Now just such a disruption had occurred. Caesar would never interrupt with that loud knocking otherwise. Caesar knew better than to incur his master's anger.

Gritting his teeth, swallowing hard, Glasbury stepped away from the pretty round bottom raised for punishment. The most delicious arousal swam in his loins, demanding more stimulation. The submissiveness of the naked body obeying his commands lured him to ignore the interruption.

The loud raps continued on the door. Something had gone wrong. There could be no other explanation for that sound.

He groped through the haze of intoxicating power for some clarity of thought. He gazed at the cane in his hand and the red welts on his pleasure slave's buttocks. Should he have her stay and wait? She was new, and he had not determined yet that she would be adequate.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Dark hair rose. A face turned. Moist eyes looked back at him. There was enough fear in them to arouse him again. He saw no indication that she had enjoyed this.

Good. He did not want partners who took pleasure. It made the submission less than complete.

He plucked a guinea from his pocket and tossed it on the floor. "Get dressed and leave. Return Thursday and there will be more."

She swept up the guinea as she rose on her knees. There was no question that she understood "more" meant other than just more money.

She appeared unsure that she wanted to return, but he knew she would. She was a whore and the pay was good. It wasn't quite the same when you paid them, of course. The control was compromised if they had a choice, too.

But she would do for a while. He would bring her along slowly, and she would learn well enough.

He turned away. Within moments the woman and the pleasure were out of his mind and body. He left the chamber to find Caesar waiting in the corridor.

Caesar was not in his livery, so he must have been roused from his bed by another servant. A dark mulatto, Caesar obeyed all orders with precision. He showed no fear of reprisal for this interruption, however. He remained expressionless as always, a demeanor that reflected the dull mind in the dark head.

It was also a reflection of the changes twenty years could make in a country's sense of rights and privilege. There had been a time when Caesar would have had good cause for fear, but those days had been slipping away most of Glasbury's life and were over for good now.

Mores the pity.

"He came back," Caesar said. "A groom heard him in the garden and came and woke me."

"He is alone?"

"Just him."

Damn.

"Where is he?"

"The library."

"Return to your chamber. I will not need you anymore."

Glasbury returned to his dressing room where his pleasure slave was struggling to close her dress.

He did not aid her. "Go down in a few minutes."

He made his own way through the silent house to the library where the man waited.

The visitor sat on a sofa. He was round faced and bland in countenance, and insignificant in presence

and size. One had to look closely to even notice this man existed. The ability to be unseen was one of his great talents.

He looked over with eyes that could reveal a deep cunning if the anonymous mask slipped.

"She was not there," he said simply.

"She had to be. The person who saw her knows her well. Veil or not, the identification was not likely to be wrong."

"I said she was not there when I went for her. I did not say she never was there. I found a night servant who says a lady of her description, always veiled, was a guest there for a few days. But she is gone now, and her trunks were moved just this night. I must have missed that by an hour, no more."

Glasbury barely contained his anger. The little bitch had slipped away again. He would find her, however. He would no longer tolerate the way she had repudiated his rights. He would no longer bear the humiliation she had heaped on him with her willfulness. He certainly would not stand still while she used his name to promote revolting ideas that directly insulted him.

He no longer needed to.

"Where did the trunks go?"

"The manager said he does not know. He did not like my waking him to ask about it, and he could have been expressing displeasure by not giving me what I wanted. I could try and make him talk if you"

"No, we can't have you doing that. The police will be involved if you get rough."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Have your colleague keep a watch on her house, in case it is opened. I will let you know when I need you again."

Glasbury did not expect that house to be opened. If Penelope was no longer at the hotel, he knew where she most likely had gone. She had probably run to hide behind her brother Laclere.

Well, he knew how to handle that. His rights of possession had been compromised in all kinds of ways these last years, but not where she was concerned. It would be more complicated to fight her family, but he would prevail.

After all, he owned her.

Chapter Four.

Julian was surprised in the morning by a summons to Laclere's house. He left Mrs. Tuttle to see to Penelope's comfort and rode his horse to the one o'clock appointment.

He was shown to the viscount's study. Laclere's dark head rose at once from its contemplation of some documents on the desk when Julian entered.

"I am expecting a caller. I thought I should have you here when he comes," Laclere said without formality. "I wrote to you as soon as I received his letter in the morning post."

"Someone was rude enough to demand to call? It is generous of you to receive him."

"It was Glasbury." Laclere's normally bright blue eyes wore a dulling concern. "I can't imagine what he wants, since he and I have not spoken in years. I assume it is about Pen, of course."

