"Perhaps Bronson is right, Father," Lee put in as Bronson stormed out the door. "I never wanted your family to suffer because of me. I have my own money. I can take care of myself. Perhaps-"

"Nonsense! You are my daughter. I intend that you should be treated as such."

Though his younger son, Aaron, had yet to arrive home from boarding school, Lee imagined once he did, the scene might be even worse. It would probably be better for all of them if she simply left Kinleigh and returned to Parklands, but she couldn't bear to think of resuming that sort of existence.

Thanks to Caleb, she was more sure of herself and what she really wanted.

Unfortunately, what she wanted was Caleb. If he had asked, she would have gone with him to Spain, though the army life wasn't the sort she would have chosen. She wanted a home of her own, a place in the country where she could raise her horses. More than that, loving Caleb had finally made her realize what she really wanted was a family of her own.

She tried not to think of him, to wonder where he was or if he had yet left London.

She tried, but she loved him so much it was simply no use.

The day was overly warm, the sun beating down from a washed-out, cloudless sky, the wind no more than a memory. Caleb walked between Luc and his father back from the fields toward the big Georgian house that was Selhurst Manor. They had been partridge hunting since early that morning. Caleb was dusty and tired, his long-gun heavy where it hung over his arm.

"What do you say to a brandy?" his father asked as they entered the house from the rear. "I know I could certainly use one."

"Sounds good to me," Luc said.

Caleb just nodded. He hadn't enjoyed the day the way he should have, the way he had as a boy. The sound of gunfire reminded him of the battles he had seen, the battles he knew were to come. But his father and brother had always loved the sport and once he had as well. Today, he was simply glad the day was over.

The three men went directly into the study. Dressed in their dusty shooting clothes, they were scarcely fit for a drawing room.

"It's good to have you home, Caleb," his father said as he walked to an ornate sideboard along the wall. He was getting older, Caleb saw, his once-brown hair mostly silver now, his shoulders a little less straight than they used to be. Still, there was command in his voice, and the smile he bestowed on Caleb still carried the power to move him.

"It's good to be here, Father. I just wish I had more time."

"So do I, son. So do I." He poured each of them a brandy and passed the glasses around.

"Any word of Ethan?" Caleb asked.

His father shook his head. "He is still at sea, I suspect." Ethan ran the family shipping interests. The sea had always been his love. "He has never been good at writing." The earl took a sip of his brandy. "You haven't mentioned the case you were working on. I heard about it, of course. There was a goodly bit of gossip going round for a while."

"Was there?" Caleb flicked a glance at his brother, wondering how much he had said, but Luc made a faint negative movement of his head. "How did you hear?"

"Jon Parker mentioned he saw you. He told me about the murderer you came home to help apprehend, though I am surprised they would send you all that way."

It was the story Caleb had told at Parklands, a flimsy tale at best, and his father was looking at him in that shrewd way he had of discerning the truth from a lie. But Caleb was too old to be intimidated the way he was when he was a boy.

"That was the story I told at the time. The truth is a bit more complicated. Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to discuss it, Father, not even with you."

"I see." The earl said it almost proudly, as if he admired Caleb's integrity. Perhaps he did. Caleb hoped so.

The earl took a sip of his brandy and they all moved over to the leather sofa and chairs. "There were other rumors, as well. Something about a young woman, as I recall."

He was fishing now. Caleb wondered how much his father knew, and a pulse in his temple began to throb. "And this also came from Lord Nash?"

"No. Just a bit of gossip I picked up here and there. I usually don't pay much attention. As this particular gossip concerned my son, I took particular pains to discover whether or not it was true."

Caleb was on guard now. He couldn't begin to guess what his father might have learned about Vermillion. "Exactly what did you hear?"

"That you have been spending a great deal of time with a woman named Vermillion Durant. There is speculation as to your feelings about the girl. As this particular young woman is known to be a courtesan of some renown-"

"That's not true. She has never been anything of the sort." Caleb fought to control his temper. Where Lee was concerned it was never an easy task. "It was all a ruse, one she mistakenly got caught up in that has now come to an end."

Luc stepped into the breach, for which Caleb would always be grateful. "Miss Durant is a lovely young woman, Father. Caleb helped reunite her with her father, who turned out to be the Marquess of Kinleigh."

"Kinleigh? Now that is interesting. I'll bet the news came as quite a surprise."

"Believe it or not, the marquess was pleased," Caleb said. "He plans to give her his name, though he is trying to keep the matter as private as possible."

"If the lady in question has that sort of past, I can understand why."

Caleb's temper inched up. "Lee is innocent in all of this. Her father knows that. He sees her as the person she truly is and he is grateful to have found her."

"Your defense is admirable, Caleb. I hope that is all it is... a dashing captain of the cavalry defending the honor of an innocent young girl."

