"What is it?" he asked, moving closer to peer over her shoulder. He doubted that he would understand anything he saw on the page, but he found it oddly pleasant to be so near to her. She drew back at once, however, to regard him with wide, concerned eyes.

"My lord, is... is it possible... do you suppose... might your uncle have been at all sympathetic to the French?"

Gavin's jaw dropped. Suddenly it seemed blindingly obvious to him.

After all, he had been instrumental in exposing numerous highly placed men who had raised or donated large sums of money to Napoleon's cause. Why had that explanation not occurred to him at once?

"My lord, I am sorry. That was a foolish thing for me to say." Miss Cherrystone looked extremely distressed and Gavin realized that his face had given his thoughts away.

"It was merely" -- "No, Cherry, it is I who was a fool," he said quickly, lest she think him angry at her instead of at himself.

"I cannot think why I had not considered that possibility before. As I said, I knew little or nothing of my uncle's character, so it would be foolish in me to protest that he would have been incapable of treason."

At Frederica's gasp of dismay over the harsh word, he regarded her sympathetically.

"Of course, this is still mere speculation on our part. Tomorrow I shall begin making discreet enquiries.

Thank you for opening my eyes to the possibility. "

"It is only one of many, my lord," she hastened to a.s.sure him.

"It is also quite reasonable to a.s.sume that he may simply have made unfortunate investments--or even sound ones that have not yet borne fruit.

Pray do not convict your uncle until you are in possession of all the facts."

Gavin smiled. She truly seemed to cam, not only about his feelings in the matter, but for his family honour.

"No, of course I won't." He glanced at the clock on the mantel.

"It is late.

Why do you not resume your perusal of those letters on the morrow? I shall do my detective work and you may do yours, and we can meet here tomorrow evening after dinner to discuss our progress. "

Though she felt her cheeks grow pink, Frederica nodded without hesitation.

"Very well, my lord. Let us hope that we both shall have good news to share."

She took her leave of him and left the room, carrying the bundle of letters.

Gavin continued to smile after she had gone. He was already looking forward to the next evening. But first, he had much work to do, he realized, his smile disappearing. Reseating himself at his desk, he began to map out his best course of action for discovering the truth about his late Uncle Edmund and what had been done with the Sea brooke fortune.

FREDERICA COULD feel herself trembling as she closed the door of the library behind her. How on earth, without even so much as flirting with her, could Lord Sea brooke do such things to her nerves? Taking _three deep breaths, she looked up to see Mr. Coombes regarding her knowingly from his post near the front door. In no frame of mind to concoct explanations to counter his obvious suspicions, she merely nodded in his direction and proceeded to the stairs in as dignified a manner as she could manage. She was grateful that he did not seem disposed to say anything as she retreated.

Back in her room, she peeped into the nursery to a.s.sure herself that Christabel was still sleeping peacefully before settling into a chair by the candle to continue reading through the letters.

Instead of focusing on the words before her, however, she found herself replaying the scene that had just occurred in the library. Dreamily, she recalled every look, every word, that the earl had directed her way. True, he had not flirted in the least, but there had been a warmth, a friendliness, in his manner that meant far more to her than pretty phrases. Frederica realized that other than Miss Milliken, who stood almost in the position of a mother, she had never really had a close friend.

The thought brought her up short. A friend? Did she consider Lord Sea brooke a friend? Yes, she had to admit that she did. How had she allowed this to happen? She had certainly never intended to become friends with the earl! And how would this development affect her plan?

Could she tarnish a friend's reputation in the eyes of the world--or even in the eyes of her brother--with a clear conscience?

Frederica sighed. No, she could not. In vain she tried to summon up her original resentment, her outrage, at what Lord Sea brooke had done. He had fooled her brother, hiding his lack of fortune to secure himself a wealthy bride. But now she was almost certain that his motives had not been completely selfish, that he had had Christabel's welfare in mind as well as his own.