They chatted about the banquet as they waited, carefully avoiding the subject of Lady Laclere's designs where a certain bachelor was concerned.

A visitor soon arrived, but it was not the Earl of Glasbury. Laclere's brother Dante entered the study and greeted Julian.

In race and stature Dante was a more refined version of his brother. Where the viscount's features had a

roughly hewn quality, Dante's were smooth and perfect, as if the sculptor's rasp had sought to make all the edges subordinate to the total effect.

Dante raked his fingers through his brown hair in a gesture that spoke befuddlement.

"I received a letter from Glasbury this morning. He said he was meeting with you and suggested I

attend."

"The mystery is getting thicker," Laclere said.

"More than you know. I saw Chart's carriage coming as I entered the house."

"If he wants to meet with the whole family, he must be planning a dramatic announcement."

"Maybe he intends to pursue a divorce," Dante said. "Rather late for that, I would say."

Julian did not say a word. Both these men had long ago accepted his silences, and today that was

extremely convenient. Charlotte entered, looking much like her older sister with her dark hair and pale skin and middling height. She had always been more slender than Penelope, and her eyes were more worldly and shrewd. It was not that Charlotte was hard in her appearance and outlook, but that Penelope was so soft. She explained that she had received a letter similar to Dante's. "I considered ignoring it, since I cannot imagine why he wants me here. Aren't such things supposed to be too important for a woman's participation?"

"The earl almost has me interested in this business," Laclere said.

"Glasbury is many things, dear brother, but interesting is not one of them." She turned her attention to

Dante. "How is Fleur?"

Dante smiled the smile that brought women to swoons. "Glowing. Serene. I am the one who will age ten years before this child comes."

"Do not get into a state so soon. There are still many months for that," Laclere said. He glanced at the clock on a shelf behind him. "He is late. No doubt that is Glasbury's way of exercising his precedence."

"I hope it is a divorce," Dante said. "I would like to see Pen completely free of him."

Charlotte's attention slid around the room and came to rest on Julian. "Do you know what this will be

about?"

"I agree with your brother that it probably has to do with your sister."

"That is obvious. Do you know just what it has to do with her? Did she write to you from Naples about

something that she neglected to tell any of us?"

"If she did, it was a private correspondence, Charl," Laclere said. "You have benefited from Hampton's discretion, so allow Pen to as well. I am sure that none of us wants the whole family knowing all of our legal affairs."

Charl retreated, but not before she cast Julian a very sharp and suspicious glance.

Glasbury arrived just late enough to make his point that others wait for him and not the other way around. He was brought to the study at half past one.

He was not alone. A man of neat but common appearance accompanied him. This other man stayed near the door like a servant and did not advance on the assembled party as the earl did.

Julian barely received the earl's acknowledgment during the greetings. However, he did not miss that the nod in his direction was accompanied by a smug smirk that temporarily twisted the earl's flaccid mouth.

Julian did not allow himself to react, but a small fury swirled in his head. He hated Glasbury, and not only because of Penelope. The man embodied all of the decadence and callousness that inherited privilege could breed when it was visited on the wrong kind of character. He wielded his power irresponsibly and selfishly.

Most recently the earl had been one of the few lords to argue against the bill abolishing slavery in the colonies, because he owned some plantations in the West Indies that would be affected economically. Few men in Parliament had the audacity to stand on the side of selling human beings anymore, but it had not bothered Glasbury to do so at all.

Worse, that smirk had reflected triumph. It was the reflexive expression of a man who knew he had won a game. Julian's concern for Penelope instantly deepened.

Glasbury took a position beside Laclere's chair so he could look down on the dark head of the man sitting in it. Julian considered that it was probably the earl's only opportunity to do so, since Laclere towered over Glasbury when they both stood.

The earl's slender body assumed a military rigidity. With his gray hair and lined face, he appeared a generation older than anyone else in the chamber even though he had only ten years on Laclere.

"I have little time to waste on this business, so I will beblunt," Glasbury said with all possible pomposity. "I demand to know where she is."

"By she, you must mean our sister. Penelope is in Naples, as you know. You wrote to her there."

"She is not in Naples any longer. She was seen in London yesterday. I have learned that she took a room at Mivert's Hotel upon her return, but she is no longer at the hotel this morning."

"I am sure that whoever saw her is mistaken. If my sister did return to London, she would not have to reside at a hotel, since she has a house. Did you try calling there?"

"The house remains closed. There has been no activity to indicate she is living there."