She gazed at the headstone and its flowery praise of the earl who was buried there. "I wonder," she said, "what he would say now if he could see us here - the descendants of the son he cast off and the woman his son married." "Life is never predictable," he said. "And it was so unnecessary," she said, "all the conflict, all the suffering and loneliness there must have been on both sides. Here we are anyway, but with so many precious years missing." Her eyes looked wistful. Con had been right about one thing, Elliott thought. She /did /have fine eyes - even when they were not laughing. "Where is Jonathan buried?" she asked.

He took her to the newest grave. Its headstone was immaculately clean, the grass around it short and free of weeds. Someone had planted spring flowers there, and snowdrops were blooming and crocus leaves were pushing up through the soil.

Someone cared. Con, he supposed.

A guilt offering? "I wish I had known him," she said. "I /do /wish it. I believe I would have loved him." "One could not help being fond of him," he said. "But not of his brother?" she said, turning her head to look at him. "Perhaps if you had laughed at his attempts to needle you every time he had Jonathan hide from you, you could all have laughed together and been friends. Perhaps what you need as much as anything is a sense of humor." He felt his nostrils flare. /"A sense of humor?" /he half barked at her. "In the handling of serious duties? In dealing with a rogue? In looking after the interests of a slow-witted innocent? And in dealing with impertinence too, I suppose?" "The impertinence being mine?" she said to him. "I could not simply let you fight, you know, without at least trying to stop you. And now I was merely attempting to point out a way in which you might make your own life happier as well as easier. Constantine at least /smiles /much of the time even if there is sometimes an edge of mockery in the expression. You never smile. And if you continue to frown all the time, as you are doing now, you will have permanent lines between your brows before you grow old." /"Smiles," /he said. "Ah, now at last I understand the great secret of life. If one smiles, one will have an easy, happy time of it, no matter how much of a rogue one is. I must learn to /smile, /ma'am. Thank you for the advice." And he smiled at her.

She looked steadily at him, her head cocked to one side again. "/That /is not a smile," she said. "It is an angry grimace that makes you look a little like a wolf - though I have read that in many ways wolves are the gentlest, most admirable of beasts. You have twice referred to Constantine as a rogue. Just because he resented your guardianship and encouraged Jonathan to play tricks on you? And because he ignored your ultimatum and remained here until we came? /Rogue /is rather a harsh word to describe such a man, is it not? If there is no more to his perfidy than what you have told me, you cannot expect me to accept your opinion without question." "It is a desirable thing, ma'am," he said, "to know whose word you can trust and whose you cannot." "And I am supposed to trust yours?" she asked him. "I am supposed to take your word for it that my cousin is a rogue? I am supposed to disregard everything /he /says? I have no reason to trust you or to distrust him. I will make my own observations, my lord, and draw my own conclusions." "I believe," he said, "our breakfast awaits, ma'am. Shall we walk back to the house?" "Yes, I suppose so," she said with a sigh. "Oh, goodness, I have no gloves." She touched her head. "And no hat. Whatever must you think of me?" Wisely, perhaps, he refrained from telling her.

So he had no sense of humor, did he?

Good Lord, he thought as they walked side by side in silence, was one supposed to be cracking jokes at every turn and laughing like a hyena even if no one else did?

Or was one supposed to ooze false charm as Con did?

8

ELLIOTT stayed for three more days before he returned home to Finchley Park. And it was during those days that he began to consider seriously the idea of marrying Miss Margaret Huxtable.

The sisters, even though they were more refined than he had at first feared, were desperately in need of some town bronze and some connections suitable to their new status. They needed it all now, this year, this Season. And the Season would be beginning in earnest as soon as Easter was over.

As it was, they were all very countrified and naive and an easy prey to practiced charmers like Con Huxtable.

Con left Warren Hall the day after the averted fight. He had mentioned leaving the evening before, insisting when there was a chorus of protests from his cousins that he really did have important business to attend to elsewhere. He left without fanfare, early in the morning before anyone was up.

Elliott was greatly relieved. But he did not trust Con to stay away. The Huxtables needed to be taken away instead, at least temporarily, to be educated in the ways of the /ton/.

Elliott observed them all during the days following Con's departure. And he was pleased with what he saw of Miss Huxtable. She was learning fast - from her consultations with the housekeeper and the cook - how to run such a large household. She was taking her duties seriously.

