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levee, when all gentlemen who wished could come to his house to speak to him. He chose black to suit his mood, but richly decorated with jewel-like flowers. In powdered wig and glittered orders, he entered his reception room and indicated that the doors of the house be set open.

Because he'd been out of town the previous Friday, the levee was heavily attended, though most of the men who passed through his reception room were merely paying respects. A few had more serious matters to discuss with him, however. As always, they wanted the king's ear. He used that privilege sparingly, as he explained to them. There were written petitions here too, which he passed to the attentive Carruthers.

It passed the time and occupied his mind, and when it was over, a number of the men had been invited to dine. They would all go on to the Queen's House afterward for the presentation of the French automaton.

Where he would see Lady Arradale at last.

It only occurred to him then that the clothes he wore were the ones he'd worn to the ball at Arradale over a year ago. She had worn magnificent red silk, and it had been like a very interesting clash of blades.

Once weakly opened, the door could not be shut. His mind slid to memories of their dance then, when he'd been probing to see if she was the sort of woman to drug a man and then demand sex from him.

He'd soon decided she was not. Oh, she played the game well, but was far too skittish over any serious move toward seduction.

He remembered her retreat, but he also remembered the look in her eyes when she'd asked, "What would have happened, my lord, if I had not objected to..."

Ah, that had been a warning of all that had followed. He hadn't heeded it, however, because unconsciously he'd already been intrigued and attracted.

"To my kissing your palm? Why, we would have indulged in dalliance, my lady."

"Dalliance?" she'd asked.

"One step beyond flirtation, but one step below seduction. "

"I know nothing of dalliance then."

"Would you care to learn?"

Thinking back, he wasn't sure exactly what he'd intended then, what he would have done if she'd taken him up on the cynical offer. It had been the unrecognized beginning, however, and he had eventually taught her. At Bay Green.

Catching a surprised look from Walpole, he knew he'd missed something.

"I was merely pondering one of life's mysteries," he remarked. "That momentous developments sometimes start with careless impulses."

"Like the war of Jenkin's ear, my lord," said Walpole.

"Precisely." Rothgar followed that line into war and international relations, which was what he should be concentrating on anyway. Paying attention to the conversation this time, he inserted delicate warnings about France, and about the Chevalier D'Eon's finances and motives. Some of the men present were ministers of the crown, so they were fertile ground.

All the men were wealthy, so he also managed some personal business and gained their support for Elf's latest charity for the support of war widows and orphans.

However, despite politics and benevolence, he was aware that the passing hours were just that - time to pass before he could travel to the Queen's House for the evening.

Fred Stringle left his horse at the stable attached to the French embassy, and walked up to the back door to knock. He gave his name, and asked to speak to Monsieur D'Eon.

"Why should he speak to the likes of you?" asked the tired maid. "Anyway, he's off to court at any moment."

Stringle pushed in past her. "Just send the message, luv."

In minutes he was being led to a room on the ground floor. A simple reception room, but on the right side of the house, the gentlemen's side.

The little Frenchman came in, stepping crisply, frowning, all a-glitter with satin, lace, jewels and fancy orders. "What are you doing here? What has happened?"

"Trouble, sir. That's what's happened."

"Trouble? What trouble? You have not entangled young Ufton in something?"

"Oh, aye, I entangled him all right. Horse thievery. A hanging matter if it really stuck."

The man's eyes fixed on him. "So? What trouble?"

"All would have been well if a bloody marquess hadn't thrown his weight around."

The little man sucked in a breath. "Rothgar? But he is in London."

"Yesterday, he was in Dingham Magna rescuing young Georgie Ufton from his fate."

The sharp eyes narrowed. "And you came here? Why? You are nothing to do with me, nothing."

"I wasn't followed, sir, if that's what you're worried about." It amused him