"We shall notify The Master, then, my lords. Let us meet here again at the same time next week to coordinate our plans," the duke said. The agreement secured, the gentlemen bowed to one another and sat down to play cards.

The next morning the bishop, his wife by his side, called his sister into the morning room. "Caroline has convinced me that you will not settle upon a second husband until you have your own home," George Worth began. "I do not want you unhappy, Lucinda. Therefore I have instructed your bank to release to you any and all of your funds. You may purchase your house in Traleigh Square, m'dear. I am not convinced this is the best road for you to take, but it is obvious you will not travel mine until you gain your own way in the matter." He smiled a small smile, feeling not the least bit of guilt.

"Ohh, George!" Lucinda cried, clapping her hands together in delight. "I shall send to dear old Mr. Wythe and have him negotiate with the agent. Is there time before we leave London?"

George Worth smiled more broadly. "Of course," he purred. "And, Luci, you must make arrangements for your decor before we depart. The house, I have not a doubt, will need work. We shan't leave London until you have made all of your arrangements, m'dear."

Lucinda flung her arms about her older brother and kissed him soundly on both of his smooth cheeks. "You are, Georgie, the very best brother a girl could have! Even if you are a bit slow," she said.

"Slow?" He was offended. "Whatever do you mean, Lucinda?"

"If you had done this two years ago, it would have been ever so much better," Lucinda told him. "But at least now you have listened to reason and come around to a more sensible frame of mind. I am so very glad!" She kissed him again, then turned to her sister-in-law. "Dearest Caro, thank you for interceding for me," Lucinda said.

"I agree with George, Lucinda, but I also realize that you will not be content to remarry until you can have your way. You are not, I fear, at twenty-five, in the first flush of your youth any longer," Caroline Worth noted sharply. "Having refused three such fine offers as you had, it will not be as easy next season to find a husband."

Lucinda bit her lip to keep from laughing. Poor Caro, for whom a man, children, and home were everything. She could not understand anyone who did not have the same ambitions as she had. There she was married to George, a sweet, but dull fellow, with five children, and yet another on the way. She was as content as a sow in warm mud. I do not, Lucinda thought to herself, think I could have stood living with them much longer. "I believe, upon reflection, that I should remain in London this summer while the house is being refurbished for me," she said.

"London in the summer is a cesspit," her brother pronounced. "Buy your house, and make your plans, m'dear. Then why not go off and visit Julia in Ireland. You and she always got on quite well. You haven't seen her since you married. Or go up to Scotland to see Laetitia and Charlotte, or perhaps Georgeanne over in Wales."

Lucinda thought a moment. Her brother was being very reasonable, and he was right. London's reputation in summertime was foul. "I shall go to Ireland to visit Julia and her Brian," she decided aloud. Julia had always been fun. Her other sisters bored her.

"I shall write to Julia myself," the bishop said to his youngest sister. "When you have concluded your business, m'dear, I shall arrange for your travel. I have been given to understand that Dublin is quite lively even in the summertime."

"You have been so good to me, George," Lucinda said to him. "I am sorry it has taken us so long to come to terms. But now we have, and everything is going to be all right."

"Oh, indeed it will, m'dear," George Worth agreed. Lucinda would be taken in hand by The Master, and tamed. When The Master had concluded his instruction, Lucinda would be an obedient and proper woman. Her suitors were willing to allow it and wait. In the end she would have to pick one of them. There would be no other road for her to take. She would be well married by Christmas just like his other sisters. One day she would thank him for having taken a firm hand in securing her good fortune. The bishop smiled at his wife and his sister, pleased with his own thoughts. "You had best send for Mr. Wythe," he told Lucinda. "You don't want someone else to snap up your house, m'dear."

By the day's end, however, the house at Three Traleigh Square was the property of Lady Lucinda Harrington. The next morning, key in her gloved hand, she entered her new property in the company of her brother and sister-in-law. George Worth had to admit that his sister had an excellent eye. The house, while not large, was charming. It would resell quickly. On the main floor was a morning room, a formal salon, a library, and a dining room. Below the stairs were spacious kitchens opening onto a large back garden with an apple tree. On the upper floors there were several bedchambers and dressing rooms. The attics were light and airy so that the servants would be more than reasonably comfortable. On a corner of the square, the house had more windows than its neighbors'. The previous owners had not left any furniture, and it needed paint and general decor.

