Twelve

"What the devil is this? This isn‟t mine."

"Well, it isn‟t mine, you arse," someone answered Bateman in an equally strident voic

"How poetic. Why they have allowed such riffraff into civilized society, one will never know." Benedict‟s world-weary tones added to the unpleasantness of Sebastien‟s afternoon as he strode into the overflowing stable yar

After putting his valet on the scent last night, he had been told that his lovely little blonde would be joining them for the day. He had thought the day was looking up until she had failed to show to the breakfast table. Then he‟d seen the remnants of some type of substance in the bottom of his teacup, luckily before he‟d had a taste. Two other men hadn‟t been as lucky. They were hugging chamber pots currently, and didn‟t seem to be in any hurry to separate from their newfound ceramic companions. The late risers had studiously avoided drinking anything after tha

And now this. Whatever this wa

Bateman‟s strident voice continued to yell, "What do you mean by putting this rubbish on Prancer? A navy blanket

He reached his own mount, Herakles, and saw what the commotion was about. There was a patterned blanket—garish in its mix of colors—on his horse‟s back, underneath an equally foreign saddle. Herakles threw him a look full of disgust and stepped irritably from side to sid

Sebastien stroked his nose, letting the horse nudge into the caress. "I think we‟ve found Prancer‟s blanket, don‟t you?" he murmured. He called a stable hand ove

"Someone has switched them all," Timtree drawled as he joined him. "A prank. Probably Petrie, the puck

Sebastien looked at Petrie, Valpage‟s third son, and wasn‟t so sure. He looked as irritated and baffled as the others, and he was the type of man who couldn‟t hide anything on his face—one of the reasons he was so terrible at gamblin

The grooms bustled about trying to figure out which tack went with which horse, obviously confused as to how such a thing could have happene

Whoever had done this had done it wel

As it turned out, more than just the tack had been swapped. Each blanket and each saddle had been exchanged. It took two grooms to negotiate each on

One to remove the saddle, one to grab the blanket. Then they had to find the correct horse and switch those with the correct tack. Repeating that process more than a dozen times took well past an hour. It was another half hour before each horse was cinched into the correct equipment, and each rider was satisfie

Unlike straight cheating, this maneuver had affected everyone. He gazed around the yard wondering who had done such a thing, and whether it was going to be an isolated inciden

"An idiotic prank of yours, Deville

Benedict approached, and Sebastien wondered if the day was ever going to get bette

Dear God, dear God, dear God. The prayer was a litany in her head as she peered through the fronds and watched the demon from Roseford inspect the crow

A participant. In the games. All the information she had pieced together about him at Roseford— his conflicting actions and words—barreled together. She had thought him a spoiled and world-weary son, one who might be hiding depths that only required some careful uncovering. But this…his words and actions were explained in a much different manner. Spoiled became bitter, world-weary became jaded. Hidden depths became hunger. He was a man who believed himself above the rule of other

He had utterly seduced her. She had let hi

Her nails dug into her palms. The overtly sensual man started speaking with a participant with a hooked nose, then a third man with brown hair and an entitled swagger joined them. She pulled back, closing her eye

Skilled hands and haunting word

The man had given her plenty of clues to his involvement, if she had but listened. Nothing specifically stated, but he‟d known that Roseford was a prize, he‟d reacted to Cheevers‟s name and obviously had known the duke. She should have put it all togethe

She peered through the fronds once more, watching the tableau and trying to keep her eyes away from him

The rest of the men were milling and squeaking. Just as she‟d thought. A bunch of men who had‟a thought in their heads but to squawk like chicken

There were three or four that held themselves admirably, but that one man…the man from Roseford…He stood to the side with his beast of a horse, stroking the horse‟s nose, alternately arguing with the brown-haired man and watching the scene unfo

A gambler. She‟d bet her eyeteeth he was a gamble

Rotten gamblers. Rotten luck. Rotten choice

She worried about her li

"Caro, what are you—" Sarah gave a squawk as Caroline yanked her into the bushe

"Shhh! I‟m examining your suitors," she whispered, trying to keep her heartbeat stead

"Hardly my suitors," Sarah whispered bac

Caroline could hear the grimace in her voice, but she kept her eyes firmly on the spectacle. They kept straying to him, and she forced herself to focus on the others. She couldn‟t lose sight of her goal here, even if everything in her said to run far awa

Sarah scooted in and peered through the opening. "What are you doing? We can simply walk over

