"If it is in my bed she belongs," Rutherford said, "it is as my whore, Grandmama, paid for the services she renders there and forever kept apart from the sort of company with whom she now mingles in the drawing room. She is there now, for goodness' sake. With Hope. My sister."

"If Hope has not already been contaminated by contact with you," the duchess said soothingly, "I doubt she will be by Jessica, Charles. After all, you have been whoring for ten years and more."

He got abruptly to his feet. "That is an entirely different matter," he said. "I am a gentleman."

"Utter poppycock!" his grandmother said coolly. "Sit down, Charles, and lower your voice, m'boy. Nothing is ever gained by losing one's temper. I thought the gel did very nicely last night, didn't you? She would have been a great success even without your gracious assistance."

"It was a damned trick, Grandmama!" he said, putting his clenched fists down on the desk and leaning across it toward her. He had not obeyed the order to sit down. "You deliberately lured me there last night to witness what dupes the two of you could make of Lord Chalmers and all his guests. All right, you succeeded. But the matter must be left there. Find the woman employment. Let her go. This way, someone is going to get hurt. Probably even her. You are giving her ideas beyond her station."

"Calm yourself, Charles," the dowager said, leaning back in her chair and spreading her hands, palm up. "Actually, we have no quarrel with each other. I happen to agree that Jessica belongs in your bed. But not as your fancy piece. Far too vulgar. As your wife, m'boy. As your countess."

7

Lord Rutherford rested his fists on the desk and stared for a moment into his grandmother's eyes. Then he gave vent to an incredulous bark of laughter.

"You want me to marry Jess Moore?" he said. "The woman who was governess to your last choice of bride for me?"

"I imagine her education and talents were very much wasted in the post," the dowager said. "I think she would make you an eminently suitable bride, Charles. The gel has beauty and breeding. She has character. More important, she has spirit. She will be able to keep you in line after your marrige. And you really must settle down, m'boy. Middleburgh-your grandpapa-had his sidelines, you know, but he was ever discreet. I grant him that. And you are the future Middleburgh, though I wish long life to your father. Won't do for you to settle a mousy wife in the country breeding while you continue to sow your oats in town."

"I agree with you on essential points, Grandmama," Rutherford said. "But how can you possibly suggest that woman as my future duchess? My wife must at least be of the same social class as I."

"Jessica is a lady," his grandmother pointed out.

"Oh, yes," he agreed, "she is somewhat above the rank of scullery maid, I grant you. Her father was a country parson, Grandmama. She admitted as much to me last night. She even added that he was impoverished and unable to afford to send her to school."

"Gels also have mothers," the dowager said.

He made an impatient gesture. "Her mother was probably one of the royal princesses, of course," he said. "I will not do it, Grandmama. I will not even consider the matter. And I will not see the woman again. You may stop trying to throw us into company together. You will be wasting your efforts."

"Your mama will disapprove of your not spending Christmas with the family," the dowager said innocently.

"At Hendon Park?" he asked with a frown. "Of course I shall be going there. I always do."

"Then you will be seeing Jessica again," she said.

A dull flush colored Rutherford's cheeks. "You are never taking her there," he said. "To our private family Christmas, Grandmama?"

"She is my guest for the winter," the dowager said. "Where else would she go, Charles? And how would I look back with clear conscience on the memories of my dear friend, her grandmama, if I left her here?"

"Which fictitious character doubtless has a name, a home, a history, and a genealogy reaching back at least five centuries," her grandson said.

"Don't sneer, Charles," she said. "It spoils your looks. You are quite right, of course." She paused, looking sharply at him, waiting for the question that did not come. She nodded briskly. "Now, dear boy." She rose to her feet and reached for his arm. "We will return to the drawing room where Hope will be waiting for you. And you will have the chance to be civil to Jessica. She was otherwise occupied when you arrived."

"I shall make my bow," he said. "Beyond that I will not go."

"Just a word of advice for the future," his grandmother said, patting his arm. "Jessica is my guest, Charles, and is to be treated with the proper decorum. You must not offer her carte blanche again, m'boy.

