"She's closer to Harriet's age," Judith said. Her sister-in-law was five years younger than herself.

Marcus shook his head. "True enough, but you know as well as I, my love, that Harriet's tastes don't run to the unconventional. She wouldn't know what to make of Miss Gresham."

Judith laughed slightly. "No, I suppose you're right. Anyway, Sebastian tells me that she's expecting again. She always suffers so badly from nausea, poor love, I don't know why they keep having babies."

"Because it suits them," Marcus said. "Your brother is even more besotted with his children than I am."

"Yes, and he spoils them abominably. And Harriet is incapable of saying no. little Charles created havoc in here yesterday, and as for young Peter…"

"Well, you're the only person Sebastian will listen to, including his wife," Marcus pointed out with perfect truth.

"I've told him," she said. "And he won't listen. I sup-

pose he wants to give them all the things he never had. A childhood spent racketing around the capitals of the Continent in the train of an impoverished gamester left out a lot."

"It didn't do either of you any harm."

"Oh, you were not always of that opinion," she said, her eyes narrowing. "There was a time when you expressed yourself most vehemently on the subject."

'A lot of water's flowed since then," her husband said equably. "If the girl's Gresham's daughter, why isn't her half brother her guardian, I wonder? Lattimer's no relation… although…"

"Although?" Judith prompted when he paused.

"Well, there was something about the way he treated her," Marcus said slowly, remembering how naturally Hugo had straightened her hat and wiped the smear on her cheek. "A rather particular intimacy…"

"Ohh…" Judith said. "What do you suspect'"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Lattimer's all of thirty-four and the girl's barely out of the schoolroom. I expect he was being avuncular… Anyway, will you call on her?"

"I can hardly wait."

Two days later, Lady Carrington drove herself in her high-perch phaeton to Mount Street.

It was clear from the moment the door was opened to her by a sturdy man in leather britches and waistcoat, sporting two gold earrings, that she was in no ordinary household.

"Is Miss Gresham in?" She drew off her gloves, looking around the square hall. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air.

"Aye, I reckon so," the unusual butler said. "Last I knew, the lass was pesterin' that Alphonse in the

kitchen. Mind you, what we want wi' a cook, I don't know, specially one what calls 'imself some fancy Frenchie name when it's as plain as day he's no more of a Frenchie than I am. What's good enough in Lancashire ought t' be good enough 'ere, I says."

Judith was somewhat at a loss as to how to respond to this confidence, when a swinging baize door at the end of the hall flew open and a brown bundle exploded into the hall, followed by an enormous dog.

"Dante! Come here!" A slight figure whirled through the door on their heels, brandishing a wooden spoon. "You are the worst-behaved animal! Leave Demosthenes alone."

Judith jumped out of the way as the brown fur bundle lumbered past her at a surprising speed, the dog yapping at its heels.

"Miss Gresham?" she inquired.

"Yes," Chloe said distractedly. "I beg your pardon, but I must catch Demosthenes. If Hugo finds him loose in the house, there'll be terrible trouble."

"Demosthenes?" Judith said feebly. She rarely felt feeble.

"Well, Bruin's rather boring, don't you think," Chloe said, lunging for the bear cub. "Samuel, can you catch Dante?"

Samuel grunted and grabbed Dante by the collar. The dog sat down, panting. The bear had retreated beneath an inlaid console table and a pair of bright eyes gazed out from the shadows.

Judith sat down on a chair and burst into a peal of laughter. "Marcus said you were refreshing," she gasped. "But I don't believe he knows the half of it."

"Marcus?" Chloe, who was on her knees in front of the console table, looked over her shoulder.

"My husband, Lord Carrington. I understand you met him the other day."

"Oh, yes, he was kind enough to lend me his whip." Chloe dropped forward onto her hands and knees, sticking her nose under the table. "Come on, you silly animal. I only want to dress that cut."

It was at this moment that Hugo sauntered into his house through the still-open front door. Dante greeted him exuberantly, and he didn't at first see their visitor on her chair by the wall. His attention was immediately caught by Chloe's upturned rear as she peered under the table.

"What are you doing?" He swung his crop lightly at the inviting behind.

"Ouch!" Chloe backed out hastily. "I was hoping you wouldn't come back until I'd captured Demosthenes. Dante jumped at him while I was stirring the poultice in the kitchen and all hell broke loose."

"All what'"

"Oh, well you know what I mean. Oh, this is Lady Carrington. She came to call." She gestured toward Judith.

"I seem to have picked a rather inconvenient moment," Judith said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Sir Hugo."

"Lady Carrington." He bowed formally over her hand but his eyes twinkled at the ready laughter in the golden-brown eyes of his guest. "Sometimes I wonder if there is ever a convenient moment in this circus. Allow me to give you a glass of sherry to restore your shattered nerves." He gestured toward the library, saying over his shoulder, "Chloe, you will remove that wild animal forthwith, and if I ever catch him in the house again, it will be very much the worse for both of you."

Chloe watched the two of them disappear into the library and muttered one of Falstaff s more inventive phrases.

It was twenty minutes later before she was able to

join her guardian and his guest in the library. Lady Carrington and Hugo were laughing as she entered and seemed to be getting on famously. For some reason, this made her feel put out. She examined the visitor with more attention and saw a vibrant, beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, radiating assurance and confidence, conversing with Hugo as if she'd known him all her life.

Hugo's public rebuke still stung, and Chloe, feeling uncomfortably young and rather grubby, had the sense that she'd wandered uninvited into an adult's domain.

"May I have a glass of sherry?"

"Of course, lass." Hugo poured her a glass and refilled Lady Carrington's. "Where's the beast?"

"In the stables." She took the glass and sipped. "I must apologize, Lady Carrington, for not welcoming you properly."

"Oh, don't apologize," Judith said, chuckling. "An escaped bear is more than sufficient explanation."

"Where's your chaperone?" Hugo inquired of his ward, explaining to Judith, "My late mother's cousin, Lady Smallwood, resides with us as Chloe's duenna."

"She's lying upon her bed with her smelling salts," Chloe said, her eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief. "I'm afraid Falstaff upset her again."

Judith demanded to know the identity of this character and left soon after, still laughing. "I am having an evening party on Thursday," she said. "You will come, both of you… and Lady Smallwood, of course."

That evening, as Judith was dressing for dinner, she remarked to her husband, "You're right about Harriet, Marcus. She won't be able to make heads or tails of Chloe Gresham. But Sebastian will enjoy her enormously. Her beauty is astonishing, of course, but it's that roguish personality that really appeals. She's completely without artifice; I don't even think she knows that she's

beautiful. I intend to make her the toast of the Season. What do you think?"

"I don't see how you can fail, if you've a mind to." Marcus took the emerald necklace from the maid, fastening it himself around the slender column of his wife's throat. "With a fortune of eighty thousand pounds and a face and figure to rival Helen of Troy, all she needs is the right patronage."