"We‟d never be able to observe them in the same way." And there was no way she was going out there now that he was there. She tried to think of a way to leave the county instea

"And why do we need to observe them

"I‟m looking for weaknesses

Sarah‟s brows shot straight into her hairline. "Weaknesses

The men started moving, the saddle situation having apparently been resolve

It had taken a solid hour though, much to Caroline‟s deligh

Caroline moved her head back and forth to get a better view. "So what can you tell me about them now that they are nearly all present and accounted for

Sarah pressed in next to her as the men mounted and queued up in line. "That is Marcus Sloane. The golden one there." She pointed to one of the men who held himself confidently. "The town loves him. He has a fortune and could have married well four times over by now. It‟s the title that is driving him here—it has to be. He‟s the son of the Marquess of Sloanestone." She lowered her voic

"Illegitimate

Caroline gave her an amused look. "From what I understand, at least half of them are. You can just say it Sarah. He‟s a bastar

Sarah‟s eyes went round and her cheeks pinked. "Caroline

"What about that one?" She pointed to a decently fit man with an avaricious and intent expression. He was the type of man that made her hackles ris

"Mr. Bateman. Browett‟s ba—" Sarah struggled for a second on the wor

"Oh, drat it, the Earl of Browett‟s natural son

Caroline smiled and continued to catalog each man in her mind, noting weaknesses as Sarah described the

"Lord Benedict Alvarest and Sebastien Deville." Something in Sarah‟s voice made her turn toward her friend. There was a strange expression in Sarah‟s eye

Caroline was surprised. "Don‟t tell me you have a tendency for one of them

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, no. But Sebastien Deville, he‟s…well, look at him. Looks just like the duke, and there never was a more sought-after man in the town than the duke, I‟m told

The duke. Caroline reluctantly looked to where she was pointing, already heaving an inward sigh at who she knew it would be. Of course. Rumors and gossip swirled through her head. "He is minorly handsome, I suppose, in that rakish way some women enjoy," she said grudgingl

It was Sarah‟s turn to look amused. "Really, Caro. The man is deadly handsome. And dangerous." Her smile died. "He has ruined a good many of society‟s darlings. I‟d be surprised if you hadn‟t heard of him. It‟s a wonder that he hasn‟t been ostracized from the ton completely. I‟m sure the duke, his father, has something to do with that. Though there seems to be no love lost there. A peculiar situation, and all the more fascinating for society

"I‟m sure he revels in it." If she had seen him for the first time right now, with the easy, focused way he stood, she might not think so, but with the cutting way he had spoken of the duke, and his actions at the Grange with he

His reputation preceded him. She had heard of him from the gossip sheet

Even Lady Tevon had spoken of Sebastien Deville in deliciously scandalized tones. Spinning tales and delivering secretive glance

"And the other one?" Her voice was already weary. She was in deep, deep troubl

"Lord Benedict Alvarest is the third son of the duke. Legitimate

She watched the two men interact. "They don‟t seem to like each other much

"An understatement. They loathe each other. Only a few months separated in age—you can imagine the gossip that caused it. Lord Benedict is entitled to anything he wants. Deville gets everything he wants

"Sounds like a pleasant pair. Not sure which one is worse, though if I had to place my bets, Deville seems like the more dangerous." Everything about him fairly screamed it, and the sum of her experience with him confirmed it. "The legitimate sons always have a chance at their fathers‟ titles if something happens to the heirs ahead of them. Lord Benedict is probably high on the earl‟s list, as a potential heir to a dukedom too

Sarah didn‟t respond, and Caroline cursed herself for thinking aloud. Her words could be interpreted in a manner she hadn‟t meant. "I‟m sorry, Sarah, that was thoughtless. What I meant by that

"No." She shook her head. "I know. But it is just what you said. Lord Benedict, Everly, Petri

They are potential heirs and men about Town. Men that wouldn‟t be interested in me, under other circumstances

"Don‟t say that. Of course they would. They will," she amende

od.."e,—"."."."."e.s.s.r…."y.."?"s.m.."d.e.!"d."."e.?"t.d.?"."?"d.—"y.k.y.s.p.s.r.ld.s. .r.s.s.m.s.d.r.?"t.d.e.l.d.g.."r.e.?"s.t.d.e.n that wouldn‟t be interested in me, under other circumstances."

"Don‟t say that. Of course they would. They will," she amended.