"Thanks." Bennet seemed relieved by the invitation. He crossed the room to the brandy table and poured himself a measure.

Marcus waited.

Bennet cradled the brandy glass and looked down into its depths. "I saw you with Mrs. Bright an hour ago."

"At the Crandais'?" "Yes."

"I didn't see you."

"It was an awful crush," Bennet said. "The ballroom was packed."

"Yes, it was."

Bennet cleared his throat. "Have you made plans for your wedding yet?"

"Mrs. Bright has not yet consented to he my bride." Bennet's head came up swiftly, his expression one of amazement. "What did you say?"

"She is not precisely leaping at the opportunity to become my wife." Marcus smiled ruefully. "She claims that although she is rather, ah, fond of me, she is not terribly keen on the notion of marrying me."

Bennet choked on his brandy. "She must be mad." In spite of his opinion on the subject, it was obvious that he was affronted by the news.

"I shall take that as a compliment," Marcus said. "But in truth she is far from mad. She is spirited, proud, independent, and very much an Original, but she is not mad."

"How could she not want to marry you? You're an earl, for God's sake. And wealthy into the bargain. Any woman in her position would kill to marry you."

"Mrs. Bright is quite comfortably well off, thanks to her own judicious investments. Nor does she seem overly impressed with my title." Marcus smiled faintly. "She has a remarkably egalitarian notion of what constitutes a gentleman. I believe she has read a bit too much of Locke, Rousseau, and, very likely, Jefferson."

Bennet was incensed. "She has not questioned your right to the title, has she?"

"No." "I should hope not." Bennet scowled. "Are you telling me that she might actually refuse your offer?"

"I am telling you that I shall have to put forth considerable effort in order to convince her that I would make her a suitable husband."

"Hellfire." Bennet breathed. "This is amazing. I do not know whether to he cheered by the news or insulted by her nerve."

Marcus turned the glass in his hand and watched the lamplight dance in the crystal. "It was Mrs. Bright who convinced me to withdraw my objections to your plans to become engaged to Juliana Dorchester."

Bennet glowered at him. "I don't believe that. Why would Mrs. Bright get involved in my affairs? Why should she give a damn whom I marry?"

"She cares about a great many odd things. And a number of people."

"Marcus, do you actually mean to say that you changed your mind about my marriage plans because of something your good friend Mrs. Bright had to say on the subject?"

Marcus smiled ruefully. "Does that surprise you?" "It astounds me."

"I confess, you aren't the only one. I was somewhat taken aback myself."

"I cannot imagine you allowing anyone, least of all one of your paramours-" Bennet broke off abruptly when Marcus narrowed his eyes in warning. "I mean, one of your female acquaintances to influence you. Devil take it, I've never known you to alter your views on a subject once you've made up your mind."

"That's not entirely true. I've been known to change my mind when new facts are introduced which warrant a new conclusion."

"Bah. That almost never happens because you almost never make up your mind before you have investigated all aspects of a matter quite thoroughly."

"Suffice it to say that Mrs. Bright succeeded in causing me to alter my decision regarding your plans." Marcus took a swallow of his brandy.

"Damnation." "It concerns you that I have allowed her to influence me?"

"Yes." Bennet's mouth tightened ominously. "Yes, it does, even though in this instance I have been the beneficiary of her interference, This is not like you, Marcus."

"No, it's not." Marcus studied the clockwork man in the corner. "I have always made it a point to order my life along a few simple, straightforward principles."

"You certainly have done so since I was a boy," Bennet agreed sourly.

"Mrs. Bright has caused me to bend, and in some cases break, several of my own rules. Barring the possibility that I have, myself, gone mad, what do you suppose it all signifies?"

"No offense, brother, but it strikes me that you have allowed your passions to rule your head."

"I once accused you of the same thing."

"Yes, you did." Bennet looked bleak. "You really do intend to marry her, do you not?"

"Yes."

Bennet sighed. "Would you mind telling me why you feel you must marry this particular female, Marcus?"

Marcus gazed broodingly at the clockwork man. "When I am with her I do not feel as though I am made of gears and springs."

Barclay examined the notes he had just finished making. I-le pushed his spectacles more firmly onto his nose and considered Marcus through them. "What, precisely, do you hope to discover, sir?"

"I am looking for some sort of link between the Hardstaff museum operation and the person who is constructing the sepulchral monument."

"I don't understand. What possible connection could there be?"

Marcus smiled thinly. "That is what I am paying you to learn, Barclay."

"Yes, my lord." Barclay groaned as he heaved himself I out of the chair. "I shall get to work on it at once."

WE TOLD MARYANNE DIRECTLY AFTER BREAKFAST. SHE WAS very quiet for the longest time." Zoe sniffed into a hankie. "I was terrified that she would hate us forever. She started to cry."

Iphiginia, seated behind her desk, exchanged a glance with Amelia. Amelia raised her brows but said nothing. Neither of them interrupted the tale.

"And then-" Otis blew into a large handkerchief she looked at me and said 'Papa. After all these years, she finally said 'Papa. She threw herself into my arms." "I vow, it was the happiest moment of my life." Zoe burst into more tears.

"And of mine, my dearest." Otis went to her and put his arm around her. "You cannot imagine what it means to me to he able to openly acknowledge my own dear daughter."

"We should have told her immediately after Guthrie died last year," Zoe said to Iphiginia. "Only think of the trouble it would have saved."

Iphiginia folded her arms on her desk and frowned. "What about the marriage to Sheffield?"

"Maryanne insists upon telling him the truth," Otis said, not without a touch of pride. "May as well, since the blackmailer will no doubt do so, anyway."

"I expect he'd cry off." Zoe sighed. "There's no help for it. The Earls of Sheffield have always been very high in the instep. Pity. It was such a fine match. But Maryanne is so lovely and charming that I am convinced that we'll find another equally suitable husband for her."

"I shall make it public knowledge that I intend to settle an inheritance upon her," Otis said stoutly. "Always intended to do so, of course, but planned to keep it a private matter. Now we can he open about it. That should help produce a good selection of candidates."

"Very true." Iphiginia picked up her pen and fiddled with it as she considered the situation. "Do you know, it strikes me that there might he an even simpler way of brushing through this entire affair."

"What's that?." Zoe asked.

"If you and Otis were to marry," Iphiginia said, "Maryanne would become Otis's stepdaughter in the eyes of the law."

"Married?" Zoe stared at her. "Married? But Otis and I are so happy the way we are. Isn't that so, Otis?"

"You have always been the delight of my life, my dear," Otis said gallantly. "You know that. You will continue to be my heart's truest friend regardless of whether or not we are wed."

Zoe smiled tremulously. "Otis, I do love you so," "The thing is," Iphiginia said briskly, "if Otis were to marry you, there would he no need to make the true facts of Maryanne's parentage public."