"Good evening," Marcus said. "Enjoying the performance?"

Dorchester 's start of surprise became an expression of great caution. "Masters. Didn't know you were attending tonight's performance."

"My lord. How nice to see you." Beatrice Dorchester was clearly as stunned by Marcus's appearance in the box as she would have been by the appearance of a ghost. "Juliana, make your curtsy to his lordship."

Juliana leaped to her feet as though she had been jolted by a spark from an electricity machine. "My lord."

"Mrs. Dorchester. Miss Juliana." Marcus surveyed them both briefly. "You're both looking very fine this evening."

"Thank you, my lord." Mrs. Dorchester was almost painfully relieved by his civility. "Won't you sit down for a few moments? Pray, take the seat next to Juliana."

"Thank you., I believe I will.

He sat down carefully on one of the spindly little chairs. It groaned in protest, but it did not crumple beneath his weight. "I understand Kean is in excellent form tonight."

"Yes, indeed. The man can certainly act even when he's in his cups," Dorchester said with an air of hearty good humor.

"Just as well, as he is as drunk as a wheelbarrow most of the time, from all accounts," Marcus said.

"Yes, well, you know how it is with these actors," Dorchester murmured. "Very unstable lot."

"They're not the only ones who are unstable." Marcus surveyed the vast theater. He ignored the crowded pit and the galleries and concentrated on the tiers of boxes. He spotted Iphiginia immediately.

She glowed in a classically simple white gown. White plumes wafted gracefully from her hair' which was parted in the middle and neatly coded over her ears. A crystal necklace sparkled around her throat.

She was not alone in the box. Amelia sat on her left. As Marcus watched, the curtains behind the two women parted. Herbert Hoyt entered, dapper as always in a blue coat, paisley waistcoat, and pleated trousers. He held a glass of lemonade in each of his gloved bands.

Mrs. Dorchester lurched into conversation with the awkwardness of a clockwork toy. "Lovely weather we're having, is it not, my lord?"

"Yes," Marcus said. "Juliana and I took a turn about the park this afternoon, didn't we, Juliana?" Mrs. Dorchester continued with dogged determination.

"Yes, Mama." Juliana clutched her fan as though she feared Marcus might reach out and snatch it from her. "It was quite pleasant." She brightened. "We saw your brother, sir."

"Did you?" Juliana flinched at Marcus's tone. Mrs. Dorchester gave her husband an urgent look.

Dorchester manfully attempted to carry his share of the burden of conversation. "I trust you are well, sir?"

'Very," Marcus said.

"Excellent, excellent," Dorchester said with artificial enthusiasm. "Glad to hear it."

Marcus watched Iphiginia take a sip from the glass Hoyt had handed to her. "I am feeling in such remarkably good health, in fact, that I have decided to marry."

A stunned silence greeted that remark.

Dorchester gaped. It took him several seconds to get his jaws closed. "Thought you'd determined not to remarry, sir. Thought you had a rule about it or some such thing."

"I've changed my mind," Marcus said. "A friend of mine has convinced me that some rules are made to he broken."

"I see." Dorchester collected himself. "Well, then. My heartiest congratulations. I say, this news will certainly cause a stir."

Juliana glanced at her father and mother and then smiled tremulously at Marcus. "I wish you every happiness in your marriage, sir."

Marcus raised one brow. "Thank you, Miss Dorchester'

Mrs. Dorchester narrowed her beady eyes. "Will you be announcing the betrothal in the near future, my lord?"

"In the very near future," Marcus assured her. Dorchester scowled. "Who is the lucky young lady, if

I may he so bold?"

"I am not at liberty to announce that yet. There are still a number of details to arrange. Settlements and the like. You understand, I'm certain."

"Of course," Dorchester said weakly. "Settlements. Very important."

"Quite." Marcus got to his feet. "Pray excuse me. I must he off. I find that I am very busy these days. Marriage plans are a great nuisance, I have discovered."

"They are?" Mrs. Dorchester narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, indeed," Marcus said. "One must completely redo one's will, for example, in order to provide for one's future wife and potential offspring."

"Offspring?" Mrs. Dorchester repeated in a numb tone.

"One must do one's duty when there is a title involved," Marcus reminded her. "And then there is the matter of adjusting the incomes of the other members of one's family."

