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is just that your eyes are such a distinctive color. I've only seen eyes so green once or twice before." After a brief hesitation, he added under his breath, "Once."
    "Green eyes are not unusual among my father's people," Peregrine said smoothly. Then he offered the bait that would draw his enemy to him. "I am pleased to meet you, Sir Charles. Your reputation in the City of London is very high. I am interested in investing in this country. Perhaps, if you have the time, you would be so kind as to advise me?"
    Greed overcame any disquiet Weldon might have. "Delighted to be of service. Perhaps we can dine at my club soon?"
    "That would be my greatest pleasure." Peregrine found secret satisfaction in the fact that all his comments were double-edged.
    As they set a date later in the week, the flaxen-haired girl who had been talking to Lady Sara earlier materialized between her ladyship and Weldon, and regarded the foreigner curiously.
    Weldon said, "Prince Peregrine, this is my daughter Eliza."
    "A
prince
?" The girl's blue eyes rounded with delight.
    "Indeed I am, Miss Weldon." Peregrine's research had included Eliza Weldon. The girl's mother, Jane Clifton, had been the daughter of a rich city banker, and her inheritance had started Weldon on the path to wealth. The heiress had died three years ago, when her daughter was eight. Eliza had her father's good looks, but if she had also inherited his warped nature, that fact was not visible. She was just a pretty, uncomplicated child, impressed at meeting foreign royalty.
    "Eliza, make your curtsy to the prince," Lady Sara said.
    The girl dropped into a painstakingly correct curtsy. As Peregrine returned a deep, formal bow, he wondered idly what would become of her. No doubt Eliza had relatives who would see to her upbringing when her father was gone.
    Lady Sara said, "If you will excuse us, Charles and I must speak with someone who has just arrived. I hope to see you again soon, Your Highness."
    As Lady Sara turned and walked away, Peregrine saw that she walked with a slight hesitation, not quite a limp. Perhaps that had something to do with the ghosts of old pain that he saw in her eyes? He could ask Ross, but it would be more interesting to discover the truth on his own. No man or woman was civilized all the way through, and it would be intriguing to discover what untamed currents lay beneath the lady's calm surface.
    As they made their way toward the bishop who was going to marry them, Charles remarked, "Interesting fellow, that prince. A friend of Lord Ross's, I assume?" When Sara nodded, he asked, "Is Kafiristan an Indian state?"
    "No, it lies beyond India , in the mountains of the Hindu Kush ," Sara explained. "The land is very wild and virtually unexplored by Westerners."
    "He must be an unusual man to leave his mountains for the wider world," Charles murmured. "I gather he's wealthy?"
    "Quite fabulously so, according to Ross. Apparently he started with a substantial fortune, and has multiplied it by trading throughout the Orient."
    "The prince seemed taken with you, Sara. Encourage the acquaintance. He could be a valuable man to know."
    "I have already agreed to advise him." Sara's voice was cool. It was one thing for Ross to ask her to sponsor his friend, another to have her future husband order her to cultivate a potential investor. But Charles wanted a gracious hostess who would enhance his status in the worlds of business and society; she could hardly object when he asked her to play that role.
     
    ----
Chapter 3

     
    The morning after her garden party, Sara was just finishing a late breakfast with her father when the butler entered, a bemused expression on his face. "Your ladyship, you have a visitor. He claims to be some sort of prince.''
    "Good heavens," she said blankly. Then she laughed, feeling suddenly buoyant. "Father, would you like to meet the gentleman I was telling you about?"
    Disapproval showed on the Duke of Haddonfield's cool aristocratic face. "Doesn't