"That's mostly true," Lucien agreed. "The majority are young men who like to feel dashing and dangerous. After a year or two most outgrow the group's rather childish antics and drift away. But there is an inner circle called the Disciples, and they may be using the drinking and wenching as a cover for other, less acceptable activities." He made a face. "Which means that for the foreseeable future, I'm going to be spending a great deal of time with men of rather limited interests."

"My guests are all Disciples?"

"Most of them are, I think, though it's hard to be sure." Lucien frowned. "A pity that Roderick Harford's brother, Lord Mace, didn't come. I think that the two of them, plus their cousin Lord Nunfield, are the backbone of the organization. I have to win Mace's approval to be admitted to the group."

"Surely you know Mace already? I thought that as a matter of policy, you know everyone in London."

"Not quite, though I try. Mace and I are mere acquaintances-he isn't the sort I would choose as a friend. He's suspicious of everyone, and he seems particularly suspicious of me."

"As well he should be," Rafe said dryly. "I assume there are political implications, or you wouldn't be investigating the group."

"You assume correctly. At least one government official was blackmailed about something that occurred during one of the Hellion orgies. Luckily he had the sense to come to me, but there may be other victims who haven't." Lucien studied the brandy in his goblet. "I also have reason to believe that someone in the group was selling information to the French."

Rafe's dark brows drew together. "Nasty if true, but with Napoleon gone, a spy should no longer be much of a threat."

"During the war, one of my agents in France died because a man in London revealed his identity to Napoleon's police. And there was other damage done." Lu-cien's eyes narrowed. "The war might be over, but I am not yet prepared to forgive and forget."