Felicity was acknowledged by everyone in the neighborhood of Upper Biddleton to be a spectacular beauty, and with good reason. In addition to being extraordinarily lovely, she had a natural air of style and elegance that shone even in the financially reduced circumstances the Pomeroy sisters were obliged to endure.

Today she was an enchantingly vivid sight in a flounced walking dress of bright green and white stripes. A dark green pelisse and a green, plumed bonnet completed her attire. She had light green eyes and golden blond hair, both of which she had inherited from her mother. The cut of her gown also underlined another asset that had been bequeathed by her maternal parent, a gloriously full bosom.

Euphemia Pomeroy Ashecombe stepped into the hall first, stripping off her gloves. She had been widowed just before the death of her brother, the Reverend Pomeroy, and had landed on her nieces' doorstep shortly thereafter. She was nearing fifty and had once been an acknowledged beauty herself. Harriet thought her still very attractive.

The silver in Aunt Effie's once dark hair was revealed as she removed her bonnet. The distinctive turquoise blue of the Pomeroy side of the family characterized her fine eyes, just as it did Harriet's.

Effie gazed at the fallen housekeeper with acute alarm. "Oh, dear. Not again."

Felicity came into the hall behind her aunt, closed the door, and glanced at Mrs. Stone. "Good heavens. Another bout of the vapors. What on earth caused it this time? Something more interesting than last time, I trust. On that occasion I believe she was felled by nothing more than the news that Lady Barker's oldest daughter had managed to secure herself a wealthy merchant for a husband."

"Well, he was in trade, after all," Aunt Effie reminded her. "You know very well that Mrs. Stone has a nice appreciation of the importance of maintaining one's proper station in life. Annabelle Barker descended from a very good family. Mrs. Stone was quite right to feel the girl could have done better for herself than to marry a cit."

"If you ask me, Annabelle did very well indeed," Felicity declared in her typically pragmatic manner. "Her husband dotes on her and has given her an unlimited allowance. They live in a fine house in London and have two carriages and lord only knows how many servants. Annabelle is set for life."

Harriet grinned as she held the vinaigrette under Mrs. Stone's nose again. "And in addition to all that, one hears that Annabelle is also madly in love with her rich merchant. I agree with you, Felicity. She has not done so badly. But do not expect Aunt Effie and our Mrs. Stone to ever see it from our point of view."

"No good will come of that alliance," Aunt Effie predicted. "It never pays to allow a young girl to follow her heart. Especially when it takes her straight down the social ladder."

"So you have frequently told us, Aunt Effie." Felicity considered Mrs. Stone. "Well, what did happen this time?"

Before Harriet could respond, Mrs. Stone blinked and sat up with a painful effort. "The Beast of Blackthorne Hall is back," she intoned.

"Good lord," Effie said, amazed. "What on earth is she talking about?"

"The demon has returned to the scene of his crime," Mrs. Stone continued.

"Who in the world is the Beast of Blackthorne Hall?" Felicity asked.

"St. Justin." Mrs. Stone moaned. "How dare he? How dare he come back here? And how dare he threaten Miss Harriet?"

Felicity glanced at Harriet, eyes wide with interest. "Good heavens. Viscount St. Justin was here?"

"Yes, he was," Harriet admitted.

Aunt Effie's mouth fell open. "The viscount was here? Right here in this house?"

"That is correct," Harriet said. "Now, Aunt Effie, if you and Felicity will kindly restrain your astonishment, perhaps we can see about getting Mrs. Stone back on her feet."

"Harriet, I do not want to believe this," Aunt Effie said in a horrified voice. "Are you telling me that the most important landholder in this district, an actual viscount who is in line for an earldom, paid a call upon us and you received him dressed as you are now? Wearing that filthy old apron and that ghastly gown that should have been redyed months ago?"

"He just happened to be passing by," Harriet explained, trying for a blithe tone.

"Just happened to be passing by?" Felicity burst into laughter. "Really, Harriet, viscounts and the like never 'just happen to be passing' our little cottage."

"Why not?" Harriet demanded testily. "Blackthorne Hall is his home and it is not all that far from here."

"Viscount St. Justin has never even bothered to come to Upper Biddleton, let alone pass by our house, in the entire five years we've lived here. Indeed, Papa said he only met St. Justin's father, the earl himself, a single time. That was in London when Hardcastle appointed him rector and gave him the living of this parish."

"Felicity, you must take my word for it. St. Justin was indeed here and it was a simple social call," Harriet said firmly. "It seems perfectly natural to me that he would pay a visit to his family's estates in this district."

"They say in the village that St. Justin never comes to Upper Biddleton. That he hates the sight of the place." Aunt Effie fanned herself with her hand. "Good heavens. I do believe I feel a bit faintish myself. A viscount here in this cottage. Just imagine."

"I would not be so taken with the notion, if I was ye, Mrs. Ashecombe." Mrs. Stone gave Effie a dark, woman-to-woman look. "He put his hands on Miss Harriet. I saw him. Thank the good Lord I walked into the study just in time."

"Just in time for what?" Felicity's interest was obviously piqued.

"Never ye mind, Miss Felicity. Ye be too young to know about that sort o' thing. Just ye be thankful I weren't too late this time."

"Too late for what?" Felicity demanded.

Harriet sighed.

Aunt Effie frowned at her. "What did happen, Harriet, dear? We were not out of tea, or anything terrible like that, were we?"

"No, we were not out of tea, although I did not think to offer him any," Harriet admitted.

"You did not offer him tea? A viscount came to call and you did not think to offer him refreshment?" Aunt Effie's expression was one of genuine shock now. "Harriet, whatever am I going to do with you? Have you no social graces at all?"

"I want to know what happened," Felicity interrupted swiftly. "What is all this about the man putting his hands on you, Harriet?"

"Nothing happened and nothing at all was going to happen," Harriet snapped. "The man did not put his hands on me." Belatedly she recalled her chin perched on the edge of the viscount's huge fist and the grim look of warning in his tawny eyes. "Well, he may have put a hand on me, but only briefly. Nothing to speak of, I assure you."

"Harriet. " Felicity was clearly enthralled now. "Do tell us everything."

But it was Mrs. Stone who responded. "Bold as the devil, he was." Her work-worn hands twisted in the folds of her apron as her eyes glowed with righteous indignation. "Thinks he can get away with anything. The Beast has no shame at all." She sniffed.

Harriet scowled at the housekeeper. "Mrs. Stone, please do not start crying."

"I'm sorry, Miss Harriet." Mrs. Stone made another little snuffling noise and wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron. " 'Tis just that seein' him again after all these years brought back so many dreadful memories."

"What memories?" Felicity asked with avid curiosity.

"Memories of my beautiful little Miss Deirdre." Mrs. Stone dabbed at her eyes.

"Who was Deirdre?" Aunt Effie demanded. "Your daughter?"

Mrs. Stone gulped back tears. "No, she weren't my kin. She was much too fine to be related to the likes of me. She was the Reverend Rushton's one and only child. I looked after her."