His father had a way of grating on his nerves. For the past few years, since Caleb had gone into the army, they had been getting along very well.

But they had not disagreed in the past few years.

"I will tell you this, Father. The lady means a great deal to me. Under different circumstances, I might have asked her to marry me. But as you say, I'm a captain of the cavalry. Duty calls, and I must obey." He said this last with a hint of sarcasm his father must have noticed.

"I thought you liked the army."

He sighed. "I do. It's just that there are times..."

"Go on."

"There are times I miss the sort of life you and Mother had. I never really thought I ever would."

The earl took a sip of his drink, his eyes on Caleb's face. "Surely this war cannot go on forever. Perhaps when it is over, you will be able to return home and settle down, raise a family, as your brother, Christian, has done."

Caleb sipped his brandy. "Perhaps." But he didn't really think so. The truth was, there was only one woman who had ever tempted him to marry. He doubted he would ever feel that way about a woman again.

He took a last swallow of his drink and set his brandy glass down on the table. "I'm beginning to taste the dust of the day. If you both will excuse me, I think I'll take a bath and rest for a while before supper." At his father's nod, he turned and headed for the door. Behind him he heard the earl speaking softly to Lucas, but he couldn't hear what they said.

"He has always been hot-tempered," the earl said to Luc, "and often too quick to act. I worried when I heard he was involved with this young woman, a lady of questionable reputation."

"Caleb told you the truth. Lee Durant was never a courtesan."

"It really doesn't matter. The girl is a Durant. You don't think your brother is in love with her?"

Luc swirled the brandy in his glass, trying to decide how much to say. "Whatever he feels, he'll return to duty. He has no other choice. He leaves in a couple of days and he won't take her with him. He has told me what it is like for a woman over there. Once he is gone, things will return to normal."

"I don't know... Caleb isn't the sort of man to get involved so deeply with a woman." He sighed, took a long swallow of his drink. "Bloody damned war. I have worried about him every moment that he has been gone. I just pray to God he comes home safely."

Dressed in his uniform, Caleb strode into the colonel's office in Whitehall. Major Sutton was there, he saw, in conversation with Cox. Their attention turned his way as he closed the door.

"It's good to see you, Captain." The colonel beckoned Caleb forward as he moved behind his desk. "Be at ease, gentlemen. You may both sit down."

Both Caleb and the major took a seat across from him.

"Your transportation has been arranged, Captain. Tomorrow morning, as scheduled, you leave for Portsmouth. From there, you will board His Majesty's ship Nimble for the trip to Spain. An escort will be waiting when you arrive. They will guide you back to your regiment at that time."

"That sounds good, sir." He shifted a little in his chair. "In regard to a previous matter, I've been wondering if anything new has turned up on the spy ring."

The colonel shook his head. "Not much. We intercepted another courier day before yesterday but the man resisted, and in trying to evade capture, he was killed."

"What sort of information was he carrying? Was there any way to trace the source?"

"Unfortunately, it was the latest information on Wellesley's position, accurate down to the finest points. The hell of it is, at least half a dozen top officials have access to that sort of knowledge. It is necessary for them to do their jobs."

"Have you considered feeding these people false information? Something we could trace back to a particular person?"

"An interesting notion. Major Sutton made the same suggestion."

Caleb cast the major a glance, then returned his attention to Cox. "And?"

"I daresay it wouldn't be an easy thing to do. These men communicate with each other. The information is checked and cross-checked. Since we don't know who might be passing it along, we don't know which of them we can trust."

"I'm still trying to convince the powers that be," the major added.

"We're thinking of sending someone in," the colonel said, "as we did with you, but it would have to be someone in the diplomatic corps. Time is the problem." He sighed. "But all of this is neither here nor there as far as you are concerned, Captain. In a matter of hours, you'll be leaving for Spain."

They spoke for a little while longer, then both Caleb and the major were dismissed. Caleb walked with Sutton out to the street. This time of day, the roadways were bustling with hackney carriages, clogged with people and animals making their way across the city.

"I wish there were something I could do," Caleb said.

"Don't worry, we'll catch the bastard-sooner or later."

"I'd feel better if it were sooner."

Sutton nodded. "So would I." They walked along the street together, both men thinking of the days ahead. "Looks like there's going to be one helluva fight over there. You had best take care, Captain."

"I plan to, Major."

"You taking that little light-skirt you were seeing? I know a lot of men take their women with them. I figure that is what I would do."

Caleb clamped hard on his jaw. He had never liked Mark Sutton. Apparently that wasn't going to change. "I wouldn't drag any woman I cared about into a hellhole like that. And she is not a light-skirt. I told you that before. Unless you care to meet me with pistols at dawn, I would suggest you remember that."