"Adjusting them in what way?" Mrs. Dorchester asked swiftly.

"Downward, naturally," Marcus said. "The family fortune must be concentrated in the hands of my heir in order to preserve and protect it."

"I thought your brother was your heir, sir," Dorchester said.

"Yes, well, that will change now that I'm going to marry, won't it? With any luck I shall have a son of my own to inherit the title and the fortune."

Mrs. Dorchester appeared shaken. "I see." "My brother will continue to receive a reasonable allowance, naturally. just as he always has." Marcus pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the box. He turned back to smile at the three Dorchesters. "Unless, of course, he marries without my approval."

"Beg pardon?" Dorchester looked stricken. "I feel quite strongly that, for the sake of his future, Bennet must find himself an heiress. After all, he will have the future of his own offspring to consider."

"Offspring?" Dorchester was clearly dazed. "It always comes down to that, does it not?" Marcus went out into the corridor. The heavy curtains fell closed behind him.

He followed the curving corridor to the far side of the theater where Iphiginia's box was located.

Herbert Hoyt stepped into the hall just as Marcus reached out to take hold of the curtain.

"I say. Beg pardon." Hoyt hastily got out of the way.

"Good evening, Masters. Didn't mean to nearly run you down. Damn crowded out here in the corridor, is it not?"

"Yes." Marcus went into the box and let the curtain fall.

"Good evening, Iphiginia. Miss Farley." Marcus took one of the small chairs without waiting to be asked.

"My lord," Amelia murmured politely. She turned away to watch the activity in the pit.

It occurred to Marcus that Amelia cut him in t same subtle' manner that Sands often used. He was not a very popular person these days.

Iphiginia smiled with welcome. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Good evening, my lord. I thought I saw you sitting in the Dorchester box a few minutes ago."

"I had a few words with Dorchester." Marcus extended his legs and scowled briefly. "Why the devil is it that I find myself forever tripping over Hoyt? He seems to spend a great deal of time in your vicinity."

Iphiginia gave a dainty shrug. The crystals around her throat glittered with colorless fire. "Mr. Hoyt is a friend. And he is quite harmless. You know that, my lord."

"He's a damned nuisance." Iphiginia's brows rose. "You appear to he in a rather foul temper, sir."

"I am." Marcus glanced toward the stage as the lights dimmed. "Perhaps Kean's performance would put me in a more cheerful frame of mind."

"Let us hope so." Iphiginia gave him a quizzical glance before she turned to look down at the stage.

Kean was in excellent form in the role of Macbeth, but even his riveting skill could not shake Marcus's dark mood.

What he really wanted to do, Marcus realized, was talk to Iphiginia. He wanted to tell her about Bennet's stubborn determination to marry Juliana Dorchester.

He needed to confide his uneasiness to her, get her opinion, ask her if she thought he had done the right thing by trying to discourage Dorchester tonight.

But the ability to share his problems with another person was a skill that had gone to rust years ago. It had been so long since he had asked for advice or confessed uncertainty or simply requested another's opinion that he did not even know how to go about it.

In any event, his rules did not allow him to exhibit weakness.

In the middle of the last scene of Macbeth the curtain of the box was jerked abruptly aside. Bennet stalked into the small sitting area. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His face was a mask of fury.

"Damn you, Marcus. I shall never forgive you for this. Never. I know what you are about and it will not work. Do you hear me? You cannot stop me from marrying Juliana.

Marcus turned slowly, aware of Iphiginia's and Amelia's astonishment.

"You appear to have forgotten your manners," Marcus said mildly. "Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Bright and Miss Farley."

Bennet cast a scathing glance at Iphiginia. "Why should I bother with good manners in the presence of your mistress when you cannot be bothered to exercise them in front of my future wife and the members of her family?"

"Enough." Marcus got to his feet. "I have warned you, Bennet. We will discuss this later."

"There is nothing to discuss. I should have known that you would try your damnedest to ruin my happiness. But oddly enough, it did not occur to me that you would go to these lengths. I understand that you plan to disinherit me."

"We will deal with this when we can he private," Marcus said very evenly.

"Do you think I give a bloody damn whether or not you cut me off? I can make my own way in the world. And Juliana knows it. She has faith in me, even if you and her father do not."