit. And to think that some would have us believe the age of chivalry has gone."

Phoebe glared at Gabriel. "Some are going out of their way to bury it. Wylde, I do not care for this business of you investigating brothels."

"Think of me as being on a quest, my dear." Gabriel went out the door.

Phoebe gazed out at the crowded theater with satisfaction. "1 vow, an evening at the opera has never seemed quite so entertaining before," she said to Meredith.

Meredith, seated beside Phoebe in the plush box, adjusted the pale blue skirts of her evening gown. "1 suspect it merely seems more entertaining than usual because you have been feeling somewhat confined of late."

"That is putting it mildly," Phoebe said. "I have been imprisoned of late."

"Come, now, Phoebe." Meredith smiled. "You make it sound as if you have been held captive for months rather than a mere day. Besides, you know Wylde was only doing what he thought was best."

"I fear I am fated to be surrounded by people who think they know what is best for me." Phoebe studied the rows of boxes full of glittering theatergoers. "What a crush. We shall be an hour waiting for the carriage after the performance is over."

"Not unusual at the height of the Season," Lydia observed. The pink plumes that decorated her satin headband bobbed as she raised her opera glass to her eyes. "I do believe I see Lady Markham. I wonder who that handsome young man is with her. Certainly not her son. I wonder if she has acquired another paramour. I am told she has only just got rid of the last."