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of spectral phenomena?"
    "Not exactly."
    "What, then?"
    "I don't think it's important at the moment. There are more press­ing matters concerning us, are there not?"
    "Yes, of course. Your duel with my brother." Prudence pulled her­self back to the business at hand. "Then you will apologize to Trevor? I know it will be dreadfully irritating to do so when he is the one in the wrong, but surely you can see that this duel must be stopped."
    "It is not my habit to apologize, Miss Merryweather."
    She moistened her dry lips. "The thing is, I cannot convince Trevor to do so."
    "Then I fear your brother must face the consequences."
    Prudence felt her hands go cold. "Sir, I must insist you act the part of a mature, responsible man. Trevor is as new to the ways of Town as I am. He did not know what he was doing when he challenged you."
    "You're wrong, Miss Merryweather. Your brother knew precisely what he was doing. He knew who I was and he knew my reputation." Sebastian smiled faintly. "Why do you think he was so outraged over the fact that I asked you to dance?"
    Prudence frowned. "I have learned a great deal about your reputa­tion during the past three or four hours, my lord. It seems to me it has been blown out of all proportion to the facts."
    Sebastian looked briefly startled. "Do you know the facts, Miss Merryweather?"
    "Most of them." She ticked them off rapidly on one gloved hand. "Years ago your father defied his family to run off with an actress. The Fleetwoods were furious. Your parents were forced to leave the coun­try because of the scandal. There were never any announcements of a wedding made, so everyone, including your relatives, assumed your father never actually married your mother."
    "That sums up most of my relevant history."
    "Not quite. When you returned to England two years ago, the
ton
took great delight in labeling you a bastard."
    "So it did." Sebastian looked amused.
    "It was very cruel of people to say such things. You were certainly not responsible for the circumstances of your birth."
    "You are very understanding, Miss Merryweather."
    "It is a matter of common sense. Why should a child be blamed for the actions of his parents? However, as it happens, you were not born out of wedlock at all."
    "No."
    Prudence eyed him thoughtfully. "For reasons of your own, proba­bly because you found it amusing, you were content to let everyone go on thinking that you had been born on the wrong side of the blanket."
    "Let us say I couid not be bothered to correct the impression," Sebastian conceded.
    "Until your uncle, the old earl, died last year. He had never mar­ried, so he left no son to inherit the title. Your father was next in line, but he unfortunately died four years ago and you were presumed to be a bastard. Thus, everyone thought that your cousin Jeremy, whose father also died some time ago, would become the next Earl of Angel-stone."
    Sebastian smiled and said nothing.
    "But," Prudence said, "you confounded the entire social world by producing conclusive proof that your parents had, indeed, been legally married before you were born. You were the legitimate heir to the title. I am told your relatives have never forgiven you."
    "A circumstance which does not particularly bother me."
    "In addition, at the time you came into the title, you had already made a fortune of your own which cast the Angelstone inheritance into the shade," Prudence said. "That is something else that your relatives do not appreciate."
    Sebastian inclined his head briefly. "I compliment you on your investigations, Miss Merryweather. You have learned a great deal about me in a relatively short span of time."
    "There was no lack of people willing to gossip about you, my lord."
    "There rarely is."
    "Your reputation borders on the legendary."
    "Perhaps with good reason," Sebastian observed softly.
    "It is so formidable, in fact," Prudence continued smoothly, "that it could certainly withstand the few inconsequential remarks that might be