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really had all been a dreadful mistake, she thought frantically. Gabriel was not behaving in the least like a knight of ancient times. The hand that gripped hers felt as unyielding as a steel manacle. "It was not his fault. You must not blame Mr. Lacey."
    "How did you discover I was the author of The Quest?"
    Phoebe groped for a reasonable answer. "I had my solicitor look into the matter for me, if you must know." She tried unsuccessfully to free her hand. "He is extremely clever." That much was true, she reflected. Mr. Peak was an extremely intelligent, extremely accommodating young man anxious to make his way in the world. So anxious, in fact, that he was willing to do business with the youngest daughter of the Earl of Clarington without bothering to notify her father of that fact.
    "Your solicitor." With a sharp oath, Gabriel released her. "I grow weary of this game you are playing, madam. I have told you I have no patience with deception and illusion. Who are you?"
    Phoebe moistened her lower lip. "I cannot tell you, sir. Not yet. It is too soon. Furthermore, if my plan is not going to work at all, as I am beginning to conclude, then I would just as soon not risk my reputation any more than I already have. I am certain you will understand."
    "What plan? I am to listen to your scheme and commit myself to it before I learn your true identity? What sort of an idiot do you think I am?"
    "I do not think you are an idiot at all. Merely extremely difficult," Phoebe retorted. "I would rather you did not know my identity until you have agreed to help me. Once you have given me your oath that you will assist me, I shall feel free to confide in you. Surely you can appreciate my desire for secrecy."
    "What the bloody hell is this all about?" Gabriel had clearly reached the end of his patience. "What is this silly scheme of yours?"
    Phoebe gathered herself and took the plunge. "I am involved in a serious and important quest, sir."
    "You're after another manuscript?" he asked derisively.
    "No. Not a quest for a manuscript. A quest for justice. Your background gives me reason to believe you could be of great service to me."
    "Justice? Good God, what is this foolishness? I thought I made it clear I am not interested in playing any more games."
    "It is not a game," she explained desperately. "I am trying to find a murderer."
    "A murderer." There was a stunned silence from Gabriel. "Hell and damnation. I am out here in the middle of the night with a madwoman."
    "I am not a madwoman. Please, just listen to me. That is all I ask. I have spent two months trying to gain your attention. Now that you have finally emerged from your cave, surely you can at least hear me out."
    "I don't live in a damn cave." He sounded offended.
    "You might as well do so, as far as I am concerned. From what I have been able to discover, you stay holed up on your estate like some sort of troglodyte most of the time. You refuse to see anyone or have anything to do with Society."
    "That is an overstatement," Gabriel muttered. "I see whom I wish. I happen to like my privacy and I have no love for the Social World. It defeats me why I should explain my habits to you, however."
    "Please, sir, I need your help in securing justice for someone who was once very close to me."
    "How close?"
    Phoebe swallowed. "Well, to be perfectly precise, at one time he wished to marry me. My family was against the match on the grounds that he had no fortune."
    "Not an uncommon situation," Gabriel observed grimly.
    "I am aware of that. My friend went off to the South Seas to make his fortune so that he could return and ask for my hand. But he never came back. I eventually learned that he was murdered by a pirate."
    "Christ. You want me to help you track down a damn pirate? I have news for you. It would be an impossible task. I have spent most of the past eight years in the South Seas and I can assure you that that part of the world has more than its share of murderers."
    "You do not