She was in the library examining her purchases when Flowers an­nounced that she had a visitor.

"Mrs. Fleetwood to see you, madam." Flowers paused respectfully and then added smoothly, "I shall, of course, be happy to inform her that you are not at home."

"No, no, that's all right." Prudence glanced critically down at her attire. Thank heavens she was wearing one of her new gowns, she thought. It was a pale lavender muslin trimmed with matching ribbon and several rows of flounces around the hem. It seemed a bit fussy and frilly to Prudence, but according to Hester the gown was very a la mode. Drucilla Fleetwood would not be able to fault it. "Show her in, Flowers."

Alarm lit Flowers's houndlike features. "Perhaps you misunder­stood, madam. It's Mrs. Fleetwood who is calling. His lordship's aunt."

"I heard you, Flowers. Show her in here, please. And have tea sent in, will you?"

Flowers cleared his throat with a small cough. "If I might make a suggestion, madam. It would perhaps be best to wait until his lordship returns home in order to seek his opinion on whether or not he wishes his aunt to be received."

"This happens to be my home now as well as Angelstone's," Pru­dence said coolly. Nothing could have been more calculated to annoy her at this particular moment than the notion of asking Sebastian's opinion on who she should and should not receive. "Show Mrs. Fleet­wood in, Flowers, or I shall show her in myself."

"Yes, madam. But I would be most humbly grateful if you would give me your word that you will inform his lordship that receiving Mrs. Fleetwood was your idea," Flowers said dolefully.

"Of course." Prudence wrinkled her nose in exasperation. "For heaven's sake, Flowers, there is no need to go about in fear of his lordship. He is a perfectly reasonable man."

"Allow me to tell you, madam, that you are probably the only person on earth who sees his lordship in quite that light."

Prudence smiled wryly. "Do not concern yourself, Flowers. I shall deal with his lordship."

"Yes, madam." Flowers gave her an odd look. "I am beginning to believe you might very well do just that." He backed respectfully out of the library.

A moment later Drucilla was ushered into the room. She made a grand entrance in a beautifully cut green gown. Her velvet pelisse was done in a slightly darker hue. It matched the elegant little hat perched at a clever angle on her head. Prudence noticed that there was only one small row of flounces around the hem of the gown.

"Good day, madam." Prudence rose politely. "What an unex­pected surprise. Please be seated. I have sent for tea. I do hope you will join me in a cup?"

"Thank you." Drucilla scanned Prudence's heavily trimmed gown with a shuttered gaze, but she said nothing. She lowered herself grace­fully into a chair. Her spine did not touch the back.

The housekeeper appeared with the tea tray. She wore a look of impending doom as she dutifully set the tray down near Prudence.

"Thank you, Mrs. Banks," Prudence said. "I shall pour."

"Yes, madam. Expect his lordship will have something to say about this," Mrs. Banks muttered.

Prudence pretended that she had not heard the comment. She handed a cup of tea to Drucilla as the library door closed behind Mrs. Banks.

"How kind of you to pay me a visit, Mrs. Fleetwood."

"You needn't act as if this were a social call." Drucilla set her cup and saucer down on a nearby table. "I am here on extremely urgent business. Lord knows that only the most dire necessity would bring me to this house."

"I see. What sort of business would that be?" Prudence asked cautiously.

"Family business."

"Ah, yes. Family business."

Drucilla straightened her already extremely straight shoulders. "I have had a long talk with my son. He tells me he is the victim of a most malicious set of circumstances."

Prudence stifled a small groan. She had hoped Jeremy would not feel compelled to drag his mother into the situation. Prudence's intu­ition had told her it would be easier to keep Sebastian working on the investigation if Drucilla were not involved.

"What has Jeremy told you, madam?"

"That someone, very probably Angelstone, is playing a cruel game. Angelstone apparently claims to have found evidence that implicates my son in the deaths of two men. That is utter rubbish, of course. Angelstone is obviously lying."

Prudence frowned. "I assure you Angelstone is not lying."

"He certainly is. There is no other explanation. It is clear to me that he has concocted some devious scheme to avenge himself on the rest of us."

"Angelstone did not invent the evidence against Jeremy," Pru­dence said.

"Do not contradict me, madam. I have given the matter a great deal of thought. There is only one explanation for what is happening. Angelstone intends to use my son as a pawn in order to bring scandal and ruin down on the family. I will not have it."

Prudence's sympathy for the woman vanished beneath a wave of hot outrage. "I assure you, Angelstone is not responsible for the situa­tion in which Jeremy finds himself. In fact, Angelstone has gone out of his way to keep the evidence from falling into the hands of the author­ities."

"Bah."

"It's true." Prudence slammed her teacup down on its saucer. "Al­low me to inform you, madam, that if Angelstone had not acted to prevent it, Jeremy might already have been arrested."

"My son had nothing to do with the deaths of those two men. He does not even know them."

"He may very well have to prove that, madam. Because the way things are going, Jeremy is in danger of becoming entangled in a very sticky web."

"A web woven by your husband." Drucilla's voice was rising.

"That is a lie. Why would my husband want to see Jeremy arrested for murder?"

"For the sake of vengeance." Drucilla's mouth formed a thin, bit­ter line. "He hates all of us. He knows what the scandal of a murder charge would do to the family."

"I happen to know for a fact that Angelstone has no intention of avenging himself on the Fleetwoods because of what happened in the past. You are safe enough on that score, madam."

"So you say." Drucilla gave her a scornful look. "But you never knew his side of the family. You never met Angelstone's father." A strange expression flashed briefly in her eyes. "As it happens, I knew him rather well."

Prudence sat very still. It occurred to her that the look she had glimpsed a moment ago in Drucilla's eyes might have been pain. "Did you?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed." Drucilla made a small, oddly savage ges­ture with her elegantly gloved hand. "The man had no respect for family tradition. No sense of his responsibilities. He was cruel and callous and his son takes after him."

Prudence was shocked in spite of herself at the deep bitterness that blazed in the older woman. There was something more here than the disapproval of a domineering matriarch.

"That is a very sweeping statement, Mrs. Fleetwood. How did you come to know Angelstone's father well enough to make such a judg­ment?"

"At one time," Drucilla said coldly, "there was talk of marriage between myself and Angelstone's father. It came to naught, of course. He ran off with his common little actress and I married his brother."

Prudence was thunderstruck. "You were engaged to Angelstone's father?"

Drucilla's mouth pursed angrily. "We were never engaged. Matters did not get that far. As I said, there was talk of marriage between us, but that was all. Both of our families were convinced it would be an excellent alliance. But, as I said, Jonathan Fleetwood was not con­cerned with what was best for the families. He believed himself in love with his little actress. He would have her, and that was that."

"From all accounts he did love her."

"Rubbish." Drucilla gave a soft exclamation of disgust. "A man of his station does not marry for love. Even if he was fond of the girl, there was no necessity to run off with her. He could have done his duty by his family and kept his doxy on the side. No one would have thought twice about it."