Major Sutton uncrossed his legs. "On the other hand, it might prove an interesting means of obtaining information. It is, after all, the means we suspect the Durant women may be employing to aid the French."

Cox scratched something on the sheet of foolscap in front of him. "I don't believe seducing a woman falls under the category of Captain Tanner's current duties, though as the major says, it does pose certain possibilities."

Caleb thought of Vermillion as she had looked in her snug boy's breeches and ignored a subtle throbbing in his groin. He fixed his attention firmly on the colonel.

"I was wondering, sir, if perhaps you might know what sort of information Colonel Wingate might have access to that might be valuable to the French."

The pen stopped moving. Cox looked up. "Colonel Wingate was injured six months ago during a training exercise when he suffered a fall from his horse. At that time, he was reassigned to the command of General Ulysses Stevens of the Royal Life Guards. The general is among those men whose advice is highly valued. He is kept abreast of troop movements on the Continent and would have had full knowledge of Wellesley's intention to confront the enemy at Oporto."

"Are you saying Wingate would also have that sort of knowledge?"

"I'm sure he does." Cox stuck the quill pen back into its holder. "Unfortunately, Captain Tanner, unless one of us can prove Colonel Wingate relayed that information to a person or persons other than those in proper circles, we cannot impinge upon his honor by making any sort of accusation."

"I understand, sir."

"What do you think of Lord Nash?" Cox asked. "Jonathan Parker is far more subtle than most of the Durant girl's admirers, but the plain truth is, he is just as eager to have her as the next man."

"Nash has made it clear he wishes to become her protector," Caleb said. "I'm uncertain whether or not he has ever been one of her lovers."

The colonel plucked a bit of lint off the front of his scarlet uniform jacket. "I realize Nash is a close friend of your father's, Captain, but as an advisor to the chancellor, he has access to a good deal of useful information. Is there any possibility he might be passing some of that along to the French, either through Vermillion or Gabriella Durant?"

"Lord Nash has always been a loyal Englishman, sir. I don't believe he would ever betray his country." And Caleb admired him greatly, had since he was a boy.

While his father was busy with his horses or running his earldom, Nash, the son of a peer who was his father's friend, always managed to find a spare moment for him.

That was years ago, of course. Caleb had rarely seen the man since. He doubted Nash would even recognize him now, though he made a point of avoiding him at Parklands.

"Just remember," the colonel warned, "Nash wants the girl-perhaps more than any other of her admirers-and when it comes to a woman he wants, no man is completely immune."

No, Caleb thought. It would be difficult for any man to be completely immune to Vermillion. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

"Make certain that you do. Now, I suppose you had better hie yourself back to Parklands before you are missed."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep your eyes and ears open, Captain."

"I will, sir."

"That is all. You are dismissed."

Cox watched the youngest of the three men assigned to help him uncover a traitor, or more likely a ring of them, and thought that Wellesley had chosen extremely well. Captain Tanner was a fine officer, a skilled cavalryman and decorated hero of the war. He knew horses and racing-the reason he had been chosen-was intelligent and loyal, with a father who was a powerful friend to the Tories and extremely proud of his son. The captain would do the job that had been assigned him.

Across the desk, the major shifted in his chair. "Perhaps he'll wind up seducing one of them. I still think a more intimate relationship might be the answer to our prayers."

Cox raised an eyebrow. "You may be right, Major. If you are, Tanner is likely the man for the job. I don't believe even the practiced skills of a courtesan could seduce our handsome young captain away from his duties."

"Tanner's a good man," Sutton agreed. "And you're right. His career means everything to him. He won't let a woman come between him and his job."

It was past time she made a trip into London. Lee tried to go at least once a week, but somehow the days had rushed past and she had been unable to slip away. Forgoing her usual morning ride, she dressed in a simple gown of yellow muslin, summoned her smart little park phaeton, and along with Jeannie set out for the house she had rented in a quiet neighborhood at the edge of Bloomsbury a little over two years ago.

