"So I am given to understand."

"I, however, am very predictable in my ways. I think you should know that, Lovejoy. If I say I will do something, it generally gets done."

"I see." Lovejoy toyed with a heavily chased silver paperweight. "And just what are you proposing to do?"

"Protect my fiancée from the sort of games you apparently enjoy playing with women."

Lovejoy gave him a deeply offended look. "Graystone, it is not my fault your fiancée enjoys the occasional hand of cards. If you are truly bent on marrying the lady, you would do well to consider her nature. She is inclined toward reckless entertainment. The tendency runs in the family, I hear. At least on the Northumberland side of the clan."

"It is not my fiancée's fondness for cards that concerns me."

"No? I should think it would concern you deeply, Graystone. Once your fortune is at her disposal, she will no doubt grow even more fond of games of chance." Lovejoy smiled meaningfully.

Harry smiled back quite blandly. "As I said, I am not concerned about her choice of entertainments. It is your teasing her about the matter of her brother's death that has brought me here today."

"She told you about that, did she?"

"I was informed you more or less promised to help her investigate the incident. I seriously doubt you can offer her any useful assistance. Nor do I want the past dug up. It will only succeed in causing my fiancée pain and that I will not tolerate. You are to leave the matter alone, Lovejoy. Do you understand?"

"What makes you so certain I cannot help her get her brother's reputation out from under the cloud of suspicion that hovered over him at the time of his death?"

"We both know there is no way to go back and prove or disprove Ballinger's guilt. It is best that the matter stay buried." Harry held Lovejoy's gaze. "Unless, of course," he said quietly, "you have some special knowledge of the event, in which case you will tell me about it. Do you know anything, Lovejoy?"

"Good lord, no."

"I thought not." Harry got to his feet. "I trust you are telling the truth, because I would be most unhappy to learn otherwise. I will bid you good day. By the bye, although I do not intend to forbid my fiancée the occasional game of cards, I am forbidding her to play with you. You must try your tricks elsewhere, Lovejoy."

"How dull. I quite enjoy Miss Ballinger's company. And there is the little matter of the thousand pounds she owes me. Tell me, Graystone, given the rumor that you are demanding excessively virtuous behavior in your next countess, does it not alarm you that you are engaged to a young woman who tends to play rather deep?"

Harry smiled faintly. "You must be mistaken, Lovejoy. My fiancée does not owe you any money. Certainly not a thousand pounds."

"Do not be too certain of that." Lovejoy got to his feet, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Would you care to see her marker?"

"If you can produce it, I shall, of course, settle the debt here and now. But I doubt you can present any such marker."

"One moment."

Harry watched with interest as Lovejoy crossed the room to the globe and took a key from his pocket. He inserted it in the hidden lock and the top half of the globe sprang open, just as it had last night.

There was an acute silence as Lovejoy stood gazing down into the bottom half of the globe for a long moment. Then he turned slowly around to face Harry. His face was expressionless.

"I appear to have been mistaken," Lovejoy said softly. "I do not have your lady's marker, after all."

"I did not think so. I believe we understand each other very well now, do we not, Lovejoy? Again, I shall bid you good day. You may congratulate me, by the way. I am to be married tomorrow."

"So soon?" Lovejoy could not completely hide his start of surprise. His eyes narrowed. "You amaze me, sir. I would not have thought you so rash. From all accounts anyone who marries Miss Augusta Ballinger must be prepared for a great many adventures."

"It will no doubt make an interesting change for me. I am told I have spent too many years buried in my books. Perhaps it is time I was introduced to a bit of adventure." Without waiting for a reply, Harry opened the door and let himself out of the library. Behind him he heard the lid of the globe safe being slammed shut with sufficient force to echo in the hall.

Lovejoy's choice of Augusta as a target for his obnoxious little games was interesting, Harry thought as he left the house. He decided it was time to make a few inquiries into the man's past. The task would give Peter Sheldrake something more useful to do than play at being Scruggs the butler.

Claudia walked into Augusta's bedchamber and stood calmly amid the whirlwind of commotion that was taking place there. She frowned gently at her cousin over a sea of gowns, shoes, hatboxes, trunks, and plumes.

"I do not understand the necessity for all this packing up and dashing about, Augusta. It makes no sense to get married by special license when the plans for your wedding in four months are coming along very nicely. It is not quite the thing to hurry matters like this. Graystone, of all people, should understand that."

"If you have any questions, I suggest you take them directly to Graystone. This is all his idea." Augusta, busy directing the flurry of activity from her command position near the wardrobe, scowled at her maid. "No, no, Betsy, put my ball gowns in the other trunk. The petticoats go in that one. Have my books been packed?"

"Yes, Miss. I packed 'em meself this mornin'."

"Good. I do not want to find myself stuck in Dorset with only the contents of my future husband's library available to me. I imagine it contains a great many volumes on old Greeks and Romans and not a single novel."

Betsy hoisted a mountain of silk and satin out of one trunk and lowered it into another. "Don't know what ye'll be needin' these for in the country, Miss."

"Best to be prepared. Do not forget the matching slippers and gloves for each gown."

"Yes, Miss."

Claudia waded forward through the piles of trunks and hatboxes and forged a path around the bed, which was strewn with petticoats, stockings, and garters. "Augusta, I would like to talk to you."

"Talk away." Augusta turned to call through the open door of the bedchamber. "Nan, is that you? Will you please come in here and give Betsy a hand?"

A housemaid stuck her head in the door. "You want me to help with the packing, Miss?"

"Yes, please. There is a great deal to be done and we are growing short of time. My fiance has sent word that we are to be on our way tomorrow morning directly after the wedding."

"Oh, dear, Miss. That ain't much time at all, is it?" Nan scurried into the room and began taking instructions from a frazzled Betsy.

"Augusta, please," Claudia said firmly, "we cannot talk amid this confusion. Let us have a cup of tea downstairs in the library."

Augusta straightened her frilled muslin cap and eyed the bedchamber. So much remained to be done and she had a feeling Harry would not be pleased if he were obliged to delay their departure because she had not finished packing. On the other hand, she was badly in need of a strong cup of tea. "Very well, Claudia. I believe things are under control here. Let us go downstairs."

Five minutes later, Augusta sank into an armchair, put her slippered feet up on a stool, and took a long swallow of tea. She set the cup and saucer down with a sigh. "You were right, Claudia. This was an excellent notion. I need this little break. I feel I have been rushing about since dawn. I vow, I shall be exhausted before I even set out for Dorset."

Claudia studied her cousin over the rim of her teacup. "I wish you would tell me why all this haste is necessary. I cannot help feeling that something is not quite right here."