"It sounds rather unpleasant to me," Prudence observed. "Who wants to see a jealous husband make a fool of himself over a young wife?"

"Most of the ton, my dear," Prudence assured her cheerfully.

The door of the drawing room opened again at that juncture. Hes­ter's butler, chosen for his imposing air, appeared in the opening.

"A Mrs. Leacock to see you, madam."

"How lovely," Hester said. "Show her in, Crandall."

A birdlike woman with silvery white hair, dressed in an expensive mourning gown of black crepe, was ushered into the drawing room.

"How kind of you to call, Lydia," Hester said. "Do sit down. You know my dear friends Trevor and Prudence Merryweather?"

"Yes, of course." Mrs. Leacock's bright little eyes darted nervously from Hester to Prudence. "Actually, this is not precisely a social call, Hester. I have come to consult with Miss Merryweather."

"Have you, indeed?" Hester picked up the teapot. "Don't tell us you have a ghost you want investigated?"

Mrs. Leacock alighted on a silk-cushioned chair. "I am not certain. But something rather odd has been happening of late in the west wing of my house. The incidents have begun to affect my nerves and I fear for the consequences. My doctor has warned me that I have a weak heart."

Prudence was immediately intrigued. "This sounds far more inter­esting than choosing which parties we shall attend. Do tell me every­thing about these incidents, Mrs. Leacock. I would be happy to inves­tigate."

"I should be forever grateful, Miss Merryweather." Mrs. Leacock's cup rattled in its saucer. "I fear I really am getting rather desperate. I have never before believed in ghosts, but lately I have begun to won­der."

"Let me get my notebook," Prudence said eagerly.

Mrs. Leacock left an hour later, looking vastly relieved at having engaged a professional investigator. Prudence was delighted with the prospect of a puzzle to solve.

"If you will excuse me, Hester, I am going straight upstairs to read a new book I purchased this morning. It is all about the usefulness of electricity machines in detecting vaporous substances in the atmo­sphere. Perhaps I shall learn a technique I can apply to my new case."

Trevor looked briefly interested. "My friend Matthew Hornsby has an electricity machine. Made it himself."

"Does he?" Prudence asked with great interest.

"Yes, but I doubt that you'll need it." Trevor made a face. "Your new case is composed of nothing more than the imaginings of a ner­vous old woman."

"I'm not at all certain of that." Prudence went to the door. "It sounds to me as though there have indeed been some disturbances that require an explanation."

Hester looked up. "Are you saying you believe Lydia might actu­ally have a ghost in her house?"

"I shall let you know my thoughts on the matter after I have had an opportunity to study my notes. In the meantime I want both of you to give me your word that you will say nothing of this to anyone."

"I shall not say a thing, my dear," Hester assured her.

Trevor grimaced as he got to his feet. "You needn't worry about me spreading the news of your case. Damned embarrassing having a sister who investigates spectral phenomena. Wish you'd give it up, Prue."

"I have no intention of giving up my hobby." Prudence went out into the hall.

"Prue, wait, I would like a word with you." Trevor hurried after her.

Prudence waited for him on the bottom step of the staircase. "Don't try to talk me out of this, Trevor. I am very bored with parties and soirees. If we are to stay in London until the end of the Season, as you wish to do, I must find something interesting to occupy my time."

"No, no, it's not about your silly investigation." Trevor glanced around to make certain none of the servants were within hearing dis­tance. Then he leaned forward.

"Since you somehow learned of the duel I had scheduled with Angelstone, I don't mind telling you a rather interesting fact I have learned about the infamous Fallen Angel."

"What's that?" Prudence asked warily.

"He may have a ferocious reputation, but the man's a bloody damn coward."

Prudence was shocked. "Trevor, how can you say that?"

"Perfectly true." Trevor nodded once in satisfaction. "Man's an out-and-out coward."

"That's not true."

"He's the one who called off the duel, you know. Apologized rather than meet me on the field of honor this morning."

Prudence was infuriated by Trevor's interpretation of events. "If you want my opinion, Angelstone showed the sort of mature, respon­sible behavior one would expect in a well-bred gentleman. If you truly believe he's a coward, then you are a fool, Trevor."

"Now, Prue, calm yourself. Truth is, the man's a coward and that's a fact. By this evening, the entire social world will know it."

"Rubbish. Utter rubbish." Prudence picked up her skirts and dashed up the carpeted stairs.

Angelstone had kept his word. He had spared Trevor's life. Pru­dence prayed that the Fallen Angel would not put too high a price on the damage she had apparently done to his formidable reputation.

Four days later on the night of the Thornbridge ball,

Prudence decided she had had enough. She was thoroughly annoyed with Sebastian and she let him know it the moment he sought her out in the crowd.

"My lord, you are making a laughingstock out of my brother."

Sebastian, dark and predatory-looking in his black and white eve­ning clothes, managed to make every other man in the room look like a fop. He seemed unsurprised and unmoved by Prudence's accusation. His mouth curved in the familiar humorless smile.

"At least he is a live laughingstock rather than a dead one," he said. "Isn't that what you wanted, Miss Merryweather?"

She glowered at him through her spectacles. He was being deliber­ately difficult. "No, it is not what I wanted. Not precisely, that is."

Sebastian's brow rose inquiringly. "You would rather I had ac­cepted one or two of the numerous challenges I have received from him in the past few days?"

"Certainly not. You know perfectly well that the last thing I wanted was a duel between the two of you. That was the very thing that I wished to avoid."

"You have gotten your wish." Sebastian's amber eyes gleamed. "I have kept my end of the bargain. Why are you berating me, Miss Merryweather?"

Prudence felt herself turning pink at the reminder of the deal they had struck in his library. "You know perfectly well I expected you to handle this entire matter in a more subtle manner, my lord. I did not think you would turn it into a joke."

The realization of exactly how Sebastian was dealing with her brother's outrage had finally come to Prudence earlier that afternoon. Hester, torn between amusement and affection for Trevor, had out­lined the latest gossip to Prudence only a few hours ago.

"It is common knowledge that Trevor is issuing a challenge every time he learns that Angelstone had talked to you or danced with you," Hester had explained over tea.

"Oh, no." Prudence had gazed at her friend in shock. "Why on earth can't Trevor learn to keep his mouth closed?"

Hester had shrugged. "He's very young, my dear. And quite deter­mined to protect you. In any event, Angelstone has made a game of the entire affair. He promptly sends a flowery apology each time Trevor calls him out."

"And Trevor accepts it?"

"There is nothing else the boy can do. Angelstone's reputation is not harmed in the least because no one would dream of suspecting him of cowardice. His reputation is far too formidable. There isn't a soul who believes he is actually afraid to meet Trevor."

Prudence had brightened slightly. "I suppose everyone realizes Angelstone is showing compassion and a mature nature by refusing to meet my brother."