It was a difficult decision. She owed her aunt and she wanted to make her happy. But in the weeks he had been there, Caleb had made her see that she also owed herself. She couldn't become some man's plaything, not merely to please her aunt. She would make a different sort of choice, one that took far more courage. She would leave her aunt's protective circle of friends and go out on her own. She had money. She could do anything she wanted. Somehow she would make it up to her aunt.

Still, in the quiet of the room, she found herself thinking of Caleb, wondering what it might be like if Caleb became her protector.

Lee sighed into the silence of her bedchamber. If only he weren't leaving. But in truth, even if she agreed to become his mistress, it wouldn't be for long. Soon he would return to Spain, and the risk of a broken heart would only increase if she spent more time with him.

The quandary spun round and round in her head as she stood at the window, staring down into the garden. She sighed and started to turn away, hoping sleep would ease her turbulent thoughts, but a movement below caught her eye. A slight, cloaked figure stole from the back of the house, slipping silently along the path through the shrubbery. One of the maids, perhaps, or one of the female guests.

Lee watched the woman make her way to the rear of the garden and escape through the wooden gate. Why would someone be leaving the house at this late hour? Why would they be stealing away like a thief in the night?

Unless...

In an instant, she made her decision.

Dragging her night rail over her head, Lee raced to the armoire and pulled on her breeches, shirt, and boots. In minutes she was dressed and flying out the door, trying to be quiet as she hurried along the hall and down the servants' stairs. It didn't take long to reach the gate at the rear of the garden. She made it just in time to see the slender, cloaked figure disappear among the trees along the path leading into the village.

Lee hurried after her. God's breath, she wished Caleb were here, but as far as she knew he hadn't returned from wherever he had gone off to, and she had no idea when he might reappear.

The path was well worn, the dirt track flattened from years of use, but it wound through the trees, making it difficult to keep her quarry in sight. She could hear the woman's footfalls on the path up ahead and the sound of her cloak brushing against shrubs and branches along the trail. The leaves were wet with dew and the dampness soaked into Lee's breeches as she hurried along. Up ahead, the woman raced on.

Lee tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but it was hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. She worried that it was Jeannie, but something about the woman didn't seem quite right. Lee's heart pounded. Around her, the night air felt heavy and still and patches of mist hung over the earth. Crickets stopped their chirping as the woman ran past, and in the faint light cast by a fingernail moon, Lee could see narrow, feminine footprints pressed into the ground on the path in front of her.

The woman turned off the trail and Lee almost lost her. Then she realized the cloaked figure was heading for the Red Boar Inn. It loomed ahead, windows glowing with lamplight, moonlight glinting on the tiles of its gray slate roof. The woman didn't go inside, but rounded the building to the rear and disappeared. Lee hurried after her, stopping when she reached the tavern, plastering herself against the rough stone wall, then carefully peeking around the corner of the building.

There was a stairway behind the inn, partially hidden by ivy. She caught a quick glimpse of the woman's face as she climbed the stairs, lifted the latch on a heavy wooden door, and vanished into a room on the second floor.

It was one of the upstairs chambermaids. A woman named Marie LeCroix.

Marie had come to Parklands last year in search of employment. She was an exceptionally pretty young woman in her late twenties, with wavy dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and remarkable cheekbones. A number of the male guests had made offers for her time, but Marie had shied away from them. She was friendly to the men, but mostly she kept to herself.

At least that's what Lee had believed.

Now she wondered which of the men the woman was here to meet... and why.

Uncertain exactly what she should do, Lee remained in the shadows, waiting to see if she could discover whom Marie had come to meet. Careful to stay out of sight, she pressed herself against cold gray stone and fastened her gaze on the room upstairs.

Caleb could scarcely believe it. On a black horse named Solomon that was his own mount, he was returning from London, riding past the village toward the lane leading to Parklands, almost to the Red Boar Inn when he spotted a figure running along the path that led from the village to the mansion.

Dammit to bloody hell, he knew who it was, knew there was never a lad who could fill out a pair of men's breeches nearly so well, knew that long red braid and exactly how silky it felt.

What the devil she was doing out here in the middle of the night confounded him completely.

Unless...

His stomach muscles contracted. Sweet God, surely he hadn't been wrong. Surely Lee wasn't the traitor. As much as his brain cautioned him it just might be so, deep down he didn't believe it. As he watched her press herself into the shadows against the wall, his certainty grew.

Lee wasn't a traitor.

Instead, there was every chance she was out here trying to catch one.

The thought fired his temper. The interfering little baggage was sticking her nose into army business again and putting herself in danger. When he got her back to the house, he was going to wring her pretty little neck!

Tying his horse to a tree some distance away, careful to stay hidden in the shadows, Caleb started walking toward the small figure hiding in the darkness behind the inn.

From her place against the wall next to the stairwell, Lee could hear the creak of footsteps on the wooden floor in the room upstairs. If she thought she could see inside, she would sneak up the stairs and peek in, but the shutters were closed and only a sliver of light seeped out from within.

