When she was a little girl, Elizabeth had longed to look like her mother, but nature had blessed her with her father's more robust frame and disposition. As she grew up she had reluctantly conceded that she would never achieve the sylph-like fragility of her mother and sister.

"I wished to speak with you alone. I would have preferred it if we had dropped our acquaintance completely, but Mr. Forester," she sniffed, "Mr. Forester insisted I receive you and I'm honor-bound to obey him."

Looking at her mother's unhappy face, Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Forester had explained exactly why he was compelled to accept her presence and immediately doubted it. She sent up a fervent prayer of thanks to the duke.

"I assure you that I have no intention of spoiling Mary's London Season." Elizabeth hesitated, as her mother showed no reaction to her conciliatory words. "I'm more concerned with providing continuing care for Michael."

"Michael is not your concern. I had hoped that by lowering yourself to occupy the duke's bed, you might have adopted a little humility and respect for your elders." She flapped her lace handkerchief in Elizabeth's direction. "Instead, you still pretend to be better than us. I can only wonder how the duke puts up with you."

Elizabeth clamped down on her anger. "Mother, I'm not the duke's mistress. We have come to a mutually acceptable business arrangement. It's true that I'm living in his house and working for him, but not in the capacity of his mistress."

"Ha! I'm not a fool. Do you expect me to believe that the notorious Duke of Diable Delamere can keep his hands off you?" Mrs. Forester snorted. "I grant that you are not much to look at, Elizabeth, but the duke is not known for being particularly fastidious."

Elizabeth pressed her lips firmly together and exhaled through her nose. "May we get back to the subject of Michael? With my salary from the duke, I will be able to pay for his care."

Elizabeth opened her reticule and withdrew a small purse of money. She had reluctantly decided to squander a small part of her earnings to bribe her mother. Mrs. Forester's eyes gleamed, her fingers uncurled, and she attempted to snatch the money from Elizabeth's grasp.

Elizabeth refused to release the purse until her mother looked her in the eye. "I've engaged a nurse to come in during the day and care for Michael." She passed a sheaf of papers across with the money. "The man I hired, Sergeant Jack Llewelyn, is an ex-army man and his references are excellent."

She closed her bag with a decisive snap. "Understand me, mother. I will pay Jack Llewelyn's salary and he will report to me. I would hate to think that any money I gave him to aid Michael would be used for any other purpose."

Mrs. Forester returned the papers she hadn't bothered to read. As she watched her mother secrete the money in her pocket with all the care of a squirrel storing nuts, it occurred to Elizabeth that, if her mother caused trouble, she could also threaten the woman with the duke's intervention. Emboldened by this thought, she gave her mother a brilliant smile.

"I promise not to sully Mary's ears with any details of my supposedly degenerate life. I will simply tell her the truth: that I'm employed by the duke and need to reside at his house. She is used to my being away helping Mr. Forester's acquaintances, so why let her think this is any different?"

Mrs. Forester sipped at her tea. "All right, Elizabeth, I will make Jack Llewelyn welcome and ensure that no one interferes with his duties." She brought her napkin to her pursed lips and dabbed at them. "Although why you should feel it necessary to waste your ill-gotten money on a helpless cripple is beyond me. But you have never been rational on that subject now, have you?"

Elizabeth's hands clenched into fists. "That helpless cripple is your son. How can you speak of Michael like that when he has served his King and his country?"

"I tell anyone who inquires that he is dead. Better that he had died than come back as he did."

Her mother's callousness shocked her, but she refused to let it ruin her sense of achievement. For the first time in her life she had a modicum of control over her mother. It was an exhilarating feeling and one she refused to relinquish even as her mother set about her favorite occupation of bewailing her fate and belittling Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's patience was rewarded when Mary arrived back from her walk, a becoming color on her cheeks and a warm welcome for Elizabeth despite her mother's dark looks. Mrs. Forester revived sufficiently to order more tea and Elizabeth settled down for a comfortable coze with her half-sister, who was full of stories about her upcoming debut.

Even as Elizabeth enjoyed her sister's chatter, she could not help but wonder how Mr. Forester intended to pay for Mary's debut. She knew from her perusal of the ladies' journals that a London Season was ruinously expensive. As the tea arrived, Elizabeth resolved not to aggravate her mother by asking such an indelicate question. Her instincts told her she would be shown the door whatever the duke might have to say about it.

