Trev held himself back from strangling the man on the wave of rage that suffused him. Instead he blew air through his teeth and gave a bitter laugh. Suddenly he let go, all at once, and stepped back, well out of range of the heavy blow that Sturgeon threw. He blocked the next punch, still laughing, an angry sound that echoed in the alleyway until Sturgeon stood back, huffing for air, looking at Trev as if he were mad.

"I didn't blackmail you, Sturgeon," he said. "I was a prisoner until after Waterloo, you jackass, how'd you suppose I'd know anything about you, or give a damn? I didn't even know your name at Salamanca. Hell and the devil, I was grateful to you for taking that tent out of artillery range. You were welcome to ignore all the orders you liked, by my lights, as long as you didn't get me shot."

"Shut up about it." The officer looked as if he'd like to enter into a further brawl, but Trev could see him thinking in spite of himself, calculating history and distance.

"I didn't return to England till '17," Trev said, to aid him with his mathematics. He held himself ready, watching Sturgeon put his hand on his sword. "I'd say if someone blackmailed you, it's Geordie Hixson must be your man, though I'd not have thought it in his style."

"Hixson was already dead a two-month before I got the note."

"Geordie's dead?" Trev scowled. "How?"

"A damned kettle of turtle soup," Sturgeon said. "Cook left it in a copper pot overnight, so they said. Or it was poisoned on purpose, belike. Convenient for you that he's not alive to say his piece."

"Oh, isn't it? You think I murdered him and then blackmailed you out of marrying her? All the while I was incarcerated at Wellington's behest. The bastard kept me right through the Paris treaty, and you're welcome to question the Foreign Office on that if you like." Trev began to chuckle again on a wilder note. "Or save yourself the trouble and ask Madame Malempré where I was." He gave the officer a swift bow, backing away to make sure he was out of range as he did. "Were you before me with her, or after, Sturgeon? Quite a willing little piece, that one."

The officer stood upright, stiffening. His face went white. "I will kill you," he said low.

"I'm sorry to enlighten you as to her liberal char acter." Trev pulled his pistol from his pocket. "But you won't be entertaining yourself with that sort of thing anyway," he informed the officer. "You think me capable of blackmail—I assure you that I am. If my friends tell me you're embarrassing my lady with any escapades of a romantic nature, or distressing her in any way, you'll find yourself drummed before a court-martial, and I'll be very pleased to tell them what I saw that day."