Lee rubbed her hands together. It was damp and cold and she hadn't had time to retrieve a cloak or gloves. Now it seemed as if the woman had been in the room forever. Lee shivered, tried to think warm thoughts and concentrate on discovering the man who might be trysting with Marie. If the fellow was a guest at Parklands, it didn't make sense. A visitor's privacy was ensured. If the woman wanted to spend time with one of the men, the two of them wouldn't have been interrupted.

Still, there were men in the village, wealthy squires, sons of wealthy squires. Lee figured she was probably wasting her time, that the maid was simply meeting one of them.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, told herself that she should just turn round and go home. But what if Marie were meeting a traitor? What if she were the woman passing secrets to the French?

"Out for a midnight stroll?"

She jumped six inches at the words whispered into her ear. "Caleb! Good heavens, you scared me half to death!"

"If you are lucky, sweeting, that is all I will do. If you are here for the reason I think you are, I ought to put you over my knee."

Lee ignored him and the black scowl on his face. "What are you doing here, Caleb? I looked for you earlier but no one seemed to know where you were."

"I had business in London. As to what I am doing here at the inn, I'm doing my damnedest to keep you out of trouble."

Lee turned her attention to the room at the top of the stairs. "One of our maids is up there. A woman named Marie LeCroix. I saw her sneaking out of the house. I didn't know where to find you, so I followed her myself. I could hear more than one set of footsteps so I know she isn't alone, but I have no idea who might be up there with her."

"Maybe she's up there with Oxley."

"Oxley?"

"That's right. The lieutenant's been bedding her every chance he gets. I wonder what she's been receiving in return for her favors."

Lee glanced toward the top of the stairs, wondering how many other secrets Caleb had discovered about the people at Parklands. "I don't think she's meeting Lieutenant Oxley. He was still in the drawing room when I retired and if she wanted to see him, all she had to do was go to his room."

"Good point. So she's probably meeting someone who isn't staying at the house."

"That would be my guess." She shivered, the damp cold seeping through her clothes.

"Dammit, you're freezing." Stripping off his riding jacket, he draped it around her shoulders. The coat retained his body heat. She snuggled deeper into the warmth and her shivering eased.

"Stay here. I'm going upstairs." Before she could remind him Marie was probably there for nothing but a lover's tryst, he was halfway up the staircase. He banged on the door and waited, but no one came to open it. He pounded again, tried the handle, then came racing back down the stairs.

"There's probably another entrance inside the inn. You stay here. If he comes out this way, try to get a look at his face. Whatever you do, don't let him see you. He might not want any witnesses."

Lee thought of Mary and sank deeper into the shadows. Caleb took off toward the front of the tavern and she counted the time it would take him to get up the inside stairs. There must have been another entrance for a few minutes later, she heard the wooden floorboards creaking and guessed Caleb was in the room.

When he didn't come outside, she left her post and ran after him, racing round to the front, then shoving through the tavern doors.

The inn was crowded, the low-ceilinged taproom smoky, and noisy with the clink of glasses and the rumble of the patrons' conversation. One of the tavern maids laughed and the sound rang across the room. Careful to stay at the edge of the crowd, Lee headed up the stairs at the rear of the inn.

At the top of the stairs, a long hall yawned to the right. She hurried down the corridor, saw that one of the doors stood open. Caleb knelt beside a slatted bed. The moment he saw her, he came to his feet and started walking toward her. He had almost reached her when she spotted the woman draped limply over the edge of the bed.

"Marie!"

Caleb turned her away from the grisly sight and his arms tightened around her. "She's dead, love. I'm sorry."

Lee pulled free of his hold, her gaze careening once more toward the bed. Across the mattress, the limp figure of Marie LeCroix lay pale and lifeless, her pretty blue eyes staring up at the ceiling above her head. Lee started shaking. Tears welled in her eyes as Caleb pressed her head into his shoulder.

"The man was gone by the time I got here. The bastard used her, then strangled her."

She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the sight of the lifeless woman on the bed. "Oh, God."

"He must have left through the tavern. It's crowded and dark. It wouldn't be hard to get away without being seen. I would have gone after him, but the forest begins just behind the inn and there's no way in hell I'd be able to follow his tracks in the darkness."

"Why... why didn't he go down the outside stairs?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he knew you were out there."

Her head jerked up. "Oh, my God! If I hadn't followed Marie to the inn-"

Caleb gripped her shoulders. "This isn't your fault, Lee. Whoever did this likely also killed Mary-or had a hand in it. Perhaps they knew too much. Perhaps they posed some kind of threat-I don't know." His features turned hard and his fingers dug into her shoulders. "You're lucky you didn't climb those stairs. If you had, you might be lying next to Marie on that bed!"

He was angry. More than that, he was frightened.

He held her at arm's length for a moment more, then jerked her hard against him and his arms came around her. A slight tremor ran through his body.

"Come on," he finally said. "We need to send for the authorities. I've got to talk to the people in the taproom, find out if anyone saw the person who came down the stairs."

"Yes... or perhaps the tavern owner can tell you who rented the room."

