His reverie was interrupted by a knock. When he called permission to enter, his butler entered with a travel-stained pouch. "A message has arrived for you from London, my lord."

Michael opened the pouch to find a letter sealed with the signet of the Earl of Strathmore. He broke the wax with anticipation. The last time Lucien had sent such an urgent message, it had been a summons to join an intriguing rescue mission. Perhaps Luce had come up with something equally amusing to liven the late winter months.

Levity vanished when he scanned the terse lines of the message. He read it twice, then got to his feet. "Make sure Strathmore's messenger is properly taken care of, and tell the cook I might not be back for dinner. I'm going to Aberdare."

"Yes, my lord." Unable to restrain his curiosity, the butler asked, "Is there bad news?"

Michael smiled without humor. "Europe's worst nightmare has just come true."

His mind was so full of the news that Michael scarcely noticed the chilly mist as he rode across the valley to the grand mansion that housed the Earls of Aberdare. When he reached his destination, he dismounted and tossed his reins to a groom, then entered the house two steps at a time. As always when he visited Aberdare, he felt a sense of wonder that once again he could breeze into Nicholas's home as casually as when they had been schoolboys at Eton. Three or four years earlier, such ease had been as unthinkable as the sun rising in the west.

Since Michael was virtually a member of the family, the butler sent him directly to the morning room. He entered to find Lady Aberdare sitting beside a magnificently carved crib that held her infant son, Kenrick.

Michael smiled at the countess. "Good day, Clare. I gather that you can't bear to let Viscount Tregar out of your sight."