"I'm going to do the morning room and the salon in yellow and cream," Lucinda told Caroline. Then she turned to her brother. "I want The Five Graces, Georgie. That portrait you had painted of Caro and the children really belongs in the place of honor in your house, not a painting of your five troublesome sisters." She smiled at him.

"It is yours," he replied generously, smiling at her, knowing he had pleased his wife by his answer. The Five Graces would be a worthy addition to Lucinda's husband's home. Wherever that was to be.

Lucinda hired an agent to act for her while she was out of London. She spent the next several weeks arranging for her new dwelling to be painted, carefully choosing the colors herself; dealing with the draper for the fabrics that would be made into draperies and curtains for her windows; speaking herself with Mr. Chippendale about the furniture she was ordering from his shop; and choosing the magnificent Oriental carpets that would grace her floors. There was china from Dr. Wall's Royal Worcester potteries to be chosen from a pattern book and all manner of household items that would be needed. A gardener was hired to restore the walled garden behind the house.

"I shall hire the servants when I return," Lucinda told her brother.

"Excellent! Excellent!" her brother replied. "Do you have any idea of when you wish to depart for Julia's, m'dear?"

"I believe I can be ready in another fortnight," Lucinda said, smiling. "You have been so helpful, Georgie. I'm certain you and Caro will be happy to have the manse back to yourselves. I know if it were my house, I should feel that way, no matter how much I love you."

"I shall make all the arrangements, m'dear," her brother said. "I know it shall be a most eventful summer for you, Luci."

Finally the morning arrived for Lucinda's departure. Her trunks were packed and put atop the large traveling coach that stood before the London house the bishop had been renting. George Worth had told his sister that she would travel across country to Cardiff. From there she would embark for Ireland. She would not, the bishop assured her, have to see her sister Charlotte. Charlotte would not even know she was in the vicinity. As her trip would take several days, her accommodations had been booked at respectable inns and were already paid for by her brother. "My little gift to you," he said as he kissed her goodbye. "I shall come to London to see you when you return, m'dear." Then the Bishop of Wellington helped his sister into her traveling vehicle and waved her off with a smile, and not the least twinge of a conscience.

The weather fair, and the roads dry, Lucinda's carriage traveled relatively swiftly over the day. A basket lunch had been provided. The mistress shared it with her maid, Polly. In late afternoon they arrived at the Silver Swan, a delightful inn at Maidenhead. Lucinda was ushered into the building with all the deference she expected. A two-room suite had been booked for her. She was served a light supper of roasted turkey breast with new peas, fresh bread, a local cheese, and a dish of June strawberries. The wine was the most delicious she had ever tasted, but she was quickly sleepy and had to be helped to her bed by Polly.

"Gracious," she murmured as her maid helped her to undress, "traveling has obviously done something to my head." Then falling upon the bed she was immediately asleep, even before her hair could be undone and braided.

Polly put her mistress's clothing neatly away and laid out her garments for the next day's travel. Then helping herself to the remaining wine, she drank it all and was quickly asleep herself on the trundle. An hour later the door to the little suite opened, and several cloaked gentlemen, their faces carefully obscured, entered. Lucinda's possessions were gathered up and removed. Both she and Polly were carried to the waiting coach. In the morning, the innkeeper, well paid in advance, would assume his guest had departed early in the morning. The elegant vehicle slowly and quietly exited the inn yard, disappearing into the darkness.

Lucinda awoke. Her head was throbbing. Why was the bed so hard suddenly? She tried to turn over, only to discover that she could not. Despite the ache in her head, her senses abruptly sharpened. This was not the inn where she had gone to sleep last night. She was in a tiny, cell-like cubicle. A shutter barred the window, but she could make out a narrow ribbon of gray light coming through it. She was not upon a bed, but a straw pallet. And she was chained by one arm to the wall! Her eyes swept the little space for Polly, but the maid wasn't there. Lucinda wondered if she had been kidnapped, and where Polly was.