"There's a pack of cards here," Chast.i.ty said. "How about we play three-handed bridge? We've got to do something to pa.s.s the time if we're not to fall into a slough of despond."

They had been playing for two hours when Thadeus came for them. "There are no newspapermen around the house anymore," he said.

"And Lord Duncan?"

"He had not left the premises when I came to fetch you," the clerk said. "He might have gone out since, of course."

"No, he's waiting for us," Prudence said, sliding the cards back into their silver case. "You're coming back with us, Con?"

"Of course," her elder sister said. "I'd hardly leave you to face him alone. Max will know what happened in court by now, so he'll a.s.sume I'm with you."

"The carriage is at the back door," Thadeus informed them. "I thought it best to avoid the front just in case anyone's lingering."

"You think of everything, Thadeus." Prudence smiled wanly at him. He merely bowed.

They sat in silence during the short ride toManchester Square. "We'll go in the back way," Prudence said as they turned into the square. "Ask him to go to the mews entrance, Thadeus."

"I have already done so, Miss Duncan."

"Yes, of course you have," Prudence murmured.

"Sir Gideon wished me to give you this, Miss Duncan." Thadeus handed her an envelope as she stepped to the ground. "Oh, thank you." She looked down at it, puzzled. "What is it?"

"The lien on the house, madam. He thought you would know best what to do with it."

Prudence tucked it into her handbag. "Yes, I think I will."

They went into the house through the kitchen. "Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Hudson said as they came in. "What a to-do there's been. Men ringing the doorbell, asking questions, Lord Duncan in the worst mood I've ever seen him in. Locked in the library, he is. What's been going on?"

"I trust the enterprise went in your favor, Miss Prue?" Jenkins appeared in the doorway, his face drawn with anxiety.

"Yes...yes, Jenkins, it did," Prudence said swiftly. "I'm sorry we couldn't get home earlier, but Sir Gideon thought we should avoid the newspapers. He was afraid the press would follow us here, even if they weren't already here trying to get at Father."

"They were here, all right," Jenkins said grimly. "Banging the knocker. I threatened to call the police. His lordship locked himself in the library. I tried to ask him what had happened but he cursed me to the devil. I thought it best to leave well enough alone."

"Wise of you, Jenkins,"Constancesaid with a faint smile. "We did win the case, but in order for us to do so, Lord Duncan had to find out the truth."

"Ah," Jenkins said, "that explains it, then." Mrs. Hudson nodded gravely.

"It should make the house a little easier to manage," Prudence said. "If we don't have to pretend and cover up."

Jenkins shook his head. "I don't know about that, Miss Prue. Somehow I don't see his lordship settling for leftovers and inferior wine."

"No," Prudence agreed. "We'll still have to make shift, but at least we won't feel we're creeping around behind his back."

"I think we'd better go to him now," Chast.i.ty said. "We can't put it off much longer."

"There's no putting anything off," announced Lord Duncan from the kitchen door. "I a.s.sumed you conspirators would all be in here." He glared at the a.s.sembled group. "Don't pretend you didn't know about this Jenkins, or you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Father, it's nothing to do with either of them," Prudence protested. "You can blame us all you like, but Jenkins and Mrs. Hudson have only tried to help and make your life easier."

A dull flush mounted on Lord Duncan's cheeks. "For some reason my entire household seemed to find it necessary to shelter me from the consequences of my own folly. I do not find that a pleasant thought." He turned on his heel. "We will discuss this further in the library."

His daughters exchanged a look, shrugged in unison, and followed him. "There's no need to close the door," he said as they entered the library. "It's clear there are no secrets in this household from anyone but myself."

His daughters said nothing.

"How did you persuade Fitchley to let you examine my private papers?" he demanded.

Prudence sighed and told him. "You cannot blame Mr. Fitchley," she said at the end.

"Clearly not. Of all the deceitful . . ." He turned away from them and he seemed suddenly a very old

man. "Go away, all of you. I can't face any of you at the moment."

They left him, closing the door softly. "He can't face us, or he can't face himself?" Constance muttered.

Prudence was staring at the closed door, then abruptly she said, "No, we're not bearing all this guilt.

Come on." She opened the door and stalked in, her startled sisters behind her.

"I told you-"

"Yes, Father, and we heard you. However, you might want to burn this." She opened her handbag and

took out the envelope. "I doubt very much that the earl of Barclay will be pursuing it after this afternoon."

She held it out to him. Lord Duncan opened the envelope, stared down at the lien on his house. "He has no legal claim, then?" he said, almost in disbelief.

"No," Prudence stated. "And he never did have. Since Barclay Earl and a.s.sociates is not a legal ent.i.ty, they can't hold property in its name. Burn it, Father. Now. " He looked at them as they stood in front of him, presenting a united and determined front. And he thought of his wife, and of how like her they all were. And he thought of how much he missed her, every minute of every waking hour. And he knew that his daughters missed her as deeply, if in different ways. And he thought how they were her living embodiment.

Deliberately, he tore the sheet in two, then turned and threw both pieces into the fire. He stood watching as the paper curled, caught, and fell into ash. Lord Duncan heard the door close behind him as he remained staring into the fire, acknowledging his grief.

Chapter 20.

"Prue, are you sure you don't mind seeing Gideon alone?" Chast.i.ty asked the next morning, standing on tiptoe to see in the high hall mirror as she adjusted the brim of her hat.

