After a moment Harry decided he really was not in the mood to read a discourse on Roman history, even if he himself had written it. He closed his own book and went to a bookshelf to take down a copy of Ovid.

"The thing is, Claudia," Augusta said as she and her cousin went up the steps of Lady Arbuthnott's town house. "Pompeia's started out as a sort of salon. And then one day it struck me that it would be much more fun to turn it into a real club in the manner of the St. James Street establishments. You may find it a bit, well, unusual."

"I am fully prepared for Pompeia's. I assure you, I shall endeavor not to embarrass you," Claudia murmured dryly.

"Yes, I know, but occasionally you do have extremely refined notions of propriety and some of the things you see in Pompeia's may offend them."

"Such as?"

"Such as the butler," Augusta murmured as the door was opened by Scruggs.

"Well, well, Miss Ballinger," Scruggs growled as he spied Augusta on the doorstep. "Bit surprised to see you here today. Heard you were to be married with what some might call indecent haste."

"That is none of your affair, my good man," Claudia announced in quelling accents.

Scruggs's mouth fell open in astonishment as he finally noticed Claudia standing to one side. His brilliant blue eyes widened and then immediately narrowed in amazement. He recovered himself at once. "Good God. Never tell me the Angel has come calling at Pompeia's. Paying a visit to the nether regions, Miss Ballinger? What is the world coming to, pray tell?"

There was a short, charged silence as Claudia bestowed a disapproving stare on Scruggs. Then she turned to Augusta with royal disdain. "Who on earth is this odd creature?"

"This is Scruggs," Augusta explained, hiding a satisfied smile. "And you must pay him no heed. Lady Arbuthnott retains him merely to add an interesting atmosphere to the place. She is fond of eccentrics, you know."

"Obviously." Claudia looked Scruggs up and down very slowly and then swept past him into the hall. "I cannot wait to see what other bizarre things I shall find in this place. Lead on, Augusta."

Augusta swallowed her laughter. "Miss Ballinger is a new member of Pompeia's, Scruggs. She very kindly volunteered to visit Lady Arbuthnott while I am out of town and keep me informed of her condition."

"And here I was thinking things might be a bit dull without you around to liven up the place and entertain her ladyship." Scruggs's eyes never left Claudia, who stood imperiously near the drawing room door.

Augusta smiled as she removed her huge, fashionable, flower-trimmed hat. "Yes, I have no doubt things will continue to be amusing. I only regret I shall not be here to watch."

Scruggs smiled beatifically as he opened the door of Pompeia's. Augusta and Claudia stepped into Sally's drawing room.

Augusta was aware of her cousin taking in the scene around her with an observing eye as she steered her toward where Sally sat near the fire.

"How extraordinary," Claudia exclaimed softly, her gaze on the paintings of famous Greek and Roman women.

Sally closed the book on her lap, adjusted her India shawl, and looked up expectantly as Augusta and Claudia approached. "Good afternoon, Augusta. Have you brought us a new member?"

"My cousin Claudia." Augusta made the introductions quickly. "She will be calling on you in my stead during the next few weeks, Sally."

"I shall look forward to your visits, Miss Ballinger." Sally Smiled at Claudia. "We shall miss Augusta, of course. She has a way of keeping things lively around here."

"Yes, I know." Claudia said.

"Do sit down." Sally waved a hand gracefully toward the nearest chair.

Augusta glanced at the book Sally had been reading. "Oh, you have a copy of Coleridge's Kubla Khan. I intend to read it soon. What do you think of it?"

"Extraordinary. Quite fantastical. He claims that the entire story came to him when he awoke from an opium-induced sleep, you know. I find the images of his tale fascinating. Almost familiar. I cannot explain it, but there is a certain comfort in it." She turned to Claudia and smiled. "Enough of such musings. Tell me, what do you think of our little club thus far?"

"I think," Claudia said thoughtfully, "that your butler reminds me of someone I have met."

"I expect 'tis the limp," Augusta said easily. "If you will recall, Claudia, our gardener walks in the same awkward fashion. Rheumatism, you know."

"Perhaps you are right," said Claudia.

Sally turned promptly to Augusta. "So you are to be married by special license and whisked away to Dorset, my dear."

"It is incredible how gossip swirls through the ton."

"And winds up here in Pompeia's," Sally concluded. "I should have known you would not do things in the usual, accepted manner."

"It was not my idea. It was Graystone's. I only hope he will not come to regret his decision." Augusta paused, tilting her head slightly to one side as she accepted a teacup. "On the other hand, it is something of a relief to see that my fiance has an impetuous side to his nature."

"Impetuous?" Sally considered that briefly. "I do not think that is quite the right word to describe Graystone."

"What is the right word, madam?" Augusta asked, curious.

"Deceptive. Shrewd. At times rather hard, perhaps. A most unusual man, Graystone." Sally sipped her tea.

"I quite agree and I must say it can be very disturbing," Augusta said. "Do you know he has the most unnerving habit of always being aware of whatever scheme I happen to have set in motion? No matter how secretive I have been? I swear, it is rather like being pursued by Nemesis himself."

Sally sputtered on a sip of tea and dabbed quickly at her pale lips with a handkerchief. Her eyes were gleaming with laughter. "Nemesis, eh? What an odd thing to say."

Nemesis. Augusta was still mulling over that observation the next afternoon as Graystone's traveling coach bowled along the highway toward Dorset.

The wedding that morning had been quick and efficient. Graystone had appeared to be preoccupied and had taken very little note of her carefully chosen white muslin gown. He had not even complimented her on the demure ruffle that she had ordered sewn onto the low neckline. So much for her first wifely effort to impress her husband with her modesty.

Graystone had insisted on setting out immediately on the honeymoon trip to his estates. Now he lounged across from Augusta on the opposite seat of the coach. He had been sunk deep in his own thoughts since they had left London.

It was the first time they had been alone together since the night they had made love in the carriage.

Augusta fidgeted, unable to read or concentrate for long on the scenery. She plucked at the braiding of her copper-colored carriage gown and fussed with her reticule. In-between these activities she stole glances at Graystone. He looked lean and powerful in his gleaming boots, snug-fitting breeches, and elegantly cut coat. His pristine white cravat was immaculately folded, as always. A paragon.

A paragon, Augusta thought sadly. How was she ever going to live up to Harry's standards? she wondered.

"Is there something wrong, Augusta?" Harry finally inquired.

"No, my lord."

"Are you quite certain?" he asked softly.

She gave an elaborate shrug. " 'Tis only that I have the oddest sensation that nothing is quite real today. I feel as if I shall awaken at any moment and discover I have been dreaming."

"I trust that is not wishful thinking, my dear. You are most definitely married now."

"Yes, my lord."

He exhaled deeply, "You are anxious, are you not?"

"Somewhat, sir." She thought of all that lay before her: a daughter she had never met, a new home, a husband whose first wife had from all accounts been a model of womanly virtue. She straightened her shoulders bravely. "I shall try to be a good wife to you, Harry."