Though the three-story brick structure didn't perch on a street in Mayfair or any of the fashionable districts of London, the buildings in the area were clean and well cared for, the occupants mostly of the working classes, and there was a small park just a few blocks to the east.

"We should 'ave come in zee carriage," Jeannie grumbled in her heavy French accent, looking up at a sky that had begun to grow cloudy. "It will probably rain before we get back to the 'ouse."

"If it does," Lee said cheerfully, "we will simply put up the top. It might get a little damp going home but I'm sure we'll survive it."

Jeannie muttered something Vermillion ignored. Like a number of the servants in her aunt's employ, Jeannie was the child of a French immigrant who had fled to England during the Revolution. The ongoing troubles with Napoleon often made it difficult for French-speaking persons to find employment. Being part French herself, Gabriella felt it her duty to help whenever she could.

It was a similar sort of empathy that had led Vermillion to rent the house in Buford Street. Stepping up on the porch, she used the lion's head knocker to announce her arrival, and a few minutes later, the wooden door swung wide.

"Lee! We've missed you! Please come in." This from Helen Wilson, a plump, smiling young woman three years Lee's senior who had worked as a chambermaid for Lisette Moreau. Helen wasn't French but she had been in need, and Lee had decided to help her.

Since that time, four other young women, each enceinte and unmarried, had come to her for help. All of them now lived in the house in Buford Street.

"How are you, Helen? How is the baby?"

"Robbie is fine. So am I. Come and see. He always gets so excited when you come for a visit."

Lee smiled, pleased at the words. She loved little Robert Wilson, loved all of the children in the house. Helen set the boy on his feet and the baby of twenty-two months waddled toward her, a slobbery grin on his face. He held up his chubby little arms and she scooped him high against her breast.

"Hello, sweetheart. I've missed you so much. What a big boy you're getting to be."

Robbie giggled and banged his little fists up and down on her shoulders. Lee hugged him fiercely, then set him back down on his feet. Turning away, the little boy toddled over to where little Jilly, two months old, lay on a blanket near her mother's feet.

Lee stopped to talk to Jilly's mother, Annie Hickam, where she sat bent over her sewing. Born in a Southwark slum, Annie was a former prostitute who had earned her living on the street. Never a beauty, she was rawboned and rough-skinned, but she fiercely loved her child and she had vowed to make a better life for both of them.

" 'Tis good to see ya, Miss," Annie said. They talked about the baby and the colic she had suffered last week.

"She's fine now, don't ya see? Such a good lass, she is." She reached down, picked up the blanket-wrapped infant, and cuddled the child against her breast. "Aren't ya, sweet luv?"

Lee held the baby for a while, then handed her back to her mother and went over to check on the other two newborns in the house, Joshua Sweet and Benjamin Carey, and their mothers, Sarah and Rose. When she finished, she walked over to chat with a young pregnant woman named Mary Goodhouse, the newest addition to the group.

Mary was a chambermaid from Parklands who had gotten involved with a young man named Fredrick Hully, a lad from the village. A few months with Freddie, and Mary found herself with child, her belly swollen, and Freddie gone off to seek his fortune in the Colonies.

"He promised he would send for me," Mary had said, her soft brown eyes glossy with tears. "If he had known about the babe, he would have taken me with him."

Perhaps he would have, but Lee didn't think so. In the meantime, the house in Buford Street was the answer to Mary's prayers.

"How are you feeling, Mary?" She was small and brown-haired, her round belly ill-concealed by the apron she wore over her skirt. "You aren't still having those bouts of sickness in the mornings?"

"Oh, no, Miss. Not anymore. Annie made me 'er special tea, and I 'aven't 'ad nary a problem since."

"I'm glad to hear it. Have you chosen a name yet?"

"I was thinkin' maybe Jack, if it's a boy. I thought I might call 'er Lee if it's a girl." She glanced up, a little embarrassed. "That is, if ye wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Lee said softly, touched by the gesture. "I'd be extremely pleased."