"Of course I don't," her sister said carelessly, sweeping into the palm of her hand fallen petals from the vase of fading chrysanthemums on the hall table. "We need to get The Mayfair Lady out on the streets again as soon as possible, and we haven't picked up the post from Mrs. Beedle in more than two weeks. Con's writing up the account of the trial this morning, so it's my task to deal with the barrister. It has been all along, after all."

"I suppose so," Chast.i.ty said, still sounding doubtful, but it was clear that her sister had her mind made up and it was the most sensible division of labor, since it would only take one of them to dispose of Gideon. "Very well, then, I'll be off. I'll only be a couple of hours, if that. It depends if Mrs. Beedle wants to chat." Prudence waved her away and picked up the vase of flowers. She carried it into the kitchen to dispose of them and was returning with the empty vase to the hall when the doorbell rang.

"Shall I get that, Miss Prue?" Jenkins had appeared as usual as if by magic carpet.

"It'll be Sir Gideon," she said, smoothing down her skirts. "Show him into the drawing room."

Jenkins went to open the door and Prudence went into the drawing room, where she turned her attention

to a bowl of late-blooming roses that seemed to require some rearranging.

"Good morning."

She turned slowly at the soft voice. "Good morning." She moved towards the sofa. "Do sit down."

"Thank you." He took an armchair and waited for Prudence to alight somewhere. She perched on the

arm of the sofa.

"So, I take it you've come to settle our business?" she said.

"That was what I had in mind."

Prudence folded her arms. "You don't think it's a little premature?" she asked testily. "We haven't even

received our thousand pounds as yet." She got to her feet abruptly. "I don't understand why this couldn't have been dealt with by letter. Presumably once the damages are paid the money will go to you. Why couldn't you simply subtract your eight hundred pounds and send us our two?"

"Well, you see, I don't think I could do that," he said.

"Well, I'm very sorry, but we don't have the money. I can't give you eighty percent of nothing, can I?"

Her green eyes glared, and he could see dark emerald sparks in their depths. Miss Duncan was clearly rather irritated. He had the feeling that it had little to do with his supposed reason for this visit.

"Unfortunately, I find myself in dire straits," he murmured apologetically.

She stared at him. "What on earth...How could you find yourself in financial straits? Don't be absurd,

Gideon. You can't possibly expect me to believe that. I don't believe for one minute that eight hundred pounds would make one iota of difference to your bank balance."

"Oh, it wouldn't," he agreed, shaking his head. "Not one iota."

"Then what the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" She was growing more irritated by the minute, and his calm demeanor wasn't helping.

He rose to his feet, murmuring, "Since you won't sit down-"

"There's no reason to sit down. I've explained the situation, and that concludes our business. You will get your share when we get ours." She folded her arms again.

"Well, you see, I don't think it does quite conclude our business," he explained in the same slightly apologetic tone.

Prudence was suddenly wary. "What do you mean?"

"As I recall, there was another aspect to our business agreement," he said. He walked to the window and looked down at the winter-bare garden. "A bride, wasn't it? You-or rather, the Go-Between-were going to find me a bride in exchange for my defending you in the libel suit."

Prudence was now even warier. There was something palpably dangerous in the air. She reminded herself that this man was adept at the art of ambush. She'd seen him in court, and experienced it herself once or twice. Sudden moves on her part were not advisable. She said slowly, as if speaking to one a little short on mental acuity, "You were just toying with us, with the whole idea, Gideon. You remember that."

"Oh, no," he said, turning around from the window. "I was not toying with you or the bargain. I did, as I recall, say that I might prefer to find my own bride, but I was certainly open to suggestions that would widen the field."

"Oh," Prudence said, frowning. "Would you consider meeting Lavender Riley, then? I'm sure you would like each other."

Gideon crossed the room in three strides. "Never have I known you to be obtuse, Prudence. No, I would not under any circ.u.mstances consider meeting Lavender Riley."

"Perhaps Heather Peterson-" she began, and then said no more because it was impossible to do so when her mouth was suddenly otherwise and somewhat forcefully occupied.

"Have I made myself clear?" he demanded when he finally raised his lips from hers, his hands still, however, holding her firmly against him.

"I'm not sure," Prudence said. "You haven't really said anything yet."

He put his hands around her throat, lightly encircling the slender column. His eyes were dark as charcoal as he held her gaze, and she could feel his thumbs against the pulse in her throat, a pulse that was beating so fast, she could hear it in her ears.

"The Go-Between fulfilled its side of the bargain. It introduced me to the only woman who could possibly be my bride. Prudence Duncan, will you marry me?"

"Harriet?" It was the only word she seemed capable of uttering.

"Her horse trainer came back for her last week." He released her and ran his hands through his immaculately groomed hair in a gesture that expressed frustration. anxiety, and that flash of vulnerability that she found so endearing. "Sarah . . ." he said, "I need your help, Prudence. I was wrong-h.e.l.l, I'm often wrong. I admit it. But I really need you."

"You're not the only one who's often wrong," she said softly, touching his face, moving her other hand up to smooth down his hair. "I admit it freely."

He grasped her wrists, held her hands tightly against his face, then turned his lips to kiss the inside of her wrists. "Will you marry me, sweetheart?"

She smiled. "I think you're supposed to produce a ring and go down on one knee."

"The ring I can do," he said, "but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going down on one knee, even for you, sweetheart."