"Perfect," Nicholas said enthusiastically. "Lucifer, the rebellious archangel who would rather reign in hell than serve in heaven. Blond as you are, you'd make a good morning star."

"A dashing name," Rafe agreed. "Personally, I think Milton had a secret fondness for Lucifer. As a character he's far more interesting than God, who acts like a bullying headmaster."

"If we all start referring to you as Lucifer, in a fortnight every boy at Eton will be doing the same." Michael's green eyes sparked with mischief. "The masters will say it's sacrilegious. They'll be furious."

Lucien leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes as he considered. Nicknames were important; being called something stupid like Weezy at Eton could follow a man all his life. Lucifer was a good strong name-a being that could laugh at God would know better than to love too much. And surely a proud, dangerous fallen archangel would not weep at night.

He tried on a cool, ironic expression. Yes, this would do very well. "All right," he said slowly. "I'll be Lucifer."

Chapter 1

London, October 1814

Two days had passed, and the time for weeping was over. Now it was time for action.

She had already asked the obvious questions of the appropriate people, and come up empty-handed. There was no evidence beyond her intuition that something dreadful had happened.

Of course, in this instance her intuition was infallible.

At least, thank God, the worst had not yet occurred. If she acted quickly, she might be able to prevent the ultimate disaster. But what could be done? There were no conventional sources of aid in such a situation, and while there were men whom she might ask for help, there were none she dared trust.