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Northcliffe had his own methods for stopping Rhys—like sending his daughter to the Sons of Wales meeting, where she could take note of every radical in the place. Such knowledge would be useful to a man known for intimidation.
    Well, Rhys would put a stop to that. He’d go to Northcliffe Hall and set the damned earl straight before this spying business went any further. And if Lady Juliana was there, he’d set her straight, too.

    The next morning, Juliana sat in the breakfast room, swirling her spoon in her hot chocolate. How wonderful Mr. Vaughan had been, so learned, so . . . fiery.
    Lettice had spouted nonsense about how a man would say anything to get a woman in his clutches, but Mr. Vaughan wasn’t like that. He was passionate, like her, and couldn’t contain his feelings about things that mattered.
    She was still staring dreamily into space when the sound of loud voices in the foyer jerked her from her reverie. Wondering who would call so early, she rose and went out into the hall.
    “I don’t care what time it is,” said a familiar voice. “I want to see his lordship immediately! ”
    She froze beside the staircase. Though her view of the foyer was blocked, she recognized those ringing tones from last night.
    The door to Papa’s study opened from the other side of the staircase and, oblivious to her lurking in the shadows, he stormed into the hall. She crept forward, her heart in her throat as she peered around the edge to see her father come face-to-face with Mr. Vaughan.
    Two footmen were attempting to reason with Mr. Vaughan, but he was standing firm. He looked exactly as she’d remembered him—all lean muscle animated with a vibrant energy that put the spark in his eyes and the glow on his face. Why on earth was he here?
    Father glowered at him. “What is the meaning of this, sir? You cannot force your way into a man’s house without—”
    “I am the son of the man you ruined,” Mr. Vaughan said. “William Vaughan was my father.”
    Father gestured to the footmen, who returned to their posts. Then he turned his hard-eyed gaze on Mr. Vaughan. “I heard you’d returned to town.”
    “I’m sure you did. If none of your other spies told you, then I suppose you heard it from your daughter.”
    Juliana’s knees buckled. So he’d found out who she was. But why tell Papa that he knew her? Didn’t he know what trouble he’d get her into?
    “What do you mean, my daughter?” Papa demanded.
    “Don’t pretend you didn’t send her to spy on me and my friends last night.”
    “Last night?”
    Mr. Vaughan thought her a spy ? What happened to all his sweet words? And his gentle kiss?
    “I should have expected this of you,” Mr. Vaughan went on. “You couldn’t allow the wheels of justice to take their slow turn. No, you had to skulk behind your daughter’s skirts, sending her out to do your dirty work.”
    How dared he! She’d obviously been quite wrong about his nobility of mind. He was beastly, simply beastly! If she were a man, she’d walk right out and thrash him!
    But she could only watch helplessly as her father drew himself up, a vein bulging in his forehead. “You, sir, are insane if you think my daughter would involve herself with your band of ruffians! ”
    You tell him! Perhaps Papa would refuse to believe Mr. Vaughan’s words. Perhaps he’d dismiss them as troublemaking nonsense.
    Mr. Vaughan dashed those hopes. “Your daughter’s name is Juliana, is it not?” Then he proceeded to describe her with an accuracy as astonishing as it was damning.
    Juliana buried her face in her hands as her father sputtered, then shouted, “Juliana! Juliana, girl, you come down here at once! ”
    How could she face Papa’s temper, especially in front of that betraying wretch? Yet she must defend herself. Not that Papa would listen to her.
    She could cheerfully throttle Mr. Vaughan. The wicked creature obviously didn’t care that he was ruining her life.
    “Don’t take it out on