Mary flushed and turned away and all of the women busied themselves with their work. Lee paid the rent, but the women took care of the rest of the expenses. They took in sewing and word of their skill had spread. Lee thought that perhaps in time, they wouldn't need her help at all, which meant she would probably not see them as often. Considering how fond she had grown of the children, it was a notion she found oddly depressing.

A courtesan used every trick she knew not to become enceinte, but Lee had always thought it would be wonderful to have a child of her own. At least if it happened, she thought, she wouldn't need a man's financial support. But what about the child?

Secretly, she had always yearned for a father. Wouldn't a child, even one born out of wedlock as she had been, benefit from some sort of relationship with its sire?

Lee pondered the question a little while later as she and Jeannie left the house and made their way out to the carriage. What if by accident-and the women she had just left proved how easily it could occur-she were to find herself with child?

Mondale might be handsome, but he wasn't the sort to be bothered with children. Wingate would rarely be around. Lord Nash, widowed and childless, would undoubtedly be a solid, responsible father to any offspring he might sire.

As she settled herself on the seat of the phaeton and picked up the reins, a memory flashed of Caleb Tanner, kneeling in the straw next to the kittens. She thought of his gentleness with the foal.

Very firmly, she slapped the reins, setting the carriage into motion and pushing the unwelcome images away.

Caleb watched the smart little phaeton disappear down the street and simply shook his head. Of all the scenarios he had envisioned as he had followed Vermillion to London, traveling to the city to visit a home for unwed mothers was scarcely among them.

In truth, even though today she wasn't dressed in the garb of an expensive courtesan, he had imagined she might be meeting a secret lover, perhaps the man who transported information she or her aunt garnered from one of their numerous beaux. On her arrival at the house in Buford Street, determined to find out who that man might be, Caleb had made his way down the alley to the rear of the house. Checking the windows, he found one of them unlocked and quietly slipped inside.

From a downstairs bedchamber, he could see along the hall into a parlor that was-to his utter dismay-filled with women and babies. It didn't take a master of deduction to realize Vermillion wasn't there to meet a lover. Caleb had listened to a portion of the women's conversation, just to be sure, then returned outside and waited until she left.

As soon as her carriage rolled out of sight, he knocked on the kitchen door and the woman called Annie pulled it open.

"I hope you can help me. I must have made a wrong turn somewhere. I'm looking for Langston Street in Covent Garden. Can you point me in that direction?"

Annie smiled. She was a big, rough-edged woman, and there was a look of weariness in her eyes that spoke of the hard life she had lived. Annie was cordial and accommodating, giving him directions, even a crust of bread and a hunk of cheese to take with him. She seemed a little lonely and he took advantage of her need for conversation, letting her tell him about her friends.

When he mentioned the young woman he had seen leaving the house, Annie told him her name was Lee Durant and she was their guardian angel, the one who paid their quarterly rent.

"I'd think such a pretty little thing would have a gentleman escort," he said.

"Oh, no, not Miss Lee. She comes just with her maid. That way she can spend more time with the babies."

Caleb bade Annie farewell and returned to where he had left his horse. As he mounted the gelding and started the journey back to Parklands, he couldn't help thinking about the women, wondering at Vermillion's motives. None of the mothers appeared to be French. And only the girl named Mary had come from Parklands.

Perhaps, as she had with the cat and its kittens, Lee was simply the sort who took in strays.

Caleb wished it weren't so easy to believe.

6.

From the window of her bedchamber, Lee looked out across the rolling green fields. She could see the racecourse her aunt had constructed three years ago when Lee had convinced her-with the help of Lord Claymont-they should not only breed Thoroughbreds, but race them as well.