He was still a rake, of course--she had met his mistress! She had to admit, though, that the memory of Miss Ariel Sheehan and her abrupt departure did not now call up anger so much as amus.e.m.e.nt--and perhaps a twinge of jealousy.

At any rate, she had doubtless done a great deal to sour that relationship.

Still, she could not go so far as to say that she actually wanted to marry Lord Sea brooke. Pride, if nothing else, revolted at the idea of having her hand forced in such a manner. But how was she now to prevent it?

She thought hard. Of course, if it were to transpire that her suspicion was correct and the previous Lord Sea brooke had been a traitor to the realm, Thomas might well consider that fact enough of a deterrent. He would have no desire to be allied with such a family, she was certain, for Thomas was patriotic to a fault. Only with the utmost difficulty had she managed to dissuade him from : in It was likely Lord Sea brooke's military history that had convinced Thomas he must be an admirable man.

But Frederica could not bring herself to hope that the Carol's uncle would prove to have been a traitor. Having served in the army himself, Lord Sea brooke would doubtless feel the disgrace all the more, and the thought of his pain disturbed her deeply--far more deeply than it should. Still, if there were no other way out of the match for her, this could always be the ace she held in reAttempting again to focus on the letters she held, Frederica became aware of a pounding headache, brought on by her unwelcome musings. The letters could wait.

Right now she wanted nothing so much as her bed and a dreamless sleep.

When Frederica and Christabel returned from the Park the next morning, they were both in high sph'its. Christabel's were easily explained by the novel experience of feeding bread to a flock of ducks at one end of the Serpentine.

Frederica preferred not to examine the cause of her own happy mood.

"I'll race you up the stairs," she said playfully to her charge after she had ushered her quickly through the kitchen, which was empty as it always was at this hour. Christabel giggled with glee and bounded up the servants'

staircase with her nanny in hot pursuit. Though Frederica could easily have caught up with the child, she made a great show of trying and failing to pa.s.s her on the stairs.

She knew that they were making more noise than they ought, but she was feeling strangely reckless today.

At the top of the second flight, disaster struck. Christabel, laughing and looking back at her pursuer, ran headlong into Mr. Coorobes, who was coming from the servant's wing. Considerably startled, he stepped quickly back before stopping to scrutinize the disheveled little girl and the equally windblown Frederica, who had by now reached the landing.

"So, Miss Cherrystone," he said, a slow smile spreading across his pudgy face,

"I see that the gossip I heard below stairs is true. The masters hiding one of his by-blows in this house, and you apparently helping him to do so! So much for your virtuous, p.r.i.c.kly airs."

Frederica was aghast that he should speak so before Christabel, and it was with great effort that she restrained herself from setting him down sharply, realizing that that would likely do more harm than good.

"Good day, Mr. Coombes," she said coolly.

"I see you have made Miss Christabel's acquaintance We are on our way to the nursery at the moment, but later I should like to have a word with you." She hoped that enough of her anger showed in her eyes to dissuade him from further speech, but his smile only broadened. "I'll be waiting right here,"

he said suggestively.

"Hurry back."

With a gasp of outrage, Frederica took Christabel firmly by the hand and hurried her up the last flight of stairs. Something would have to be done about that dreadful man at once, or there was no knowing what stories he might spread throughout below stairs London concerning Lord Sea brooke!

"Christabel, dear, why not build me a tower from these blocks until I return?

I need to speak to Mr. Coorobes for a moment." She trembled lest the child ask what a "by-blow" was, but Christabel merely nodded and began eagerly to stack the blocks.

Frederica dared to hope that no damage had been done by the encounter--at least to Christabel.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched back down the stairs to the waiting butler.

"Mr. Coorobes," she began as she reached the spot where he stood, that odious smile still on his face, "it was unpardonable in you to use such language in front of a child. You will please refrain from doing so again."

"I daresay she'll have to get used to it soon enough," he said with unconcern.