She put the notion aside for the moment and reread Claudia's letter. It occurred to her, as she refolded it a second time, that as the new Countess of Graystone, it was time to start planning her debut as a hostess.

Planning parties was one of the things at which the women of the Northumberland Ballinger clan had always excelled. No doubt because of their naturally frivolous turn of mind, Augusta decided. As the last of the line, she would strive to uphold the family tradition.

She would give a house party here in the country and it would be the most spectacular event in Graystone's social history.

With any luck it would take her mind off the conversation about her brother that she had had with Harry the day of the picnic. The memory of that unpleasant discussion still rankled.

She could not and would not ever bring herself to believe that Richard had been selling secrets to the French. It was unthinkable. No Northumberland Ballinger would sink to such depths.

And most especially not her daring, dashing, honorable Richard.

It was far more difficult to believe Graystone had worked as an intelligence agent for the Crown than to believe her brother had done so, Augusta thought resentfully. Somehow Harry just did not strike one as a spy.

Of course, there was that ability of his to pick locks and he did have the most annoying habit of showing up when one least expected him.

Nevertheless, Harry? A master spy?

The thing about spying was that it was not considered a strictly proper career for a true gentleman. Most people held the notion that there was something rather unseemly and distasteful about the business. And Harry was such a stickler for the proprieties.

Augusta paused abruptly as the recollection of how very improper the earl could be in the privacy of their bedchamber flashed into her thoughts.

Harry was a very complex man. And she had known since the first time she had looked into his cool gray eyes that there were vast areas in him that lay in shadow.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Harry could have been an agent. The thought made Augusta strangely uneasy. She did not like to contemplate the notion of Harry taking grave risks. She pushed the possibility aside and began drawing up a list of people to invite to her house party.

After a few minutes more work on her plans she rushed off to find her husband. She discovered him in his library, pouring over a map of Caesar's campaigns.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked without glancing up from his work.

"I am thinking of giving a party here at Graystone, Harry. I wanted to ask your permission to go ahead with my plans."

He dragged his gaze reluctantly away from Egypt. "A party? A houseful of people? Here at Graystone?"

"We shall only invite close friends, Harry. My uncle and my cousin, for example. Perhaps some friends from Pompeia's. Mr. Sheldrake, of course. And anyone else you like. It is a pity Sally will be unable to travel. I would love to have her here."

"I don't know about this, Augusta. I have never bothered much with entertaining."

Augusta smiled. "Nor will you need to start bothering about it, sir. I shall take care of everything. My mother taught me a great deal about this sort of thing. A house party will provide a perfect opportunity to entertain our neighbors, too. It is high time we did so."

Harry eyed her morosely. "You are quite certain this is necessary?"

"Trust me, my lord. This is my field of expertise. We all have our talents, do we not?" She glanced meaningfully down at the old map on his desk.

"One party. That should be sufficient. I do not want to get into the habit of entertaining on a frequent basis, Augusta. 'Tis a frivolous waste of time."

"Yes, my lord. Most frivolous."

In spite of her instinctive feelings that Harry was a deep and mysterious man and in spite of her knowledge of his enigmatic and frequently autocratic ways, nothing prepared Augusta for the Graystone who summoned her downstairs to the library a week later.

Augusta was startled when a maid knocked on the door of the bedchamber and told her that Harry wanted her downstairs at once.

"He said at once?" Augusta looked at the maid with surprise.

"Yes, ma'am." The girl looked distinctly anxious. "Said to tell you it was most urgent."

"Good heavens, I hope nothing has happened to Meredith. " Augusta put down her quill and set aside the letter she was writing to Sally.

"Oh, no, ma'am. 'Tweren't nothin' like that. Miss Meredith was with his lordship until just a few minutes ago and she is back at her studies now. I know because I just took a pot o' tea to the schoolroom."

"I see. Very well, Nan. See that his lordship is informed I shall be downstairs immediately."

"Yes, ma'am." Nan bobbed a quick curtsy and hastened off down the hall.

Curious to know the reason behind the unexpectedly urgent summons, Augusta paused only long enough to check her appearance in the looking glass. She was wearing a cream-colored muslin gown with a delicate green print. The low-cut neckline was trimmed with green ribbon and there was more green trim on the flounced hem.

Aware from the maid's nervous expression that Graystone was apparently not in a good mood, Augusta plucked a filmy green fichu from a dresser drawer and draped the scarf around her neckline. Harry had made it clear on more than one occasion that he found her taste in clothes a trifle immodest. There was no sense irritating him further this morning with the sight of a low-cut bodice if he was already annoyed about other matters.

Augusta sighed as she hurried out the door. A husband's foibles and moods were one of the many things a woman had to begin taking into consideration after she became a wife.

To be fair, however, she had to admit there was no doubt but that Harry had been obliged to make a few changes in his attitudes since their wedding. He had actually surrendered on the subject of watercolor painting and novel reading for Meredith, Augusta reminded herself.

Augusta swept into the library a few minutes later wearing a cheerful, placating smile. Harry got to his feet behind his polished desk.

Augusta took one look at him and dropped the cheery smile of greeting. The maid had had the right of it. Harry was in a dark and dangerous mood.

It struck Augusta quite forcibly that she had never seen him this coldly intent. There was something distinctly predatory about the stark, grim lines of his face.

"You asked to speak to me, my lord?"

"I did."

"If it is about the house party, sir, you may rest assured that all is under control. The invitations went out several days ago and we have already begun receiving responses in the post. I have contacted musicians and the kitchen staff has begun ordering supplies."

"I do not give a damn about your party, madam," Harry interrupted grimly. "I have just finished the most fascinating conversation with my daughter."

"Yes, my lord?"

"She tells me that the day of the picnic when you were extolling your brother's virtues, you mentioned a certain poem he left in your possession."

Augusta 's mouth went dry, although she had no notion of where this was going. "That is correct, sir."

"It seems this poem was about spiders and their webs."

"My lord, it is just a simple little poem I had not planned to show it to Meredith, if that is what you fear. I do not think it would have frightened her unduly, even if I had shown it to her. Indeed, I have often found that children rather enjoy scary verses."

Harry ignored her hasty assurances. "I am not concerned on that score. Do you still have this poem?"

"Yes, of course."

"Fetch it at once. I want to see it."

A chill went through Augusta. "I do not understand, Graystone. Why should you wish to see Richard's poem? It is not a very good poem. Rather nonsensical in many places. In fact it is a terrible verse. I only kept it because he thrust it into my hand the night he died and bid me to keep it safe." Tears burned in her eyes. "It had his blood on it, Harry. I could not throw it away."