Sebastian raised his head slightly and glanced at the folded piece of paper. "What the devil?"

He reached out and picked up the note. Then he straightened and held it so that the light from the carriage lamp fell across it. He examined it closely and then he unfolded it. There was a short mes­sage scrawled inside.

"I thought so—a note. Someone left it here in the carriage while we were at the ball." Prudence tugged her bodice back into place and straightened her spectacles. She gazed at the unfamiliar writing as Sebastian read the message aloud.

"The names of The Princes of Virtue are Ringcross, Oxenham, Bloomfield, and Curling. I have provided their addresses at the bottom of this note in hopes that you will not ask for any more information. I assure you I have no more to give. I implore you to leave me in peace."

Sebastian frowned. "There's no signature. It was most likely writ­ten by one of the shopkeepers we interviewed today."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's obviously from someone who does not want us troubling him with further inquiries. The only people we have been questioning are the shopkeepers."

"Lord Curling's name is on the list," Prudence said. "That makes sense, I suppose. We found the button in his wardrobe, after all."

"Ringcross is dead. Curling wants his death investigated. Both be­longed to The Princes of Virtue club." Sebastian tapped the note absently against his thigh, his expression intent. "I think the next step is to talk to Bloomfield and Oxenham."

"Do you know them?"

"I have met Oxenham. He's involved in shipping. Somewhere along the line he managed to marry two heiresses. I heard that both young women died soon after their weddings. One in a carriage acci­dent. One from an overdose of laudanum. That was several years ago."

Prudence shuddered. She reached for her shawl and wrapped it around herself. "That sounds rather ominous."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Sebastian leaned back into the corner of the carriage and eyed Prudence with a thoughtful expression. "I be­lieve I will talk to him first."

"What about Bloomfield?" Prudence asked.

"I don't know much about him. Rumor has it he's a bit mad. He does not frequent the clubs and I have never encountered him in Society."

"And Curling?"

"We must take this investigation one step at a time," Sebastian said. "It is not yet obvious what Curling's role is in all this. Nor do we know the role my cousin is playing."

Prudence mulled that over for a moment. "According to that note, Oxenham lives on Rowland Street."

"Yes." Sebastian paused. "I think I would prefer to visit their homes while they are absent before I talk to them."

"It occurs to me, my lord," Prudence said softly, "that as you no longer need to pay a late-night visit to that establishment in Bond Street, you are quite free for the rest of the evening."

"If one assumes that this list of names is complete, which is a dangerous assumption." Sebastian regarded her with a hooded gaze. "What are you getting at, my dear?"

Prudence smiled expectantly. "We shall pass near Rowland Street on our way home tonight."

"No," Sebastian said immediately. "Don't think for one moment that I am going to take you on a late-night visit to Oxenham's home."

"We could at least drive past his house and see if he is out for the evening," Prudence said persuasively. "Surely there would be no risk in that, Sebastian."

"Absolutely not. I am not going to allow you anywhere near his house."

"We would not need to stop," Prudence argued. "We could simply determine whether or not he is at home this evening. Then, if you wished to return later we would know if it was safe to do so."

Sebastian hesitated, obviously torn. "I suppose it would do no harm to drive past his house."

Prudence hid her smile of satisfaction. "None at all. We would be merely one more carriage traveling home from a ball. No one would take any notice."

"Very well." Sebastian stood up and raised the trapdoor in the top of the carriage.

"Aye, m'lord?" the coachman called down.

"I wish to go home by way of Rowland Street," Sebastian in­structed.

"It's a bit of a side trip, m'lord."

"Yes, I know, but I think it will be faster. Less traffic."

"Aye, m'lord. Whatever you say, sir."

Sebastian lowered the trapdoor and sat down slowly across from Prudence. "Why do I have the feeling that I am going to regret letting you talk me into this little excursion?"

"I have no notion," Prudence said lightly. "There is certainly no risk involved."

"Hmm."

Prudence chuckled. "You may as well face the truth, Sebastian. You want to do this as much as I do. In some ways we are very much alike, as you keep pointing out to me."

"A prospect which I find increasingly alarming." Sebastian extin­guished the interior lamps. Then he tugged aside the curtains that concealed the windows and lowered the glass.

Prudence watched curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Making certain of our anonymity while in the neighborhood. The fog is quite heavy now, so there is probably no need to worry that someone will recognize the carriage. Nevertheless, one cannot be too careful."

Sebastian reached under the seat and pulled out a flat piece of wood that had been painted black. He attached it to two small hooks on the inside of the door and suspended it over the side.

Prudence realized the painted board would cover up the distinctive Angelstone crest. "Very clever, Sebastian."

"A reasonable precaution." He sat back in the seat.

Prudence smiled. "And one you have taken before, I collect."

"Yes."

She could not see his expression in the deep shadows, but she could hear the current of anticipation in his voice. He was caught up in the excitement of the adventure now, just as she was.

Rowland Street proved to be a remarkably quiet neighborhood. As Sebastian had predicted, there was very little traffic. Prudence gazed out the open window. Through the drifting tendrils of fog she saw that most of the houses were dark.

Sebastian leaned forward. "If the direction given on that note is correct, that will be Oxenham's house."

"There are no lights on at all." Prudence glanced at Sebastian. "I'll wager no one is home. This would be a perfect opportunity to take a quick look around."

"The servants are probably at home." Sebastian was staring at the darkened house with keen interest.

"If so, they are asleep below stairs. They might even have gone out for the evening," Prudence suggested. "It is not unknown for house staff to take the night off if they are certain their master will not be home until quite late."

"True."

"We could instruct the coachman to wait at the corner while we take a short walk down the alley behind Oxenham's house."

"Damnation, Prue, I told you I was not going to take you with me when I paid my visit to Oxenham."

"But who knows when you'll get another opportunity like this? By the time you take me home and return, Oxenham might very well have come back. You would have to wait until another night."

Sebastian hesitated. "I suppose I could leave you here in the car­riage while I take a quick look at the back of the house."

"I want to come with you."

"No. I forbid it." Sebastian raised the trapdoor and spoke softly to the coachman. "Drive to the end of the street and turn the corner. I shall get out briefly. If anything unusual occurs while I am gone, you are to drive Lady Angelstone home at once. I shall find my own way home."

"Aye, yer lordship." The man spoke with the resigned voice of a servant who was accustomed to odd late-night forays and even odder instructions from a very odd master.

Prudence made one last attempt to change Sebastian's mind. "This is most unfair of you, my lord."