"The devil, I don't. I'm your fiance now, Prue."

"In name only."

"Nevertheless," he said between his teeth, "you will listen to me."

"I have been listening to you, my lord." Prudence smiled serenely. "And you have made it very clear that we are to conduct our investiga­tions separately. As I understand it, you do not wish us to work to­gether as a team. Or did I mistake your meaning?"

"Don't throw my words back in my face, you little baggage. You know damn well what I meant."

Prudence gave him a lofty smile. "I heard you very clearly, my lord. We are allowed to discuss our cases with each other, but we are not to assist each other in the actual investigations. Don't worry, I shall tell you all about my discoveries tomorrow."

Sebastian's eyes glittered. "Prue, you have a great deal to learn about being an engaged woman."

"Do you think so, my lord? How odd. And here I thought I was adapting rather nicely to my new role."

"Prue, I will not allow you—"

"Prudence. By God, it is you. I didn't believe it."

Prudence flinched at the sound of the familiar masculine voice. She had not heard it in nearly three years, but she was hardly likely to forget it. She turned her head and looked straight into the soft gray eyes of the man who had taught her that her intuition was not infalli­ble.

"Good afternoon, Lord Underbrink," she said quietly as the new­comer guided his handsome gray stallion closer to the phaeton.

Prudence took a deep breath and forced herself to examine Ed­ward, Lord Underbrink, with polite detachment. To her surprise and overwhelming relief she felt nothing except a sense of deep chagrin at the memory of her own gullibility. What a little fool she had been three years ago to think that Underbrink was serious when he made his proposal of marriage.

There had never been any question of the heir to the Underbrink title marrying the daughter of a country squire. Edward had merely been amusing himself that summer.

He had not changed much in three years, Prudence reflected. His hair was still as fair as she remembered, his eyes still as open and guileless. His pleasant features were still quite appealing, although she thought she detected some signs of plumpness developing around his jawline. He was dressed in a well-cut coat that was the exact same shade of pearl gray as his expensive mount.

"This is astonishing," Underbrink said. "I just got back into Town yesterday. I learned that you were here for the Season last night, but I could hardly credit it." He glanced uneasily at Sebastian. "There were rumors of an engagement."

Sebastian flicked a brief, dismissing glance over Underbrink. "The rumors are true."

Edward's gaze jerked quickly back to Prudence. "I don't under­stand."

"In that case, Underbrink," Sebastian said softly, "I suggest you try reading the notices that will appear in tomorrow's morning papers. Perhaps that will make it clear to you."

Edward frowned. "Now, see here, Angelstone, Prudence and I are old friends. I have every right to be interested in her engagement. You cannot blame me for being surprised by this announcement."

Prudence saw the cold fire pooling in Sebastian's eyes. She did not know why he was acting as if he were annoyed by Edward, but she decided it would be best to head off a confrontation.

"How is Lady Underbrink these days?" Prudence asked brightly. She had never met the woman Edward had married, but it seemed safe enough to inquire after her.

A deep, angry flush stained Edward's cheeks. "She's well enough," he said brusquely. "Listen, Prue, I shall be at the Handleys' soiree this evening. Will you be there?"

"She will not be attending the Handleys' soiree," Sebastian said. "And in future, Underbrink, you will address my fiancee as Miss Mer-ryweather. Is that very clear?"

Edward straightened quickly in his saddle. His flush deepened. "Of course."

"I'm glad to see you are capable of comprehending a few simple things. You will be the healthier for it." Sebastian urged his horses to a faster pace. "Now you must excuse us, Underbrink."

The black phaeton sped down the wide path, leaving Edward be­hind.

Prudence took a deep breath. She knew she ought to reproach Sebastian for his rudeness, but she could not bring herself to do so. She suddenly realized how tense she had been during the encounter.

She did not know what she had expected to feel upon seeing Lord Underbrink again, but the only emotion she was truly aware of was a sense of relief. Relief that he had not married her after all. It was diffi­cult to recall that she had once thought herself in love with him.

Sebastian said nothing for a few minutes. He appeared to be con­centrating entirely on his driving. Eventually he eased the horses back to a walk.

"How do you come to be acquainted with Underbrink?" he asked without any inflection in his voice.

Prudence adjusted her spectacles. "Three years ago he spent a great deal of the summer in Dorset. He was staying with friends who were neighbors of ours. We met on several occasions. Assemblies, card parties, that sort of thing."

"What happened?"

Prudence flashed him a quick glance and then returned her atten­tion to the ears of his horses. "Not a great deal. At the end of the summer he returned to London to become engaged to the woman his family wished him to marry."

"Lucinda Montclair."

"Yes, I believe that was her name," Prudence said quietly. "Her father is said to be very rich."

"He is. Lucinda is also a very wealthy young woman in her own right."

"So I was given to understand," Prudence murmured.

"And an extremely jealous woman," Sebastian added. "Word is that Underbrink is henpecked. Apparently his wife keeps him on a very short leash. Did he seduce you during that summer in Dorset?"

Prudence nearly dropped her reticule. "Good heavens, my lord. What a thing to ask."

"It seems a reasonable enough question to me."

"It is a very unreasonable question," Prudence retorted. "But for your information, Lord Underbrink was a perfect gentleman at all times."

There was no need to explain that Edward had kissed her on sev­eral occasions. A lady was entitled to some privacy, after all. In any event, Edward's kisses now appeared distinctly uninspired compared to the searing kiss Sebastian had given her the night she had gone to his town house.

"So you and Underbrink were no more than friends three years ago?"

"Precisely," Prudence said tightly. "There was never anything of a serious nature between us. Lord Underbrink was merely amusing him­self in the country that summer."

She must keep in mind that Underbrink was not the only one who sought to amuse himself in ways that could prove painful for others.

Shortly after midnight that night, Prudence put on a white mus­lin cap and climbed into the massive canopied bed that dominated Mrs. Leacock's bedchamber. She was wearing a serviceable woolen gown rather than a night rail and she had on her spectacles. She did not intend to sleep tonight.

She had to admit she was having a few second thoughts about her investigation. The west wing of the Leacock mansion seemed eerily quiet. There was no denying that it was a fine setting for a real ghost. Prudence could not even hear the normal street sounds of carriage wheels, nightmen, and drunken revelers because the bedchamber faced the vast, silent Leacock gardens.

The notion of spending the night in Mrs. Leacock's bedchamber had seemed an excellent one when Prudence first thought of it. If one or more of Mrs. Leacock's greedy nephews was up to some nefarious trick, this was the only way to catch him. Poor Mrs. Leacock had suffered enough.

Prudence leaned across the bed to open the drawer in the night-stand. She reached inside and touched the cold metal of the small pistol she had put there earlier.