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however, there was the matter of Prudence’s brother.
    The carriage came to a halt at the front door of the club Sebastian favored. He had memberships at most
    of the best establishments, but this was the one where he always felt most comfortable. Probably because
    it was not one of his cousin’s preferred haunts.
    He got out, went up the steps, and into the warmth of the well-appointed masculine retreat. Several
    heads turned as he walked into the card room. A ripple of interest passed through the large crowd
    gathered about the gaming tables. Sebastian knew that gossip of the impending duel had probably
    reached every club in St. James.
    A tall, thin blond man detached himself from a game of whist and strolled across the room to join
    Sebastian.
    Sebastian watched him closely and was quietly relieved to see that Garrick Sutton’s gaze was clear
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    again tonight. Sutton appeared to be overcoming his practice of losing himself in strong spirits, a habit he
    had brought back with him from the war.
    “What’s this, Angelstone? I thought you were spending the rest of the night at home preparing yourself
    for your dawn appointment.”
    “I’ve changed my mind, Sutton. There will be no dawn engage-ment. I want you, as one of my seconds,
    to convey my most abject apologies to Mr. Trevor Merryweather.”
    Garrick’s mouth fell open in dumbfounded amazement. Sebastian smiled. It was worth apologizing to
    young Merryweather just to see the amusing effect it would have on everyone.
    Garrick was one of a very small handful of people Sebastian called friend. Sebastian included Garrick in
    the select group because he was one of the few people who had accepted Sebastian without reservation
    two years ago.
    After a lifetime spent abroad, Sebastian had at last been obliged to come toEngland . His
    ever-expanding business investments had made it necessary to establish his headquarters inLondon , the
    very center of the social world that had once turned its back on his parents.
    His financial power had brought him in contact with any number of people who were anxious to claim
    friendship. But he knew that behind his back they called him the Fleetwood bastard. They had gossiped
    with relish about his father’s scandalous affair with an actress all those years ago. They had talked of how
    the title would eventually go to Sebastian’s cousin, Jeremy, because of Jonathan Fleetwood’s unsavory
    and irresponsible connection with a cheap lightskirt.
    During that time Garrick had been one of the few people who did not want anything from Sebastian
    except friendship. He had also been one of the few who had no interest in the old scandal or in the
    legiti-macy of Sebastian’s birth.
    Garrick had been carrying deep, invisible scars from the war. He had felt an instinctive bond with
    Sebastian, who, he must have sensed, carried scars of his own. Neither man spoke much of the past. It
    was not necessary.
    “Are you serious?” Garrick demanded. “The Merryweather boy challenged you over a mere trifle. You
    did nothing except dance with his sister.”
    “I am aware of that,” Sebastian said quietly.
    “Are you telling me you’re going to let him get away with that?”
    “I have it on excellent authority the young man is hotheaded and not very wise in the ways of the world.”
    Garrick snorted. “Then you may as well teach him his first les-sons.”
    “I am inclined to leave that task to someone else.”
    “I don’t understand this.” Garrick grabbed a bottle of port and dashed some of the contents into a glass.
    “Not like you to let an upstart young pup get away with this kind of thing. What’s going on, Angelstone?”
    “I’ve changed my mind, that’s all. There’s nothing more to it than that. Tell Mr. Merryweather that I
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    have no interest in meeting him at