"Elizabeth? Have you returned for good?" Mary asked as she handed Elizabeth a fresh cup of tea and a plate of dainty pastries. "Mama will not tell me anything. It is most vexing."

"Unfortunately, I cannot remain here." Elizabeth smiled. "I've secured paid employment with the Duke of Diable Delamere." Elizabeth gave her mother a bland look. "Mother has given me permission to visit with you, once a week. And, since the duke has also agreed to allow me the afternoon off, I suspect that you will soon grow bored of seeing me."

"Oh never, never," Mary cried and flung her arms around Elizabeth's neck. Elizabeth returned the hug and ignored her mother's frown when Mary released her. Her sister was as sweet as she looked and always eager to see the best in everyone.

For once, Elizabeth was glad that Mary's innocence protected her from delving deeper into Elizabeth's true purpose at the duke's. It amazed Elizabeth that Mary had turned out so well considering the example set by her parents. It seemed as though she had inherited her father's charm without his deceit and her mother's beauty without her shallowness. Elizabeth prayed that, whatever scheme Mr. Forester had hatched to enable Mary to have a London Season, it would prove successful. She would hate to see her sister disappointed.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I meant to tell you when I came in," Mary exclaimed. "I spied that nice red-headed man who accompanied you shopping outside our door in a carriage with a crest on the side." She clasped her hands to her bosom and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Is he the duke? He looked most amiable and bowed to me as I ascended the steps."

"That is Mr. Nicholas Gallion, a relative of the duke's and another of his employees. He offered to accompany me here and see me safely home."

Mary looked disappointed. "Mama informed me that the duke is a widower and has an immense fortune. I'm sure he must be on the look out for another wife. He must be so lonely." Her gaze became pensive. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he took one look at me and fell head over heels in love?" She clasped her hands and twirled about on the faded carpet, her pale lilac skirts floating around her like silken flower petals.

Elizabeth tried to look encouraging. Gervase would be regarded as quite a matrimonial catch for a seventeen-year-old, but Elizabeth couldn't imagine him falling in love with Mary. She was far too young and sweet for a man of the duke's forbidding, capricious nature and sharp intelligence. She suspected he would grow bored with Mary within a week and then scolded herself for her uncharitable thoughts.

"How old is the duke, Elizabeth?" Mary said. "And is he as handsome as Mr. Gallion?" Mary danced across and squeezed into the seat beside Elizabeth.

"I believe the duke is generally regarded as a handsome man and I understand his age to be four and thirty this year," Elizabeth replied primly and then almost laughed at Mary's look of horror.

"He is positively ancient???how can he possibly be handsome if he is so old?"

Unbidden, Elizabeth pictured the duke's naked, muscled chest and the crisp feel of his black hair against her skin. She choked on her pastry and had to suffer Mary pounding her on the back until she begged her to stop.

When she managed to look up again, her stepfather had joined them. He stood at his ease on the hearthrug in front of the meager fire and smiled at Elizabeth.

She could detect no hint of remorse for his behavior. Elizabeth raised her chin and didn't bother to try and hide her loathing. She had learned, to her cost, that nothing pierced the thickness of his skin.

When he had first insisted she work to pay off his debts she had pleaded with him not to make her. He had threatened to throw Michael out into the streets and she never begged again.

Mr. Forester accepted a cup of tea from Mary and turned his attention to Elizabeth.

"Well, my dear? How are you faring at the duke's?" He raised his teacup in her direction with a suggestion of a leer. "You have obviously pleased him and I've heard he is not an easy man to satisfy." He gave her a broad wink.

Elizabeth stared back at him. "Indeed, the duke is a difficult man." She paused for effect. "I would certainly hate to anger him. Would you not agree, Mr. Forester?" She enjoyed the flicker of alarm her veiled threat produced more than she would have thought possible. Determined to retire on a triumphant note, she rose from her seat, brushed the crumbs from her lap and headed for the door.

"I will take my leave of you and go and visit Michael." She glanced out of the grimy window. "It is starting to rain and it doesn't seem fair to leave Mr. Gallion out there in the cold for too much longer."