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off the insult, he said, "No doubt you are right—I never claimed to have an admirable character. To return to business, do you think Lucien is right to be concerned? He is going mostly on guesswork." His long fingers toyed with the stem of his goblet. "Of course, Luce is a brilliant guesser. You're closer to the situation. What's your opinion?"
    Glad to leave the charged emotions that kept surfacing, Maggie said, "I've heard nothing in particular, but there has been a surprising silence from the radicals. It isn't like them to give up as long as there are still young men left to die for their revolutionary ideals."
    Curious about another point, she continued, "You use Lord Strathmore's first name. You know him well?"
    "Very. You used to tease me about being part of a group nicknamed the Fallen Angels. Luce was another member. Since I was a little older than my friends, I finished at Oxford and went to London a year earlier. Luce and the others were still at university when you had your London Season."
    Maggie had only met Lord Strathmore twice during the years she had worked with him, but he had left a strong impression. It was strange to learn that he was a close friend of Rafe's. The world was indeed a small place. "As I recall, the four of you acquired the nickname because of some unholy combination of angelic looks and diabolical deeds."
    She had hoped to disconcert Rafe, but he only smiled slightly. "Both the looks and the deeds were exaggerated."
    Her hand tightened around the handle of her fan. The deeds might have been an exaggeration, but not the looks. Rafe had been glorious at twenty-one; now maturity had added power to his tall frame, character to his face, and authority to his presence,. Though she recalled that his dark coloring had come from an Italian grandmother, she had forgotten how dramatic a contrast his clear gray eyes made.
    She wished she were immune to his attractions, but she wasn't. What made it worse was that she was no longer an innocent girl; she was a woman, and she knew something of passion. And of longing ...
    Thank God she wouldn't need to see Rafe again; he was having a terrible effect on her concentration. Getting to her feet, she said, "I'll start investigating immediately. If I hear anything important, I'll notify my contact in the British delegation. Now if you'll excuse me, there are some people I must talk to."
    He stood also, his expression wary. "There is one more thing: Lucien wants you to work with me on this, not with the delegation."
    "What!" Maggie exclaimed. "Why the devil should I waste time dealing with an amateur? If there is a conspiracy afoot, time is critical. At the risk of insulting your grace's consequence, you would only get in the way."
    Rafe's lips tightened, but he kept his voice level. "Lucien suspects that someone in the British delegation is either careless or treacherous, and this matter is too important to take chances. He wants you to report to me. We've set up a temporary courier service between here and London to keep him informed. If events warrant it, I'll go directly to Castlereagh or Wellington ."
    "How nice to know that Strathmore trusts them," she said with heavy sarcasm. "However, I prefer to work in my own way."
    "I am not in a position to compel you," Rafe said gently, "but for the sake of the task at hand, do you think you could manage to choke down your repugnance and work with me? It won't be for very long."
    Maggie glared at him, suppressing the desire to pour the rest of her wine over his head to see if that would disturb his impenetrable calm. Unfortunately, there was no compelling reason not to work with him except for her personal distaste, and like it or not, she was under a heavy obligation to him. Through slightly gritted teeth, she said, "Very well, I will let you know whatever I find."
    After she set down her wineglass and opened the door to leave, he said, "Let me give you my direction."
    She smiled at him wickedly. "No need. I