Since he was also theatrically handsome, it wasn't surprising that the gaze of every female in the room followed him. Idly Lucien wondered who would be next in the long line of glittering ladies who had shared Rafe's bed. Even Lucien, whose business was information, had trouble keeping track.

By Lucien's count, Rafe had used his famous icy glare to intimidate three encroaching nobodies as he crossed the room. Yet when the duke finally reached Lucien, his cool social smile warmed. "It's good to see you, Luce. I was sorry that you couldn't get away to Bourne Castle this summer."

"I was sorry, too, but Whitehall has been a madhouse." Lucien glanced across the room and gave an unobtrusive signal to another man, then continued, 'Let's find a quieter place to catch up on the news." He led Rafe from the drawing room to a study at the back of the house.

They both took seats, and Rafe accepted a cigar from his host. "I assume that you have some devious ask for me."

"You assume correctly." Lucien used a taper to light Rafe's cigar, then his own. "Do you fancy a trip to Paris?"

"Sounds perfect." Rafe puffed his cigar until it was burning evenly. "I've been feeling bored lately."

"This shouldn't be boring-the journey concerns a lady who is being a bit troublesome."

"Even better." Rafe drew in a deep draft of smoke, then let it trickle slowly from the side of his mouth. "Am I to kill her or kiss her?"

Lucien frowned. "Certainly not the former. As to the latter"-he shrugged-"I leave that to you."

The door opened and a dark man entered. Rafe rose and offered his hand. "Nicholas! I didn't know you were in London."

"Clare and I arrived just last night." After shaking hands, the Earl of Aberdare dropped casually into a chair.