The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

"And how is your beautiful wife?" Dare asked as Lucian poured them both a brandy.

"Flourishing. Brynn is as round as a melon, even though the babe isn't due for nearly two months."

"I regret I missed seeing her," Dare said, settling in a comfortable chair. "I understand she was in London this past week?"

"Yes, but I escorted her home again. She's safer in the country."

For her confinement, Brynn had retired to Lucian's family seat in Devonshire, where she could more easily be protected. Last fall she and her brother had been menaced by a criminal mastermind who called himself Lord Caliban, after the character in Shakespeare's play. Lucian had destroyed the gold-smuggling operation Caliban used to fund Napoleon's armies, silencing their leader for a time, but the traitor was still at large. Which was why Dare had become involved.

Lucian handed his guest a brandy and then settled in an adjacent chair. "So tell me what you learned in Yorkshire."

"Not much, I'm afraid. I stayed at a friend's estate barely six miles from Riddingham's, but all the damned snow made getting there difficult. Even so, I managed twice to enjoy dinner and cards with Riddingham and his houseguests. Perfectly insipid. He wore the ring the entire time. When I remarked on the uniqueness of the design, Riddingham claimed he won it playing piquet, but he couldn't remember from whom. And he could be lying."

Pausing, Dare took a sip of brandy, absently noting the quality. "Yet he's still wearing the ring now. Even if he has no notion that we suspect him of being Caliban, it seems foolish to flaunt such a distinctive ornament. To be truthful, the more I see of Riddingham, the more I wonder if he's bright enough to be a deadly traitor."

"Perhaps not, but we have to be certain." Lucian's mouth hardened. "It can be a fatal mistake to underestimate Caliban's cunning. Riddingham could be duping us all with his pretense of affability. And he was here in London in January when our man was killed."

A diplomat in the Foreign Office had been found murdered two months ago-the work of Caliban, it was suspected, although there was no proof. But he would strike again, Dare and Lucian had no doubt. They could only hope to unmask the traitor before he could do even further damage.

Cursing under his breath, Lucian brought his fist down hard on his chair arm.

"My sentiments exactly," Dare agreed darkly.

He well understood his friend's frustration at hunting a killer who was little more than a whisper and a shadow. They had only two clues thus far to Caliban's identity, both from a witness who'd had a momentary glimpse of him last year: Caliban was thought to be an English nobleman. And he possessed an unusual ring embellished with a ruby-eyed dragon's head.

Dare had first spied the ring several months ago on Lord Riddingham's hand. Since then he'd covertly followed the viscount's trail, trying to determine if he could possibly be Caliban. It was that possibility that had led Dare to spend a tedious interlude in Yorkshire, where he could better investigate the theory.

His lack of success galled him. But he could hardly be expected to accomplish overnight what had eluded the nation's best agents. His licentious past, Lucian was wont to remind him, had not exactly prepared him for a career in government espionage.

In fact, Lucian had recruited him last fall primarily because of his well-known predilection for sin-he made such an unlikely candidate as a spy. Caliban would never suspect the Prince of Pleasure of leading the hunt for his capture.

Dare had agreed to help, not only because he was familiar with most of society, both high and low, but because he'd become restless and bored with his life. He was more than a little intrigued by the challenge of pitting wits against a cunning killer. He'd only half laughed at Lucian's assertion that having a serious goal could be the making of him.

He was not laughing now.

Dare took another swallow of brandy, hesitating while he debated telling Lucian of the new twist in the game.

"What do you know of the new actress at Drury Lane?" he finally said. "The Jewel who has the entire ton abuzz."

Lucian sent him a penetrating glance. "Am I to presume you have a new love interest?"

"Hardly. Riddingham is one of her suitors."

"Ah." Lucian leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I took Brynn to see Miss Laurent perform last week. We both found her surprisingly good. You're suggesting that her association with Riddingham is more than simply amorous?"

"Possibly. She bears investigating, at least. She is French, after all. It wouldn't be impossible for her to be in Napoleon's employ. Given their sparse incomes and dubious moral values, actresses are highly susceptible to bribery."

When Lucian raised an eyebrow, Dare realized how ironic it was for him to be decrying dubious moral values.

Yet this was not the first time Julienne Laurent's allegiance to England had been questioned. Seven years ago his grandfather had called her a traitor, claiming she was conspiring with Bonapartists and threatening to have her arrested for treason.

At the time Dare had been certain the accusations were fabricated-merely the old bastard's att

empt to force him to end his betrothal. His chief concern had been protecting Julienne from his grandfather's wrathful machinations. But he was more willing now to believe there had been substance to the charges after all.

"I may be leaping to conclusions," he admitted, "but she could be in league with Riddingham."

"Why do you say so?" Lucian asked curiously. "Didn't Riddingham return to London only last week? They would scarcely have had time to meet."