"Oh, good heavens, no, but…" Clarissa broke off, her expression hunted.

"The second is that my uncle, even though a scholarly sort, has been living for some years now in London and has grown accustomed to a certain style among the women of his acquaintance, if you see what I mean." Augusta crossed her fingers on that last bit.

She had a hunch Sir Thomas would not notice whether a woman wore sackcloth or silk, but it would not hurt to have Clarissa make a good impression. And she knew how badly Clarissa wanted to impress Sir Thomas. At this point Clarissa no doubt had only intellectual passions in mind, but Augusta had hopes for a more fundamental relationship developing between the two. Getting Clarissa into a flattering gown was only prudent.

"I see." Clarissa drew herself up, her eyes going to the array of new gowns in her closet. "I had not realized your uncle held opinions on female style."

"Well, the thing is," Augusta said in a confidential tone, "he has spent his whole life studying the lives of the ancients. And I fear that most of those women of antiquity were noted for their stylishness. Only think of Cleopatra and the fine draping on all those Greek statues."

"Oh, dear. I see what you mean. Sir Thomas has no doubt absorbed a certain classical ideal of how a female should appear, is that what you are saying?"

Augusta smiled. "Precisely. As it happens, the gowns we have ordered for you will give you a classical silhouette and Betsy will arrange your hair in the Greek style. You shall look exactly like a goddess of antiquity when you descend the stairs tonight."

"I shall?" Clarissa was clearly awestruck by that image.

"Betsy will see to it, won't you, Betsy?"

Betsy bobbed a curtsy. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

Augusta's brows rose. "I shall depend upon you, Betsy. Put Miss Fleming in the amethyst tonight, will you? Now, then, I must be off. His lordship will no doubt be pacing the floor, wondering where I am."

Augusta rushed back downstairs to her bedchamber and threw open the door, only to discover Harry. He paused in midstride and scowled ferociously. He glanced meaningfully at the clock.

"Where the devil have you been?"

"I am very sorry, Harry." Augusta gazed at him in deep appreciation. Harry looked elegant and powerful in his black and white evening clothes. "Clarissa balked at the notion of wearing something besides gray or brown. I had to convince her that she would severely embarrass you if she did not wear one of her new gowns."

"I do not care in the least what Clarissa wears."

"Yes, well, that is somewhat beside the point, my lord. Where is Meredith? I distinctly told her to be down here by half past so that we could all walk downstairs together."

"I still feel Meredith is much too young to be allowed to attend this sort of thing," Harry said.

"Nonsense. She has been extremely helpful in the preparations and she deserves to be allowed to participate for at least a short while. My parents always allowed me to come downstairs long enough to be introduced to their friends. Do not concern yourself, Harry. Meredith will be off to bed before you know it."

Harry looked doubtful, but he apparently decided not to do battle over the issue. Instead he allowed his gaze to skim over Augusta's golden gown. "I was under the impression, madam, that you were going to start ordering your gowns cut a bit higher at the neckline."

"The dressmaker made a slight miscalculation, my lord," Augusta said breezily. "No time to repair it now."

"A miscalculation?" Harry took two strides forward and inserted his finger just inside the low bodice. He slid the finger slowly, tantalizingly over one nipple.

Augusta sucked in her breath, partly in shock and partly because she always reacted fiercely to his touch. "Good grief, Harry. Stop that at once."

He slowly removed his finger, his gray eyes gleaming. "Do you know what I think, Augusta? I think the miscalculation was yours. As you will no doubt discover later this evening when I come to your room with a measuring tape."

Augusta blinked and then laughter bubbled up inside her. "You are going to measure me, sir?"

"Most carefully."

A knock on the door spared Augusta the necessity of answering that. She opened it and^ found Meredith in the hall looking very serious indeed. Augusta examined the charming little frock of white muslin which was trimmed with lace and ribbons.

"My goodness, Meredith, you look exquisite." Augusta turned to Harry. "Does she not look wonderful, my lord?"

Harry smiled. "A diamond of the first water. In fact, I do believe both of my ladies will put all the other ladies in the shade this evening."

Meredith's anxious expression dissolved into a smile as she basked under her father's approval. "You look very nice tonight, too, Papa. And so does Augusta."

"Then let us be off to greet this houseful of people we seem to have acquired," Harry said.

At the top of the stairs Harry took his wife's arm and his daughter's hand. And as the three of them descended into the hall Augusta felt a little surge of contentment.

"I vow, we look quite like a real family tonight, Harry," she whispered as they entered the drawing room, where everyone was gathering for the evening.

He shot her a strange glance, but Augusta ignored it. She was much too busy with her duties as a hostess.

With a wide-eyed Meredith at her side, Augusta floated among the guests. She introduced her stepdaughter proudly to those who did not know her, made certain everyone was involved in a conversational group, and kept an eye on the flow of beverages.

Satisfied that all was going smoothly on this, her first social occasion as mistress in her own home, Augusta paused at a small cluster of people that consisted of Harry, Sir Thomas, Claudia, and Peter Sheldrake.

Peter grinned with relief when he saw her. "Thank God you are here, madam. I am being overwhelmed with the details of some very ancient battles. I vow, I have lost track of which famous Greek or Roman hero did what to whom and when."

Claudia, angelic as ever tonight in an elegant gown of palest blue trimmed with silver, smiled archly. "I fear Uncle Thomas and Graystone are off on one of their favorite topics. Mr. Sheldrake has apparently grown bored."

Peter was aggrieved. "Not bored, Miss Ballinger. Never that. Not as long as you are near. But history is not my favorite subject and even you must admit the endless details of some very old battles do become a bit tedious after a while."

Augusta grinned as her cousin blushed a lovely shade of pink. "Actually, Meredith and I were having a most interesting discussion about historical matters ourselves just the other day. Is that not so, Meredith?"

Meredith brightened. Her serious eyes were lit with a familiar gleam that was not unlike the expression in her father's gaze when he was involved in a discussion of this sort.

"Oh, yes," Meredith said quickly. "Augusta pointed out the most astonishing fact to me, one I had never noticed before. It has made me think a great deal about the ancient heroes of Greek and Roman legend."

Sir Thomas flicked a slightly startled glance at Augusta, cleared his throat, and looked down at the girl. "And what fact is that, my dear?"

"Why, how often the heroes in the old legends were obliged to prove they could outfight or outwit a female. Augusta says that fact demonstrates that the ancients knew that women can be very strong and fierce. Just as strong and fierce as men. She says we do not know nearly enough about the ladies of the classics. Aunt Clarissa agrees with her."

A startled silence greeted this unexpected remark.

"Good Lord," Sir Thomas muttered. "I had not thought about that. What a singular notion."

Harry's brow rose as his eyes rested on Augusta. "I must admit, I had never put the facts in quite that light," he murmured.