Sutton's mouth faintly curved. "I remind you, Captain Tanner, dueling is illegal. Besides, you leave for Portsmouth at dawn."

Caleb gritted his teeth. "With any luck at all, Major, I'll be back. If I hear you've said one word maligning Miss Durant's character, I shall expect that meeting."

But Sutton just smiled. Caleb had the oddest feeling the man was simply baiting him, that he knew exactly how to prod Caleb's temper and he was enjoying the show. Why he would want to, Caleb had no idea.

It didn't really matter. Tomorrow he was off to Portsmouth. He was away to Spain and he had no idea when-or if-he would return. As he went to collect his horse, he tried not to think of Lee, but his mind drifted in that direction.

He wondered how many times he would think of her in the days to come.

The night seemed endless. It was cold for this time of year and a mean wind whipped through the trees. Lee read for a while, but the pages seemed to blur and she finally gave up and put the book away. Tomorrow was Wednesday, the day Caleb would be leaving.

Was he still in London? Or had he already gone?

She paced in front of the hearth, thinking of him, wishing they could have had these few last days together. Wishing she had left Kinleigh Hall as her heart had told her to do and followed him to the city.

Vermillion would have done it. If she had wanted a man, she would simply have gone after him.

But Lee wasn't Vermillion and the role was now nearly impossible for her to play. Still there were times she could be just as bold and daring. In some ways, she was far stronger than Vermillion ever had been.

The notion gave her courage. Lee jumped up from the window seat and hurried toward the rosewood armoire in the corner. Ignoring the array of walking dresses, traveling gowns, ball gowns, cloaks and pelisses that had been brought to Kinleigh from the Hotel Purley, she pulled out a navy blue velvet riding habit.

Caleb was leaving. There would be fighting in Spain and he could be wounded or even killed. He had promised her father he would stay away from her, but she had made no such vow. If he didn't want to see her, she would return to Kinleigh and never think of him again.

But if he felt as she did... if his heart ached one tenth as badly as hers, then he would welcome her in.

Worried someone might try to stop her, she didn't ring for Beatrice but fought her way into the dress herself, grateful the garment buttoned in front. She penned a note to her maid, telling her she would return on the morrow and please not to worry her father. A few minutes later, she was on her way down the hall, descending the servants' stairs, making her way out to the stable.

She paused to light a lantern, then stepped inside. Grand Coeur nickered at her approach, then whinnied softly as she led him from the stall. She hadn't brought Noir or any of her racing stock. She still wasn't certain whether she would remain at Kinleigh.

"Whatcha doin', Miss?" It was Jack Johnson, the walker who had delivered her saddle horses. Lee had hoped none of the grooms would awaken.

"I have an errand to run." She turned to lift the heavy sidesaddle off of its rack, but Jack, a big, brawny man at least a head taller than she, reached over and hefted it as if were light as a feather. He settled it on Grand Coeur's back.

" 'Tis late, Miss. Ye can't be thinkin' of goin' off by yerself. There's a storm movin' in. And it's dangerous on the roads for a lady."

"I have to go, Jack. I'll be back some time tomorrow."

He shook his grizzled head. He was not a handsome man but there was kindness in his features. "I'll not be lettin' ye go, Miss. Not by yerself. If ye leave, I'll be goin' with ye." He didn't tighten the cinch and blocked her from doing it herself.

It was fifteen miles to London, but the road was well traveled and the inns along the way not far apart. She knew which house in Berkeley Square belonged to the Earl of Selhurst. It wasn't likely she would be assaulted, but there was no way to be sure. In truth, she felt a sweep of relief that Jack would be going with her.

"Thank you, Jack. Perhaps it would be better if you came along."

He nodded, went to saddle a horse for himself, and returned a few minutes later. "Mind tellin' me where we be goin'?"

Lee smiled as she flipped the hood of her woolen cloak up over her head. "London, Jack. We're off for London."

A few minutes later, they disappeared into the misty night.

Caleb couldn't sleep. Tomorrow he would begin his journey back to Spain. He wished it were already dawn so he could be on his way.

Instead, a black, moonless night darkened the sky outside his bedchamber window. A harsh, north wind howled over the chimneys and a slick mist dampened the cobbled streets. Caleb paced in front of the window, paused to watch a lone carriage roll past, then walked over to pour himself a drink.

He thought of Lee and wondered what she was doing this night and if she had settled in with the marquess's family. He hoped so. He wanted her to be happy. It was his most fervent wish.

He removed the stopper from the decanter and poured some of the amber liquid into his glass. He took a drink, hoping the brandy might help him to sleep, started to take another sip when a light rap sounded on his door. Caleb crossed the room to open it, wondering what Grimsley was doing up well past midnight.