Sebastian knew Prudence was going to scold him as soon as the door closed behind Jeremy. He was not in the mood for it.

She whirled around to confront him the instant Jeremy had left the room. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her eyes sparkled with outrage. "How could you be so unkind to poor Jeremy?"

"I assure you, it was not in the least difficult." Sebastian set Luci­fer on the desk and got to his feet. He was going to be forced to help Jeremy. He knew it, but he did not have to like it.

The prospect of helping out a Fleetwood made Sebastian feel short-tempered and henpecked. At a time like this a man needed his club. Unfortunately, he could not avail himself of the traditional mas­culine refuge because he had an appointment to keep. But at least he had an excuse to escape the house, he thought.

"It was most uncivil of you, sir. Surely you could see that your cousin is under a dreadful strain. He needs help and reassurance. I insist that you do not play any more games with him, Sebastian."

"And I insist that you cease interfering in my affairs, madam." Sebastian stalked around the edge of the desk. "Furthermore, I am in no mood to be lectured on the manner in which I choose to treat my bloody relatives."

Prudence folded her arms beneath her breasts and tapped one slippered toe. "You know perfectly well that you are going to help your cousin. Why did you make him think otherwise?"

Sebastian lounged against the edge of his desk. "What makes you think I'm going to help him?"

She gave him a fulminating look. "There cannot be any question of it."

"On the contrary, madam." Sebastian smiled blandly. "As far as I am concerned, there is most definitely a question. I have already done a great deal for my ungrateful cousin. Or have you forgotten that on two very recent occasions I have concealed evidence that implicated him in the deaths of two men?"

Prudence bit her lip. "You didn't actually conceal it, my lord. You simply returned it to the rightful owner."

"Who may very well be the killer."

"Mr. Fleetwood did not kill Oxenham or Ringcross. I am certain of it."

"I'm glad you are so certain, because I am not"

"How can you say that?" Prudence demanded.

"Let me put it this way." Sebastian straightened and started for the door. "If I thought I knew the names of four men who had been involved in my lady's death, I would not hesitate to murder each and every one of them."

Prudence unfolded her arms and gaped at him in astonishment. "Sebastian? What are you saying? That you understand why your cousin may have killed those men?"

"I understand perfectly well why he may have done so." Sebastian had his hand on the doorknob.

Prudence brightened. "Then surely you want to help him, even if you do think he's guilty."

"Not necessarily. I still have my own objectives to consider." Se­bastian opened the door and glanced back over his shoulder. "And I assure you that helping Fleetwoods has never been one of them. As far as I am concerned, I have done more than enough for Jeremy. He has been warned. I owe him nothing else in the way of assistance."

"But Sebastian—"

Sebastian went through the door and closed it quickly. He heard the soft patter of Prudence's slippered feet running across the carpet and knew he had only seconds to get safely out the front door.

"Tell her ladyship I will not be back until this afternoon, Flowers."

Flowers gave him a reproachful look as he handed Sebastian his hat and his gloves. "Yes, my lord."

The library door was flung wide just as Flowers opened the front door for Sebastian.

"My lord, wait," Prudence called urgently. "Damn it, Angelstone, come back here."

"Sorry, I must be off, my dear. I fear I am late for an appoint­ment." Sebastian went swiftly down the steps to the sidewalk.

Prudence stood in the doorway behind him. "I'm not through talk­ing to you."

"I'm aware of that," Sebastian muttered under his breath as he reached the safety of the sidewalk. She could not follow him out into the street, he assured himself.

"Coward," Prudence shouted from the top of the steps.

Sebastian saw several people stop and turn to stare in shock at the sight of the Countess of Angelstone yelling after her husband like a fishwife.

Sebastian could not resist turning around, too. Prudence was standing in the doorway, glaring furiously. Even as he watched, she stamped one small foot in exasperation.

Directly behind her loomed Flowers with an unholy grin on his normally dour face. It occurred to Sebastian that he had never seen Flowers smile like that.

Sebastian's spirits lightened abruptly. He found himself grinning, too, in spite of his bedeviled mood. In addition to a host of other endearing wifely virtues, Prudence could play the shrew. Fresh confir­mation of what he already knew, Sebastian decided. Life with her would never be dull.

He hailed a hackney coach and gave the coachman the familiar direction of the coffeehouse near the docks. He vaulted up into the cab, sat down, and pulled Whistlecroft's latest message out of his pocket. It had arrived an hour and a half earlier.

Must see yr lordship as soon as possible. Very urgent. I'll be at the usual place shortly after noon.

Yrs. W.

He had not been lying when he had told Prudence that he was late for an appointment, Sebastian thought. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and saw that it was already twenty after twelve. It would not hurt Whistlecroft to wait. Sebastian settled back to contemplate the interview with Jeremy.

Half an hour later the hackney drew up in front of the coffee­house. Sebastian alighted and walked inside. Whistlecroft had com­mandeered their usual booth.

"Glad ye could make it on such short notice, m'lord." Whistlecroft wiped his nose on his well-used handkerchief. "I feared ye might not show. We've got a problem with the client."

"What sort of problem?" Sebastian signaled for a mug of coffee.

"He's gettin‘ anxious, he is. Seems Lord Oxenham was found dead in his study last night. Curling's very agitated. He seems to think there's a connection." Whistlecroft eyed Sebastian closely. "He wants to know why I ain't makin' any progress on the investigation, m'lord."

"Does he, indeed?" Sebastian looked at his mug of coffee as it was set down in front of him. "Just how anxious would you say your client is?"

Whistlecroft snorted and sniffed a few times. Then he leaned for­ward and lowered his voice. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he's afraid he might be next."

"Interesting." Sebastian considered that briefly. So Curling was getting anxious. Probably because he knew there were only two Princes of Virtue left: himself and Bloomfield. "You may tell your client that you are making progress and expect to solve the case very shortly."

Whistlecroft slitted his eyes. "Yer sure of that, are ye? Because my client says if I can't find out who's behind the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham very soon, he's going to hire another Runner."

"Do not concern yourself, Whistlecroft. I have every hope that you will be able to collect your reward for another successful investiga­tion."

"Trust so." Whistlecroft looked glum. "Now that we're living in a house of our own, me wife wants to put in one of them water closets like the fancies got. Told her the privy in the garden worked just fine, but she's got her heart set on havin‘ one indoors. You know how women are when they make up their minds."

"I'm learning."

At three o'clock that afternoon Prudence returned from a trip to a bookshop. She was still fuming over Sebastian's cowardly retreat earlier in the day. The fact that she had found several interesting volumes on spectral phenomena had done nothing to sweeten her temper.