He nodded. "Let's go find out." With an arm securely around her waist, he started guiding her toward the door.

"What about Marie?" Lee asked softly.

"I'll see she's taken care of. You don't have to worry about that."

Lee said nothing more, just let him lead her out of the room and quietly close the door.

Graveside services were held for Marie LeCroix the following day, a solemn occasion that briefly put a damper on festivities at Parklands. Since Oxley had been in the drawing room with Colonel Wingate all evening, he was not a suspect. The sheriff, not privy to army information concerning the spy ring, believed the woman had been strangled by a jealous lover, someone who had discovered Marie's affair. But no one had the slightest idea who the man might be.

Constable Shaw came out from London, but the only connection between the murders of Mary Goodhouse and that of Marie LeCroix was the women's brief employment at Parklands.

No one in the tavern had seen anything the night of the murder and, as the upstairs room had been let by Marie, there were no clues to the man's identity.

Lee's birthday ball was postponed. While the Parklands's staff, Vermillion and her aunt, attended a brief churchyard service for Marie, Caleb and Major Sutton descended on Lieutenant Ian Oxley.

It was obvious the young man was shaken and very deeply grieved by the news of the young maid's death.

"I can't believe it... I just can't believe she is dead." Oxley sat on the leather sofa in the study. The doors were closed and the few servants who remained in the house were given strict instruction they were not to be disturbed.

"What did you tell her, Oxley?" Sutton leaned over the younger man. "Colonel Wingate has already told us he had key information about Wellesley's upcoming campaign. You were privy to that information. Now tell us how much of that information you told Marie LeCroix."

Oxley's eyes filled with tears. He was a pale young man, given to shyness, and obviously in love with Marie.

"We just... we just talked."

"In your bed, you mean, while you were overheated and desperate to get inside her."

Oxley swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down. "She was interested in the war. I suppose I might have... mentioned a few things."

"She was French, Oxley." Sutton bore down on him. "Did the fact never cross your mind?"

He shook his head. "She was only a little girl when she came to England with her family. She was raised here. She wanted the British to win the war. That... that is what she said." He gazed out the window toward the garden. "She was so beautiful. She never talked to any of the other men... only me. I felt so lucky. I just wanted to please her."

Caleb swore softly. "Do you have any idea, Lieutenant, who Marie might have been meeting that night at the inn?"

He glanced up. The grief etched into his face made him look older than he had the day before. "I thought there was only me. I thought she loved me."

"She used you," the major said harshly. "Just the way that bastard used her. You know what they were doing in that room, Oxley? You know what he did to her before he killed her?"

"Don't," Caleb warned, ending the major's savage words. "The woman he loved is dead. She wasn't the person he believed her to be and because he trusted her, his career is over and he'll be facing charges. What we need to know is who killed her. We need the name of the man she was passing the information on to."

"I don't know," Oxley said with a shake of his head. "I swear I don't. I only mentioned a couple of things... We talked about Oporto. I told her Wellesley was gearing up, that it looked as if there would be fighting at Talavera. It didn't seem important at the time."

"You're a fool, Lieutenant," Major Sutton said. "You thought with your cock and not your brain and now you are paying the price."

Oxley made no reply. The misery on his face was enough of an answer. The afternoon wore on, but no new information surfaced.

One thing was clear: the spy ring's connection to Parklands had been severed. Marie was dead and no more information would be forthcoming. Perhaps Mary Goodhouse had also been selling secrets, or more likely she had figured out whom Marie was meeting. Either way, the women were dead and the leak had been stopped.

Unfortunately, the head of the spy ring had escaped, leaving no trace of whom he might be. Caleb wasn't sure if his assignment would continue once he returned to London, but his time at Parklands had come to an end.

As soon as Lee's birthday ball was over, Caleb, along with the rest of the guests, would be returning to the city. He didn't know how long he would remain in London, but at least he would have time to visit his family, see some of his friends. As he had before, he told himself to forget Vermillion, that interfering in her life would be doing her more harm than good.

Still, as the afternoon drew to a close, he found himself striding down the hall, stopping to speak to the butler, asking him to make it known to the lady of the house that he wished a word with her in private in regard to a matter of importance concerning her niece.

It was an hour later that Caleb was summoned to a small salon at the rear of the mansion. The butler, Jones, led him down the hall into a room done in soft shades of ivory and rose, then quietly closed the doors, making them private.

"You wished to see me, Captain?" Gabriella floated toward him in a gown a brighter shade of rose than the sofa and draperies, a warm smile on her face.

"I know you're busy. Thank you for making the time."

Her smile slipped a little at the serious note in his voice. "I thought this concerned Vermillion. Are you here in regard to the death of Marie LeCroix?"

"No. As I said, I'm here to speak to you about your niece."

One of her silver-blond eyebrows went up. "In that case, why don't we make ourselves comfortable?" She led him over to a brocade sofa, then sat down in a deep rose chair across from him. "Shall I ring for tea?"

"No, thank you. What I have to say won't take long."

"All right then, Captain, what is it you wish to discuss about Vermillion?"