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overcivilized, I can't bring myself to abandon you in the midst of strangers."
    The prince glanced across the crowd. "No need to search, for Lord Ross has finally escaped the dreaded Mr. Macaw."
    A moment later, Ross reached them. "Sorry to have left you stranded, Mikahl."
    "No matter," the prince said. "Your cousin had no trouble identifying me. She has been instructing me in manners, but fears it a hopeless task."
    Ross smiled. "If Sara will consent to be your mentor, you could have no better guide to local customs."
    Peregrine looked hopeful. "Will you mentor me, Lady Sara?"
    She laughed. " Mentor is not a verb, but if you wish, I will be happy to advise you." More seriously, she continued, "Ross said that you saved him from two dangerous situations. I cannot do as much for you, but I will do whatever I can to make your stay in England a rewarding one."
    With equal seriousness, he replied, "I am most grateful for your kindness. May I call on you tomorrow morning? I have many questions that I dare not ask Ross, for he has too little respect for society to give reliable answers."
    "While I, conventional creature that I am, can always be counted on to know what is proper," Sara said wryly. "By all means call on me. After all, how can you enjoy the pleasures of outraging London if you do not know what is considered outrageous? I look forward to furthering our acquaintance."
    Ross broke into their banter. "Sara, Sir Charles has just arrived, and should be with us in a moment."
    She raised her gaze to look for her betrothed, but from the corner of her eye, she saw that the prince was also watching Weldon's approach. Since his face was profoundly still, why did she feel that silent lightning crackled around him?
    "Sorry I'm late, my dear." Weldon bent to kiss Lady Sara's cheek, but Peregrine was interested to note a slight withdrawal on the part of the lady. No, it was not a love match, though the two exchanged easy greetings like a long-married couple.
    Peregrine studied his enemy with hungry eyes. The years had been kind to Weldon, and he looked like what he was: a distinguished man of breeding and wealth. In his youth, charm and good looks had masked his true nature, and on the surface those qualities were still present. It took an astute eye to interpret his face correctly, but as Lady Sara had said, it was experience that made a man, and a lifetime of evil had engraved subtle lines of cruelty in Weldon's countenance.
    Lady Sara's soft voice cut across his thoughts. "Charles, let me introduce you to Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan. He is newly arrived in England , and is probably the first man of his people ever to visit Europe . Your Highness, Sir Charles Weldon."
    "I hope your visit is an enjoyable one, Your Highness. '' Weldon offered his hand with unthinking social ease. Then his gaze met Peregrine's and his expression changed, casualness giving way to puzzlement. "This is your first visit to England ? I have the feeling we have met before."
    As Peregrine accepted his enemy's hand, for a moment his vision darkened as the bonds that restrained his rage came perilously near to bursting. It would be easy, so easy to pull out his dagger and thrust it between Weldon's ribs. The Englishman's heart blood would surge hotly over Peregrine's hand, crimson retribution for the past. He would live just long enough to be told why he was dying…
    With a fierce internal oath, Peregrine reined back his madness. Yes, executing Weldon now would be easy, but it would be too quick and painless a death. Besides, assassination would send him to the gallows and ruin Lady Sara's party.
    Once more in control, Peregrine shook his enemy's hand with a pressure just short of inflicting pain, then released it. "Have you visited India , Sir Charles? Perhaps we met there, though I do not remember such an occasion."
    At the sound of Peregrine's deep, accented voice, Weldon's expression cleared. "No, I've never been to India , and we have not met before. It