The track wasn't large, but it was sufficient for flat-race training and Caleb Tanner was there, working with Noir. She couldn't be certain, but she caught a glimpse of bright red hair and thought Jimmy Murphy must be riding him. Jimmy had started as a stable boy, doing the most menial tasks, but Tanner had recognized a talent that had thus far been overlooked.

At sixteen, Jimmy was small for his age, and with older brothers who were also small, there was every chance he wasn't going to get a whole lot larger. From the upstairs window, Lee watched horse and rider pounding around the course east of the stable. Most of the morning was already gone, but there was still time to get in a ride if she hurried.

In concession to the lateness of the hour and the fact that the household was awake, she dressed in her forest green riding habit and made her way out to the stable. Coeur poked his head over the stall and nickered softly. She led him out and brushed his coat, hoping one of the grooms would appear to help her with the cumbersome sidesaddle. Instead, old Arlie creaked toward her.

" 'Ere, Miss, let me saddle 'im fer ye."

The sidesaddle was heavy. There was no way Arlie could lift it. Together they might manage, but she didn't want to hurt the old man's feelings.

"It's all right, Arlie. I think Billy is around here somewhere. Why don't we let him take care of it?"

"Don't be daft, gel. How many 'orses 'ave I saddled fer ye over the years?" Before she could stop him, Arlie hefted the heavy saddle off the wall. For a moment, he teetered backward, then he swayed forward, his thin legs wobbling with the effort of holding the heavy saddle against his bony chest.

"Arlie!" Lee cried as he teetered backward again. Racing forward, she reached up to help him hold the saddle. An instant later, Lee, Arlie, and the heavy sidesaddle with its padded tapestry seat all went crashing to the ground.

For several seconds, Lee just lay there beneath the saddle, on top of Artie, the breath knocked out of her lungs, terrified she had killed her ancient groom.

Then the sidesaddle lifted away. A grinning Caleb Tanner stood above her, the saddle hoisted up on one of his wide shoulders. "Need some help?"

Reaching down, he took her hand and hauled her to her feet. Embarrassed, wishing she could wipe the grin off his handsome face, she turned her attention to Arlie, still sprawled on the floor of the barn, blinking owlishly up at her as if he had no idea where he was.

"Arlie! Are you all right?"

He reached for the hand Caleb offered him and struggled back to his feet. "Just fine, Miss. Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle. Got a mite off balance, is all."

"Yes, I could see that." She turned, saw that Caleb was fighting another grin. "What are you staring at, Mr. Tanner? Since you don't seem to have any trouble hoisting that saddle, why don't you rig out Grand Coeur?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Caleb turned to his task while Lee brushed straw and dirt off her habit, and a few minutes later, the tall dappled stallion was saddled and ready to go.

Walking beside her, Caleb led him over to the mounting block. "Nice day for a ride," he said.

"Yes... yes, it is."

"That big red gelding could use some exercise. I don't suppose you'd want company."

Her stomach contracted. Women often rode out with their grooms. It was a matter of protection. But most grooms didn't look like Caleb Tanner. They weren't the sort to make a woman's insides tremble or her heart start to sputter. And after his cruel words in the garden...

But Caleb always seemed different out here.

Then again, so was she.

"As you say, the red could probably use some exercise." She cast him a look and couldn't resist adding, "And there is a chance I might be willing to give you a pointer or two on how to improve your seat."

A corner of his mouth edged up. "One thing I know for sure... yours doesn't need the least bit of improvement."

She could tell by the wicked glint in his eyes he wasn't talking about riding. She opened her mouth but couldn't seem to think of a single thing to say. She felt his big hands at her waist, lifting her up onto the sidesaddle, then he turned and walked away.

"I'll catch up with you at the top of the rise," he said to her over his shoulder.

Setting a leisurely pace up the hill, Lee reined up to wait for him there, letting Grand Coeur graze contentedly among the deep green grasses. As Caleb rode up the hill to meet her, she couldn't help admiring the ease with which he sat his horse, the way his shoulders remained erect while his body moved gracefully with the rhythm of the animal beneath him.