Twice is quite enough. She will begin to find you tedious if you risk a third."

"She told you about last night, then," Rutherford said with some contempt, reaching out and opening the study door. "I might have known that she would go running bearing tales."

"Not by any means," she said. "But I am not quite in my dotage, boy. When a gel disappears with my grandson for almost half an hour and returns with an angry glint in her eye and a mouth that looks quite thoroughly kissed, I do not conclude that they have been discussing Latin literature."

"She refused me again," he said. "She sees that she can gain more from clinging to you, it seems."

"And quite right too," she said. "You should try to eliminate that spiteful inflection from your voice when speaking of such disappointments, Charles. You are a man of close to thirty years, not a spoiled schoolboy, m'dear."


"Sir Godfrey was unable to spend Christmas with us at Hendon Park last year," Lady Hope was telling Jessica. "His father was ill, and he felt obliged to go to his sick bed. But he is to come this year. We often invite close friends, you know, even though it is mainly a family Christmas. I believe you have made an impression on Sir Godfrey, my dear Miss Moore. As you have with several other young men. And that is as it should be. You are very lovely. If I were ten years younger, I should be positively jealous of you."

"You are very kind," Jessica said. "Everyone has been kind. I did not expect to have visitors today after only one appearance in public."

"Oh, there is nothing at all strange about that," her companion said, reaching out and patting Jessica's hand. "Even I, my dear, had my fair share of admirers during my first Season. The fact that Papa is a duke probably had something to do with that, of course. I was never a beauty."

Jessica smiled, but she was not given the chance to frame a reply.

"Oh, you do not need to pity me," the older woman said with a little laugh. "I knew at a very young age that I would never be pretty. Faith was, you see, and when people used to call her pretty and then turn to me and say I was handsome-always with a little pause before the word, my dear-I knew what they meant. I have never allowed the fact to disturb my sleep. I once loved, you know."

"Did you?" Jessica found herself warming almost despite herself to this nervous, talkative woman. All the other guests had taken their leave.

"He was very dashing," Lady Hope said. "And he loved me in return. Now is not that an amazing fact? He was killed in Spain." She gave Jessica a quick smile before her face became serious again. "He was a soldier, you know."

"I am so sorry," Jessica murmured.

"You need not be." She patted Jessica's hand briskly again. "There would have been the devil to pay when he came home to claim me. Papa would not have willingly allowed me to wed a soldier."

"I am still sorry," Jessica said. "You must have suffered."

"Suffering strengthens the mind," the other woman said. "Sir Godfrey would be a good catch for you, Miss Moore. He is a kindly man and only a couple of years older than Charles. About my age, in fact. He will try to fix your interest at Hendon, I would not wonder."

Jessica blushed. "I really am not thinking about marriage at all," she said.

"Oh, nonsense!" said Lady Hope. "We all think of marriage, my dear, whether we like to admit it or not. Usually I pretend that the maiden state suits me very well. But I will confess to you that I would very much like to have met another gentleman to whom I could have given my affection. I would like to have a man to call my own. And a child. Oh, I would like to have just one child, Miss Moore. Now is that not a foolish notion at my age? The child would not know whether to call me Mama or Grandmama." She laughed.

"I pray you will have your wish, Lady Hope," Jessica said, smiling.

. "Sir Godfrey has been to Greece," Lady Hope said. "He traveled through Russia and even went to Constantinople. Is not that a marvel, now? He could not make the Grand Tour, you see, because of the wars. He will tell you about his travels if you really insist that you are interested. Otherwise, he will not even mention them. He is afraid of boring his listeners. Now is not that a foolish thing?"

The door opened at that moment and the dowager duchess entered with the Earl of Rutherford. Jessica felt as if someone had robbed her of breath. She did not quite know whether she should look at him or pretend that she had not noticed he was in the room. She chose the former.

"Hope?" he said, bowing. "Miss Moore? I trust you are not overtired today after last evening?" He flushed slightly.

"Thank you, no, my lord," she said. And she discovered that they were stranded, looking determinedly into each other's eyes, with an audience of two looking on, and nothing to say. She felt her own color rise.