She was an intelligent and sensible woman.

She was also, of course, almost incredibly beautiful. With some grooming, which she would quickly acquire in town, she would be nothing short of stunning.

It was a dispassionate observation. He felt no stirring of desire for her. But then he had never expected to feel any such thing for his chosen bride. One married for reasons other than passion.

Marriage to Miss Huxtable would be convenient in a number of ways. And there was no point in paying any attention to the slight depression he felt at the prospect. Just the thought of marriage itself was depressing. It was also unfortunately necessary and could be delayed no longer.

He was still not sure when he left Warren Hall that he would make the offer, but he was seriously considering it.

Young Merton had concentrated more of his attention on his position once the distraction of Con's presence had been removed - though he was clearly disappointed to lose someone he admired a great deal. He and Samson took well to each other, and Samson was just the man to teach his young master much of what he needed to know. Elliott had talked with the boy about the necessity of hiring a tutor to teach him the rest - of hiring two tutors, in fact, one to teach him to be an aristocrat, the other to instruct him in the academics he would need in order to go to university. The boy had been somewhat taken aback by the suggestion that he continue with that plan, but Elliott had pointed out to him that a true gentleman was also an educated gentleman. Miss Huxtable had agreed with him, and Merton had succumbed.

Elliott was not displeased with the boy.

George Bowen had been sent on to London to interview suitable candidates for tutor, as well as one for the position of valet. Merton had protested that he did not need a personal servant since he had always looked after his own needs. But it was one of the first lessons he must learn. An earl must look the part when he went into society, in deportment and manner as well as in dress, and who better to see that he did than an experienced valet?

Finally Elliott felt it possible to leave Warren Hall, at least for a few days. He wanted to go home. He also wanted to give full consideration to what he had rejected out of hand a mere couple of weeks ago when George had first suggested it. But he thought he would probably decide to offer for Miss Huxtable.

There was really only one consideration that might give him serious pause. If he married her, he would be acquiring Mrs. Dew as a sister-in-law.

It was a depressing thought.

It was enough to cause him to live in a permanent bad temper.

The woman had smiled sunnily at him for three days, as if she thought him something of a joke.

It felt good to be home at last.

His youngest sister was the first person he saw when he arrived. She was on her way out of the house, dressed dashingly for riding. She smiled warmly and turned her cheek for his kiss. "Well?" she asked him. "What is he like?" "I am delighted to see you too, Cece," he said dryly. "You mean Merton?

He is cheerful and bright and seventeen years old." "And handsome?" she asked. "What color is his hair?" "Blond," he said. "I prefer men with dark hair," she told him. "But no matter. Is he tall?

And slim?" "Is he an Adonis in fact?" he asked her. "You will have to decide for yourself. Mama will doubtless take you over there soon. His sisters are there with him." She brightened still further. "Are any of them my age?" she asked. "I believe the youngest must be close," he said. "A year or two older, probably." "And is she pretty?" she asked. "Yes, very," he told her. "But so are you. And now you have had your compliment from me and can go on your way. You are not going to be riding alone, I hope?" "No, of course not!" she said, pulling a face. "One of the grooms will ride with me. I am going to join the Campbells. They asked me yesterday and Mama said I might go provided it did not rain." "Where /is /Mama?" he asked. "In her rooms," she said.

A few minutes later he sank gratefully into a soft up-holstered chair in his mother's private boudoir and accepted a cup of coffee from her hands. "You really ought to have let me know that you were bringing Merton's three sisters as well as him, Elliott," she said in response to the brief report he had delivered as soon as he had hugged her and asked after her health. "Cecily and I would have gone to call on them yesterday or the day before." "I judged that they needed some time to adjust to their new surroundings and circumstances, Mama," he said. "Throckbridge is a very small village quite off the beaten track. They lived there in near poverty in a small cottage. The youngest sister was teaching at the village school." "And the widow?" she asked. "She was living at Rundle Park, home of a baronet, her father-in-law," he said. "But it is not large, and Sir Humphrey Dew is a foolish, garrulous man, albeit good-natured and harmless. I doubt he has ever been farther than ten miles from home." "They are all going to need to be brought up to scratch, then," she said. "They are." He sighed. "I hoped to bring just Merton himself for now.